#prospero x reader

[the-banana-0verlord]

The yanderes of Nevermore

Notes: Gn reader, yandere themes, etc. You can choose to see some sort of contuinity between the paragraphs or not. also GO READ NEVERMORE IT’S AWESOME AND ON WEBTOON.

***

There were times when you made Lenore saner and others where you drived her crazy. But it all broke down on the day she kidnapped you, taking you away from your arranged marriage until lightning struck twice and killed you both.

Annabel Lee was absolutely whipped with you. She learned the news of your death the day of her unhappy wedding, as the knife of her fiancé struck through her heart. But now that she found you again, she’ll use all of her power to make sure you’ll stay by her side.

It was common knowledge that Morella had nothing else than good intentions. It was those intentions that drove away all of the people she considered a “bad influence”, even if they were your friends. You were left isolated, turning to her and only her for support.

Duke was a trickster: one second he was there, the next he was nowhere to be seen. You were also a troublemaker, a quality not unseen by him. Using nothing but his wits, he tricked you into more trouble than you thought, with only him able to be your knight in shining armor against the Dean’s wrath.

Pluto worshipped the very ground you walked on and celebrated every breath you took. Everywhere you went, he was there, following you like a shadow. He hated everyone you talked with as they were not worthy of your smile and your kindness. He would make sure they’d disappear.

Berenice was not one to hide her affections, and god forbid a man would even look at you in the wrong way. But it was no use to try and get away: everytime you manifested your uncertainty, she would still smile, but her claws would dug deep into your arm as a warning.

Eulalie was strange, to say the least, but you gained quite a liking to her as she stuck around. To this day, you still have no idea of the horrors she has done to keep her for herself thanks to her seemingly harmless nature.

Dignity was a bizarre concept to Ada, as she would throw away every last shred of her own to satisfy you. For you, it was privacy you lacked: no matter how many times you tried to avoid her, she would pop up beside you like an unwanted weed.

Prospero may be cold, but he is also entitled. As your fiancé in your past life, he believes you belong to him. He doesn’t hesitate to punish you harshly if you fail the duties he assigns you to be what he calls a “good partner”.

Montresor was anything but a good man: selfish, greedy, cruel and a hypocrite. While he was busy sleeping around as he pleased, you were forbidden of showing even the slightest glimpse of your neck to one of these peasants. You were his and his alone.

Do not underestimate Will. Like Pluto, he is similar to a lost puppy, sticking by anyone who is stronger and will “guide” him. His instinct is to serve, even if his last act of service would be to die in your name.

You don’t remember when or how you died, or how long it has been. All that mathered is that you woke up in Merry and Mourn’s arms as their new little doll, a plaything to use until bore.

***

Have a good day/night!

[multific]

Selfish

Prospero Usher x Reader

SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES - This is your only warning!

Summary: When you got the call saying that your exboyfriend was badly injured after a rave, you rushed to the hospital.

His entire family was dead, every one of them.

But before that, there was you.

You, a simple girl, and him, a rich asshole.

It was meant to be a typical love story, your Cinderella story.

But it was cut short.

You had enough of his behaviour about two years into your relationship.

When all the drugs started. When all the men and women started to flood his home. 

When your home became a junkie palace.

In the beginning, you tried to enjoy it, you wanted to stay by his side, so of course you stayed.

But then, you had enough and left.

Your heart broke, you had to leave him, but it was the best for both of you.

The arguments stopped, he could be who he wants to be, and you, you went back to work.

But then, one day, you met a woman.

She promised you that she would save Prospero in exchange for something of yours.

At first, you laughed at her, but then, the things she told you, you took her deal.

The Usher bloodline was supposed to end. A debt was to be paid, but you got the chance to save him.

And you took the deal.

The deal, a life for a life.

You sacrifice someone near and dear in order to save him.

You were confused if this mysterious woman even knew about your mother, and what she had done. She must know.

And yet, she wanted her.

So, you agreed.

You agreed to give up your drunken, abusive mother, for your ex who rather hosts an orgy.

Yet, you never expected to get the call about him and his injuries.

Prospero needed a caretaker and his father directly asked for you before his death.

You were stunned.

But you also knew you had no choice. 

So, you were there when he was still in the hospital, you were there when he was let out of the hospital.

And, you lived in his apartment now. You cooking him breakfast, which he barely touched.

He didn’t look at you, during the day, didn’t even acknowledge your presence most of the time.

But you were okay with that.

And during the nights, you slept in the same bed. His huge bed, which you were sure would blind people under a UV lamp. 

And yet you slept in it.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have another room, but you preferred to be close since he woke up many times due to pain and you had to give him meds.

You changed the bandages on his shoulders and arms.

He didn’t say a single word.

Until one day.

You were in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the two of you when he came out of his bedroom.

“You really are a desperate bitch. What have you done to my father so he would make sure you are included in his will?”

You turned at looked at Prospero.

No word came out of your mouth, his words were so hurtful.

“I mean, you must have done something.”

“He called me, he told me that you are in need of help.”

“I threw you out long before that tho.”

“You sure did. You threw me out because I was too normal, because I didn’t fit into this… madness of yours.” you said, anger slowly getting the better of you.

“Madness? You were just too plain. Like some unseasoned chicken! I wanted to have fun, I wanted to have more! More than anyone could ever have.”

“And look where that took you.” he scoffed at your response.

“And look at you, Y/N. My father paid you for all of this, and you so obediently came to my rescue, right?” your anger blinded you by his words. It was all money money money, with him. 

You hated that.

“Even if your father didn’t pay, I would have.”

“Don’t make me laugh!” he yelled.

“I would have because I love you, Prospero.” there it was. All of your feelings and frustrations on a plate, served right to him. “For the last year, all I have been doing is reading every fucking article, I created fake profiles so I can check your social media. I even went to the clubs you went to because I wanted to see you. I love you, and I know I could have never been enough for you. I didn’t fit into this world of yours. I told you, I don’t share, I don’t compromise. I wanted you all to myself. I do agree with you. I am pathetic. I truly believed I could help you.”

“You came into my life again after I told you to fuck off. You spend your days here, cooking, playing house-wife or whatever and then during the night you sleep next to me and cuddle me just like you used to.”

“As I said, I agree with you, I’m pathetic.” you said as tears fell from your eyes, you quickly whipped them. “I will leave you alone. You healed enough already, you can take it from here.” you stormed into the bathroom, crying as you put your stuff into your bags.

“What are you doing?” he came in after you, watching you throwing your things away.

“I’m leaving. You won’t have to deal with my pathetic ass anymore. You can call as many whores as you wish.”

“Stop calling yourself that! I never said you were pathetic!”

“Do you know, what I went through? Do you know what I gave up to save you?! I gave her my mother and my sister! For your life! And you call me a desperate bitch? I am one okay? I am so desperately in love with you, it blinded my judgement.” you said with all the anger you had inside.

“What are you talking about?” he asked with a confused voice.

“Nothing.” you said as you closed your suitcase.

“You never loved me, you loved my money or rather, my father’s money.” you chuckled. 

“Just how much did all those drugs fuck up your mind? Or was it one of your many lovers convincing you so they can feast on your money? Use your fucking brain Perry.” you grabbed your bags and went to leave but he followed you.

“What did you mean you gave up your sister for my life?” his tone was now a lot calmer. But when you didn’t answer him, he grabbed your wrist and made you turn around, you looked at him and he noticed the tears in your eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It was an exchange. And I agreed.” you whispered as his fingers moved from your wrist to your palm and locked with your fingers.

You could tell he was confused, of course he was.

You were confused yourself.

You looked at him, eyes meeting his.

“Is that… is that why I don’t have any withdrawal from the… drugs?” he asked and you nodded. “Is that why I got out of an acid rain?” you nodded again. “Why?” came his last question.

“Because I love you.” your answer was simple yet true. He pulled you into a hug.

His arms tightened around you.

“Thank you.” he whispered into your hair and you nearly broke down crying. “I’m not letting you go ever again.”

“I know.” you said.

You would have to live with this guilt. With the fact that he wouldn’t have been in love with you. Truth was, you really sold your sister for his love and not his life. In exchange for his love, so he would forever be in love with you, never leave you, and never cheat on you. You sacrificed something great.

But maybe the woman was right, humans are very selfish.

And you proved her just right.

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS 

[ozarkthedog]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary: while working as a bartender at Prospero's Orgy, a masked woman follows you into a storage room.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. verna x fem!reader. f/f. smut. fingering. slight dom/sub vibes. no spoilers (that i know of). no beta.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: tbh, I’ve only watched 2 eps so far but I had to write something with her. I don’t know anything about the series so forgive me if there are inaccuracies.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Booming music shakes the walls of the old, brick building as you make your way to the storage room. You’ll be amazed if the orgy goers don’t drink their way through all the liquor before the night even properly begins. You heard someone mention something about midnight and rain. You pray your boss will let you go home before all hell breaks loose.   

You unlock and shove open the storage room door with a sigh. This was not really your kind of scene. You could handle yourself in a bar and catered events, you’d worked plenty of them before but an orgy? You don’t know why you signed yourself up for this. Sure, the money was good but the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned facility, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

The room was dank and barely lit as you graze the various shelves for a case of Glenfiddich. You find the last case on the floor near the back of the room when the storage room door creaks and then shuts with a bang.

Fear prickles your skin.

It’s probably some horny couple looking for a secret place to get off. Still, you clear your throat before nervously calling out, “Hello?”

You scream when a masked skull turns the corner of one of the shelves. You walk backward until a coarse brick wall catches your clothing and halts your retreat. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A gentle voice says from beneath the mask. The woman is draped in a hooded, sparkly red cape that barely covers her body. The black lingerie she’s wearing underneath leaves little to the imagination.

You clutch your chest as you’re taken aback by the stunning blonde when she unties her mask and reveals herself.

“I couldn’t help myself.” She admits, stepping closer before setting down her mask on one of the shelves. “I saw you from across the room and I…” she trails off looking at you as if she’s seeing the sky for the first time.  

“Oh my. Aren’t you precious?” She coos, stepping closer. Blonde hair frames her face like a halo although something in your gut told you she wasn’t an angel.

Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never seen such a beautiful woman so up close before.

“What are you doing in such a place?” She ponders with curious eyes. They travel the length of your body and back again. Something wicked and dark encases those hazel orbs making you swallow down the lump in your throat.

Your cheeks burn as you stumble over your words. “Bartender- I’m a bartender.” You catch your bottom lip with your teeth and tug unconsciously on it. Your flight response kicks into high gear as the lady in red seals the gap between your bodies.

You whimper as she presses her barely clothed frame against yours. The brick wall behind you leaves no chance of escape as your heart bangs steadily against your ribs.

“Shh. There’s no need to be nervous.” She states softly while cupping your chin in her palm. She drags a perfectly manicured thumb across your bottom lip and tenderly releases it from your teeth. “You’re something I rarely encounter.”

You’re frozen in place, like a deer in headlights, waiting for the inevitable when she leans in and time stops. She brushes her lips over yours, so tender and soft, you try to keep the whimper that bubbles up at bay but to your embarrassment, it escapes.

She pulls away with a grin. “You really are precious.” The apple of your cheek is warm under her thumb as she rubs the soft patch of skin. “So sweet. I’d love to hear you sing.”

Your brow quirks until you feel her hand sliding down your belly. She catches your wild eyes in a firm stare. “Tell me to leave and I will.” She states while lifting the hem of your skirt and snaking her hand beneath the material. “Or will you allow me to experience your seraphic nature?”

Your core clenches as she palms your mound when you don’t send her away. Her nails drag playfully over the thin cotton of your panties before she tugs them to the side and finds your molten heat. An illicit sob tears from your lips as she teases your dipping folds with deft fingers. 

She strums your core with expertise leaving you a wanton mess in her grasp. Her thumb circles your clit with tight movements, drawing your bliss out and into the open. Your mouth drops in an ethereal sound as she takes you apart with ease.

She smothers her body over yours, her lingerie covered breasts close to spilling as she secures you against the brick wall even harder. “Such pretty sounds from such a pretty girl.”

She laves at the softness of your neck, feeling the pulsating beat beneath the thin flesh as she drowns you in pleasure. Her tongue leaves a hot, wet trail over your neck and down your clavicle as you shake under her lewd touch. 

Two deft fingers curl their way into your soaked channel, spreading and molding your warmth to her liking. She rubs along your velvet walls, finding which spots make you shiver and which make you sing the loudest for her.  

“It’s fun tasting the other side, isn’t it?” She asks despite your impending rapture. Her hazel eyes glimmer with wickedness. “The grime. The debauchery.”

Wet, sticky thwaps fill the room as she spreads you open. She drinks down every moan and gasp that tumbles from your lips as she fucks with her fingers you into abandon. She tips your head to her chest as she pulls one of her breasts free from a lacy lingerie cup.

“But you’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” She claims as she feeds you a firm breast. You groan into her flesh and suckle the nipple she offers. You twirl your tongue around the pert bud and relish the soft gasp that she lets loose.

“That’s a good girl.” She praises while stroking the base of your skull and scissoring her fingers against your slick walls. Your essence drips down your thighs, staining and marking your skin but you could care less as this strange woman makes you feel things you never have before. 

She hooks her fingers and grazes that spongy spot behind your clit and your body goes ridged. Every nerve in your body sings, wanting to cry out and praise her for choosing you. Your hands lock onto her shoulders, too afraid to let go, worried that if you move she’ll disappear and it’ll all have been a dream.

“It’s alright.” She coos, her eyes growing soft as your core quivers around her digits. “Let go, my precious girl. I’ve got you.”

The knot buried deep in your belly snaps. You come with a raspy wail against her chest, riding out your bliss on her fingers while she holds you in her arms. 

She sucks her two cream coated fingers into her mouth and cleans them with a moan. Your mind goes numb at the image and you do your best to not crumble to her high-heeled feet.

“I must return to the party now.” She says, fixing the skull mask back over her face. She stares at you from behind the mask for a silent moment before weaving an arm around your back and tugging you with her toward the door. 

“You’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t the place for someone like you. Leave while you can.” Her tone left no room for argument even though you knew you were still on the clock. 

You catch yourself on the door frame and spin on your heel, catching her otherworldly gaze. “Will I see you again?”

The lady in red smiles under her mask. “One day.”

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

[divine-knight-hand]

The Ball of the Red Death

Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3 Halloween Triple Feature Masterlist

Pairing: Prince!Loki Laufeyson x Enchantress!Female Reader

Summary: A royal feast being converted to a royal ball at the last minute by the god of mischief's mad magic-wielding lover, who just so happens to have an Edgar Allen Poe obsession. What could possibly go wrong?

Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, discussions of death and mortality at length, implied major character death (you just really have to squint), use of enchantment, unprotected sex, mind reading/communication during sex, use of magic during sex, momentary clothed sex, porn with way way too much plot

Notes: I started writing this because I originally wanted Loki and the reader to have a kind of Gomez and Morticia vibe, but this ended up going in a very different direction.

I reccomend listening to this (TikTok Video) or this (Spotify) during the waltz scene. You can thank me later~

Word Count: 6,905 (Sorry about that, but I believe in y’all!)

Dividers by @chachachannah

“…‘And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.’” I closed the book I was holding and let out a satisfied sigh. “Poe’s commentary on mortality never disappoints.”

Loki and I were resting comfortably in our shared bedroom in the castle. Sometimes, when we had idle time together, I would read aloud from my collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s short stories as he attentively listened, closing his eyes as if he could hang on to my every word. This time, I had just finished reading The Masque of the Red Death —a short story that I’d read about a million times prior to this. Needless to say, it was my favorite one in the collection.

“I find Prince Prospero rather insufferable.” Loki frowned, his head comfortably nestled in my lap. “He didn’t even hesitate to shut the sick out to die. He cared not for his kingdom. He merely cared for the throne. His methods are those born of blatant greed and ignorance.”

I dropped my book on a nearby nightstand before reaching down to softly scratch his raven locks. “Lest we forget, you were once mad for power.”

The god sighed under my touch, closing his eyes. “And I would have done well with it. Asgard would truly prosper with me as its king.”

“I’m sure it would.” I smirked at his witty response. “Enough with the scary stories, anyway. I have more important things to tend to.” I let go of his hair, waiting for him to move his head from my lap. He didn’t budge.

“‘More important things to tend to’?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I would choose your words more carefully, darling.”

I instantly felt guilty for my poor choice of words. “Loki, as much as I love spending time with you, you know I have to meet with Frigga to discuss-”

“The royal feast preparations.” He finished for me. “I’m aware.” He looked up at me, his blue eyes filled with longing. “Each moment I’m without you brings me closer to madness. Perhaps you’ve managed to enchant me, after all.”

“You know I couldn’t possibly do that, no matter how much experience I earn in my craft.” I tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. “I promise you, my absence will only last as long as the blink of an eye.”

Loki sat up beside me. “I’m doubtful, but I will concede.” I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before he continued. “Stop tempting me and go before I change my mind and keep you here for myself.”

I chuckled to myself as I finally rose from the bed and strolled over to the door. “You won’t even have the time to miss me.”

Loki simply let out a low hum in response as I shut the door behind me.

.·:*¨༺♚༻¨*:·.

I made sure to keep in step alongside Frigga as we strolled through the palace gardens. She wore an expression of immense confusion. “Are you absolutely sure you wish to convert the feast to a ball? You do realize the event is tomorrow, and a ball requires much more preparation than a feast, correct?”

“Have you no faith in my planning prowess?” I teased. “I’m absolutely positive. I have grand ideas, and I feel a simple feast wouldn’t do them justice at all.”

“I suppose that makes sense…” Frigga seemed hesitant to agree with me.

“Oh! There’s one more thing I feel inclined to add.” I twiddled my fingers in front of me as we walked. “I wish to plan this event on my own from here on out.”

Frigga’s eyes widened. “You wish to make this event your own? This is a royal event, lest you forget!”

“I’m well aware, my queen.” I reassured her. “I simply wish to take matters into my own hands and allow for the royal family to indulge in the resulting revelry.”

A strange, uncharacteristic darkness crept over her features. “Something tells me this isn’t your true intention.”

“Nonsense!” I waved my hand. “It’s all in good fun, I assure you.”

Frigga froze for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. “I’ll be speaking with the Allfather. We need his approval for this change in arrangements, after all.”

We both stopped in our tracks, and I flashed her the sweetest smile I could muster. “Lovely! I thank you for your consideration on the matter.”

Frigga met me with a frightened look. “Sure… Yes- Well, I’ll be on my way!” With that, she hurried out of the gardens, as if she couldn’t get away from me quickly enough.

What a shame. I sighed as I watched her go. I do hope I didn’t let on too much…

.·:*¨༺♚༻¨*:·.

Odin grumbled at the documents in front of him. He hated signing laws into action, but they were a responsibility of his. He took pride in his work, no matter how mundane it became.

Tap! Tap! Tap! He rubbed the bridge of his nose as a soft rapping sounded at the door. He wasn’t as pleased with distractions.

“Enter!” He called, sitting up straight in his chair.

Frigga entered the room, clutching the front of her dress in an anxious disposition. “Allfather! There’s something important I must discuss with you.”

“Of course!” His booming voice practically rattled the castle walls. “What must we discuss, my dear?”

“It’s about the royal feast.” She nervously wrung her hands. “Lady Y/N wishes for it to be a ball instead…” Odin arched an eyebrow at her before she continued, “and she wishes to take on sole responsibility of planning it.”

“THE GALL!” He roared. “She’s casting you from the planning council? Who does that woman think she is?!”

“She claims it to be all in good fun…” Frigga’s voice trailed off into uncertainty.

“Yet you seem apprehensive.” Odin observed.

Frigga took a deep breath. “I sensed malicious intent in her. I fear the worst for our family. I fear the worst for our people.”

Odin sighed. He wanted nothing more than to have Loki’s concubine of a lover locked away in the dungeons for the rest of her days. There was something about her that just irked him, but he could never place his finger on it.

However, as the conversation drew on, Odin felt a change in him, and new thoughts began to creep into his mind. Lady Y/N didn’t seem as repulsive to him. If anything, he was curious as to what she had in store for the ball. She said it was all in good fun, after all. What would be the harm in giving his wife some time to relax? In front of him, Frigga’s eyes darted around the room as if she was searching for something.

Odin cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “Give the lady full control of the event. I want every event planner in Asgard at her disposal. Her ideas deserve to be realized, and I wish to see what she has in store for us.”

Frigga audibly gasped. “But, Allfather-”

“Silence!” He waved her off. “I’ve made my decision. Now be off! I have duties to attend to.”

Frigga looked dumbfounded, her mouth opening and closing in an attempt to formulate a response. She never found her voice. She respectfully curtsied and rushed out of the room, leaving Odin to tend to his papers.

My fingers tingled with magic and excitement as I observed the scene from the rafters. This was all coming together too perfectly. Enchanting the Allfather was the easy part. It was no simple task to fool a master sorceress, however. Especially one as experienced and well-versed in Asgardian magic as Frigga. The thrill of almost being caught sent another jolt of electricity coursing under my skin. This is just too perfect!

.·:*¨༺♚༻¨*:·.

The following night, Fandral stood at the bottom of the grand staircase in the ballroom, which was decorated in elegant shades of red and gold. He himself was outfitted in crimson fabrics, and the attention of every partygoer was fixed on him.

“Welcome, everyone, to the Red Ball.” His voice projected throughout the room. “I see most of you abided by the dress code ordained by the coordinator of this event. Others… not so much.” He passive-aggressively cleared his throat. “Before we proceed with the festivities, it is my utmost honor and privilege to introduce the royal family, as well as their partners. I first present to you the Allfather, Asgard’s king, Odin, with his wife, our beloved queen, Frigga.”

The partygoers roared as Fandral stepped aside, leaving Odin and Frigga space to descend the stairs, arms interlocked. Odin was decorated in gold armor, and Frigga in a large and flowy red dress, a crown adorned in blood-red jewels resting atop her neatly coiled hair. The two were a paragon of a royal couple, descending the stairs in an air of grace and power.

Fandral bowed to the couple as they made their way off of the staircase before resituating himself where he stood prior. “Now I present their eldest son, and prince of Asgard, Thor Odinson, with his partner, hailing from Midgard, Jane Foster.”

Fandral stepped aside as Thor and Jane made their way down the stairs holding hands. The crowd roared again as the couple approached. Thor wore a tunic of red and silver, while Jane wore an equally red hoopless ball gown.

Once again, Fandral bowed and returned to the center of the bottom step to announce the final pair. “And now, last but not least, I present the youngest prince of Asgard, Loki Odinson, with his partner, who attended to planning this very ball, Y/N L/N.”

Atop the stairs, I felt my heart leap into my throat at the sound of my name. This was it. This was the moment everything would be set in motion. I smoothed my hands over the front of my crimson velvet dress before Loki locked one of my arms in his. He wore a tunic similar to his traditional choice, the only difference being that he swapped the green hue for red, as per my request. He tried to argue his way out of giving up his favorite color, but caved when I insisted.

“Don’t worry yourself.” He leaned in to whisper, merely inches from my ear. “Your beauty would make the very stars themselves whisper in envy, my enchantress. If nothing else, you are not the problem.”

I smiled before whispering back, “Thank you, my love. Never does a moment go by where you’re at a loss for the perfect words.”

He motioned his hand towards the stairs. “Shall we?”

I made a small nod. “We shall.”

With that, we began our descent on the stairs, turning onto the grand staircase, where the crowd could finally set their eyes on us. Scattered cheers erupted into loud applause as I set my hand in a delicate wave.

Loki gently nudged my shoulder as we neared the bottom step. “See, darling? They love you.”

“Nonsense, my prince.” I smirked. “Your royal visage is distracting them from mine.”

He lightly sighed. “Must you always evade my reassurance?”

“Not at all.” I responded, taking the opportunity to glance in his direction. “I just stand to reason that your approval is the only one that matters to me. I don’t need that of others.”

Loki and I stood alongside the rest of the royal family as Fandral wrapped up his introductions. “Now that I’ve introduced our esteemed royal family, let the festivities begin!”

At his words, the ballroom came alive. A band in the corner of the room began playing a slow orchestral waltz and couples began pairing up and swaying to the music, forming a sea of red with the occasional off-color sprinkled in. Black-suited figures entered the room carrying trays of drinks and finger foods to pass to hungry dancers. As I observed the scene, I felt a sense of pride swelling inside of me. Any minute now. It’ll be any minute now. I felt the corners of my lips upturn as my fingers began to tingle.

My gaze met Loki’s. “I can’t believe this is really happening!”

I fought to keep my smile from growing too wide. Damnit! Tone it down before you appear suspicious. Then again, it would be safe to consider that anyone in the room would assume that my excitement came from enjoyment of the party.

Loki warmly smiled at me. “You did well in planning this event.”

“The best is yet to come.” I winked, noticing Frigga stiffen in the corner of my eye. The song changed to one with a bit of a quicker tempo, eliciting the same change in speed from the dancers.

Odin clapped his hands, bringing the attention of the royal family and their partners to him. “I believe it is time for us to enjoy a dance as well.” He held a hand out to Frigga. “My wife.” She took his outstretched hand in hers with a small smile before he led her away from the rest of us.

“I’m assuming that’s my cue.” Thor held a hand out for Jane, who let out a small chuckle as she took his hand.

“Well done! This is amazing!” She called out to me before disappearing with her lover among the sea of dancers.

I turned to Loki with an eyebrow raised, and he quickly understood what I wanted from him, extending a hand towards me. “Care to dance, darling?”

I couldn’t hide the grin spreading across my mouth this time. “Let’s!”

I took his hand and he led me to the center of the dance floor. He then held his hands at my waist and I rested mine on his shoulders. We fell into step, dancing something similar to a formal ballroom dance, but with some elements that were more casual than traditional.

As we danced, Loki leaned in to mutter, “Darling, may I ask you a question?”

“What’s plaguing your mind, my love?” I gave one of his shoulders a squeeze.

“Your guest list seems rather…” His voice trailed off as his eyes quickly scanned the room before returning to mine. “How did you manage to gather so many people from the dungeon? This doesn’t seem safe, nor plausible.”

I waved my hand at his concern before returning it to his shoulder. “Worry not about that. They won’t be stirring any trouble tonight.”

“And you can guarantee that?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Indeed, I can.” I warmly smiled at him. “Besides, everyone deserves a chance to enjoy the festivities, don’t they?”

“I suppose…” Then, a look of realization crossed his features, and he sighed, a disappointed sound coming from a suddenly amused expression. “You’ve enchanted them, haven’t you?”

A small smirk tugged at my lips. “Guilty as charged.”

He lightly chuckled, his amusement pulling a grin from his lips. “I see no harm in the matter, then.”

We continued to dance to the music, my dress swishing with each movement as he held me, spun me, and dipped me. As extravagant as our dancing may have seemed, he never attempted a move that would be too much for me. He knew all the moves I could comfortably perform, and would always dance accordingly. Sometimes, I worried that I was holding him back, but he always assured me that there was no one he’d rather dance with than me. He really knew how to make me feel special.

All things considered, it was a wonder I didn’t trip over myself. My eyes remained glued to his, and his to mine. He was gorgeous, and I didn’t want him out of my sight for a second. Each moment I danced with him was a moment where everything else faded away. It was as if we were alone in the ballroom, dancing simply for our own enjoyment. I would stay with him like this forever if I could.

Unfortunately, forever didn’t last, and the song ended up changing to a more lively piece, sending the rest of the dancers into a frenzy.

I decided I wanted to take this moment to step away. “Loki?”

“Yes, darling?” He slowed to a stop as I did.

“Can we go to the balcony?” I gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

I could almost see the gears in his mind turning as he considered this. “Of course.”

We interlocked arms and made our way back towards the grand staircase, Fandral spying us on the way. “Leaving so soon?” He called, unceasing in his dance with his partner.

“We will return, of course!” I waved with my free arm. “The night isn’t nearly over.”

Loki and I practically dashed up the stairs and down the hall to an inner balcony, which overlooked the ballroom dance floor. We had an overhead view of the sea of dancers below, each creating their own wave of crimson.

I let go of Loki to grab the banister, sighing as I looked on. “It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

I felt his arms wrap around my waist as his head came to a rest on my shoulder. “This is all your doing, my dear. I have not the words to describe my pride in you, both for the event you carefully planned and for your great magical improvement.”

“Thank you, my love.” My lips curved into another smile as his pride filled me with my own. “Do you know why I chose the theme that I did?”

Loki hummed thoughtfully before answering. “I couldn’t possibly say.”

I stretched my arm over the party below. “Look at all those people. Every single one in here has something they’re trying to escape. Something they’re trying to avoid . They bide their time ignoring a malignant problem that doesn’t fade away. It festers, it grows, and someday, it drowns them.”

“How delightful…” Loki didn’t seem amused in the slightest.

“I know it’s morbid.” I lightly chuckled. “But inspiration struck, and that, I couldn’t ignore. Consider this an escape from what is a tiresome reality.”

“Alright,” A moment of silence passed between us as he let go of me and situated himself next to me. He spoke up again, “Why, then, did you ask a majority of us to wear red?” His hands reached forward to grab the banister.

I softly placed one of mine over one of his. “I believe you should instead be asking why some didn’t.”

Loki seemed to carefully consider this as he examined the dancers below. “It seems all the nobles and most of the royalty in attendance are wearing other colors.” He pointed out the wealthy and the royals from other realms, who were, in fact, devoid of the red color that everyone else wore in abundance.

“Very good.” I slid behind him and snaked my arms around his waist, pulling myself into him as I neared his cheek with my lips–which I conveniently left unpainted–and lowered my voice to just above a whisper. “You’re so observant, my love.”

Loki shuddered. “Darling… I’m still unclear on your motives.”

“All will be revealed in due time.” I coaxed his face in the direction of mine. “Be patient, my prince.”

The air between us seemed to crackle with electricity. I brought my forehead to his, closing some of the distance between us.

“We’ve been gone for some time,” Loki breathed. “The others will talk.”

“Let them.” I finally closed the distance between us with a kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him like it would be my last time. I wanted to drink him in. I never wanted to forget this feeling.

When we broke our kiss, Loki breathily asked, “And what of having patience?”

“You, my love, are the only thing that can make waiting feel torturous.” I sighed, leaning in to kiss him again.

This time, I heard a low hum escape him as we connected. His arms reciprocated my embrace, warming my body and heart.

When we broke our kiss again for air, Loki’s cheeks were dusted a light pink, and his lips were curved into the smallest smirk.

“You little minx.” He teased. “Have you no intention of returning to the event you planned?”

“Of course, I do!” I playfully scoffed, letting go of him and turning to walk away. “But, if you wish to hurry me off, then…”

“Wait!” Loki grabbed my arm, pulling me back to him. “Just once more.” He insisted before pulling me into a final, hungry kiss.

I felt his hand work its way into my hair, the other playing at my waist. I slid mine up his chest until I interlocked them behind his neck.

He sighed against my mouth before breaking the kiss. We were left gasping in each other’s arms, smiling like fools. But, we knew we weren’t fools. We were in love.

“I hope you know, I didn’t actually intend on walking away from you.” I breathlessly admitted.

“I know.” Loki smirked. “I simply enjoy indulging in your little games.”

My ears perked at the sound of a glass chiming. “Oh! I genuinely must be away now.”

“Allow me to escort you back to the festivities, darling.” Loki kissed the crown of my head before we rushed to fix our hair and return to the ball.

Fandral stood at the bottom of the stairs, the attention of the partygoers on him once again, with a glass in one hand and a silver spoon in the other. “There she is! The delicate and fair princess chooses to grace us with her presence once again… and Lady Y/N appears, as well.”

Loki rolled his eyes as I stifled a giggle at Fandral’s dramatic foolishness. “You two can save your childish banter for later. I believe I must take care of something now.”

“But, of course, my lady!” Fandral turned back to the crowd, tapping his spoon against the glass to make another chiming sound. “Now I ask for your attention as we hear a few words from Lady Y/N.”

The crowd applauded as Fandral and Loki walked off, leaving me at the bottom of the grand staircase. Loki glared daggers at the giddy blonde. He would remember that insult for a long time to come.

I had to stifle another giggle by clearing my throat before addressing the audience. “Thank you all so kindly for attending this ball. I worked very hard to put all of this together.” I opened my arms in a grand gesture and the partygoers erupted into applause.

I only spoke again once the applause died down. “With the creation of the Red Ball, I had a vision.” I began to pace in front of the bottom step. “A vision that no one has ever dared to enact before. I’ve brought together royals and delinquents alike in a display of unity.” More cheers filled the ballroom before I could continue. “But one question remains. Unity through what? What unites us? How can royals, commonfolk, and dungeon convicts be linked in any way?” The room went silent, the only sound filling the hall being my voice. “Well, there’s one thing that unites us. One thing that the royals gleefully ignore, but it looms over the heads of commoners. It’s punctuated by each ticking of the clock. It creeps in with every breath we take. It sweeps through every corridor we dare to step through, and it… is… red.”

Whoosh! All of the lights in the hall were suddenly extinguished, and a few screams were heard before the room came alive with scattered whispers and mutters.

“Please remain calm!” Odin’s voice reverberated around the room. “The lights will return shortly.”

A large pair of arms wrapped around me and I let out a surprised yelp. “Darling! Are you alright?”

“Loki?” I let out a relieved chuckle and settled into his embrace. “I’m okay. I just… What happened to the lights?”

“We’ve got servants looking into it.” Loki reassured me. “Odin believes the lights will return soon.”

“How soon?” My voice oozed with feux concern. I was relieved that the darkness was enough to hide the smirk playing at my lips.

A blood-curdling scream sounded from across the room before quickly tapering off into a gurgling cough, followed by a dull thud. The room plummeted into another silence before more screams of the same fashion filled the void of sound.

Loki’s arms tightened around me. “We need to get out of here.” He growled in my ear. “Now.”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary.” I reassured him.

“What?” He sounded flabbergasted.

“‘And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death.’” I quoted. “‘He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel,’.”

Loki began to sound desperate. “Please, darling, begin to make sense again. I know not what you’re speaking of.”

With that, the lights returned, revealing the red splatters of blood around the ballroom. The dungeon escapees I invited were gone, replaced with figures wearing masks–ghoulish pale faces covered in red blotches—that resembled victims of the Red Death from Poe’s short story. Each one carried a knife, as instructed… Well, as instructed by the enchantment they were under.

The only partygoers left alive were those who wore red. They screamed and sobbed at the carnage that was created around them.

“What the Hel is going on?!” Loki squeezed me tighter to his chest, shock coloring his tone.

“I suppose the name of the ball was a tad misleading.” I mused, “I do believe The Ball of the Red Death would be a much more appropriate title.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki released me from his grip. I turned to face him as his hands ghosted my upper arms. His eyes were blown with disbelief at my commentary. “Did you have something to do with this?”

I darkly chuckled. “No, my love. I had everything to do with this.”

His eyes grew wide. “Wh- What?”

I walked my fingers up his shoulder. “In a world where the privileged forget their place, someone has to act to remind them that even they can’t escape their demise. Consider this a wake up call.”

Loki seemed puzzled. “You’re still speaking in fragments.” His brow creased in concentration before he spoke again. “While we were alone, you mentioned that people escaped something that only festered. Is this what you meant? Death?!” I responded with a silent nod as he scanned the room. “And the victims… They weren’t wearing red. None of them were.”

“Using the term ‘victims’ to refer to these over-privileged assholes is a bit of a stretch, if I do say so myself.” I insisted, “But, yes. The dead attempted to avoid the red… Well, they weren’t ordered to wear red in the first place, but my metaphor still stands.”

“I- I-” Loki was at a loss for words.

“I can understand your confusion, but I assure you there’s a method to my perceived madness.” I slowly approached him and caressed his cheek. “Commoners face death and ailment every day, only for their problems to be ignored and even trivialized by the royally and monetarily privileged. I’m merely reminding them that they’re no farther above the rest of their people. Is that so foul?”

The god puzzled this over for a moment before another scream filled the room. It was then that Thor found us, with Jane at his side.

The two ran up to us, Jane’s voice wavering with panic. “We have to get out of here!”

“Brother, get Jane and Y/N to safety!” Thor commanded, sounding as loud as his father would as he summoned his hammer. “I’ll hold off the murderers until your return.” The blonde sped off before Loki could respond.

I gingerly rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Jane seems shaken. Take her away, then come find me again.”

Loki considered this, his jaw clenching as he rapidly scanned the room, before swiftly leaving with Jane. I smiled as I watched him leave, sounds of thunder and violence crescendoing behind me as I drew a knife from under the skirts of my dress. There was one more thing I had to take care of.

.·:*¨༺♚༻¨*:·.

It didn’t take long for me to tie up that last loose end. After discarding the knife and cleaning all the blood off of my skin, I was strolling through the halls–the sounds of metal clanging and bodies thudding fading into background noise–when Loki nearly ran into me.

“Gods!” He exclaimed in surprise. “I was just looking for you.”

“Loki!” I smiled warmly. “It was about time you found me.”

A moment of charged silence hung between us before he spoke up again. “You did all of this by yourself?”

“Hardly.” I waved my hand dismissively at the idea. “I had the entire planning committee, as well as those confined to the dungeons, at my disposal… with a little convincing, of course.” I held up my hand and let small tendrils of magic play at my fingertips to emphasize my point.

“You amaze me.” He breathlessly chuckled. “Truly, you amaze me.”

“You don’t despise me for the chaos I’ve caused?” This time, I was surprised.

“Darling,” He cupped my face in his hands, and I felt sparks tingle to life under my skin. “You’re speaking to the god of mischief. I’m not averse to chaos in the slightest. Yes, your planning was a bit bold… and unorthodox, if I do say so myself… but I could never despise you.” I cupped one of his hands in mine as he continued. “Besides, I do believe I’ve figured out the theme behind your little games.”

A smirk tugged at my lips. “Oh, really? Do tell, then, what my true motives were.”

“You’ve had quite the obsession with Edgar Allen Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death . I have reason to believe our reading of that little story inspired you to act on your own beliefs.” He leaned in until our noses were nearly touching. “And after listening to you speak tonight, I have reason to believe that your motivation is rather agreeable.”

“Oh, Loki,” I let out a sigh as my eyes fluttered shut. “I’m glad we ended up on the same page. Truly, I worried-”

Loki cut off my sentence by slamming into me with a passionate kiss. I let out a soft moan as my hands trailed up his back to tangle themselves in his soft inky locks.

When we broke from the kiss, gasping for air, he reassured me between breaths. “You have no reason to worry. The royal court will have no knowledge of what transpired tonight. To them, this will be an uprising planned by the criminals who will be heading back to the dungeons after the battle dies down.” I silently nodded, my hand reaching up to trace his jawline.

He softly chuckled at my suddenly diverted attention. “You’ve been getting distracted so easily.”

“Your elegance is distracting.” I remarked, bringing my body closer to his.

“Then, forget the ball entirely.” He closed the gap between us with a quick kiss before continuing. “Let us retire to our chambers, hm?”

“I like the way you think~” At my words, Loki picked me up and carried me bridal-style all the way to our shared room, the sounds of violence fading away into complete silence as we swiftly moved through each palace hall.

I couldn’t help but giggle as our bedroom door slammed shut behind him, his stride unbreaking until he laid me down onto the bed. “You’ve done a great deal of work up until now, haven’t you?” He crawled on top of me, his hair falling around our faces, before pulling me into another kiss.

As his trail of kisses moved down along my neck, I shuddered. “I’m still surprised my strange methods for change haven’t turned you away.”

“Oh, darling,” Loki groaned. “I am no stranger to the madness you’re exploring. The darkness you entertain… Its allure is strong.” His kisses were unceasing, making their way back up to my lips before whispering. “I fear it not. In fact, I revere it.”

I reached a hand up to cup his cheek as my own burned warm in feel and in hue. “Loki…”

He pulled me into another kiss, his hips grinding into mine, the growing bulge in his trousers drawing a soft moan from my lips as it made friction with my core through the mountains of fabric between us. My hands were eager, and I felt the pull of magic threatening my fingertips as they desperately grasped at his back. He shuddered under my touch, clearly sensing my energy through the leathers that separated his skin from mine.

With no lack of grace, Loki hiked up the skirts of my dress, granting himself access to the lace panties I wore underneath. I hissed as he brought the fingers of his free hand against the damp fabric, the other creating a dip in the bed as he held himself up on it.

“Already so wet for me?” He hummed in approval. “Your desire for me is nothing short of glorious~”

“My prince,” I breathed as I resisted the urge to buck my hips against his hand. “Please, let me have you tonight.”

I heard the shifting of leathers before feeling Loki move my panties aside and tease the tip of his cock against my slick folds. “I will give you whatever you desire, darling.” Quickly growing impatient, he tore the intruding piece of fabric off of my legs, granting himself full access to my cunt.

I still felt the magic and excitement dancing in my fingertips when he grabbed one of my hands in his, interlocking our fingers. “I can feel this power of yours, my dear.” He brought my hand up to his mouth, unceasing in his teasing as his lips lightly brushed my fingers. “Normally, I’d warn you to exercise caution in allowing your emotions to control your magic… but, seeing as I’m immune to your enchantment, I’ll encourage you to remember the way it courses through your veins as I pleasure you tonight.”

I shivered under his touch, despite feeling extremely warm. “And you’re absolutely positive that you’re immune to my enchantment?”

Loki thoughtfully hummed. “Only your magical enchantment, it would seem. Your enchanting allure, on the other hand?” He leaned in and softly kissed me on the lips before continuing. “I fall weak to it every time.”

“Oh, Loki…” I moaned as I pulled him into another passionate kiss, feeling his magic beckon to mine.

It was playful. It teased at my fingertips, as if it was asking the sparks under my skin to come out and play. I’d never felt Loki’s seidr have energy this light-hearted before. Even when he was using it for tricks and games, it always had some sort of reserved and orderly feel to it. It only ever moved with a purpose. Nothing more, nothing less. But, not tonight. Tonight, it was almost as wild and eager as mine. Tonight, it was carefree.

Can you blame me? Loki’s voice mischievously chuckled in my mind. I have the most radiant woman in all the nine realms all to myself, at last.

You’ve always had me, my love. I sighed against his mouth, my free hand trailing up his back. I’m yours, for as long as you wish to have me.

Then, I’ll have you until the very end of days. Loki’s lust came through in his message, and I reached for his cock, eager to satisfy his hunger for me. Normally, he would softly reproach me for being so impatient, but tonight, he just shuddered when my fingers made contact with his length. Take me now, darling.

With pleasure~ I lined him up with my entrance and slowly let him slide in.

He let his kisses trail along my jaw as he bottomed out, whispering, “Gods, you feel divine…”

Loki’s breath against the shell of my ear sent a shiver down my spine, and my inner walls instinctively clenched around his cock, earning a soft, breathy moan from him in response. Without wasting another second, he began slowly thrusting in and out of me, setting a steady pace.

“Loki…” I groaned, my hand returning to his back to desperately claw at the leather that still covered it. “I want to feel all of you. Please…”

He softly chuckled at my eagerness, allowing his seidr to dissolve our clothes into thin air. A small draft washed over my now bare body, giving my skin a short-lived break from the warmth Loki’s body sent into mine. The delicious warmth…

“How ironic that I should provide you with such warmth.” He purred. “On account of my heritage being so frigid.”

“Yet, that’s the only cold thing about you.” I hissed as he brushed my sweet spot. “You’ve always been so warm and loving to me.”

“You’re the only one who’s proved worthy of that thus far.” He growled.

I felt my impatience heightening at his slow pace, the energy thrumming in my fingers growing equally restless. “Loki…”

“Yes, darling?” He mumbled.

“Harder,” I breathed. “Please… Harder.”

Loki’s low, mischievous chuckle sounded in my ear. “As you wish, my enchantress~”

He sped up his movements, slamming his hips into mine at a bruising pace. He relentlessly targeted my sweet spot, and I could almost hear my own moans rattling off the castle walls as he blended pleasure and pain into a beautiful experience just for me.

“Oh, Loki…” I felt my eyes roll back as my nails dug into his back.

Yes, darling... Loki’s voice broke through my mess of incoherent thoughts. Mark me just like that. Lay your claim on me and me alone.

“Loki…” His name spilled from my lips like a prayer. It was the only word I could speak coherently anymore. “Oh, Loki…”

“That’s it,” He praised me. “Let anyone who might overhear us know who you belong to. Yes, just like that.”

It felt so good. God, he knew just how to please me. Everything about the moment was so intimate. I never shied away from baring myself to Loki, and he happily did the same for me. Our thoughts were aligned, our magic played, and his body was fully available to me, pleasuring me in all the ways he knew I loved.

I felt my peak quickly approaching. “Loki… ’M cumming…”

“Do it, my enchantress,” He grunted. “Cum for me. Let me feel you clench around my cock. Show me how I truly make you feel.”

Loki’s words sent me over the edge, and he helped me ride out my nearly blinding climax. As I came down from my high, I noticed his thrusts becoming sloppier. Needier.

“D- Darling…” He hissed, his jaw clenching as he quickly approached his peak.

“Cum inside me, my love.” I mewled, still sensitive from my release. “Fill me- Ah!”

Before I could finish my pleas, I felt Loki’s cock twitch, spilling its seed inside me as his cries of pleasure filled my ears. I rocked my hips against his, attempting to help him ride out his high.

Oh, my enchantress~ Loki’s voice moaned in my mind, his real voice still occupied as he lost himself in ecstasy.

Once he finished, we were both panting. Energy still thrummed in my fingertips, but I noticed Loki’s slowly slipping away from mine. I willed mine to calm down, as well, feeling the sparks under my skin slowly fade away.

He then slowly pulled out, and a whine escaped the back of my throat at my sudden empty feeling. He didn’t, however, move from on top of me. I took the opportunity to pull him into a quick kiss.

Loki sighed against my mouth before pulling away. “Your temptation is going to be the death of me.”

“I beg to differ.” I breathlessly responded. “Your touch brings me to life, my love.”

Loki sharply rolled over, moving me to rest on top of his chest. I yelped in surprise before succumbing to a fit of giggles and pecking him on the lips. He held me in his arms, and I even began drifting off to sleep before a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Brother!” Thor’s voice boomed as the doors rattled. “The prisoners have been defeated. We require your assistance in the filing of documents on the uprising.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Brother, it’s late. For the love of Valhalla, allow me some rest after this eventful night before I toil away alongside you and Odin in an excruciatingly lengthy meeting.”

A heavy silence hung in the air before Thor’s voice responded in an unusually low tone. “…Very well, Loki.”

After the sound of retreating footsteps, Loki rubbed my back, softly groaning, “Do feel free to enchant my brother the next time he insists on poking at my nerves.”

“As you wish, my prince.” I softly giggled before pulling him into another sweet kiss.

As gleeful as I might have seemed, the conversation left me with a small pang of guilt. I rested my face in the crook of Loki’s neck and breathed him in, willing the lull of sleep to pull me under.

I would have to break the horrific news to him in the morning.

[likeastars]

As per insistent request of @phantom-of-the-laboratory @arachniids @incorrect-nevermore and everyone else screaming in agony under my post:

Cishet! Nevermore AU

Let's go

Lenore is 💫🤢💫not like other girls💫💫🤢

She isn't disabled in anyway btw

Yes a tree fell on her but just to kill her brother to give her a tragic backstory

No leg injuries and trauma and shit to deal with

She escapes her family because they want to marry her off and succeeds and doesn't even burn her house down 😭😭😭😭😭😭

White raven isn't canon obviously

Annabel isn't half as developed as she is in canon

I'm thinking stereotypical mean girl underdeveloped

She's there just to make fun of the protagonist and highlight how much of not like other girls she is

Nooooo backstory given to her no motivations no unhealthy homoerotic obsession

She and lenore met in life before but Annabel just ditched her. No gut wrenching I Am Hurting You Because I Have To no big bad feelings about sexism and obviously no slowly falling for the one you where supposed to use

........

Wait a sec guys I am thinking about the Balcony Scene I need a breather

.

.

.

Alright

Obv there are still some people shipping it bc. Yk. Rivalry

And the whole fandom hates them

Dnis and reasons why they are toxic and shit

Ada is even worse off than annabel she's just a minion no personality whatsoever

Morella too she's the happy go lucky friend that appears in the beginning to be of support but doesn't actually do anything

Pluto exists only to be comedic relief and nothing else

He's the butt of every joke and his anxiety just makes him a "scaredy cat"

Ew

Berenice and Eulalie say exactly one word each and they are the webtoon's one gay couple

They die

NOW DUKE IS HARD

I'm very torn

He could be part of the *drumroll*

Harem

Of the webcomic

Because we need all of the people in the world to go after the main character are you kidding

So I can see him as a second male lead, the friend to lover

BUT ALSO

He's black. And pretty flamboyant.

And since I'm pretty sure neither black love interests nor bisexuality/gender non conforming people exist in these type of stories

I am also type casting him into the gay best friend trope

Prospero is also a part of the 💫harem💫 because I said so

He's Annabel's boyfriend (obviously) but she mistreats him and he's actually such a good boy inside 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Yes he helped in all the things she did but he wasn't actually participating 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

But he's still not the main lead

Because that

Is

Obviously

Montresorry

Wait

I meant

Montreal

Wait

Montrefucker

YOU KNOW WHO

Bad boy turned good with a secret come on

There's x reader ff of him

Ppl justify him in every way possible

Will is his minion

again no personality no possibility of redemption no storilines

AND

MOST IMPORTANT THING

Lenore isn't masc >>>>>:(

[radioactivesweet]

Nevemore fandom, hi! I'm currently hyperfixating on Nevermore actually it's mostly Prospero, so if you have any requests, you can send them in (you can find my rules in my pinned post). I mostly write character x reader tho Requests aside, if y'all ever want to share headcanons, theories or anything regarding Nevermore, I'm here!

[madwomansapologist]

would you mind writing some tamerlane usher x fem! reader that’s just tammy and reader being silly wives and being married and it’s just really fluffy

(because I have not recovered from her death and I am BEGGING for tammy content )

i am obsessed with her since her first scene! the way i folded when i understood what was happening during that dinner scene was.... it was something.

what i wrote is so sweet that it may give you cavities. because that's exactly what tammy deserved. LIKE SHE'S JUST A BABY LEAVE HER ALONE!!!

her death wasn't the most gore (rip prospero) but damn it felt so cruel. i mean she wasn't sleeping, were alucinating, and her neck...

i was so mad at the end of the series with roderick. like to keep on having kids was the absolute worst decision ever (wrap it before you tap it). but fred *vomit sound* and tammy were the ones that were exchanged you know what i mean? like they were alives, and roderick make the deal

anyway, here is your big mac and fries.

[denaliwrites]

Thank you for your quick reply!

Would you be open to writing Roderick Usher, Napoleon "Leo" Usher, Prospero "Perry" Usher, and/or Rufus Griswold X Male Reader?

(NOT all together, but each X a Male Reader.)

Also, do any of these types of relationships interest or bother you:

Brother X Brother?

Father X Son?

Grandfather X Grandson?

Uncle X Nephew?

ALL Male Reader Characters are 18 OR Older, no Under Unpleasantness! :)

Whatever Character OR Relationship you don't like, just say the word, and I'll drop it like a hot potato! :)

question 1: ill have to rewatch but im good to write all the ushers (i think?)

question 2: i think most of those combos are a lil weird for me personally but also, whomst among us has not wished to be spit roasted by the winchester brothers

[badshakespeareimagines]

imagine: you and prospero at the beach

Imagine...

'And, voila,' Prospero removes his hand from your eyes and steps back proudly.

You blink, taking in the sight before you. It's not like any other part of the island that you've ever seen. A beautiful, white sand beach with cobalt waves breaking in even lines. It's like something out of a magazine feature on Hawaii. There's even a palm tree.

'It's beautiful,' you breathe, still staring in wonder.

'It's our secret, Y/N,' Prospero beams. 'If I ever get off this island, I'm considering magical landscaping as a career. No one but us - and Ariel - knows about it.'

You pout. Prospero already shares so much with his spirit, why can't the two of you have anything for yourselves?

'We need someone to wait on us,' he reminds you, as if reading your thoughts. Then again, he is magic, so maybe he literally is reading your thoughts.

He snaps his fingers and Ariel appears, carrying a tray of cocktails. You gladly take a tequila sunrise and begin slurping it down.

'Leave us, Ariel,' Prospero commands. The spirit obeys, and the two of you are alone once more.

'Y/N, would you do me the honour of walking the beach with me?' he asks, unexpectedly courteous. It's unlike him to submit to anyone - but maybe, you realise suddenly, that's exactly where you come in. It must be hard work, running and island and exploiting everyone around you. Maybe what Prospero needs is to give up control for a bit and become subject to someone else's whims and desires.

Then another thought strikes you.

'Does it bother you,' you say, as you make you way along the perfect beach, 'that I'm the same age as your daughter?'

Prospero laughs. 'Not at all, my dear. Miranda, though lovely, is not half so beautiful as you are. I have other plans for her.'

That sounds ominous, but you're not gonna give that any critical thought. Presumably Prospero knows what he's doing and so long as the cocktails keep coming you're not gonna say a word of complaint.

'If I might clarify,' Prospero adds, 'Miranda calls me father. You, on the other hand, must address me as daddy.'

[pretty-boys-book-club]

— masterlist.

☆= my personal favorites.

series

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bylines to my heart ☆

summary: You are a young journalist navigating the turbulent job of reporting for a local newspaper in D.C. What happens when you constantly bump into a cute boy genius? Can FBI agents befriend journalists? Can they fall in love with one?

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 (coming soon)

let your heart be light

summary: Fed up with being single on holidays, Spencer and Reader agree to be each other's platonic plus-ones all year long, only to catch real feelings along the way.

Part 1 | Part 2

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one-shots

in the spotlight (spencer reid x visually impaired!reader, fluff)

do i wanna know? (spencer reid x plus size!reader, fluff) ☆

still into you (spencer reid x plus size!reader, pregnancy fluff)

prospero año y felicidad (spencer reid x luke alvez, fluff)

· · ────── · *✧. ☽ . ✧* · ────── · ·

christmas fics

pumpkins scream in the dead of night (spencer reid & luke alvez, fluff)

make the yule-tide gay (emily prentiss & penelope garcia, fluff)

it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah (aaron hotchner x reader, angst) ☆

· · ────── · *✧. ☽ . ✧* · ────── · ·

READ ON AO3

[rabbit-farts]

Sweet present

Pairing: Katakuri x GN reader.

Words: 555.

Warnings: None.

AN: I know it's not Christmas but this idea came to me and I needed to write it.

The brothers and sisters of the Charlotte family were all together in a large room accompanied by the matriarch of the family, Charlotte Linlin. Among all of them was Katakuri with his partner (y/n), who were spending their first Christmas together.

The night before they ate with the eldest's family and against all odds the dinner was great. The couple thought about it while Katakuri surrounded (y/n) with his arms, in a strong and warm hug.

The members of the family were scattered throughout the large room waiting for their turn to open their gifts since they decided to go one by one and in order of age starting with the youngest. This way they would take too long but it was the least important thing to them.

Everyone opened their gifts and showed them with great emotion and the others couldn't help but smile at this. Even Linlin smiled every time one of her children squealed with happiness when they saw what those colorful boxes contained.

Finally it was the turn of Katakuri and his brothers Oven and Daifuku. First it was Oven and then Daifuku followed. Now it was Katakuri's turn, who soon began to open what he had received.

He opened the first package, which for its size was very small and light. He carefully unwrapped it to find a small pink stuffed kitten with several cuts across the surface. Anana, he thought while looking at it, happy for the detail of his little sister.

He opened a few more until he found one that almost made him roll his eyes. "From your favorite sister." He immediately thought that the only one of his sisters who identified with him in that way was Flampe. It was rectangular and flat so assuming it was paper, he was very careful. He found his wanted poster but it had a picture of Flampe taped to its side, decorated with hearts, glitter and "You're the best brother in the world" in all caps. A great shiver ran through him from top to bottom.

He picked up a package the size of his hand and opened it to see a pair of new leather gloves. He raised his head and smiled at Brulee in thanks despite his scarf. She smiled back at him.

There was only one last gift left to open.

It was large but not heavy and as with all the previous ones, he carefully unwrapped it. As soon as he saw it, a smile spread across his face. It was a pink scarf with small colored stripes simulating the coverage of a donut. As soon as he saw the little knots, his heart warmed and filled with love.

He collected his presents and returned to (y/n), leaving Prospero to open his presents.

He left everything that had been given to him next to him, except for the scarf, which he didn't seem to want to let go of.

He walked over to (y/n), wrapped his arms around their body again, and whispered a thank you in their ear. He quickly lowered the scarf around his neck and lower half of his face to place a chaste kiss on (y/n)'s lips, who smiled at him.

They was very glad that he liked the scarf that they had made for him.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Rainy Day

Frederick Chilton x Reader

For @storiesofsvu​​’s Fall Bingo! Requested by a discord friend (& basically co-written by—this is all her idea!) 

Warnings: Post-burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. Chilton goes for a walk and gets rained on. It’s too late for an umbrella to help, but you’ll offer anyway. 

1,200 words

The clouds darkened by a shade with every painfully slow step he took toward the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Out across the bay, thunder rolled low and distant. The sidewalk was dry, but he could not yet see the hospital rising above the suburban city outskirts. Knowing his luck, the storm would speed up in his direction, outpacing his retreat.

Dr. Frederick Chilton could only move so fast these days.

His joints ached, his muscle tone was still diminished, and his skin… his skin was far too tight. Gods—he remembered one time, in a pique of fashion, he had tried on those skinny jeans the hipsters were so fond of. He nearly had to be surgically removed from the constricting garment. That was what it felt like all the time now—the burn scars surrounding his legs’ circumference were their own overly tight fabric.

Walking was part of his daily physical therapy regimen, which he attempted to do over lunch. He was the BSHCI’s administrator again after a year-long recovery. The familiar job was the best place for him now. In the old days, he saw running the hospital as a position of prestige—a launching board for fame as a criminal psychiatrist. Now, he saw it as it was—a place to hide in anonymity. A place he could languish, simply coasting without worrying about fans or interviews in front of cameras promoting his latest novel.

The trees whispered as a cold rush of wind struck his face. Rain began to fall.

From the first day he met you, you always looked at him with such kindness. Nothing like his other staff. You were a little reserved, a bit shy. Didn’t seem to mix with the others either, like him. You smiled all the time, like he used to do when he was young and still thought he could be friends with everyone, before he discovered how they spoke about him when he was not in the room, unaware of his monitoring devices. But you never spoke that way.

How he wished he had said something sooner.

Dark circles pattered into existence on the grey pavement. The few other pedestrians out on the street began to sprint for shelter, and then he was alone. Beneath the red-and-orange leaved street trees, mirror images of the canopy were painted on the dry sidewalk. The musty smell of earth filled his nose.

The day Frederick Chilton left the BSHCI to tour his book, Hannibal the Cannibal, he thought he was such a bigshot.

There were more important things to do than pursue romance with a lowly secretary who made his heart beat faster. He was finally on his way to national acclaim. There would be more romances on his rise—partners more befitting his station.

He left you behind without ever telling you…

Rain was pouring now—heavy, round droplets that beat against the ground and soaked through his suit. Cold.

A car driving too fast deliberately swerved into a puddle at the curb to splash him, and dirty water pelted his leg. He jumped back and swore, angrily shaking his cane at their taillights, but it hardly mattered. The suit was already ruined. It was worsted wool of the finest quality, and the chances of it drying correctly were slim.

He already had to buy new suits tailored to fit his gaunt body.

The last thing he remembered was the smell of gasoline smoke and his own flesh burning, then waking up in a white room, unable to move his limbs.

Pain everywhere.

For the first few weeks, it was so ubiquitous, so searing, he couldn’t even remember that his lips were gone.

Hypermetabolism and six months of bed rest reduced his body mass by 70 pounds. He lost so much: skin, lips, independence. But he gained something, too.

A soft knock.

Your shy voice at the door.

The breeze howled, ripping off yellow leaves from branches and setting them spiraling into the grey sky. Frederick hugged his arms around his shivering body, but it was a futile gesture against the autumn chill.

You were his one regular visitor in the hospital. Though he was a snarling, angry, nearly feral creature at first, trapped in a chrysalis of humiliation and pain, you tolerated it. Found ways to made him laugh—a dark and cynical bark—and eventually even smile. He enjoyed your company, and you seemed to enjoy his. The witty conversations would last until visiting hours were over, and a nurse shooed you out.

When he learned that you still worked at the BSHCI, it cemented his decision to return.

After all this time, someone was waiting for him.

Squinting his eyes through the rivulets of water running down his forehead, Frederick noticed a splash of bright red at the end of the block. It grew larger, coming toward him. The Red Death coming for Prospero was his first superstitious thought, or an envoy of the Red Dragon come to finish him off where his master failed.

As the figure jogged closer and came into focus, Frederick realized it was not the red of blood and death, but the red of a rose—of life and passion. You held up the umbrella against the downpour, your boots splashing through puddles as you hurried to reach him.

When your soft hands held his ghastly, mutilated, scarred claws, he felt like a monster, not a lover. He was broken. He had loved you for so long, but he was too broken now—it was pointless. A walking corpse (who could barely walk, at that) should not attach himself like an anchor to someone so lovely and full of life.

You were kind and gentle and patient, and he was a burden.

Why did he wait to tell you? Why did he think promoting a book was more important than being near the one person to make him feel like a decent man?

“Found you!” you panted for breath, sides expanding and falling rapidly. “I saw the weather… and I noticed you… didn’t take…” You stood close and held up the umbrella to shelter him.

Above, the constant pelting of freezing droplets on his forehead transformed into the low roar of rain hitting a tent roof. His drenched suit continued to drip. The $2,000 real-hair wig was plastered to his scorched-bald scalp like a drowned rat.

“I am not certain this will make any difference,” he let out a small laugh at the umbrella that arrived too late.

“You’ve been through enough,” you smiled sadly. “Let me help where I can.”

“That is kind of you.”

Without being prompted, he reached out for your hand and let it warm his icy fingertips. You leaned against his chest, unconcerned that your own clothes were getting wet, and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheek. It was too chilly a day for him to grumble and withdraw from your affection, calling himself a monster. He was freezing to the bone, and the heat of your lips felt too good.

It was too late, wasn’t it? Too late for love; too late to be saved.

He turned and nuzzled your neck, nipping the soft, salty skin there. It was a much more comforting sensation to focus on than the clinging of his wet clothes. And he was glad, as you walked back to the BSHCI together, that no new raindrops fell on his head.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Taglist:

@beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @detectivebarba​

[godofplumsandthunder]

Dinah’s Diner

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Latinx/Hispanic Gender-neutral reader

A/N: Long time no see. Life’s a right old bitch isn’t she. With everything going on in the world, I felt like I needed to release all of the pent up feelings, hence why this series(?) was born. Just word vomit on a document. So thank you omicron, travel restrictions, and a longing for home. I’ve been quite homesick and missing my family in Spain and elsewhere, so I thought why not a Hispanic character. It’s set in the first holiday season post-blip. Anyway, enough word vomit. 

“Feliz Navidad! Feliz Navidad! Feliz Navidad, prospero años y felicidad”

The croony, warbly voice of José Feliciano rang out in the dump that was Dinah’s Diner. Worn out blue vinyl chairs, sticky tables, and what you’re pretty sure was a roach, crawls around on the floor. Overall, a 10/10 do not recommend on yelp. If things were normal, it’d warrant a visit from the health department. But that’s the old thinking. Before the desalination and despair. Nowadays, the world’s lucky to have one diner open, even if it serves the sludge that “Dinah” calls food.

“A tomar por culo, Feliciano,” (Fuck you, Feliciano) you mutter, loud enough for the whole diner to hear. You’ve been sitting in the abhorrent booth since your day of job searching was over. Nursing on some cheap gin, one that your brother gave you for your birthday. It was probably stolen, but what wasn’t at this point. And, the morality of a bottle of gin was the last thing anyone was thinking about at a “party” where half of your family was missing. Abuela, papi, and even your annoying Tia Gloria, the naggy one of the bunch. Lord knows what you’d give to hear one of her “Y el novio pa’ cuando?” (When are you going to bring home a boyfriend) The painful reminiscing of the good times were rudely put to a halt, as a loud, rough, and won right angry voice calls to you.

“Y a ti que importa? Mejor que te calles!” (What’s it to you? Why don’t you shut up) Mr. Broad shoulders, leather jacket, and blue baseball cap rattles off without even a glance your way. He’s sitting two booths ahead of you, the nape of his neck isn’t covered by his clothes or hair, and a pasty white splotch of skin stares back at you. Like you’ll put up with a man yelling at you. The least he can do is look you in the eyes while he insults you. Like a man.

Maybe it’s part grief, or part alcohol, you grab your backpack and the bottle you’ve been nursing, igniting your insides in more ways than one, you storm over, to give this güero, a piece of your mind. Ready to tear this imbecíl a new one, the disguise this man was wearing starts to unwrap itself. Underneath the leather and brave facade, was Steve Rogers, the Captain America. The face of American propaganda back home, the ones all your primos would kill to meet. Instead of the face of stone, pure masculine energy, ready to hurt anyone that stood in the way of the good ole red, white, and blue, stood a man just like yourself. Like everyone that was left. Grief and remorse were painted on his face. Wrinkles and bags of countless sleepless nights chipped at his youthfulness. For the first time, in your memory of Captain Rogers, his age was finally showing. The modern day Atlas, showing the true consequence of carrying the weight of the world.

“Mira, no voy a pedir perdón. No lo voy a hacer. Pero toma,¨ (Look, I'm going to say sorry. I'm not. Here, take this). You hand him the bottle of gin as you take a sip.

“Gracias, pero no me hace efecto. Y no tengo ganas de hablar contigo, lo siento.” (Thanks, but no it doesn’t work on me. And I don’t want to talk). You can’t help but chuckle. Drunkenness isn’t the only effect of alcohol he needed.

“Si, aprendí todo sobre ti, Capitan Rogers. Pero tomalo. Que te va a dar un calor, un gusto que no veas. Te vas a sentir algo. Que sé que no sientes. No sientes nada.” (Yeah, I learned all about it, Captain Rogers. But take it. It’ll warm you up. It’ll make you feel something. You don’t feel anything). The bluntness of your comment made Captain Rogers chuckle. A bitter hollow chuckle with no life behind it.

“Gracias…” He says, and a silent unspoken awkwardness settles down in your little booth.

“Bueno…” Rogers starts, after downing a shot of gin. For someone who couldn’t get drunk, his cheeks sure turned bright red. “Imagino que estás aqui para gritarme. Para echarme la culpa. Ahorras el esfuerzo, ya escuché casi todo. Que es mi culpa, etc. etc.” (I guess you’re here to yell at me. Blame me. Save your energy, kid. I heard just about everything.).

Now, it was your turn to reciprocate the hollow chuckle. You grab the bottle back and take a big long swig. Plunking it with a loud thunk, you stare at him in those ocean blue eyes of his.

“Quería hacerlo. Hasta que ví tu cara. Mereces descanso, y paz también.” (I wanted to, until I saw your face. Even you deserve peace and rest)

“¿Dónde estaban, cuando sucedió?” (Where were they, when it happened)

“La mitad en Venezuela, y el resto en España. Solo tenía a mi hermano.” (Half were in Venezuela, the rest in Spain. I only had my brother)

Silence. How was he supposed to respond to that? How were any of us supposed to respond to that? Everyone lost someone. The world was in a perpetual state of grief.

“Quieres…” (Dp you want…) Steve starts hesitantly,  almost like he’s on a thin sheet of ice, “hablar? Tener un poquito de compañía. Entendería si no quieres hablar conmigo especialmente después de lo que hice.” (to talk? Have a bit of company. I’d get it if you didn’t, especially everything that I did.)

You still had hate in your heart for this man, and his team for that matter. The one time the world, the universe needed the Avengers, they failed. They failed the one job we all relied on them to do. Protect us. You wanted to curse him out, throw water in his face, and storm off. But something in those eyes. Those lonely and tired eyes called out to you. So despite what you had always wanted to do, for this very occasion, you grab his hand, take another shot of gin, and smile a little smile. One that for the first time in 9 months, felt almost real. Almost back to normal, whatever that is now.

“Me encantaría.” (I would love to.)

[youre-in-the-psycho-circus]

What Did I Do to Deserve You? | Ben Hardy

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and an emotional outburst of anger otherwise none

Word Count: 3,400

Summery: Ben has just been told that he's set to star as Roger Taylor in the new Queen biopic ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. When the stresses of the film start to get to him, it’s up to (Y/N) to remind her actor turned drummer boyfriend that he needs to take time for himself.

Another request made by the lovely @killer-queen-87​! Keep sending me the requests my lovely, they’re all wonderful!

Masterlist

As children, one of the first lessons we’re taught by our parents is never to lie. We’re told, not only is it not in good taste, but also that it can get you into trouble. Pinnochio’s nose grew, Prospero’s daughter was terrified of him, and Richard Nixon was almost impeached. Still, white lies are okay, right? They’re not hurting anyone, especially when they’re in someone’s best interest, right? Even when it comes to your career, everyone lies on their resume right?

Ben wandered into the living room in a dreamlike state, as he placed his phone in his back pocket once more. (Y/N) glanced over the top of her book at her boyfriend from her spot in the armchair, seeing the stupidly happy smile on his face. “That was the casting director for Bohemian Rhapsody…” He mumbled, voice barely audible as he ran a hand through his blonde curly locks. She shifted ever so slightly in anticipation, trying to suppress the smile on her face as she buried her nose back into her book. They had been enjoying a quiet evening at home up until Ben’s phone had started to ring. She unfortunately didn’t get to hear much of the conversation as he had taken it into the other room so as not to disturb her, but judging by the overjoyed look on his face, she knew he had finally gotten the news that he had been waiting for. “I got the part…” Ben spoke quietly, as his smile brightened even more.

(Y/N) threw her book over the arm of the chair, her full attention locked on Ben. The grin she had been suppressing finally broke out across her features. “It’s official now?!” Ben nodded, too flabbergasted with joy to put his emotions into words. “See?! I told you, you’d get it!” (Y/N) quickly jumped up, the blanket on her lap falling over the floor as she ran over to her boyfriend, placing both her hands on his cheeks as he placed his around her waist before pulling him into a congratulatory kiss. Ben had been so freaked out over the last couple of days. He had received many phone calls from various directors, casting directors, other actors, not to mention his family and friends over the last few days congratulating him on landing the role of Roger Taylor in the upcoming biopic about the band Queen. Each phone call that came through only set him more on edge. It was so disheartening to have to tell each person that he hadn’t received official word yet, and it had slowly been taking a toll on the young actor. He barely slept, he barely ate, all he cared about was finally finding out their decision. Being rejected was better than not knowing anything at all in his mind. Obviously, that hadn’t been the case. “I can’t believe it! Congratulations babe!” She cheered after pulling back. They lightly swayed back and forth as she hugged him tightly. “They couldn’t have gotten anybody better, you’re going to make a brilliant rock star!”

“Thank you, love.” He smiled happily. “I just can’t believe it, I wanted this part so badly and I actually got it! I’m going to be Roger fucking Taylor!”

“I’m so happy for you, babe.” She kissed him one more time. “Have you called your parents yet?”

“No, not yet. I just had to tell my number one fan first.” Ben smiled with a chuckle, gently pecking her lips again as she giggled softly. “I’m going to go call them now. Then we’re going to celebrate.” She giggled as he dug his phone out of his pocket as he happily danced himself off to the bedroom. She stood there with the brightest smile, gently biting her thumb locked in thought over how they could properly celebrate such an occasion. When the actor came out of the bedroom over a half hour later, he half expected to find (Y/N) once again engrossed in her book. As he rounded the corner, she pressed the play button on her phone. Ben laughed wholeheartedly as the chorus of ‘We Are the Champions’ began to play through the stereo as she walked up to him with a flute of champagne. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He laughed accepting the glass from her hand.

“You could stand to mention it a little more often.” She playfully smirked. (Y/N) raised her glass in a toast as she began to sing the rest of the chorus, Ben joining in with her. “We are the champions, we are the champions! No time for losers, cuz we are the champions, of the world!” Ben smiled brightly at the woman in front of him as she calmed down some after the chorus. “Congratulations, big guy. You’re going to make one hell of a Roger.” She beamed as they clinked their glasses together before sipping the bubbling clear liquid.

“Thank you, love. You’re the absolute best.” Ben smiled, pulling her into a kiss as the verse came to a close. They pulled apart only to continue belting out the lyrics to the chorus yet again. He had never felt so happy, this part was going to be his greatest adventure yet. Sure it was going to be a big endevor portraying one of the most famous drummers of all time, but he was ready for the challenge.

The next morning, (Y/N) awoke with a shiver. After their night of celebration, she was expecting to wake up to further cuddles from her Roger. She rolled over sleepily, absently feeling around the bed for her blonde lover only to find the sheets ice cold. (Y/N) opened her eyes, holding the sheet around her torso as she sat up, looking around the room for any sign of the actor. She sighed, pulling on one of Ben’s T-shirts before padding her way out to the living room. Ben sat on the couch in a pair of grey joggers, a hand pressed over his face and a look of pure melancholy in his eyes. She furrowed her brows at his dejected mood that played in stark contrast to the elated one he had the pleasure of enjoying only just hours prior. (Y/N) sighed to herself as she slid onto the couch next to him, gently resting her head on his shoulder. “You want to tell me what’s wrong or should I just start kissing you?” She asked softly as she calmingly rubbed his thigh, trying to sooth him in any way she could.

Ben sighed, turning his face away from her to look out the window, too ashamed to look at her. “I lied…”

(Y/N) felt her heart stop as she sat up a little straighter, suddenly much more concerned. “You mean...you didn’t get the part…?” She murmured sadly. Why would he have lied about something like that, she couldn’t understand it.

“No, no I got the part.” He quickly waved her off, sincerity dripping off his every word. “I’m going to my agent’s office to sign the contracts this afternoon actually.”

“Oh...well what did you lie about then?”

“I lied to the casting directors…” He hissed. “I told them I could play the bloody drums even though I can’t.”

“Ben…” She sighed, putting her arms around the conflicted actor, gently placing a tender kiss to his exposed shoulder. She knew that everyone lied on their resume, but to lie about a skill that was all but quintessential to the character he was playing in the film...she couldn’t wrap her brain around it.

“I know...I know I shouldn’t have lied to get the part...I just...I wanted it so badly!” He sighed keeping his eyes trained on the branch of the tree outside the window of the flat. “To be Roger, and kind of live that rockstar lifestyle that doesn’t exist anymore...I just…” He sighed dejectedly, putting his head down.

(Y/N) hugged the actor a little bit tighter, hoping to absorb a little of his sadness so she could see that smile of his she had come to love so much. “Babe...you know you didn’t have to lie to get that part. You would’ve gotten it regardless of if you could play drums or not. You know why? Because you are so unbelievably talented...not to mention absolutely gorgeous if not more so than Roger.” She smiled. The corners of Ben’s mouth turned up slightly in the faintest hint of a smile as he let out a breath of a chuckle. “You’re a lot more talented than you think Ben, I’ve seen it. And you’re going to take this part by the horns and absolutely own every aspect of it, including the drumming.”

Ben’s smile grew a little more at her words of encouragement as he turned to pull the girl onto his lap in a tight hug. “What did I ever do to deserve you…” He whispered, holding her close to his chest.

While the actor went to meet with his agent regarding his contract, (Y/N) took it upon herself to help her overwhelmed boyfriend as much as she could. “Babe, I’m home…” He called as he came back into the flat later that night. He could smell the heavenly scents of dinner cooking in the oven wafting through the flat as he hung up his coat and removed his shoes. He was startled when he turned around to find (Y/N) standing there directly behind him. “Jesus.” He breathed, placing a hand on his chest as he chuckled, trying to catch his breath. “Those ninja lessons have really been paying off, haven’t they?”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” She smiled placing her arms around his neck, his on her hips, before pulling him into a chaste kiss. “But I just couldn’t wait to show you.”

“Show me what?” He asked with a raised brow. She smiled brightly, taking him by the hand, leading him through the flat to their shared study. “(Y/N)...” He grinned from ear to ear.

“Tada!” She beamed, gesturing to the drum kit she picked up for him. The minute he left the flat for his meeting, she took to the internet to track down a drum kit for the actor to practice on. She had the rather fortunate luck of being able to get her hands on a nice kit, similar to one that Roger would’ve used back in the day.

“This is...holy shit, when did you…” He stumbled, unable to form coherent sentences at the wonderful surprise as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend in a tight hug. “How?” He chuckled, placing a kiss to her cheek, resting his head on hers as they looked on at the kit.

“Well you know my friend Reece? Her boyfriend used to play the drums in a band that broke up a few months ago. His kit’s just been sitting in their attic for ages.” She explained with a smile. “When I told him that you got the part as Roger Taylor in ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, he was more than happy to donate his kit to the cause.”

Ben buried his face into her hair before kissing her head multiple times. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. What in the hell did I do to deserve someone like you? I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this, love.”

“I could think of a few ways.” She giggled suggestively.

A few weeks passed. Ben had dove head first into the world of Queen, constantly listening to their music, sifting through the archives the studio had given him access to, watching interviews and performances, reading every article, book, and magazine he could get his hands on trying to learn as much about Roger as physically possible. He had even been invited by the drummer himself out to lunch a few times so Ben could ask as many questions as he could to learn everything he could prior to filming at the end of September.

They were now a mere few days from the filming of Live Aid and Ben was really starting to embody the essence that was Roger Taylor. He had hit the ground running when it came to drumming. The very same night she had shown him the kit he had gotten himself acquainted with it. He had since started taking lessons and from the very start adopting a lot of Roger’s mannerisms he had seen in the archival footage while sitting behind the kit. For as much as he had improved on his skill set, he was having a little trouble coordinating his hands and feet to play the different rhythms of the various songs. He had been working on the Live Aid set for many many weeks, and while he had slowly been learning the parts, he was struggling especially with ‘Radio Ga Ga’.

(Y/N) came home from work that day, hearing the tippity tappity sounds of Ben’s drumsticks hitting the pads of the drum dampeners through the closed door of the study. “Fuck!” He swore having messed up yet again. (Y/N) sighed, and shook her head as she hung up her coat walking into the living room where she plopped down on the couch. He had been working so hard lately, trying to learn these parts and was steadily running out of time. In a way, her usually sweetly polite, well dispositioned blonde lover was starting to develop the hot headed attitude of Roger. She knew he was only frustrated that he wasn’t getting the skill as quickly as he had hoped he would and didn’t ever mean it when he got snippy with her. She had been doing her best to keep it together whenever he was in one of his moods, but she too was growing tired of his attitude problem. “God fucking damn it!” He cursed loudly as he stomped angrily out of the study into the kitchen, proceeding to get himself a glass of water.

“Everything okay babe?” She asked sweetly, looking over at the actor from her spot on the couch.

“Everything is most certainly not fucking okay! I can’t get this bloody song right!” He yelled, angrily sipping on his water. “No matter how much I practice I just can’t get it fucking right!”

“Ben, you’ve been driving yourself into the ground with all this BoRhap and Roger Taylor business. Maybe if you took a break…”

“I can’t just take a fucking break, (Y/N).” He snapped at the woman as she sunk deeper into the cushion at the outburst. She furrowed her brow in sadness knowing that another verbal dump of his frustrations toward the project was going to be unfortunately deflected onto her. “This is the most important part of my career! This isn’t like portraying a character, he’s a real fucking person, who’s going to be on set watching my every move! If I fuck this up I’m never going to hear the end of it! It has to be perfect, the drum bits, the acting, everything! So no, I just can’t take a fucking break.” He hissed before storming back off into the study with the slam of a door.

(Y/N) sighed softly, turning her gaze forward again. “‘Hi babe, how was your day?’ ‘Oh fine thanks for asking, what about you?’ ‘Oh not so great but you know, I’ll get it eventually’.” She conversed with herself with a scoff. He was much too stressed for his own good. Something had to be done.

The instant Ben had slammed the door behind him, he felt like his heart was sitting in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t meant to be so cruel to (Y/N) after all she was just trying to look out for his well being. He briefly thought about going back out and apologizing immediately, but figured that he was probably the last person she wanted to see after that outburst. He sighed hearing the front door open and close shortly after he had resumed his practicing. Maybe he had been taking all the practicing and research a bit too far. ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was taking over every fiber of his being, every second of his day and as frustrated as he was, he knew it was really (Y/N) who was bearing the weight of his mood swings. Still, it felt wrong to relax when there was still so much he had to learn. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of the camera, or worse, the man he was playing himself.

A while later, the door to the study was pushed open to reveal his girlfriend standing sternly with her hands on her hips. His drumming slowly stopped as he stared at her, he hadn’t heard her come back with how engrossed in the song he had been. He immediately saw the glint of intimidation in her eyes as she stood there in front of him trying to exude a strong presence. That sinking feeling returned to him as he remembered what he had done earlier. “Put down the sticks and come with me.” She commanded gently, holding out a hand to the actor turned drummer. Ben quickly put the sticks down on the snare before rounding the kit to stand in front of his girlfriend. He gently took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the top of her hand. He opened his mouth to speak before she held up a hand to silence him. “Save it. Come on.” She pulled him along to the living room. Rounding the corner he saw she had pushed the coffee table off to the side scattering a mountain of pillows and blankets across the floor in a cozy pile. On the blankets covering the floor was set up two containers of take away with the name of his favorite restaurant written across the packaging and a few bottles of his favorite beer. Next to each container was one of his PS4 remotes lit up, he looked to the television screen to see the FIFA ‘18 title screen. Ben looked from what she had set up to (Y/N)’s slightly hunched over form as she rubbed her arm, a slight sadness lurking in her eye as she looked up at the actor through her eyelashes. “You’re taking a break for the rest of the night…” She smiled softly at the actor.

“(Y/N)...” Ben smiled softly pulling his girlfriend into a soft kiss. He gently ran his fingers through her (h/c) locks, stroking his thumb over her cheek before pulling back to rest his forehead on hers. “I’m sorry I’ve been so short with you lately...it’s just so stressful, all of this…” He sighed. “I know that’s no excuse...but...I’m well and truly sorry, love…”

“I know...it was never you yelling at me, it was just you yelling in my general direction.” She giggled, eliciting a chuckle from the actor. “I just hate seeing you run yourself into the ground like this...”

“Well once Live Aid is over, I promise...I’ll try to take more time to relax and be with my best girl.” He smiled, kissing her softly again. “As for the rest of tonight, however...I’m going to spend it eating great food and absolutely destroying you at FIFA.” He smirked cheekily at the woman.

(Y/N) playfully slapped his chest pulling him over to the pillow and blanket pile. “You wish blondie. While you’ve been practicing drums, I’ve been practicing FIFA. I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”

He chuckled mischievously, a smirk playing on his lips as he picked up the container of food, tearing into the contents as (Y/N) set up the game. “Let’s see what you got then girly.” He spoke with a mouthful of his favorite dish.

She had well and truly thought of everything he needed to relax. Each and every day, this woman continued to surprise him with her love for him. As he did on a nightly basis he began to wonder, as the crowd noise of the fans and the announcers in the game began to blare through the stereo, what had he done to deserve a woman like (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)? “Prepare to have your arse kicked.”

“Keep dreaming, love.” He playfully bumped shoulders with the woman as he picked up his controller, the stresses from the day inflicted from his lie weeks earlier finally melting away into a pool of pure bliss.

[moonlit-han]

a truth universally (un)acknowledged | chapter one

(artwork credit to @jisungieart​)

genre: rivals-to-lovers, fluff, college au, theatre au pairing: han jisung x reader chapter word count: 1.9k warnings: suggestive, swearing request: yes (@jisungsjheekies)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

{prologue} {chapter one}  {chapter two}  {chapter three}  {chapter four} {chapter five}  {chapter six}  {chapter seven, part one}  {chapter seven, part two}

chapter one

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” — Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

It was in freshman year of college, the sixth week of classes, in Shakespeare for Theatre Performance Majors (THEA 200), halfway through the class period, just as the class prepared to perform their first monologues. You’d wanted to be assigned one of Prospero’s speeches from The Tempest. Instead, Jisung got to play Prospero and you ended up with one of Rosalind’s clever monologues from As You Like It. Not that you disliked Rosalind as a character, you simply wanted to have the fun of 1) not playing a girl for once in your life, and 2) wearing a long robe and getting to wave around a long staff. (There are few things that delight more than strutting around like some self-important wizard). 

You did your best with the monologue, pretending to hide behind a tree at times and speaking to an imaginary Orlando at others. You were as pleased as a cat who’d caught a canary with how well you’d performed, and the fact that your professor gave few notes made it all the better. You liked being the best at anything you did. Jisung was called up to perform after you, and he had brought a robe and a staff. You scoffed a bit because, until that day, he’d been a fairly good actor but nothing extraordinary. Oh, how wrong you were. Yes, his participation in class thus far had been exemplary, his integration of notes seamless, and his general affect lighthearted and kind. But again, he’d only been a fairly good actor, nothing extraordinary. So, seeing him play Prospero as he called down the elements to wreak havoc at sea was unexpected, to say the least. Jisung seemed to put every ounce of energy he had into the performance, and the class clapped when he finished. He, like everyone else, had received notes from the professor, but they were cursory comments. Jisung had done the proper research to play Prospero as well as he could, and then presented the monologue better than you ever thought possible—from a college freshman, that is. And, you hated to admit, better than you could’ve done.

Thus, your rivalry with Han Jisung began. 

At first it was distinctly one-sided, but you performed so well on the mid-term that Jisung noticed he wouldn’t be the sole star of the class. From then on, you and he vied for many of the same scenes to perform, the leading roles in the plays and musicals, and even the chance to mentor younger students once you were upperclassmen. Also, you consistently tried to perform better than each other in everything you did. The unofficial title of Best Actor in the Department (created by you and Jisung for your own purposes and, somehow, represented by a child’s gaudy tiara) bounced between the two of you. It must be said, though, it became more and more like a game with your steadily maturing attitudes and values. However, the one thing you both flatly refused to do was play love interests. If the two leading roles in a play were love interests, you would find different roles for which to audition to avoid that awkwardness.

And now, you were a senior and the reality of your impending graduation had just set in. 

As you walked down the hall to the costume shop for your shift, your best friend and roommate, Miri, caught your arms and swung you around.

“Y/N! Babe, did you see the posting? They’ve announced the next production!!” Miri was practically bouncing up and down as she spoke, which wasn’t unusual for her. “It’s a new adaptation of Pride and Prejudice—who are you going to audition for?” 

“Wait, really? Pride and Prejudice? I didn’t even know there was a stage version of that,” you said as Miri swung your now linked hands back and forth. “Hmmm, I guess I could audition for Jane? I don’t think I’d go for Elizabeth, since I really don’t feel like carrying a show next semester, you know?”

“But you’d make such a good Elizabeth Bennet! You have to audition for her!” Miri pressed you.

“Mir, no, I don’t want to have too much going on. Jane will be enough for me. Plus, I’m sure everyone will want to play Elizabeth—she is the lead, after all,” you said, finally extracting yourself from your friend’s grasp.

“But Y/N—” Miri whined.

“Come on, I want to ask if we’ll have to do extra shifts in the costume shop with the show coming up,” you interrupted and continued down the hallway.

When you got off from your shift sewing and repairing garments used in the last show, you went to the audition sign-up sheet on the Theatre Department Message Board. You saw a small knot of people huddled in front of the board, all waiting excitedly to put down their names. You joined the group just as Jisung sauntered up and stood beside you.

“So, Y/N, should we break our rule and go for Elizabeth and Darcy?” Jisung asked, knowing full well you’d never agree to it. He liked to tease you and you liked to tease him, just as long it didn’t end up as flirting. That would be bad.

“Jisung, you know that’s never gonna happen. I am never going to play love interests with you. My first choice is Jane, and after that I’ll just let Professor Greystone decide,” you said as you rummaged in your bag for a pen.

“Ah, the calm and lovely Jane . . . so you’d rather have a simpler role, huh? Too busy this year?” Jisung teased.

“No,” you replied sternly, “I’d just sooner have less to worry about than more. Who are you auditioning for, anyway? Wickham?”

“Nah, I think I’d do best as Mr. Bennet—play to my natural wit,” Jisung said casually, sweeping his hair up off his forehead. “It’d be perfect!”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Jisung.” You’d finally found a pen and began to write your name and your role of choice under an audition time. 

Just when you’d finished, Jisung snatched the pen from your fingers. You were about to protest, but he’d already added his name to the list. Handing the pen back to you with exaggerated care, Jisung said, “See you at auditions, then, Y/N,” and strolled down the hall like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

You quickly glanced at the audition sheet again, and sure enough, Jisung had signed up for the slot right after you. Damn, that had to be the worst luck ever.

Two weeks later, the Department held auditions on Thursday and Friday afternoon in the main theatre. Most students auditioning were familiar with the space, especially those, like you and Jisung, who had performed in it before. The director, Professor Greystone, clearly wanted to see how each person reacted and adjusted to the size and acoustics of the theatre throughout their audition. The long hallway along the back of the theatre was full of students waiting for their time slot. It was eerily quiet, save for the occasional mutter as someone cursed themselves or their chosen monologue for one reason or another. Every fifteen minutes, the door would open to free one student only to swallow another into the maw of the theatre scant minutes later. All looked less stressed coming out than when they went in, but the tension in the air was thicker than strawberry jam. 

You’d been thinking about the auditions for nearly every waking moment over the past two weeks. Jisung’s comment about playing Elizabeth and Darcy had, somehow, stuck in your brain like the worst kind of repetitive song. There was a part of you that wanted to play Elizabeth—she had some of the wittiest responses to the hidebound and often dull comments made by those of her social circle, and you aspired to be as quick-witted. But, you didn’t want to risk being cast opposite Jisung. You didn’t think you could bring yourself to act, truly act, even remotely interested in him as a lover. You leaned against the wall, reading through your monologue and your notes for comfort more than anything, trying to clear your head of all else. The temptation of playing Elizabeth just would not go away, though. After another five minutes of fruitless reading and rereading, you paused. What if I did audition for Elizabeth? you thought, scarcely daring to even think it. Jisung surely wouldn’t audition for Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, right? He wanted to play Mr. Bennet so he could, in essence, play himself. It wouldn’t hurt for you to add Elizabeth to your list of potential roles—it was just another option. You’d been cast in enough leading roles in the past that there was a good chance Professor Greystone wouldn’t cast you in one again. Right?

“Y/N,” came the sing-song voice in your ear. You had to fight the urge to hit Jisung in the head as you glared at the young man who made it his business to annoy the daylights out of you.

“What, Jisung. What do you want,” you hissed under your breath, trying not to disturb the ten other people still waiting for their turn. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Oh, just saying ‘Hi.’ Break a leg, Y/N! Hope you get the part you want.” With that, Jisung walked back down the hall to sit on the floor with his ever-present headphones pulled down over his ears. You guessed it helped him filter out distractions. Although, it did make Jisung seem especially cocky, though, as if he didn’t need to study his lines or do anything else before an audition.

After twenty minutes or so, your audition time arrived. Of course, Professor Greystone and the other faculty had some general questions for you before you performed. They made it seem like part of the audition process, but the questions were really an excuse to let students adjust to the space. No matter one’s years of experience, the additional time always helped. Thus, the questions were simple. Yes, you’d read Pride and Prejudice—several times, in fact. No, you hadn't been aware of a stage adaptation before it was announced for the spring. No, your spring schedule was not full yet.

“Do you have any other questions, Y/N?” Professor Greystone asked, setting down her pen for a moment.

“Well, yes. Could I add Elizabeth to my preferred roles, please?” You smiled sheepishly, knowing Professor Greystone had probably expected this. 

“Of course, Y/N. I’ll consider you for the role, in addition to Jane,” replied your professor. “Could you perform your monologue for us now?”

With that, you took a deep breath, lowered your head, then raised it in character.

And then, you were done. You emerged from the theatre, a bit tired but happy with your performance. Jisung, who really was acting like your shadow these days, waited outside the door for his own audition.

“Break a leg, Jisung. You’d do wonderfully as Mr. Bennet,” you said, surprising even yourself as you gave the compliment.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jisung said bemusedly as he watched you gather your things, settling your sweater and backpack on your shoulders. Still staring into space even after you rounded the corner at the end of the hall, Jisung bit his lip. Should I go for Darcy? he thought. There’s no way Y/N would audition for Elizabeth. She’s too scared we’ll end up being cast as lovers. Chuckling to himself, Jisung methodically put away his headphones, straightened his clothes, and took a deep breath. Opening the stage door, he thought, Hell, I’ll do it.

[olivieblake]

As someone who has original works published and Out There for public consumption (+ who also writes fandom rarepairs/noncanon pairs), how do you feel about readers shipping your characters, particularly noncanon pairings? (I think JKR doesn’t take too fondly to fandom pairings? So I’ve always been curious about other authors’ takes. Sadly, lots of my fave authors are either dead or not as accessible.) Some examples to maybe jumpstart thoughts: Vi x Isis (MoD); Bryn x Masha (OFME); Ivan x Sasha ?

WELL here’s another hot take but listen, I don’t buy joanne’s rationale for not liking dramione. I mean obviously she’s not aware that dramione authors definitely put draco through his paces in order to redeem him before romance can start, so yeah, the canon version of him is not awesome. more importantly though, both draco and hermione are based on real people. hermione is a self-insert for jkr and draco is the personification of her bullies, so naturally she does not want that romance to happen. I get that, even if I think it’s dumb

I don’t mind fandom pairings; or I wouldn’t, I don’t think, if people had them. I actually love to postulate while writing where people might see chemistry that I don’t intend to write. I DO, however, take it very badly when people warp the themes of my story, which is why I will say there are caveats; dramione doesn’t warp the theme of harry potter (in fact I think it enhances it but mleh, you do you joanne), but I can think of a few pairings I wouldn’t want to see in my own work. for example I went off for a bit about edmund and said something similar about bill x hermione from Nocturnes, and I would also be concerned if anyone wanted to make ariadne and prospero their otp for very similar reasons (aka, when someone gives you some very compelling reasons not to fall in love with them, you really ought to believe them)

but in general I expect that people will ship things I didn’t intend and I would love to hear them

re your specific examples, they all seem perfectly legit to me! isis and vi is a definite yep, I see it. I really want someone to man up and write me the bryn x dimasha triad I deserve, and ivan is probably a bit old for sasha but I can definitely see where it’s coming from. I actually wanted to write several pairings into One For My Enemy, most of them involving roma and bryn, but I don’t like to tie things up too neatly when it comes to romance. better to leave some things for the reader to play with, I think, since I know that a world can sometimes be most fun when your imagination is allowed to fill in the blanks