#rose watches terrifier 2

[juniperhillpatient]

“when did halloween become synonymous with sex?” halloween has always been a sexy holiday you stupid cunt

[it-begins-with-rain]

Halloween Recommendation: Stephen King's Rose Red

** This one can be tricky to find. It was originally released as a 3 night mini-series in 2002, but then re-released as a motion picture. Apparently Hulu has it?

In 1906, oil barron John Rimbauer built a veritable palace overlooking Seattle. It was his young bride, Ellen, who would give the house it's name: Rose Red.

First blood was drawn before the foundation was even laid. A foreman, murdered over a simple argument. Bizarre deaths and mysterious disappearances plagued Rose Red, swallowing up the Rimbauer family, their servants, friends, and anyone who dared enter.

Eventually, the grand estate fell into disrepair. Paranormal investigators descended upon the property, but none were ever able to solve the mystery, nor stop the deaths.

Now, more than 90 years after the first deaths at Rose Red, Steven Rimbauer, the last living descendant of John and Ellen Rimbauer, has been offered massive sums of money to sell Rose Red. It will be totally leveled, the land used for condos.

Before the house is destroyed, Steven agrees to let Dr. Joyce Reardon and a cobbled-together team of psychics, mediums, and other paranormal investigators do one final sweep of the house.

What evil lurks within Rose Red?

What horrors did John and Ellen Rimbauer summon in their palatial estate- or were they victims themselves?

Why does Rose Red kill the men, but swallow the souls of the women and force them to haunt it's halls?

How many of Dr. Joyce Reardon's team can escape with their lives?

*** Stephen King wrote the screenplay for this story, but there is no novel. Instead, as part of the publicity and hype leading up to the miniseries premiere, "The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer" was published, serving as a prequel. You can buy the novel on Kindle.

[solxamber]

How to Handle Your Diva || Vil Schoenheit

You’re the unofficial Vil Schoenheit handler, a role you assumed when you started dating him. Whether it’s calming his temper or redirecting his wrath, you’ve become the only one capable of keeping poor midguided souls from biting the dust.

aka the 7 times you save someone from getting poisoned or worse.

Instance 1: Chaos Duo

The serene backdrop of NRC’s gardens frames Vil Schoenheit like a painting come to life. Dressed in flowing silks and adorned with the perfect balance of sunlight and shadow, he’s mid-pose when—

“Yo, Vil! Say cheese!”

Ace and Deuce leap into the frame, pulling the most exaggerated faces imaginable. Deuce’s eyes are practically crossed, and Ace looks like he’s mid-sneeze. The photographer audibly chokes on his spit.

Vil freezes. The air goes cold. The birds stop singing. Somewhere in the distance, a withering rose drops a petal.

“What,” Vil says, so quiet it’s terrifying, “was that?”

“It was Ace’s idea!” Deuce blurts immediately, shoving Ace under the metaphorical bus.

“Thanks a lot, traitor!” Ace snaps back.

Vil’s eyes narrow. “You,” he hisses, voice dripping with venom, “have the audacity to ruin my shoot?”

By the time you arrive, the photographer is hiding behind a bush, and Ace and Deuce are sweating under Vil’s glare. The two freshmen look like they’re seconds away from turning into frogs—or corpses.

“Vil, sweetie,” you interrupt, stepping between them and the storm cloud forming above his head, “what’s going on?”

“These plebeians,” Vil says, gesturing at Ace and Deuce like they’re bacteria under a microscope, “thought it would be funny to sabotage my art!”

“They’re idiots,” you agree, shooting the freshmen a glare. “But let’s think about this. What if... this makes your shoot even better?”

Vil arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “Better?”

“Yeah!” you say, channeling all your persuasive powers. “When people see this, they’ll notice how your beauty shines even in the presence of—” you gesture vaguely at Ace and Deuce, “—mediocrity.”

“Mediocrity?” Ace repeats indignantly.

“Shut up,” you snap before turning back to Vil. “Think about it. They’ll see your grace, your poise, and how you completely outshine everyone around you. It’s contrast, Vil. Art loves contrast.”

Vil strokes his chin, considering. “You may have a point...”

“Totally! And, like, who would take them seriously anyway? Look at Deuce’s face. He looks like a confused pigeon.”

“Hey!” Deuce protests, but Ace is already nodding.

“Yeah, yeah! Vil, this just makes you look even cooler! Like, people will see this and be like, ‘Wow, he’s untouchable, even next to these losers.’”

Vil finally exhales, his wrath ebbing. “Very well,” he says, smoothing his silks. “I’ll allow it. But only because the juxtaposition highlights my perfection.”

Ace and Deuce sag in relief, clearly missing the word “juxtaposition.”

Later, Trey finds you in the hallway. “I heard what happened,” he says, looking both exasperated and grateful. “Thank you for stopping Vil from poisoning them. Again.”

You shrug. “All in a day’s work.”

Instance 2: Just Leona.

The group is gathered in the cafeteria, the usual buzz of conversation swirling around. Vil sits at the head of the table, eating his meticulously prepared salad—a work of art with perfect symmetry, vibrant greens, and an edible flower garnish.

Leona slouches in his chair nearby, tearing into a steak with all the grace of a feral lion. He pauses mid-bite, glances at Vil's plate, and snorts loud enough to turn heads.

"What's that, Schoenheit? Rabbit food?"

The air grows thick. Vil’s fork stops mid-air, his gaze snapping to Leona like a hawk spotting prey. "Excuse me?" he says, in that icy tone that sends chills down spines.

Leona smirks, undeterred. "You heard me. All those leaves and petals—looks like something I’d feed to the herbivores back home."

There’s a collective oh no from everyone nearby. Jack visibly stiffens, eyes darting between the two like he’s watching a live-action disaster. You’re pretty sure Grim just whispered, “This is gonna be good,” from somewhere behind you.

"It’s called maintaining one’s figure," Vil snaps, placing his fork down with calculated grace. “You wouldn’t understand, considering your diet seems to consist entirely of undercooked meat and mediocrity.”

Leona leans back, looking as smug as a cat in a sunbeam. “At least I eat like a king. Meanwhile, you’re over there grazing like the royal gardener.”

The tension escalates. Vil’s hand twitches toward his fork, and you’re suddenly very sure he’s planning to plant it somewhere deeply unfortunate on Leona.

Time to intervene.

“Vil,” you cut in smoothly, leaning closer to him, “can I just say, you look amazing today? Honestly, I don’t think anyone else could pull off a salad with such elegance.”

Vil blinks, momentarily startled, before his lips curve into a faintly smug smile. “Well,” he says, primly dabbing at his mouth with a napkin, “I do have a certain flair for refinement. It’s not something just anyone can achieve.”

“No, it’s not,” you say firmly, throwing Leona a warning glance. “And anyone who doesn’t see that is clearly just... jealous.”

Leona snorts again but doesn’t push further, clearly uninterested in escalating now that Vil’s focus is on being praised rather than plotting homicide.

Jack gives you a subtle, grateful nod, visibly relieved that he won’t have to referee another dorm-versus-dorm war.

As Vil returns to his salad with renewed dignity, you sit back with a sigh, silently adding prevented cafeteria murder to your list of daily accomplishments.

Instance 3: Theatre Club Madness

It starts, as all things do, with Floyd and his unique brand of chaos. This time, it’s a priceless antique vase from Pomefiore’s lounge that met its tragic end because Floyd “wanted to see if it could fly.”

Spoiler: it couldn’t.

Vil, who witnessed the entire ordeal, was seconds away from summoning a storm of consequences when Floyd, in a rare flash of survival instinct, promised to repay the debt.

“I’ll help with your little drama thing,” Floyd had said with a grin too wide to trust.

That promise didn’t even make it a full day.

By the time Azul appears in Ramshackle, wringing his hands, you already know something’s gone terribly wrong.

“Vil asked Floyd to star in some action scenes for his theater production,” Azul says, clearly on edge. “But Floyd... Well, he’s Floyd.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Let me guess. He skipped?”

“Skipped, vanished, and laughed about it,” Azul confirms. “Vil is furious. I fear he might—”

“Poison the Lounge’s water?” you finish for him.

Azul nods gravely.

Which is how you find yourself in Pomefiore’s theater, holding a script titled The Tragic Tale of Honor and Glory and wearing an outfit that feels heavier than your life choices.

Vil sits in the audience, arms crossed, as you nervously adjust the overly ornate shoulder pads. “Darling, I adore you,” he says smoothly, “but if you ruin my vision, we will have words.”

“Right,” you mutter. “No pressure or anything.”

Rook, of course, is thrilled. “What a magnifique turn of events! A real-life romance brought to life on stage!” he says, twirling a prop sword before handing it to you.

You glance at the script and immediately regret every decision that’s led you here. Floyd’s role isn’t just action-heavy—it’s absurd. You’re supposed to fend off imaginary enemies, deliver heartfelt speeches, and somehow “leap gracefully” across a prop chasm.

“Are we sure this isn’t a punishment?” you whisper to Rook.

“Every great artist suffers for their craft!” he replies, as unhinged as ever.

Rehearsals are... an experience. Vil critiques your sword stance, your dramatic pauses, and even the way you hold the fake shield. “You’re not a barbarian,” he snaps at one point. “This is a knightly role. Show some dignity!”

The only thing keeping you sane is the occasional glimpse of Vil’s smile when you nail a scene. He’s still your Vil—meticulous, demanding, and, beneath it all, proud of you.

By the end of the day, you’re exhausted, but no one’s been poisoned, and Vil is satisfied.

“Darling,” he says as you collapse into a chair, “you might just be a natural.”

You groan in response, but secretly, you’re glad. If starring in a play keeps the peace and earns you a proud smile from your perfectionist boyfriend, it’s worth every ridiculous leap and over-the-top speech.

You're not letting Floyd off the hook though, he now owes you a blood debt.

Instance 4: Runway Disaster

It happens in slow motion. Kalim, with his usual sunshine energy, bounds over to greet Vil during a fitting for his latest custom runway outfit. In one hand, he holds a crystal goblet of bright red juice.

“Kalim, no—” Jamil tries to intervene, but he’s too late.

One excited gesture later, the goblet tilts. The juice spills. And Vil’s pristine white couture ensemble is suddenly dyed a tragic, splotchy crimson.

For a moment, the room is deathly silent. Kalim freezes, his smile faltering as Vil’s expression shifts from shock to something that resembles a villainous Disney queen summoning her final form.

“Oh no,” Jamil mutters, stepping back like a man who knows better than to get involved in an impending disaster.

Vil’s fingers twitch, and actual poison gas starts to swirl faintly around him.

“You…” he begins, voice deadly calm, eyes narrowed at Kalim, who looks like he’s considering whether running or apologizing is the better survival tactic.

Before Vil can unleash his fury (or toxins), you jump in, grabbing his arm like a brave but foolish hero.

“Wait! Think of the headlines,” you blurt. “The great Vil Schoenheit doesn’t panic when disaster strikes. He innovates. He adapts. He turns accidents into opportunities!”

Vil pauses, glancing at you with an arched brow. “Go on.”

“This isn’t a catastrophe—it’s a creative challenge,” you say, channeling your best salesperson energy. “You can redesign the outfit on the fly, show off your genius in real time, and prove why you’re the best.”

Jamil, who’s still lurking near the door, lets out a faint groan. “Don’t drag me into this—”

“Perfect!” you cut him off, pointing dramatically. “Jamil, help us. You’re good with details. Kalim, you’re... great at handing over fabric?”

“I am?” Kalim perks up, always happy to help, even when he’s the source of the problem.

Vil exhales sharply but lowers his hands, the faint poison clouds dissipating. He turns to you, his lips twitching upward in something resembling reluctant approval. “At least someone here recognizes talent when they see it.”

Half an hour later, Jamil is threading needles with the speed of a man who just wants this ordeal to end, Kalim is cheerfully sorting through fabric swatches, and Vil is in full designer mode, issuing commands and adjusting details.

You’re stuck holding a pin cushion and occasionally offering words of encouragement, but hey, no one’s been poisoned, and Vil’s outfit is somehow looking even better than before.

When it’s finished, Vil studies the revamped ensemble with a critical eye, then turns to you.

“Not bad,” he says, which, coming from Vil, is practically a standing ovation.

Kalim beams. “This was fun! Let’s spill juice more often!”

Jamil groans audibly, and Vil rolls his eyes, muttering something about how his brilliance is wasted on “uncultured chaos.” But when he glances at you, there’s a soft glimmer of gratitude.

Maybe you won’t have to stop a literal poison attack every day, but you’re definitely earning your stripes as the official Vil Schoenheit Disaster Manager™.

Instance 5: Epel, why?

Epel’s first mistake is thinking he can sneak a greasy burger into the Pomefiore lounge. His second mistake is sitting right in front of Vil to eat it.

The moment Vil spots the offensive food item, his entire posture stiffens. Slowly, he sets down the teacup he was holding, a faint air of menace radiating from him.

“Epel,” Vil says, voice dangerously calm, “are you seriously eating... that in my presence?”

Epel freezes mid-bite, the burger hovering inches from his mouth. “Uh, I mean... it’s just a quick snack—”

“It’s processed garbage,” Vil snaps, his tone sharp enough to cut diamonds. “Do you even know what’s in it? Chemicals, preservatives, and enough grease to clog your arteries by the time you’re twenty-five!”

You can almost see the poison aura starting to swirl, and your instincts kick in. There’s only one way to de-escalate this. Compliments. Lots of them.

“You know, Vil,” you interject brightly, sidling closer to him, “I’ve been meaning to tell you how absolutely flawless your skin looks today. Did you do something different? A new serum, maybe?”

Vil blinks, momentarily thrown off. “I did switch to a more concentrated vitamin C serum this morning.”

“Wow,” you gush, “it’s really working. You’re practically glowing! Honestly, you look like you just stepped off the cover of a magazine.”

Vil preens slightly, his focus shifting from Epel to himself. Epel catches your subtle hand signal—Run, you fool, run while you still can!—and starts to edge toward the door, burger clutched tightly in his hands.

Rook, who has been lurking silently nearby as usual, suddenly claps his hands together, eyes sparkling. “Ah, mon cher ami, how touching! Such devotion, such cleverness, to save our dear Epel from the wrath of Monsieur Vil! Truly, a love as radiant as the sun itself!”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, then at you, clearly aware of what you’ve just pulled. For a second, you think he might ignore your distraction entirely and summon some ancient Pomefiore curse to turn Epel into a cautionary tale.

But then he sighs and shakes his head. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, though there’s a faint, reluctant smile on his lips.

Later, as Rook waxes poetic about your “unwavering dedication,” Vil leans in close and murmurs, “I hope you know that if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have let this slide.”

“I know,” you say, grinning.

“And you owe me a handmade, organic, non-processed dinner tonight,” he adds, though his tone is more affectionate than demanding.

Fair enough. You’ve just saved Epel from doom and earned yourself a little more of Vil’s soft spot in the process. Not a bad trade-off.

Instance 6: Housewarden meeting

It all starts when Idia mutters the fatal words under his breath at the housewarden meeting.

“Skincare’s just a corporate scam for gullible people, anyway.”

The air goes still. A deathly quiet spreads across the room, save for the faint thump of a pen dropping somewhere in the background. You look up in horror, eyes darting to Vil, who has frozen mid-reading. Slowly, methodically, Vil sets the paper down with the poise of a storm brewing on the horizon.

“Excuse me?” Vil’s voice is icy, his gaze locking onto Idia with the precision of a predator that has just spotted its prey.

Idia, realizing his monumental mistake, turns pale. His flaming hair flickers nervously. “Uh—uh—wait, no, I didn’t mean—uh, you know, for other people, not you! Definitely not you, You’re obviously an exception—uh, outlier—uh—uhhhhh...”

You can see it in Vil’s eyes: hexes. Hexes upon hexes. Idia’s social credit is about to go into the negatives, and it’s up to you to stop this trainwreck before it derails completely.

“Vil, darling,” you say quickly, sliding up beside him and placing a calming hand on his arm, “why waste your brilliance on people who clearly don’t understand skincare? They’re the ones missing out. Why not show them how effective it really is instead?”

Vil’s brow raises, his attention turning to you. “Show them?”

You nod earnestly. “Absolutely. A real-world demonstration. I’ll be your model. You can prove to the entire campus how flawless your methods are by working your magic on me.”

Idia, still rooted to his chair, looks at you with wide, desperate eyes, mouthing, Thank you, oh my god.

Vil considers this for a moment, the dangerous glint in his eyes dimming slightly. “Hm. That does have potential. It’s true that nothing speaks louder than results...” He narrows his gaze at you. “But don’t think this will be easy. You’re going to follow my instructions exactly.”

“Of course,” you say, internally praying you don’t end up with a ten-step skincare routine involving rare herbs and unicorn tears.

Three hours later, you’re sitting in Vil’s dorm room with half your face slathered in a gold-infused sheet mask, while he critiques the lighting for your before-and-after photos. Idia has not only escaped with his life but is actively hiding in Ignihyde, no doubt sobbing into his console for letting this happen.

The next morning, Ortho drops off a neatly wrapped package with a note:

"Thank you for keeping Big Brother from turning into a toad. This is our thank you. Please use it wisely. - Ortho"

Inside is a supply of snacks that Vil would never allow, soda and a very generous gift card.

At least your skin has never looked better

Instance 7: Fashion Show Debate

It happens during the final stages of Vil’s meticulously planned fashion show rehearsal in Pomefiore’s grand hall. The decorators are frantically running around, while Vil oversees every detail with the precision of a hawk. It’s flawless—until Sebek’s voice booms through the air like a thunderclap.

“FASHION IS A POINTLESS PURSUIT WHEN COMPARED TO THE NOBLE ART OF SWORDSMANSHIP!”

Every head swivels toward Sebek, who stands tall, arms crossed, utterly convinced of his own wisdom. He continues, undeterred by the growing silence. “Who cares what you wear when you’re on the battlefield?! True strength lies not in silks and satins, but in the heart of a warrior!”

Vil freezes mid-step, his clipboard trembling in his hand. Slowly, he turns, and you swear you see the faintest shimmer of poison green pooling in his eyes. His glare could cut through steel.

“Excuse me?” Vil says, each syllable sharp and measured.

Sebek, being Sebek, barrels on, entirely oblivious to the danger he’s wading into. “Clothing is irrelevant when facing an opponent of true skill! A warrior’s resolve is their most valuable armor!”

Lilia, lounging nearby, starts wheezing with laughter, clearly finding the whole ordeal the height of entertainment. “Oh, this is delightful. Do go on, Sebek!”

You, however, sense disaster brewing. The tension in Vil’s jaw could snap diamonds, and Sebek’s volume seems to be increasing with every word. If this isn’t diffused soon, you’re going to witness Sebek walking the runway in a cursed tutu and heels.

Thinking quickly, you stride over to Sebek and place a firm hand over his mouth. “Sebek, remember the gargoyle incident?” you say in a low voice.

Sebek freezes, his face going pale. You lean in closer for effect.

“You know,” you continue casually, “the time you spent twenty minutes praising a gargoyle in the castle courtyard because you thought it was Malleus in the dark? Magnificent presence were your exact words, I believe?”

Sebek’s eyes widen in pure panic.

“When you finally realized your mistake,” you add, voice dripping with mock sympathy, “you begged me to swear on my life that I wouldn’t tell Malleus. Do you think he’d laugh? I think he’d laugh.”

Sebek emits a muffled noise beneath your hand, his entire posture deflating. He waves his arms frantically in surrender. You let go, and he turns stiffly to Vil, bowing his head. “My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”

Vil raises a perfectly arched eyebrow but seems satisfied with the reluctant apology. “As you should be. Now, be silent, or I’ll personally ensure you end in heels forever.”

Crisis averted, you glance at Lilia, who gives you an approving wink. Sebek, meanwhile, retreats to the shadows, muttering under his breath about unfair tactics and treacherous secrets.

As the models resume their walk, Vil brushes past you with a quiet, “Good work, darling. Though I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have minded seeing him in heels.”

It’s one of those rare, quiet evenings where the world outside seems to hum in stillness. You’re sprawled on the bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, savoring the precious downtime. The soft creak of the floorboards is your only warning before Vil’s hands are gently pulling you into his arms.

Startled, you set your phone aside and look up at him. “What’s up?”

Vil doesn’t answer immediately. He sits on the edge of the bed, arms encircling you as if shielding you from the entire universe. His expression is unusually soft, his gaze tracing over your features like he’s memorizing every detail.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says at last, his voice quieter than you’re used to. “You do so much for me. More than I deserve sometimes.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What are you talking about? You deserve the world, Vil.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he looks away for a moment. “I know I’m... a little demanding.”

You snort, which earns you a mock glare. “Okay, fine, maybe a little more than a little." You laugh “But it’s not like I mind.”

“You should. Most people would,” he counters, but his tone is softer now, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve been working so hard to keep up with me, to make me happy, even when I’m being a diva.”

That makes you laugh, and the sound seems to melt the last of his hesitation. You cup his cheek, thumb brushing lightly against his flawless skin. “Vil, it’s not hard work. It’s a labor of love.”

His eyes widen just a fraction, and then his smile blooms—gentle, radiant, and so genuinely Vil. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but the affection in his voice betrays him.

“And yet you love me anyway,” you quip, grinning.

Vil huffs a laugh, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you into a proper embrace. “Hopelessly.”

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in the warmth of each other, the world outside forgotten. It’s just you and Vil, caught in a moment that feels like love personified—sweet, steady, and infinite.

(this is kinda a spiritual successor to the how to tame your dragon malleus fic)

Masterlist

[boke---hinata---boke]

RON WEASLEY GUYS

The best most canon divergent my brain has been but please guys hear me out i

Okay so we all know the things that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to do to get to the sorcerer’s stone in the first book. Devils Snare, the key, the riddle and Wizarding Chess. We know that the Chess set was the work of Professor Mcgonagall, and assuming the protections were meant to work that means that Mcgonagall would have to have been an incredible chess player. Not above average, like GrandMaster level player. Given this when Ron beats McGonagall she is taken aback. Only 3 other people have beaten her, Albus, Severus and Tom Riddle. She takes to playing chess with Ron in the nights following in the common room (Ron doesn’t sleep at all until Harry wakes up and is back in the dorm). She has not beaten him. At the end of year feast when Dumbledore awards him points for the “best chess game Hogwarts have ever seen” the Slytherins and Ravenclaws are utterly ill. Throughout the rest of his Hogwarts career Ron is challenged by more and more students to play chess, Theo Nott, loses to him and the Slytherin students begin to look at him differently. Half of the Ravenclaws in their year watch in awe as he swiftly beats Parma. It continues like this through his time at Hogwarts, he has never lost. The Slytherin students begin to see his cunning mins, right after he beats Pucey, who is infamous for thinking 20 steps ahead. When Ron beats Marietta Edgecombe the Ravenclaws begin to follow him, they watch nearly all of his matches and take notes, completely ignoring the 5 pave paper due tomorrow. After Ron has beaten all of the students Snape (who has been listening to the whispers in the Slytherin common room) challenges him. The whole school watches with bated breath. It is well known that Snape has only ever lost to two people: Dumbledore and Voldemort. McGonagall promises him 15 Knuts if he wins, she can’t contain the shame any longer.

The ensuing chess match takes place over the span of several days, Snape is frequently writing late notes for the students who wish to see it. Other teachers are arriving to their respective classes late. Every time the game is paused Dumbledore casts the anti-tampering ward. This continues for nearly a week, Ron wins. Snape has never respected a Gryffindor more in his life (he is doubly harsh on him in potions, you beat one of the best players in the nation and you mean to tell me your potion is still bubbling??[Ron knows that Snape is seeing him, he just smiles and tweets for a few minutes before a perfect potion is bottled{Snape keeps them in his personal store]}) Eventually Ron is set to play Dumbledore, he is utterly terrified. Soon enough the match is the talk of Wizards across the nation, the Weasley family are all overjoyed for him, win or lose. The game begins and reporters from the Daily Prophet are there, Ron almost cracks, almost In the end after a week and a half Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle, with renewed vigor as he forfeits. Word gets out to Voldemort- he immediately tries to recruit Ron as a Death Eater. Every time Ron rejects him Voldemort sends an increasingly expensive and rare gift. Eventually Ron says if Voldemort vows to not hurt Harry that he will play him in chess, just once. The winner decides their own boon. The world is watching with baited breath as the best chess player and one of the most calculating minds in a century take the stage.The game lasts fornearly 2 weeks, a peace settles over the UK that has not been since Voldemort rose in that grave. The two declare a tie. No body wins, but Voldemort does realize that the war has become far too brutish.

[bensolosbluesaber]

Nowhere to Run: Part 1 (Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader)

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader

Warnings: Hints of suicidal ideation on reader’s part, Fang stuff (Miguel uses fangs on reader), Chasing, Miguel is maybe ooc (I only saw the movie once and was mostly trying to keep from audibly moaning every time he was on-screen), Miguel and reader fight - he does some damage, Poison, Wounds, Not edited (but I will come back for some minor edits later on), Let me know if I missed anything

Summary: After the collapse of your universe, you resort to jumping around the multiverse to survive. Evolution gave you the powers needed to escape your universe. Technology of your own design stopped the glitches. But you haven’t found a way to escape the man relentlessly hunting you across every universe - Spider-Man 2099. ~2,500 words

Angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending

A/N: This is for all of us who watched the Nueva York chase scene/train sequence and thought ‘when do I get to be Miles?’ This is dedicated to the Miguel O’Hara editors on TikTok - you guys are doing god’s work over there (especially with the captions). There shouldn’t be any spoilers in here beyond what was shown in trailers, but tread as carefully as you feel you need.

EDIT: Part 2

--

A persistent tingle deep in your mind vibrated madly the closer Spider-Man 2099 was to you. It was your Spidey-sense warning you of danger.  For the first few months, you managed to stay several universe’s ahead of the terrifying Spider-Man variant, but after running for months with no one to help you, dodging the Spider-Person in each universe, and growing more exhausted with each portal you opened, 2099 was catching up.

He was catching up quite literally. The man was a few blocks behind you, pursuing you through the streets of a Queens in a universe you had never seen before. Buildings were built into trees. The entire city was a perfect symbiosis between nature and technology. It was beautiful, but there was no time to appreciate it. The time on your wrist ticked down. Seventy-six seconds. Seventy-five.

You shot out another web. It caught a window, and you took a sharp corner then another trying to lose the hunter.

Seventy seconds until you could safely open another portal. Well safe was a relative measure. Ideally you would allow a full day between jumps, but if you only had twelve hours, well then odds of survival rose to about fifty-fifty. Anything less than twelve hours and implosion was basically guaranteed.

Sixty-eight. You extended your legs for more momentum, rolled in the air, shot out two webs and used them to zip forward. Sixty-two. 2099 was fast, faster than you. You didn’t dare to look back to see if he was still in pursuit.

He protected the multiverse, kept it from collapsing in on itself, and you put the entire web of connection at risk just by being alive outside of your universe. You didn’t begrudge 2099 for what he thought he had to do. Maybe it was true that your presence could cause a universe to collapse, but you were careful not to stay for too long, not to interact with the Spider of that universe, not to fight any super-villains. If he could just understand that you were careful, that you didn’t want a multiversal collapse anymore than he did, maybe he would be reasonable.

Then again, maybe not. He was relentless, and from what little you had heard of Spider-Man 2099, he wasn’t one for talk and negotiation.

Fifty-five. You dived down, shot another web, swung again. You could never go back to your world’s boundless emptiness and not another living soul. That thought kept your exhausted muscles working. Fifty. The void was all that remained of your collapsed universe, a void in which you could not die but where no one else could live.

Forty-eight. Forty seven. This block was all future, half-built apartment buildings.

Thirty. You’d long ago lost your suit. All that remained was the mask that obscured your face. You must look ridiculous swinging around in stolen street-clothes: a baggy sweatshirt, leggings, dirty sneakers.

Twenty-one. Nearly there. Just a few-

A solid mass of muscle stole the breath from your lungs and flattened you into a cement wall. Claws shattered the cement beside your head into a fine gray powder. A hand closed around your throat, and you were crushed between the blue and red clad Spider-Man and the wall.

He was pure muscle. This was the closest you’d ever been to 2099, and his sheer size was terrifying. The red lines on his mask narrowed with his eyes as he studied you.

Eighteen. You pushed at his broad chest, struggling desperately to fight him off, but he was enhanced too and probably well-fed and rested - two things you were not.

“Stop fighting me,” 2099 growled into your ear, his voice a deep rumble that you felt in his chest.

“I won’t go back.” You choked out the words while you planted a knee against him and tried to kick him away. Your efforts were utterly useless. Quite literally, you could feel muscles rippling across his chest and arms as he held you against the wall while you trid to wriggle free.

In the corner of your eye, you watched the red numbers tick down. Six. Five. Was it even possible? It had to be.

2099 brought you forward then slammed you into the wall again. The impact made your head spin. The red lines of his mask doubled and tripled. He was trying to get something around your wrist.

“Hold still!”

Two.

With the last vestige of strength left in your body, you brought a hand to his face and shot a wad of webbing at his eyes. He growled and stopped his attempt to hand-cuff you - or whatever he was doing - to wipe the webbing away. For a second he was distracted. You imagined the glowing golden portal. Closed your eyes. Energy sparked in your body, coursed through your veins and arm. You shot a web at the wall behind you. It shimmered gold, dim gold, but still gold.

There was a moment where you thought it hadn't worked. Then the wall crumbled away and you felt wind whip you backward as a bright gold light filled the space. 2099 reached for you, claws extended. Four knife-like talons dug into your shoulder, ripping through the ratty sweater, digging into your skin, and tearing four long bloody stripes into your flesh as the portal drug you away..

You planted both feet on his stomach and kicked him off. A bright red web shot out from 2099’s hand to tangle in a tree. The last thing you saw was 2099 falling then catching himself before you tumbled away from him and toward a new universe.

--

It was raining on this new Earth. Actually, ‘raining’ was a bit of an understatement. It was absolutely pouring, and you were soaked before you hit the ground. Hard.

You hadn't been as focused as you needed to be, and the portal had opened in the sky and dropped you ten feet to the roof of a towering building in some universe’s version of New York. You couldn’t tear the mask from your face quick enough as you gasped desperately for air. 2099 was strong, and he’d smashed you half a foot into solid cement.

Your ribs ached. So did your head for that matter. But it was the dull ache spreading across your shoulder, down your arm, and seeping through your muscles like liquid fire that really made you afraid.

The gray of your stolen sweater was soaked in crimson blood. Carefully, you pushed the stained fabric over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit!

Beneath the torn fabric, your skin glowed a sickly, dare you say radioactive red - the same red as 2099’s suit. His talons must have been poisoned, and now that poison was making it’s way through your body, causing unknown damage and immense pain. There had to be a lab on this Earth. Right? If you could only get there, you were smart enough to whip up an antidote.

But as you stood, it was obvious that you wouldn’t be going anywhere. The poison was potent and fast-acting. Insanely, you wondered if it was really poison or if you should be calling it venom. It didn’t matter, because a moment after gaining your feet, your legs failed. You careened forward and nearly smashed your head again, only just catching yourself before slowly laying down in the rainwater.

City lights sparkled in the distance and reflected in the puddle forming around your head. Purple and blues and few bright yellows. Not a bad view if this was how you died. If only the poison weren’t so painful. You wanted to scream, but you lacked the strength.

A familiar tingle shot across your spine a second before the bright gold light of a portal obscured the reflection of the city lights. No! He was so close when you jumped universe’s. He must have tracked you; no wonder he hadn't bothered to chase you through the portal.

You scrambled backwards weakly, your feet struggling for purchase on the slick roof as the broad shouldered man appeared. He was wreathed in gold light. You couldn’t jump again, couldn’t even stand, could barely drag your body through the rain as Spider-Man 2099 strode closer.

“Nowhere to run,” he said. His voice was flat, like he took no pleasure in finally having you trapped.

“I won’t go back!” You tried to sound tough, strong, but your voice cracked over the words. “There’s nothing there. I can’t. I’d rather die than- than go back to nothing. 2099, don’t send me back”

Your fingers felt the ledge of the building and empty air beyond it. Poison. Fall. The clawed Spider-Man. A slow descent into madness trapped in the empty and endless remains of your home universe. A fall seemed fastest. But you didn’t want to. You were scared. You didn’t really want to die. Your shoulder throbbed and head filled with fog. The skin was glowing such a bright red you could see it in the corner of your eye.

In the brief moment you hesitated, he was on you. 2099’s red webs wrapped around your chest, and he yanked you forward and away from the ledge. You crumpled at his feet, and he just stared down at you through that mask. His blue and red mask swam in your vision as you stared up at him. Was it the rain that was so cold? Or was it the poison? No, venom. Poison? Venom?

2099’s face got bigger as he knelt beside you.

“What is this?” He pulled at the torn sweater, his gaze falling on the bright red mottling your skin.

Miguel O’Hara had never seen his claws damage anyone like this. There was no venom in them… unless in whatever universe you had come from something about them was venomous. It was possible. His fangs were venomous, that he did know.

Miguel pulled off his mask, the adrenaline of the chase fading while he watched you struggle for life. He’d meant to stop you, take you back to base, figure out where you’d come from… not kill you. He ran his tongue over one of the fangs protruding from his mouth.

The next thing you knew, 2099 was sitting next to you and pulling you onto his lap. It might have all been a dream, you couldn’t tell. The lights were so beautiful. Your head lolled to one side, your whole body limp as a ragdoll in his muscular arms. His face filled your vision and blocked out the pretty lights.

He had a strong jawline, dark curls, sharp cheekbones, a broad nose, and were those fangs? And were his eyes glowing red? Yes, two orbs as red as the suit and your poisoned skin shone down at you. He was pretty too. This had to be a dream. The monster chasing you couldn’t be so handsome. You blinked, eyes unfocused. Your Spidey-sense was going wild, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fight. 2099 was warm, and you could go to sleep right here.

He shifted your body again so your side was pressed against his chest. “2099,” you whispered weakly, pathetically.

“I’m sorry for this,” he whispered in that low growl. Now it was tinged with what almost sounded like real regret. “It’s the best I can think of.”

He guided your head to rest in the curve of his shoulder, face turned toward his neck. One hand brushed hair away from your neck, the other wrapped around your waist. His fingers were no longer clawed, and his movements were gentle as he held you close, muscles tensing underneath your body. The expression on his face was tender. It seemed impossible that this was the same man who had made you his prey for months.

“Don’t panic now,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to your neck. “Stay still.”

You were barely aware of what was happening. His lips were warm, then four sharp pricks stung the base of your neck just above your collarbone and the deep poisoned wounds. Panic tried to rise in your throat, but you weren’t conscious enough to really process that a man currently had his fangs sunk into your throat. He drew back and spit out bright red poison, then bit into you again. Then again. And again.

Miguel was exceptionally careful with you, holding you perfectly still and being sure to sink his fangs into the same spot each time so as not to mark your skin any more than necessary.

Slowly, the world began coming back into focus. You were exhausted, but the poison was being was successfully being leeched from your system by his fangs. Brown curls were the first thing you became aware of, then the almost unnatural warmth coming from the man beneath you, then the cold pricks on rain on your back, then... then that something was biting you. Before you could wrench your head back, a large hand cradled the back of your head. You desperately tried to struggle as you realized what this vampiric Spider-Man was doing to you. The muscles in his arm flexed as he held your head still.

2099 pulled his fangs from your neck, spit bright red then let go of your head. You sat up quickly. The movement made you dizzy.

“I know you’re scared.” Miguel could see the fear in your eyes. He nodded to your still glowing shoulder. It was dimmer now and hurt less, but it was still obvious poisoned. “But this is working. Let me help you.”

You were looking him right in the eyes, the glowing red eyes, and though you didn’t trust him, you knew instinctively he was right.

“Okay,” you breathed lowly.

You laid your head on his shoulder. Miguel could feel how your whole body trembled, but whether it was from fear or cold or something else entirely he couldn’t tell. When his lips touched your skin you whimpered. That was fear.

Miguel still had one arm around you, but he took your hand in his free one, interlaced your fingers, and squeezed once. Then he sunk his fangs into your neck. It stung a bit but didn’t really hurt. Now that your were conscious, you could feel the poison being drawn toward the spot where his mouth connected to your skin. That didn’t really hurt either. It was like stretching a sore muscle - a satisfying pain that ultimately brought relief.

2099 drew back to spit out his poison. When was the last time you’d touched someone like this? A touch that was more than an accidental brush in the street - or a purposeful one so you could steal someone’s wallet. 2099 was your enemy, your hunter. He was dangerous. But he was saving your life and holding you so tenderly it made your chest ache.

“Once more,” he promised.

His fangs brushed over your skin for the last time. You pulled your hand from his and splayed your fingers across his chest. 2099 brought his now free hand to your poisoned shoulder and pushed the ripped fabric apart.

Miguel watched the last of the poison be pulled from your veins as it filled his mouth. He spit it out then turned back to study how your body was pressed against him.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. Then panic hit and you jerked back, still sitting on his lap but with your face now safely away from his fangs. “You- you’re going to send me back. 2099, please don’t.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Miguel.”

Miguel. 2099 had a name. Of course he did, but hearing it made him seem so human. And his face was handsome. That was no venom or poison induced hallucination. The man was beautiful.

“And no. Not yet.”

“My universe collapsed. There’s nothing for me to go back to.”

His red eyes softened as they met yours.

“We won’t send you back to an empty universe,” he paused, and one side of his lips twitched up. “You ran because you thought I’d send you back to a void? I see I have quite the reputation.”

Miguel lifted you to your feet easily. He set you on your feet and tapped the watch-like contraption on his wrist. You leaned against his muscled chest for stability. Even without his poison, you were still wounded and tired and malnourished. A portal spiraled out in front of you both.

“You promise not to send me back there?” You looked up at Miguel. He squinted at the portal’s bright light and tugged the mask back over his face.

“Promise.”

To be continued... 

Part 2

-- 

A/N: Part 2 will be a little time jump, and we’ll actually see Miguel and reader get into a relationship!

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[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 4

James Potter x Reader

Summary: While studying with the Marauders, you realise you misjudged them, rekindling feelings for your primary suspect…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, idiots in love, oc!friends, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, swearing, all fluff with a side of plot, intense pining and I mean INTENSE, James starts off scared of you but quickly learns to be openly in love, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.7K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Slipping through the aisles of shelves lined with books of spells and history, you made your way towards the tables and chairs scattered in the middle of the room. The furthest table was occupied by the four boys you were in search of: the Marauders.

Approaching the Gryffindor boys, you noticed the quiet passing of paper between Remus and James, both scribbling small notes in a hurried manner. “Ehem- hello…” you spoke softly once you were within hearing range. Four pairs of eyes shot up to meet yours, each looking more afraid of your presence than the last.

Remus graced you with a bright smile, mouthing “hey” in reply. Across from him sat Sirius, who wore a look of surprise that quickly shifted into a lopsided smirk, nodding in greeting. Peter was startled by your presence but showed no sign of genuine fright, unlike James.

The head boy sat at the end of the table, breath hitching when you spoke with eyes blown wide.

They had saved you a seat between James and Remus, which you promptly moved to, busying yourself to shift the attention off of you. You placed your material on the table, pulling out your notebook.

You were suddenly very aware of your surroundings, shifting uncomfortably in your seat and glancing at the boy next to you, meeting his gaze before turning red and glancing back down.

Remus caught your attention, calling your name and gesturing to the book he had placed in front of you. “I thought we could revise the content in chapter four and quiz each other,” he said.

You and Remus were thirty minutes into your study session, writing with intention as you took pages of organised notes in dark ink before Sirius struck up a conversation.

“Your handwriting is very pretty,” he looked at you with a grin, “Prongs, look how neat her handwriting is!” After a beat, James shifted to look over your notes and gave a shy smile.

“Oh, Godric, he’s right…” he spoke softly, looking intently as he admired your penmanship like an artwork in the Louvre. His look of curiosity shifted when he met your gaze, gulping as he pushed back into his seat with rose cheeks. Your face was burning too.

“Thank you…” you stuttered out. Sirius was watching the interaction with a snarky grin plastered across his face, ready to push James’ buttons some more.

“I only bring it up because James has awful handwriting,” he stated, “See? It’s practically sprawled all over the place!” You glanced at the boy’s scattered writing, letters not quite aligning with each other across the page. You giggled, mustering a sense of courage as you sunk into comfortable banter with the group. “Well, whatever he’s doing with his writing seems to work, James always gets great marks in class!”

Sirius smirked at your praise, eyebrows raised and laced with visual sarcasm, as if to say “bold move, sweetheart”. You found the table of boys to actually be very easy to talk to. You glanced at James’ direction once more, admiring the bashful grin he showed you in thanks.

Your eyes met his writing again, noticing the boyish quality with which he wrote. It felt familiar, like you’d seen the print before. You took this as a sign that your feelings for the boy must have never really died after all, finding so much blissful comfort in his presence.

Remus reluctantly interrupted the moment again, realising he should at least act like studying was the only reason he invited you here. “Right, think you can handle a quick quiz now, love? Test that big brain of yours?” You closed your books and met his eyes, harvesting a glint of confidence in your own. “Bring it on.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“I invited her to study.”

“What?”

“We’re in the same class for History of Magic, she’s very good you know.”

“You mean, she’s coming here? Now?”

“Who did you think the empty seat was saved for?”

James’ eyes flashed emotion after emotion, from hope to excitement to nervousness, before finally settling on fear. The note traveling back and forth between Remus’ pen and his own was losing space, and he began to flip it over in order to scrawl a series of exclamations and offensive names directed at his friend.

The soft call of a greeting from your position standing by the table made him pause his actions, his heart plummeting into his stomach and swimming aimlessly. He backed further into his chair, praying to Merlin that he could merge with the wood and disappear.

When his prayers weren’t answered, his eyes flickered to the boy who caused this encounter to happen, cursing him with his gaze.

You had settled into your designated chair, so close that he could smell the intoxicating perfume you had deliberately sprayed this morning. His lips parted at the scent, imagining you would smell even sweeter with his nose buried in your neck, unruly curls being massaged by your soft touch, waist encapsulated in his grasp.

Your eyes met his, catching him explicitly staring at you through lidded eyes. Your quick reaction to turn away pulled him out of his trance, beginning to focus on his work once more.

James’ writing manifested as a mess of nerves and lovestruck adoration. He continued to steal quick glances at your pretty face, wise eyes, soft lips, delicate skin and sweet hair that framed your face in such a perfect way under the library lights.

He mentally blessed the table for obscuring his vision of your enticing legs and providing a physical barrier between himself and your warmth, otherwise he might just curl up at your side and drift off to sleep in the comfort you emitted.

Sirius’ utterance of “Prongs” brought his attention back to the group as he explained that your handwriting was pretty and James should look at it. When are you ever not pretty? Merlin, he was whipped.

James shifted to look over your notes, the links and chains between each letter more mesmerising than the last. “Oh, Godric, he’s right…” he whispered, still staring at the perfection on the page. You were perfect.

Your small thank you sounded flustered, calming him in the knowledge that there was a chance he could make you feel the same way he did, buzzing and warm in your presence.

Sirius continued teasing the boy, motioning for you to look at his awful handwriting. James let out a silent laugh at the sudden attention, though it manifested as more of an infatuated sigh as you curiously peered at his notes.

You turned to face Sirius again, before nonchalantly glancing back at James and smiling as you said his writing gets great marks in class nonetheless.

James was grinning ear to ear with a smile that could blind a crowd of angels, cheeks pigmented with a red glow and eyes squinting from pure joy. He wanted nothing more than to bask in the warmth of your quick wit and charming softness.

When the Marauders arrived back at their dorm that night, James rushed to his desk to spill his feelings onto a page. He quickly folded the note into another baby blue envelope, running over to the girls’ dorms and slipping the note below your door.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The night was quiet, a soft breeze flowing through your open window. Your friends were tucked in and sleeping soundly as you gave into temptation and reread the messages you had received so far.

A subtle sound of commotion from your door stole your attention from the notes as yet another one appeared at its base, baby blue and addictive.

You scrambled to your feet, scooped up the message and jumped back into bed.

Throwing open the envelope marked with your name, you began to read its contents with a lovestruck haze to your vision.

“I long for you. You’ll never understand the sheer desperation you spark within me with every breath you take. My heart feels ripped out of my chest and locked away by your subtle glances, your bright smile, your shy demeanour. I want nothing more than to exist in the shelter of your love, capturing the sickeningly sweet tune of your voice in my long term memory to keep me sane. To keep me alive.” The note continued on the other side of the paper, which you flipped.

“I’ve been blessed with a proximity to you recently that can only be described as intoxicating. I breathe your attention. It fuels me to act a little more confident every time I see you, for all that you allow me gives me strength in my lovestruck prison, whispering sweet nothings to me in my dreams at the dead of night. Speaking of dreams, it seems the grasp your minor affection has on my attention forces me into a state of sleep paralysis, and I’m starting to think the only cure is your lips on mine and your presence in my lonely bed. If you haven’t realised who I am already, my love, time will tell. I’m so fucking obsessed with you, it’s unmissable. Forever yours.”

You gasped at the pure desperation demonstrated in the new addition to your growing pile of love letters. This boy was smitten, and you were finally beginning to accept the fact that you wished it was the first boy you had ever loved. You had tried to stay neutral about the situation, open to all who demonstrated such infatuation with you, but you prayed to Merlin that this boy was the one you wanted in return, one James Potter.

Sick with affection and drunk on love, you placed the note on top of the others as you began to sink into a deep slumber. Tomorrow you would return to the library with the Marauders, and you would do everything in your power to decipher if James really was who you wished he was.

The note flickered under the weight of the pressing autumn breeze, rustling the pages of uneven text once controlled by a messy hand.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A/N: AHH I meant to wait to upload this one but I couldn’t help it so I rushed to finish it! The dynamic between these two is addictive to write about and I’m ashamed to say I’m flustered over my own writing ;-; As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated and comment if you want to be added to the tag list for chapter 5! <3

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Tag List:

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[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ ALL I WANT ✧.*

a/n: tooth-rotting fluff !! this is so so mushy and soft. kissing and some touchiness but nothing too crazy i think. also this is unedited brainrot i wrote at 2:30am so enjoy ... <3

Neuvillette has never told you that he loves you.

The words are always there— resting heavy behind his teeth just waiting to burst out at the most inconvenient times, and yet he's never brought himself to say them.

You don’t need the words to prove his devotion to you anyways, already aware that there is no other soul in the world able to hold him the way you do. But he’s always wanted to say it, stopped only by his own fears.

Immortality is a funny thing. In a thousand years you could be nothing but a distant memory for him, gentle whispers in the back of his mind or ghostly touches wisping over his skin.

The idea of losing you terrifies him, but he knows the loss well and knows to keep his heart safeguarded somewhere deep within himself. I love you are words he only murmurs into your skin while you sleep, or chanted in his head when you hold him.

However, you’ve been proving it difficult to resist ever since you moved in with him.

There's nothing extravagant about the way you wake up, nothing extraordinary or strange. You wake up like any Fontainian would: cold and gloomy and complaining about the weather.

Despite how ordinary it all is, it doesn't stop him from spending the first few minutes of the day admiring your face before he inevitably has to get out of bed to get ready for work.

Mornings are his always favourite; the slow stirrings of the day like a calm before the storm. Those few minutes are precious to him more than anything in the world, where he can do nothing but kiss your sleeping face awake and keep you wrapped up in his arms.

You've recently made it your routine to follow him out of bed a few minutes later. He hasn't found out why exactly until today.

He doesn't even need to turn around to know it all— every part of you memorized and carved into each muscle and filling any thoughts that cross his mind.

The slow shuffling of your feet across the room; the quiet yawn that makes him smile because he can imagine your face; the bumping of your body into the back of his in your clumsy state.

It's all comfortable. Familiar. You.

"Morning..." You mumble, arms wrapping around his waist and nose buried against his back.

"Seems someone slept well," he hums.

Your arms squeeze his waist a little tighter. "Because you keep the bed so warm."

"I see. Is that the only reason you decided to crawl out of bed this morning?" He asks with a little lift of amusement, placing his mug down and watching the ripples stir in his coffee.

"No," you lie rather blatantly, and he laughs in a way that makes your heart flutter. "....Shut up."

"It’s quite rude to say that to the Iudex, no?"

"Shut up," you huff again. Your hands carefully climb under the hem of his shirt and explore the expanse of his skin. The cold this exacts on him makes him stop in his motions. He shivers before finally turning around to catch your wrists.

You frown, gently knocking your face back into his body— his chest this time, where you can hear his heart beating.

"Not my fault you're so warm."

Neuvillette only sighs, scooping you fully into his arms and leaning back onto the counter so you can rest your weight against him.

And he knows every part of you like this too: a memory chained to his beating heart. A second life breathed into him meant only to remember you this way.

He knows you're cranky because the sun just rose and here you are, already shuffling around the cold house since he left his side of the bed empty. He knows that you're impossibly perfect in his arms— a piece of a puzzle hand-crafted for him to hold. He knows that it will be sunny today.

You are everything. Everything.

He pulls you away by the shoulders, nose brushing against yours as he leans in close to kiss you. There's a pause just before your lips meet— an apprehension in his actions. He sighs, shaky and nervous.

"I love you."

Then he kisses you slow and sweet, the same way he has always savoured that feeling twisting in his heart at the very thought of you. Enduring and knowing, lacking any more hesitation because he knows this is exactly what he wants and where he needs to be.

You're blinking at him dumbly when he pulls away, lips parted in such a cute way that he wants to lean in again.

"I must be hearing things because I swear you just said–"

"I love you," he repeats quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed by his confession yet unable to contain the words anymore.

Your expression twists in wonder and for a moment he can't help but think that you're the most beautiful person in the world. In the centuries that he's been wandering Fontaine, he's never been so sure of one thing:

"I love you," he says for a third time in full confidence. His lips crash into yours again in a frenzy, a flurry of emotions swirling in his stomach and so many thoughts screaming in his ears that he can't think straight.

When he stops for air he doesn't fully leave you, mouth still married to you as he kisses along your cheek to your jaw. You laugh, arms circling around his neck.

"Can you say it again?"

And he will. He would say it a million times just to see you smile like that again.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

🏷️ @saetoshi hi my beautiful

[lizzy06]

Tamaki Amajiki x Reader Fics Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

His Sun ✨✨💖by alkhale (oneshot, fluff, humor) "I-I've always thought you're like the sun!" Your laugh hits his ears and you smile, bright and shining. "Is that supposed to be a bad pick-up line, Mr. Suneater?" [COMPLETED]

DoubtPt1 |Part 2| Part 3✨✨💖 by @onyxiana-is-obsessed (soulmate au, fluff) Everyone in the world has a soulmate and Tamaki Amajiki is no different. The thing is, he’s terrified to meet or talk to his soulmate because he’s scared they could a villain. That is… until he’s finally able to talk to you. [COMPLETED]

Roses and Butterflies ✨by @tamabbyboi (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) Soulmate au! In a world where whatever you write on your skin shows up on that of your soulmate, you and Tamaki fall in love via marker and make the perfect pair. [COMPLETED]

“if you ate pussy does th-” “y/n do no finish that sentence” ✨✨ by @bakugohoex (oneshot, fluff)in which you had been shot by a quirk that makes you say your thoughts aloud, the big three come to class 1a, you’re long time crush and friend tamaki gets made to answer questions and you stupidly raise your hand. [COMPLETED]

silent admirer | tamaki amajiki x reader ✨by madaraxwbu (fluff, angst, smut)what's tamaki to do when he realises that he's falling in love with one of the most popular girls in school? [COMPLETED]

Blissful Contact✨ by feelingthorny (fluff, eventual smut)He was often nervous, sweating, and seconds away from fleeing any conversation, but despite his trouble in social situations, Amajiki found himself pursuing you: the barista who caught his eye, whose quirk lets his body do the talking for him. [COMPLETED]

A Nudge in the Right Direction✨ by Vanya_Instance (fluff, both are shy)If UA had an award for the most nervous, awkward and self-critical student then you and Tamaki would tie for first place. [COMPLETED]

Manifesting Love✨ by Vanya_Instance (oneshot, fluff, humor) Tamaki Amajiki makes the accidental decision to book off Valentines Day. The office is gossiping, the media is in a frenzy. Who's the lucky Valentine? It's no one. Seriously. He just wanted a day off, but when the media are about to eat Pro-Hero Suneater alive, you come in to save the day. [COMPLETED]

Assistant to the Hero ✨by  @dira333 /Fogfire (fluff, humor)With three years at the agency under your belt, you’re more than ready to take on one of the bigger sidekicks of Fatgum and you know that you’re capable of assisting Suneater. All you need is a chance. And if the ongoing interviews are any indication, he hasn’t picked his new assistant yet. [COMPLETED]

The Study of Poetry✨ by EntranceToInfinity (oneshot, fluff, humor)A short, sweet story of falling in love with Tamaki- (or, in which you literally stare at him and embarrass yourself) [COMPLETED]

Amajiki/Reader: Blossoming Romance by KawaiiDeku(fluff)Amajiki has a tell when he's in love, one he has trouble hiding. [COMPLETED]

So, Fuck Marry Kill? by insanityrunsinthe_family(college au, fluff, humor, explicit words(?))You came over and sat down with her and your two mutual friends, Togata, and Amajiki, and saw that she was deep in thought. She noticed you and sat up on her knees. “Oh! Oh, (Y/N)! Fuck, Marry, Kill! Amajiki, Togata, and me.” [COMPLETED]

Bon Appétit by EntranceToInfinity(friends to lovers, fluff, humor) Everyone deserves a bit of fun in their lives. And if you get your laughs from watching a dark-haired elf boy eat, is it really so bad? [COMPLETED]

Set Us Up - Amajiki Tamaki x gn! Reader Oneshot by  milk_breadx (oneshot, fluff) Mirio and Nejire have been trying to set you and Tamaki up. [COMPLETED]

It's because you're cute by MizPotatoBiscuits (friends to lovers, fluff, smut)Being friends with Nejire got you roped into the big three, becoming friends with them and enjoying their presence. Training hard you end up at the same hero agency as Tamaki Amajiki, the cute socially anxious bean. [COMPLETED]

Dear Fellow Traveler by Katonyx(smut)Getting the Suneater to come out of his shell is definitely an undertaking in itself. But what if a certain purple haired pro hero is just waiting for you to make the first move? [COMPLETED]

butterflies in your stomach✨ by @orphic-osamu (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff, hurt/comfort) whatever scars your s/o gets appear on you as well. [COMPLETED]

a butterfly | tamaki amajiki x reader✨ by madaraxwbu(fluff, smut, angst)what's tamaki to do when he realising he's catching feelings for his hot-headed underclassman? [COMPLETED]

Honey & Chamomile by Pixelwisp(oneshot, friends to lovers, fluff, childhood friends)Tamaki Amajiki gets the soft fluffy love story he deserves. [COMPLETED]

remember me by moegan(onesot, flower shop au, flower language, fluff) Tamaki Amajiki saves a civilian. He doesn’t expect her to buy him coffee and teach him about the wiles of floral culture. [COMPLETED]

Choice Words by Amberzard(oneshot, pure fluff)Reader is a member of UA's class 1-A and is blown away by the introduction of the Big Three (and an ass whooping from Mirio--). However, reader is impressed by Tamaki in particular. After all is said and done, reader rushes to Tamaki to give him a few choice words. [COMPLETED]

Balanced by ScatteredScribbles(oneshot, fluff, humor)The two of you fall into a familiar rhythm. Your hands tangle into his hair while his settle into their usual spot at your waist. For all of your differences, there was no denying that the two of you just fit. [COMPLETED]

of sleepless minds by ActuallyNonsense (collection) a collection of amajiki tamaki x reader oneshots/drabbles ． [COMPLETED]

[sfehvn]

new religion

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Description: AU- Astarion is enamored by you, and while he fights it at first, he may have just found his new religion. A/N: Just a tad bit of sweet smut to be honest. This was my listen while I wrote if you were curious. Enjoy! xx Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,069 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

  From the moment Astarion had seen you, he knew he had to have you. Walking through the animated city of Baldur’s Gate, your radiant smile was the first thing that had caught his eye. Flowing hair kissed your shoulders adorned with freshly plucked daisies. Your aroma was the most intoxicating scent that had graced his nose in all of his years. Your rose-tinted cheeks teased with the blood flowing beneath your flawless skin. Your eyes sparkled with wonder, reflecting the rays of the sun above. He had never been a believer in the love at first sight nonsense, yet there you were. If his undead heart could beat, he was sure it would be skipping against his ribcage. It was the only time the vampire had found himself utterly speechless. 

  For months, he watched from afar, finding excuses to go into town. Not that he had to excuse anything to anyone, but the newfound feelings were frightening, to say the least. Alas, day after day Astarion went out, whether for a drink or an unnecessary shop trip, and he would wait to get even the slightest glimpse at you. He was aware that this obsession was snowballing out of his hands as he fell harder and deeper. Hells, he had never even spoken to you. Yet he knew nearly everything there was to know. 

  He knew every other day you made your way to the apothecary to pick up medicines for your sick father, whom you cared for. He knew once every fifth day, you picnicked in the graveyard next to your mother’s grave. He knew your favorite color was yellow because it reminded you of the summers you spent with your mother before her untimely passing. You had six siblings: an older brother and five young sisters. 

  Astarion had also realized that you had a death wish, apparently. You were constantly staying out past sundown, running errands or helping neighbors. Did you even comprehend the dangers? He would often think to himself. Of course he had to follow you home to ensure you made it inside safely. You were becoming a liability to him, and quite frankly, he was terrified of how you made him feel. Just when he had decided to end this one-sided arrangement, there you were. Sat on the side of the road with tears pooling rivers down your cheeks, his body felt out of his control as he approached you.

  He stood in front of you, his words caught in his throat. You stared at him with those big doe-eyes, and his knees felt like jelly. “Are you alright?” He finally managed out. Gods, what am I doing? I should just sink my fangs into her and be done with it. It’s just bloodlust. This was something he had tried to convince himself of many times already- a lie.

  “Oh, yes.” Voice sweet and smooth, like the finest honey gold could buy. “Just this silly book.” You giggled, holding up the novel you had previously been engrossed in before Astarion had found you.

  “Right. Good.” He clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure and still his spinning mind. “I’ll just be on my way then.” You nod, gifting that sweet smile to him. Astarion felt his legs would give out beneath him if he stayed longer, but he didn’t move an inch.

  The man intrigued you, ruby red eyes and skin pale as the snow that fell during winter. He was gorgeous. An aura of mystery surrounded him, and you were keen to discover those mysteries. “Say, you live in that big fancy manor?” You question, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen you two.

  “I do. Why?” Skepticism was palpable in his tone. 

  You disregarded his tone, and he believed it to be your naive nature. “You have the most exquisite daffodils blooming alongside your walls. I didn’t want to pick them without asking.” Your smile is sheepish, innocent. Astarion doesn’t speak, his face unreadable. “I-I enjoy putting bouquets together. I don’t mean to-” He already knew this, obviously.

  “They are yours.” Astarion can’t contain the smile that tugs the sides of his lips.

  As you two stroll to the location of said flowers, Astarion finds himself loosening up in your presence. He watches you intently, the way you move your hair from your face as you carefully pluck a few from the group. He urges you to take more.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother. These are plenty.” You assure. In response, he crouches down next to you to help pluck the remaining flowers.

   After walking you home, Astarion ordered flowers to be planted around the grounds. With the help of just a little magic, within weeks, roses, peonies, sunflowers, and carnations bloomed healthily. You would come with a fresh serving of food, a bouquet as thanks, and collect the flowers. As naive as you were, you could recognize what Astarion was doing. The daffodils were a one-off in that area, but now flowers surrounded the entirety of his property. The rate at which they grew, too; you were aware some effort went into getting them to blossom so hastily. At every mention of a new flower, the next time you came, they were miraculously in bloom.

  This compromise had been in full swing for months when you finally questioned him about it. Astarion was on his knees as he snipped red roses from the bush, insistent on doing it himself so you didn’t prick yourself on a thorn. “Why are you doing this?” You question, a wicker basket that was already overflowing held firmly in your hands. 

  “I told you, you’ve nabbed yourself on these blasted thorns one too many times.” His reply came without a look in your direction as he continued to snip the stems.

  “That’s not what I meant.” A soft chuckle emanates from behind closed lips. He looks up at you in realization, his hands coming to a halt. Your breath catches in your throat as he stares at you wordlessly, longingly. Standing slowly, he takes a step closer to you. He drops the roses into your basket before cupping your cheeks, closing the distance between your faces. The kiss is electric. You drop the basket to your feet, arms snaking around his neck while he presses your body tightly to his, clinging to you like a prayer. His lips were a colder temperature than you expected, but they were soft and hungry. 

  That’s how Astarion ended up with you in his bed. As he eagerly ripped the pale blue dress from your body, you took note of the bouquets around his bed chamber. Every single one you had gifted to him was on display and in perfect condition. Your heart flits in your chest, eyes closing in ecstasy as wet kisses trail up the inside of your thighs. A soft moan is elicited from you as his mouth reaches your warmth, his tongue flicking teasingly along your slit. Your fingers thread into his stark white hair, instinctually tugging with every contact against your clit. Colors explode behind your eyelids from the euphoric excitement.

  He pulled away briefly, with his starving mouth against your thigh, he spoke muffled words, “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been waiting to hear that, darling.” Your breathing quickens as you look down at him between your thighs with hooded, lustful eyes. His mouth returns to your clit and he suckles lightly, two fingers dipping into your dripping center. The sensation brings your back into an arch, aching to feel him deeper inside of you.

  The swirling motion of his tongue brings you close to the edge, your legs shaking mercilessly. Astarion’s free hand moves between his torso and your legs, holding them steady as he continues his work on your body. Just as you are about to cum, he places a final kiss on your mound before his eyes meet yours. “You’re much naughtier than I thought.” He tsked, crooning his neck at you before moving up your body.

  Your lips meet passionately, his tongue slipping effortlessly into your mouth to meet your own. He creates a gap between you as one hand holds him up, quickly removing his trousers and undergarments with his other hand. He pressed his bulge down onto your warmth, hitting your sweet spot as he grinds against you. “Do you taste how lovely you are?” He murmurs, plunging his tongue further into your mouth. You can only let out a delighted moan in response.

  Once he breaks the kiss, you press your slippery core harder against his erection. “Please fuck me.” You whimper lustfully, “Please-” Your words are cut short by the sensation of him rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, causing a delicate moan to leave your throat.

  “Fuck. You’re soaked, my darling.” He coos. As much as Astarion wanted to continue to play with your body, he needed to be buried in you as quickly as he possibly could. He slides the head of his member from your clit, pushing slowly into your welcoming embrace. He savors every sensation as he enters you. There is a momentary flicker of pain on your face as you adjust to his size, and he falters for a moment.

  “Have you done this before?” He asks quietly, pressing his forehead to yours, avoiding your throat to save himself from temptation. He cursed himself inwardly for even asking; he shouldn’t care. This woman brought a side out of him he had never met before- a softer side. The scariest part is he actually, well, liked it.

  You wavered for a second before shaking your head, confirming that he was indeed the first man to have ever been in such a position with you. The thought makes him feel feral. Such a sweet flower trusting someone like him to take your virtue; he would never admit it to anyone, but honor and pride swelled in his chest. He nodded in acknowledgment, “We’ll go slow, pet.” He reassures, hips rocking delicately into yours as he fills you with as much of him as he can manage without causing you discomfort. He lays a gentle kiss on your forehead as your pain turns into pleasure, still-shaking legs wrapping to engulf his hips.

  “A-Astarion.” His name sounded like a hymn gracing his ears from your mouth, and he wanted to devour you right there and then. It took everything in him not to plow you into the bed. His hand rests on the bedframe as he finds a comfortable rhythm, eyes never leaving your face. He wanted to soak up every reaction to his touch.

  “You drive me crazy, pet.” He grunts as his pace quickens, gripping the mahogany wood tighter at the magnetic pleasure buzzing through his body. He uses his free hand to effortlessly move you further up into a slightly seated position as his thumb once again finds your clit to draw purposeful eights over it. 

  “I-I’m- Oh my gods-” The moan is loud, music to his ears as your walls tighten around his cock.

  “That’s right. Be a good girl and cum for me.” It’s a stern demand, all to mask just how close Astarion was himself. His words push you over the edge, your body clinging to his for support as the euphoria rushes over you. Every hair on your body standing on end, you throw your head back and scream Astarion’s name thrillfully. 

  With you coming undone, he allows himself to reach fruition, his seed filling you to the brim. His hand on the frame loosens, and his head hangs, face full of gratification. He looks down at you, pulling his now-soft member from you, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you stretch contently, much like a cat. Your eyes were droopy, a giddy smirk on your face as you fought to keep them open. Astarion chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You can sleep, my darling. I’ll wake you in a little.”

  Astarion swore he felt the tiniest tinge of warmth in his heart at the sight of you so comfortable cuddled into his side as you dozed off. This could be a welcome change. Maybe his undead life just needed his very own light, his own sun. All he knew was that he was done fighting it. One weakness couldn’t hurt.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Stories

A Rose Without it’s Thorn

Things I Wish I Got to Say

I Am What I Say I Am

Wicked Woman

Please Please Please

Terrify Me

Poet on the Broadcast

My Espresso

The Things I Wanted to Say

I Have You Now (18+)

Sweat (18+)

Tears to Shed

Older (18+)

Overtime (18+)

Y/N's Song

Watch Yourself

Headcanons

Sleepy Shinanagins

Sleepy Shinanagins Part 2

Never Dressed Without a Smile

Power Play

Sneaking Shadows

Personality Class

Personality Class Part 2

Personality Class Part 3

Personality Class Part 4

On Standby (18+)

Stories

Broken Hearts Still Beat

Lazy Days in a Dreamy Haze

Too Sweet

Someone New

Two Sides (18+)

Please Don’t Prove I’m Right

I Have You Now (18+)

Evermore

Almost My Raven

Headcanons

Friends Fall Together

Sleepy Shinanagins

Sleepy Shinanagins Part 2

Body Swap

Birbifur

Ducky Dearest

On Standby (18+)

Stories

Just The Way You Are

Stories

Sedated (18+)

Headcanons

On Standy Pt2 (18+)

Stories

Moon

Under Your Spell (18+)

Headcanons

On Standby (18+)

Headcanons

Only One Bed!

Only One Bed Part 2

What I Like About You

Romantic Coping (18+)

Platonic Coping (18+)

Talk To Me Now

Friends Forever

Pet Names

S.I.M.P

Call Him Daddy

Baby Momma

Happy Ray of Sunshine

Crown thy King

MBTI

Peeping Tom (18+)

Men in Makeup

I Ain’t Fraid of no Ghosts

Heal My Heart

Giving Gifts

Open Up (18+)

Accidents Happen (18+)

Flashbang (18+)

Closet Space

Closed Calls (18+)

Sleepy Time

Can’t Help Falling In Love

Bonding Buddies

Growing Attraction

Falling in to you

[httpwintersoldier]

『 lady marmelade. || buggy x reader 』

[PART 2 OF 4 - ONE PIECE'S KINKTOBER] - BUGGY VER.

[SHANKS VER.] [MIHAWK VER.] [SANJI VER.]

pairing: buggy x f!reader words: lenghtyyyyy summary: your occupation lead you to meet your new boss... who'd perhaps become more than that. angst; smut; fluff.

Doing Burlesque was not what you had initially seen yourself doing professionally, but in a weird turn of events, the doors had opened and you walked right through them. Or rather... the curtains.

You initially intended to study the sea and its mysteries, but it wasn't exactly a job that paid well from the get-go, so you began working at a bar. Just to get yourself started, you said.

Then a man noticed you... He was tall and well built, a little meat on his bones but definitely intimidating. Hair as white as snow and a full beard with a nicely kept moustache. The man couldn't help but compliment you: your beautiful smile, your beautiful body, your bright personality... You were perfect, he said.

He approached you, initially asking you how much you made. You found it insulting! That was, until he said he'd triple it if you joined his show. The man was sure you'd be a hit, and he was right.

At first you thought he was inviting you to be a stripper, but as you learned the art of burlesque, you realized it was nothing of the sort - and you loved it. The attention, the compliments, the lights and cheers, the beautifully decorated attires, the attention to detail... But most of all, you adored the freedom it gave you to study the sea.

The pay was amazing, and it allowed you to have enough time and money to invest in your hobby - the sea.

"We got a... uh... how to describe the situation..." the stage coordinator said as he tapped his chin, looking for the correct words "We got a different crowd."

You were applying the finishing touches to your attire, but stopped, furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the man as you heard his choice of words, as well as the ruckus behind the curtain.

You stood up and walked to the edge of the curtain, tugging on it slightly, so only one of your eyes peeked out to look at the audience. You gasped in horror and stepped furiously towards the stage manager.

"Since when do we allow pirates on our cabaret!?" You whisper-yelled at the man.

The heels made you taller than him, and the way you were staring him down sent a shiver down his spine. The man was gripping his board with the show instructions as he struggled to give you a response.

"I guess we do when- when they pay well we do..."

You weren't prissy, much less were you an elitist, but pirates... they disgusted you. When you began working at the cabaret the owner allowed pirates in. Those nights were treacherous, to say the very least. The harassment, bottle throwing and disrespect for the art rose through the roof on those nights, so pirates and their crews were banned effectively from watching the shows. Except the ones whose pockets were deep, apparently.

You slumped back on your chair and held the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger as you sighed.

"Tell me I'm the first one, please, tell me I get to get this over with and fuck off home."

The stage manager scoffed.

"I don't know what would overcome the Boss to somehow put you first... You're the last one." The man informed.

He had the habit of doing this. You were his golden goose, the cherry at the top, as he liked to say, so you were always last, because everyone stayed to watch you.

That was the only time where being the favourite sucked.

"Babygirl, you're first, you're on in 40 seconds." The man said, and your colleague applied some powder hurriedly and walked to the big red curtains.

You watched as she stepped out to her signature intro song with a fake smile that hid how fucking terrified she was of the pirates.

Usually sets came and went as quickly as a snap of the fingers, but this one time, the one time you were curious to hear about, seemed to drag on for ever and ever.

"Thank y'all for tonight, you were lovely!"

As soon as you heard those words and saw the curtains move, you stood up.

"Evelyn, 60 seconds 'till you're on!" the stage manager called to your next colleague as you walked towards Babygirl, held her hands and looked her in the eye.

"So? How were they!?" You asked, barely even letting her catch her breath.

"You know what? Not that bad..." She said, sounding surprised by her own statement "I get the feeling they were just kicked out of every bar in town and came here to drink. They were excited and there was quite a lot of ruckus and cheering but I think the main focus were the drinks... There was this clown dude in the back that seemed very desinterested though." Your colleague explained, as you both walked to her vanity and she began taking off all of the paraphernelia that decorated her.

You furrowed your brows. That was surprising... But it made sense, somehow. They might've been behaving just for the sake of not being thrown out again and running out of alcohol for the night.

Your colleague looked at you up and down.

"You're going with Cherry Pie today?" She asked.

You kept a couple personas in your pocket, to keep it interesting. You liked to call it "The Burlesque Sisters", except each one of them was played by you. It kept people interested and coming back for more, wanting to get a peek at each sister.

You looked down at your attire: it was a red corset with wine-coloured felt details and a heart-shaped neckline. You wore a miniskirt that was not at all intricate, as it came off in the very beginning of the set, long black gloves with red feathery apliques on the hem, black stockings, and a pair of beautiful red platmform heels with guilded details. Your makeup matched the get up perfectly: a bold red lip with a dark red liner, gold sparkles decorating your face, as well as gold eyeshadow on your waterline, and a killer cat-like black winged liner. You were always keen on having your hair up, as you felt it was the perfect hairdo to keep eyes focused on your body and on your movements.

Cherry Pie was a fan favourite, no doubt. So you were a little reluctanct on bringing her out, afraid that the pirates would keep coming back for her (cocky of you, you were aware), but it was too late to change.

It wasn't long before you heard Evelyn's typical goodbye quote. She came in strutting in the room, hapilly removing several bills from various parts of her attire.

"Good tippers!" She said with a smile.

"Cherry Pie! You're on in two minutes!" The stage director called.

Whoever went next to Evelyn got a little more time before going in, as the staff needed to clean up her glitter sprayed across the floor.

"So? How was it?" You asked, raising your brows.

"Oh, it was great! They weren't exactly respectful but they tipped really well and they were very engaged! Except for this clown dude at the back, but I didn't bother much with him." Evelyn said with a shrug as she took off her earrings.

You stood up with a pensive face and straighened your outfit, suddenly becoming curious about this clown guy that seemed to be uninterested by women in very little clothing dancing in front of him. You walked to the curtains, waiting for the stage manager to give you your cue.

When you heard the first beats of your intro song you strutted in, one foot in front of the other, hands on your waist and a big, flirty smile. You winked at the crowd as the big stage lights lit you up.

You lifted your arms up as if to say "I'm here!" and popped out your hip.

"Welcome, to the Cherry Pie show!" You said, earning a bunch of cheers, and then hit the Beety Boop pose, placing your hands on your knees and popping out your ass as you winked.

The clown your colleagues had mentioned wasn't hard to spot: this wasn't a simple crowd, for sure, but he was definitely the one that stood out the most. In a good way... you'd argue.

However, as you introduced yourself, you could see him look up: his head lifted from the fist that it previously rested on and his eyes sparkled. You couldn't relate to the desinterest the others had reported, and you wondered if you had particularly piqued his interest - or if he was just tired of the position he was in and decided to switch (although the glint in his eye said your initial theory was correct).

You carried on with the performance, keeping a special eye out for the pirate clown.

You slowly undid your corset, opening it to reveal a tighter, smaller corset, flashing the crowd with an expression that said "oopsie!". There were some groans and there were some laughs at the trick. You discarded the corset you had taken off and went around the room collecting bills, as you danced suggestively and lip synced to your song.

As you walked closer to the clown you bit your glove and slid it off, revealing your long, red press on nails. You repeated the process on the other glove and discarded them, earning a few whistles. You could feel the clown's gaze on you, almost as if it burned.

And so, you decided to tease him: you dragged your nail along his jaw. The clown somewhat leaned into your touch, and although the music was loud, you could swear you heard him groan.

You continued you act and, in no time, your songs came to an end and it was time to say goodbye to your surprisingly pleasant guests.

"Y'all have been a lovely crowd! I've been Cherry Pie, Cherry Kisses!" You yelled, touching your ass with one heel as you blew them a kiss.

There was standing up, whistling, cheers, and a couple noises from displeased people, sad that the show was over. One thing was for sure, the clown guy had a hunger for you - and he wouldn't let you go so easily.

As you disappeared behind the curtains, the man stood up, making his way to the back.

"Sir you can't come in-" The bouncer began, but instantly shut up when Buggy flashed him a wad of Berry. Any ammount of money was worth being sacrified if it meant it was used to see you.

Evelyn and Babygirl had gone home already, so when you heard footsteps you assumed it was your bodyguard ready to escort you home.

"Hey Dante I'm not ready yet, give me 5 just to take off the makeup and put on some clothes!" You said, not looking behind you as you worked on getting the glitter off.

"I think you look marvellous just like that."

When you didn't recognize the voice, you were startled and stood up, looking at the man that had spoken, to find the clown guy leaning against the door frame.

You couldn't not remember who he was...

"What are you- How did you get here?" You asked, pointing at him and squinting your eyes.

"Honey, I've got plenty Berry, and I don't mind spending it on you." He said, arms stretched out as he stepped towards you.

You raised your brow and crossed your arms in front of your chest as you analyzed him from head to toe.

"This isn't a strip club, you can't pay for a room with me or whatever. And it's Cherry, not Honey." You said, attitude dripping from your voice.

"Yes, unfortunately it isn't a strip club, but I'm not here for that. I want to offer you a spot. On my crew, on my show." The man offered with that familiar glint in his eye.

"Why, pray tell, would I want to go be a pirate? The pay here is amazing, I love my job and I am comfortable." You asked.

The clown admired how unafraid you were of him. People usually kept their distance, ran away, stuttered near him... But there you were, facing him and challenging him. He absolutely had to have you.

The Captain was desperately looking for reasons to give you, until his eyes landed on a book you had on your vanity. You liked to entertain yourself and read on breaks from shows and happened to leave them on your vanity.

"A book about marine life?" The man asked, pointing at the book "Honey, why read about it, when you can see it. Join me and you'll see all of the life you read about in those pages, up close. I'll equal what they pay you here- fuck it, I'll double it."

Now that was tempting... But you couldn't help but wonder why...

"Why do you want me so much?"

Now that was a damn good question.

"I've never seen my men this focused on something. It's good for morale and it gives them something to do other than a big mess on my ship. Plus, we kinda need a gymnast on the show and you fit the bill."

Bullshit. He just bullshit his way out of the truth - in reality he just wanted to have you close, he wanted to be able to look at you up close whenever.

"Your men? Your ship? What are you, a Captain?" You asked genuinely.

The male scoffed and took another step towards you.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

You shrugged as an answer, your face showing a definite sign of absolutely not giving a shit about the answer.

"My name is Captain Buggy, or Buggy the Clown." Buggy, as he introduced himself, detached a hand and had it fly over to you.

"Woah! You're a Devil Fruit user!" You said, amused to finally meet one, and shook the flying hand.

Although detached, your touch on him still managed to send shivers down his spine.

"So, Miss 'Cherry Pie', have we got a deal?"

You pretended to think for a bit. The answer was obviously yes (more pay and you got to be close to the sea!?), but you didn't want to seem too eager.

"I believe we do Captain Buggy."

The way you said his name made him wonder how many other ways he could make you say it... It sent another shiver down his spine, and the captain asked himself if it had been a good idea to invite you on board - Buggy didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his hands off of you.

When the owner of the Cabaret heard of your departure he nearly fainted. The man tried to negotiate but he couldn't possibly match what Buggy had offered you, so the boss reluctantly let you go and you embarked on a new journey.

The beginning was a little rocky, some of the crew members got a little touchy and Buggy had to threaten them multiple times, but after you started standing your ground and threteaning them yourself, you gained their respect.

Normally you wouldn't be so brave as to stand up to several big men experienced in fighting, but you knew the Captain had your back, and that gave you a lot of confidence.

The first time there was a show, Buggy invited you to sit back and watch, so you could learn how it all worked before being part of it, and you had to admit, seeing the man take control of everything... it was kind of hot. Those words danced in your tongue when he asked you what you thought about the show afterwards, but you decided to keep it to yourself.

"This good enough Captain?" You asked innocently, fixing your corset so your boobs stood out.

Buggy thanked his heavy makeup for concealing his blush, and the coat for hiding his growing boner as he inspected your outfit from head to toe. He wanted to say no. He wanted to cover you up with a long, large coat and send you out with it so only he could see you like that, but alas, that wasn't possible...

"Uh yeah, Y/N, you look fantastic." The Captain said, not able to look away from your chest.

You giggled and thanked him, before getting ready to step out. The tent was particularly full that day, as people gathered, curious about the new act that had been announced.

As the cheers, claps and whistles reached Buggy's ears backstage, he felt a sense of jealousy spread in his body. Oh it was a bad idea to hire you, for sure...

When the show came to an end and the guests had left, Buggy sat on his throne and counted the Berry they had made.

Suddenly, he heard steps.

"Who the fuck is here and why are you here?" The Captain asked, in a grumpy tone - he very much disliked being interrupted.

"Sorry Captain!"

As soon as he heard your voice it was like a rainbow washed over him. He hated that. He hated how you had so much control over his body, over the way he felt.

"That's okay, thought it was one of the other degenerates. What can I do for ya, sweetheart?" Buggy asked in a completely different tone from the one he had previously spoken in, pleased that you had come talk to him still in your show attire.

"Well I wanted to ask... did I do good?" You asked, biting your lip and holding your hands behind your back nervously.

Oh boy did Buggy want to grab you by the neck and push you against a wall... Seeing you in front of him, nervous and asking for his approval, all while biting your lip... You had no idea how much self control he had not to fuck you dumb.

"Sorry sugar, I couldn't watch the show tonight..." The Captain explained, a sad tone in his voice as he said it.

"Oh..." You replied, a little disappointed "Well, maybe I could give you a private show." You said with a flirty wink.

Buggy smirked and looked at you, supporting his head with his fist.

"Don't make promises you can't handle keeping, princess." Buggy said, boldly.

You chuckled and turned around.

"I can handle everything, Captain."

You could feel Buggy's eyes on you as you walked away, and chuckled lowly when you heard him curse under his breath.

The man turned, huffed and puffed in bed that night, grabbing his crotch at the thought of you, at the way you called him Captain, and at the pretty little teasing quote you'd thrown at him - but he knew that no release would be satisfying - unless you were the one giving it to him. That couldn't be. He had to find a solution.

Little did the man know, the solution would find him soon enough.

Due to his Y/N-induced sleepless night, the following day the man retreated to his living quarters before dinner, in order to get some rest.

You, who didn't know what was going on, grew concerned about the Captain. He was always grumpy, sure, but he was also constantly laughing and full of life, whereas that day he was simply... not.

You knew no one was even supposed to go near his room, let alone visit it when the Captain specified he didn't want to be disturbed. But you were one curious cat - and a worried one too.

As you stood outside of his door, you bit your lower lip, wondering if you should knock or not, but before you could decide for or against it, the Captain had already sensed a presence outside.

"Who has a death wish?" Buggy asked, referring to the person that stood outside of his room.

"T-that would be me, Captain..." You replied, nervously, confident he'd recognize your voice.

Buggy's mind was torn - he looked (and felt) like shit on one hand, but on the other, having you with him in his room all by yourselves... The bottom head thought faster, and he replied with a low "come in".

You opened the creaky door slightly and peeked inside, before walking in.

Buggy laid on the bed, his hair free of the bandana and tied in a low ponytail. He had one arm falling from the bed, and the other covering his eyes, and one leg resting on the bed as the other had his knee bent.

You blushed slightly as you realized he was just wearing his underwear and a large striped shirt.

"Woah..." You said, at the sight of his long hair.

Buggy uncovered his eyes to look at you and followed your gaze. He just chuckled, making you snap back to reality.

"Uh, Sir- Captain," You corrected "are you okay?..."

The light in the room was scarce, the only thing lighting up the space being the moonlight coming in through the hatch. Still, you could see his cocky grin.

"You worried about me, princess?"

You dared walk closer to him, in small, shy steps.

"Well, yes... You didn't seem yourself today..."

Buggy clenched his fists and held himself back with all the strenght possible and imaginary when you put one knee on his bed, making it dip slightly on your end, and placed a hand on his forehead and face.

"Captain, you feel hot!" You said, worriedly.

He was hot alright, but it wasn't a fever that left him like that.

"You know princess, you're right, I haven't been 100% lately, I have been having a little problem..." Buggy admitted, as he licked his lips.

"A p-problem? What problem?" You asked, an uneasy feeling rising within you.

Upon seeing your panicked expression he chuckled.

"A problem with you, dear."

The panic and fear increased even more, and it was visible on your face.

"Don't worry princess, you've done nothing wrong. In fact, quite the opposite... You've been doing all the right things."

You innocently cocked your head to the side.

"I'm- I'm sorry Captain, I'm not sure I'm following..."

The man grinned and groaned when the name left your lips. Such an innocent mouth, that he had imagined doing such sinful things to...

"You see, sweetheart," Buggy began, his hand lightly tracing up the thigh closest to him "you've been driving me crazy. The way you dress, the way you talk, fuck- the way you say my name."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he imagined you moaning his name. You grew hotter and hotter at each of his words, and all you could focus on was how his hand went higher and higher on your thigh. And without noticing, in your head, you began begging for his hand to just fucking hurry it up and grab your ass.

"W-well Captain, I guess it's only right that I fix the problem, I caused it after all, hm?" You suggested bringing your other leg up to the bed and across him, so you were straddling his lap.

"Oh princess, I don't know if you wanna get into it..." His hands found the place you wanted him to find.

The man grabbed your ass with such force that you couldn't help but moan.

"I'm pretty sure that I do..." You said in a husky voice, as you felt his cock harden under you.

Before he could speak, you opened your mouth once more.

"You know, Captain," now that you knew he enjoyed it, you were going to exploit the hell out of the name "I like the way you take control of the show..." you paused once more and leaned in to whisper in his ear "How about you take control of me like that?"

It was as if your voice brought him the full 10 hours of sleep he needed. It was like energy washed over him and he felt... alive. More than ever.

The clown was quick to switch positions, straddling your waist and pinning your hands above your head, slowly riding up the top you wore. Buggy licked his lips as he stared at your exposed stomach.

"You're playing with fire, princess. Little girls that play with fire get hurt..." Buggy teased with a glint in his eye.

"Then hurt me."

His lips glued to yours instantly, in a violent, hungry kiss. Buggy didn't know it was possible for someone to drive him even crazier, but you did it. You pushed him to the very edge and he had never craved something so much in his life.

Buggy's hands were all over your body - grabbing your thighs, slapping your ass, caressing your waist... He wanted to take in every piece of you. As he touched you, the Captain slowly took off pieces of your clothes, and when you realized, you were naked under him.

You blushed slightly, tugging at the hem of his shirt so he'd understand.

"We're not speaking now, dollface?" The man asked as he removed his one piece of clothing "Cat got your tongue? Hm?"

You ran your hands down his torso and bit your lip - he was a lot more toned than he let on.

"Just... admiring the view." You said before catching his lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

Buggy detached one of his hands, and you shrieked into the kiss as his cold fingers made their way inside your panties. He teased your entrance, until you tugged on his hair as if to say "hurry up, fucker".

"Don't be-" He paused, shoving two fingers into you slowly "-impatient."

You sighed deeply and moved your hips against his fingers. Buggy looked down at you move in amusement.

"You know pretty girl, we have another problem at hand..." The Captain said, tracing your face with his fingers until he reached your neck.

"W-what is it?" You asked, through half lidded eyes and in between moans.

Buggy gripped your throat, making you gasp and arch your back. He leaned closer to your ear so he could whisper.

"I don't know if I wanna fuck you like this to see your pretty little face when you cum on my cock, or shove your face in the pillow and fuck you from behind."

"A-as long as you make me cum Captain..." You said with a smirk.

You whined as he removed his fingers and licked them clean.

"Are you doubting my capabilities, princess?"

You had no time to reply, as he reattached his hand and used it to flip you around and pull your ass up in the air. You gripped the sheets, your cheek against his pillow taking in the smell of your Captain, as you watched him take his placed bbehind you.

Buggy took his sweet time palming your ass and admiring it.

When he took out his cock, you couldn't see it from the angle, but you knew it was big and girthy, because when his hard lenght smacked against your ass, you knew you were in for it.

"Fuck..." You breathed out.

Buggy chuckled.

"It's not even in yet princess, save the cursing for later..." He teased, running the tip of his cock up and down your folds until he himself couldn't hold it any longer.

The Captain wanted to slam into you and fucked the words out of your mouth, but it was your first time with him and he didn't want to risk being too rough or hurting you.

So, with furrowed eyebrows and agape mouth, he pushed into you slowly, until he bottomed. It took all of his strenght to pull out and shove his cock back in in a slow pace.

Once he found you were comfortable with the pace, he began speeding up and, when your moans became loud and you called for his name, Buggy lost all control.

The man gripped your hips like a madman and fucked you like his life depended on it.

"Oh fuck- you're such a good girl Y/N- you take me so well..." He praised as he gripped your ass and smacked it a couple times, earning a yelp from you.

"Y-you feel so good Captain!" You moaned, gripping the sheets beside your head.

One of Buggy's hand detached and found your clit, rubbing it at a consistent, fast rhythm. The man was good. You wanted to savour the moment as long as possible but for the first time you found it hard to not cum.

Maybe it was his skill, maybe it was his demeanor, and maybe it was his appearance, but the truth was that you couldn't get enough of him fucking you.

"Buggy I think- I think I'm gonna cum-" You whined, as a familiar feeeling began washing over you.

"A-Already princess?"

Buggy kept up the confident persona, but deep down he was thanking every diety in existance because he didn't know how long he could last, with you moaning for him and tightening around his cock like he had imagined so many times.

"Please... may I cum?"

"Do it!" Was all he could say.

Your legs faltered and the Captain had to hold you up as he fucked his cum into you, riding both of your orgasms out.

Small groans and whimpers filled the room as the both of you came down from your highs. Buggy hissed as he removed his soft cock from you.

The man helped you lay down on the bed and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him as he closed his eyes.

"Hey Buggy?" You called, as you played with his hair and admired how long his lashes were.

"Hm?..." He sleepily asked.

"When you hired me, was this your intention?" You asked, biting your lip.

The man didn't open his eyes, he just chuckled.

"I can't say it was completely innocent... I wanted you close to me." Buggy explained with a smirk.

He then grabbed your ass and pulled you even closer, causing you to shriek and giggle.

"I guess you got it, Captain..."

[juniperhillpatient]

are you fucking KIDDING me ? That’s it? that was it? 2 second blink & you miss it death scene for the most awful character in the movie after a mildly annoying character got a ten minute literal salt in the wound torture scene? I’m not trying to be salty (lol) but wtf

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader 

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–”

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.  

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

.

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

[b00kdiary]

Take it | Azriel & Cassian (II)

Azriel x Cassian x Plus Size Reader

Rhysand's playing Cupid and his meddling has you experiencing something you never would have thought possible.

Warnings: Mature content (18+), mature language, fluff, and SMUT.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

The walk back up to my room feels like an eternity.

From the moment I said those final words and turned on my heel and began to walk away, time seemed to slow down, seemed to stop when they both rose as one, their feet silent as they followed me out the door.

Trekking through the corridors, the three of us were deathly silent, the only sound of my heels clicking against the floor and our soft breaths dancing in the air. I could feel it, feel them, watching me- over my hips, my ass, my legs, watching my hair sway with every swift step.

And now we were here, in my room, and it was sobering, to say the least.

I came to a steady halt in the middle of my room and my breaths sawed in and out of me as I felt the indomitable power of them behind me. I heard them step inside, heard them stop, heard my door click shut- and then lock.

I waved my hand idly and the candles and log fire in my room blazed to life, bathing the darkness with light, bathing us with light. Forcing air into my lungs, I turned and stopped short at the sight of them both before me.

Azriel and Cassian watched me, their bodies as still as death, constellations shining in their eyes, and I could scent their desire all over them. They waited despite their need; despite the fact they were thrumming with energy- waited for me to decide.

"Y/N," Cassian muttered, his voice like gravel and my heart fluttered at the small, kind smile he gave me- as if placating my nerves, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

My knees were trembling, weak and numb with anxiety, but I steeled my spine and forced down every shred of worry and insecurity that threatened to overwhelm me.

I was sure.

It was palpable, the way their auras shifted, breaths catching in their throats when I lifted my chin, letting my shield drop completely, letting them scent and feel everything I did. They track my movements like predators, watching with terrifying attention as I slip my hands behind me.

And unlace my dress.

My hands shake as I tug on the ties, loosening the back enough that when I drag my hands up to the straps on my shoulders, hooking my fingers under them, it all comes apart with ease.

A growl reverberates through the room- from which male I can't tell. Not as I haul the silk dress down my breasts, my stomach, tugging it down my hips and thighs before letting it slip from my fingers and pool at my heeled feet.

Utterly naked, utterly bare- body and soul.

"Are the two of you sure you want to do this?" I ask, my trembling hands clenching at my sides, but I push myself to meet their gazes, to not let my fears control me.

But when my eyes meet theirs, I wonder why I ever questioned them at all.

They watched me, no, more than that- they saw me. Eyes trickled down my body, across my flesh, seeing every curve and roll, seeing my stretch marks and cellulite, and being in awe of every inch of me.

Cassian approached me first, his long legs bringing him to me in seconds and the smile on his face, the wonder made me dizzy. My eyes flutter when his handsome face ducks down inches from mine, a large, calloused hand cupping my cheek firmly, lovingly.

"You are fucking magnificent," Cassian was breathless, I could hear his heart pounding and my hands lift to his chest, my fingers finding purchase in the material of his shirt, to keep my knees from giving out. "Can I kiss you, angel?"

A whimper slipped from me when he brushed his lips against mine, the barest touch, a whisper of a kiss as if trying to coax me into more. His hands didn't leave my face and didn't touch my body, not until I said he could.

"Please, Cass," I whispered, my voice fragmented and the need in my tone was all it took for him to lose all hold of his control.

Cassian's eyes flared and I barely got down a breath before his hand fell to my exposed waist and he tugged me flush against him, his lips capturing mine. I gasped into the kiss, gasped into him and every thought eddied from my mind at the taste of him.

Cassian's mouth tasted me, devoured me, he sucked and explored and prodded in a way that told me he wanted to memorise every inch of my mouth, my lips. My back arched like a bow when his fingers razed down my body, kneading my flesh, as if he couldn't get enough of the feel of me.

I didn’t fight him for control didn’t want to not as he pressed me to his steeled body, not as he cupped my ass in his hands, not as he kissed and kissed and kissed me.

Cassian drew his mouth from mine, begrudgingly, and my body shivered, my core clenching when another set of hands settled against my skin, as another set of hands traced across my stomach and hips, a solid chest pressing against my back.

"Az," I purred his name, eyes rolling at the feel of his mouth as my ear, canines nipping and teasing, jagged breath washing over me. Cassian grinned, a flash of white teeth before his strong hands turned me, so fast that I giggled from the dizziness, now meeting a different pair of hazel eyes.

"Look at you," Azriel muttered, wondering eyes feral, his tone dripping with praise and want as he let his scarred hands travel across my flesh, as he let those wild shadows feel me too. "Beautiful, so fucking beautiful."

Heat blossomed over my cheeks, over my body at his sweet words and I let that feeling guide me as I ran my hands up Azriel's magnificent body, until my fingers curled into the roots of his soft hair, and I was pulling him down closer to my face.

Cauldron, these males could kiss.

His hand wrapped around my throat, keeping me exactly where he wanted me as his lips met mine, and I could do nothing, didn't want to do anything, but let Azriel taste me as fiercely as he wanted.

Languid, broad strokes of his tongue against mine, satiating and wholly powerful, a male used to being in charge, used to having a female submit, to take all the pleasure he gives and beg for more- and I would, I would beg if I had to.

I moaned into Azriel's mouth, my eyes clamped shut at the intensity of it all- so many hands, tugging my breasts, rolling my nipples, palming the flesh of my ass, lips kissing my neck, canines scrapping against my sweet spots, rumbling growls of need piercing the air.

It was just like Rhys had shown me this morning, the both of them, absolutely worshipping me, both kissing and tasting and touching me, and I felt like the fire fanning between my legs was about to fucking explode.

"Please, please-" My voice sounds pathetic, whiny, and desperate as I drag myself away from the perfect torture of Azriel's lips, breathless and eyelids heavy as I choke out the words.

"We've got you, angel," Cassian chuckled roughly from behind me, and I saw Azriel's lip tilt into a purely male smile, the both of them staring down at me, loving how strung out I was. "We're gonna take real good care of you, don't worry."

An impatient sound escaped me, a mixture between a snarl and a whine but any protests or curses I was ready to spew fell short when I was suddenly whirled around, Azriel's hand gripping painfully into my hair, forcing my head back to look up into Cassian's dark eyes.

"So impatient," Cassian tutted, lip curling and my chest rose and fell like tidal waves as the male silently stared down at me, neither of them touching me spare the grip Az had on my scalp. "Az, you don't mind if I have a taste do you brother?"

Taste- Gods above I was going to pass out.

"By all means," Azriel replied, an almost feline satisfaction humming in his low tone, "I wonder if she's as sweet as she smells?"

I was definitely about to pass out.

Cassian grins and I melt into him when he kisses my lips again, only for a second, before he begins to kiss down my body, down my jaw, my neck, my chest, his tongue trailing over my hard nipples- all the way until he's kneeling before me.

The room was painfully silent as Cassian's gaze met the wet, aching spot between my legs and I wasn't breathing, not even thinking, as he curled his large hand around my thick thigh, his movement graceful as he lifted my leg, and hooked it over his shoulder- exposing me to him.

His fingers carved crescent moons into my thigh as he marvelled at the sight of me, and I clenched around nothing at the way his face hardened, like a male conquering, a warrior after he'd won the war.

"I'm going to fucking enjoy this," Cassian teased, kissing the flesh of my inner thigh and I could do nothing but force air into my lungs and lean into Azriel's solid chest, his towering form peering over my shoulder, watching his brother get closer and closer to where I needed him most.

"Cass-Cassian!"

There was no warning, no sign, not as Cassian lurched forward and wrapped his lips around my throbbing, desperate clit.

"Cauldron," I moaned, almost pathetically loud as Cassian's tongue parted my folds, as he teased and lapped against my clit, as the sounds of him eating me out danced through the air like a lewd song.

He groaned, the grumble reverberating through me, his contentment clear as he curled another hand around to palm my ass, shoving his face between my pillowy thighs and running his tongue over my core again and again until I was on the verge of screaming.

"It seems you taste even better than I thought, sweetheart," Azriel muses haughtily against my neck, and my body trembles when his canines pierce the flesh there, his arms hooked around my stomach like a vice.

He was forcing me to endure Cassian's relentless mouth, to endure his bite and the shadows torturing my sensitive breasts and all of it made my release barrel closer and closer.

It was almost embarrassing, how quickly his skilled tongue made me inch toward my climax.

"I'm so-so close," I babbled, tears leaking down my face now, my body writhing against Azriel's hold as Cassian's tongue toyed back and forth, back and forth with my clit, occasionally stopping to suck the bud harshly between his lips, teeth nipping until I couldn't contain my noise.

He's smirking against my cunt at the sounds that slip from me, and I choke on a pleasured cry when he suddenly shoves two large, calloused fingers into me, my core so wet that he has no resistance as he fucks them deep inside me.

"C'mon sweetheart," Azriel coaxes, his hands bruising as he holds down my flailing hips, pressing me back so that I can feel the terrifyingly large, hard imprint of his cock against my ass. "Make a mess all over Cassian's face, you're nearly there."

His tone was almost condescending, mocking and somehow, something dark and twisted and dirty within me seemed to feed off his words. Because Cassian flicked against my clit, his fingers curled against a spongey spot in me, and suddenly it was all splintering to pieces.

"Cassian, Cassian!"

Everything went dark for a second as my back arched and my body went unnaturally still, and I went limp against their bodies as a sea of release washed over me. I moaned, desperately loud, my stomach clenching and unclenching as my climax pulsed and pulsed and pulsed.

I sag back in exhaustion, my eyes clamped shut as I try and catch my breath, waves of release still rocking through me and slowly fading into oblivion. The hands around me have softened, tender as they soothe me through the high.

"How you feeling, angel?" In the time it takes for me to come down from my climax, Cassian's now stood before me and as my eyes flutter open and meet his, I can't help but smile at the adoration on his face, hopelessly sweet as he cups my cheek, brushing my hair from my sweaty face.

"I'm doing great," I giggle, a manic, gravelled sound and Cassian chuckles, white teeth flashing, and I know Azriel's amused too, just from the way his chest shakes with laughter against my back.

"You look pretty worn out," Azriel mumbles from behind me and I try and force some dominance back into my eyes as I glance over the shoulder at him, at his gorgeous face and greedy gaze, and I raise a brow.

"It'll take more than that to truly wear me out, Az," I say pointedly, and the way his eyes narrow- as if calling me a brat- makes me even wetter than I was. "When I get to that point, trust me you'll know... assuming you can get me there?"

I was playing with fire, I knew it the second those words left my lips- and all sweetness and calm vanished from his eyes, vanished from the room. And suddenly, I was trapped between two apex predators, two Illyrian males who could fuck me senseless, fuck me until I was begging them to stop.

"Get on the bed, sweetheart," Az commanded, the voice of a five-hundred-year-old male, of a spymaster, a torturer, a killer, "Don't make me ask twice."

Cassian laughs- actually laughs- when I rush to do so, the dominance in Azriel's face, his voice, making it impossible for me to not swiftly move to the bed, climbing up the satin material until I've reached the middle.

"Lay down, angel," Cassian states and the air in my lungs turns to ash when they both begin reaching behind them to the hooks on their shirts, releasing them to pull off the materials. "and spread those pretty legs for us."

I do it, I obey- but I don't take my eyes off them. Not as acres of corded muscle and dark, captivating whorls are exposed, not as I see the ripples of packs down their glorious stomachs, trails of dark hair following under the band of their slacks.

I watch them, captivated, and they watch me, enthralled.

I gaze at them as they unlace their breeches, biting on my cheek hard enough to taste blood as the fabrics come loose and they start tugging them down, almost in unison, their dark eyes never once leaving the spot between my spread thighs.

Mor was right- wingspan did correlate to size.

“Starting to regret taunting us now, huh?” Cassian snorts, seeing my doe eyes get wider and wider, flickering between the two of them as they yanked off their breeches, discarding them on the floor beside them.

I lifted my chin, feigning arrogance but deep down, my stomach coiled at the idea of fitting them into me, how they would stretch my cunt, stretch my mouth, how they’d fucking ruin me.

“Just say the word, and we’ll take it easy on you,” Cass rounded the bed, in all his naked glory, hazel eyes blackening to dark chocolate at the sight of me sprawled out on the bed, and I saw his cock twitch as he settled beside me. “You just gotta tell us if you can’t take it.”

His words were sincere, telling me that whatever I felt I should tell them- but there was also a challenge there as if asking how much I could handle.

I sucked in a harsh breath of air when scarred hands began languishing up my calves and my eyes flashes forward, to Azriel, who knelt on the bed between my parted legs, wings splaying up high behind him.

“Is that what you want sweetheart?” Azriel cocked his head, abs rippling as he leaned forward on his palms, slotting my thighs around his lean waist, so close that his cock brushed my folds. “You want us to go easy on you?”

“No,” I hiss through gritted teeth, my back bowing as Azriel reaches down and grabs hold of his long, thick length, the tip already leaking pre-cum- and I gasp when he rubs himself through my soaking wet folds. “I want-want you to fuck me hard, I can take it, I can-“

Azriel doesn’t wait for me to finish my sentence, not as he shoves his cock into me, hard and brutal, unforgiving as he sheaths his painfully thick length in until he’s hitting my cervix. And Cauldron, do I scream.

“There you go,” Cassian praises from beside me, hands combing through my messy hair and beaming as I cry out at Azriel’s ruthlessness, pulling his cock out to the tip before shoving himself back in all the way, again and again.

“Az-Azriel-“ I choke, my walls clenching around him as his hips fuck into me, forcing me to adjust to his size, his hands at my waist bruising as he keeps me in place. “Oh, my fucking Gods.”

“Taking it so well,” Azriel growled, and his smile was feral when my legs hooked around his waist, my eyes rolling as he slipped in deeper, hitting a spot that had me fisting the sheets under me. “Wrapped around my cock so good.”

“Cass, Cass, please,” I force my eyes open, my body rocking wildly, my tits bouncing as Azriel fucks me, our arousals wet through the air. My lips pout- my blowjob red lips- and Cassian’s smile is almost terrifying.

As if this is exactly what he had been picturing from the moment I said those words.

He hisses when my small hand wraps around his hard length, cursing as I pump my hand up and down, my mouth watering as he shifts on his knees, guiding his tip to my mouth, ever so slowly pushing past my lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Cassian moans gutturally, a sound that shoots straight to my pulsing clit as I take him further into my mouth, not stopping even when he hits the back of my throat. I gagged, making Cassian tighten his fingers into my scalp, his hands guiding me.

Azriel moaned, spreading my legs so that he could lean forward, palms braced on either side of my chest, and I mewled around Cassian’s cock as he plucked a nipple between his lips, teeth biting hard against the bud.

I was making such a mess- around Azriel’s cock, my arousal dripping down my thighs and onto the sheets below me as he rutted into me, skin slapping skin. I made a mess around Cassian’s cock too, spit, and pre-cum gathered covering his stomach as he bucked his hips, fucking my mouth how he liked.

“Just-just like that,” Cassian gasped, voice rasping like sandpaper, his words stuttering and broken as I bobbed my head up and down his length, feeling him twitch in my mouth, thighs tensing under my palms. “Got me so close, angel.”

I feed off his confession, feed off the jagged sounds Az makes against my wet breasts as he pounds into me, and I’m sucking harder, cheeks hollowing, tongue raking along the veined sides and Cassian snarls.

I gag as he bucks his hips up, hitting the back of my throat, and I can feel his cock twitching, a guttural, animalistic sound tearing from his lips as his orgasm hits, and I can’t help but take him deeper into my mouth, whimpering when he shoots hot spurts of his cum down my throat.

“Look at you, swallowing his cum,” Azriel grits out sardonically, watching Cassian’s cock pull free from my mouth, pearly cum gathered on my lips. His hand wraps around my throat, pressing down on either side- and forcing my eyes to his. “You gonna be a good girl and come around my cock now?”

“Yes, yes, yes-“ I cry out, head spinning from the hold Az has around my windpipe, my pussy throbbing as he moves faster, hips angled up, hitting a spot inside me that had me seeing stars. “Close, so close, Azriel, Az-“

A sob lodges in my throat when pressure brushes against my clit- not Azriel’s hand, but his shadows. My toes curl, back arching as they toy with the bundle of nerves, messily flicking and pulling and rubbing in a way that makes it hard to breathe.

“Let go, Y/N,” Cassian whispers, kissing my jaw, his tongue trailing softly against my skin, and grinning at the sound of Azriel fucking me, the sounds that tumble from my lips uncontrolled.

It’s too much, the shadows abusing my clit, Azriel’s cock buried deep in my cunt, hammering against that sweet spot, Cassian coaxing me toward that edge.

“I’m- Azriel, I’m-“ I can’t speak, all sound silencing in my lungs as my climax hits me, hard and fast and all-consuming, so strong that my thighs clamp down around Azriel’s waist, trapping his cock deep inside me.

Hot white release, like stars exploding across my vision, a kind of pleasure I’d never felt before, an orgasm that leaves me reeling.

“Shit,” Azriel curses, sweat covering his brow, dampening his hair and I feel his hips start to falter as my core clenches and unclenches around him, sucking him in deep and rough, my orgasm rippling through every inch of my pussy.

“Shit-“

I hear an amused chuckle and my release dies down just enough for me to crack my eyes open- to see Cassian running his hand down the bridge of Azriel’s wing, a sadistic smile tracing his lips as he traces the talon at the tip, watching Azriel shake above me.

It was the hottest thing I had ever seen- Azriel above me, eyes unable to stay open, the muscles in his arms stiff with the exertion of keeping himself up, his beautiful face twisted in pure pleasure as he buried his cock inside me- and fell apart.

I feel my cunt pulse as Azriel roars, the hand at the base of my throat clamping down just right and I moan as his cock twitches, his hot seed spilling into me, making a mess as he fills me up.

The fire inside me begins to wane, slowly fading into oblivion as Azriel stops completely, panting and trembling, as my thighs loosen from him, collapsing to the bed in exhaustion. My eyes close unwittingly, and I scrunch my nose uncomfortably as Azriel’s cock slips free, leaving me feeling empty.

Yet still pulsing with the aftermath of him being inside me.

“Sweetheart?”

“C’mon Angel, let us see those pretty eyes.”

I flutter my eyes open at the sound of their sweet voices, so at odds with the dominant, authoritative males they had been moments before. I blink away the fog covering my gaze- meeting two pairs of warm, honeyed hazel eyes.

“There she is,” Cassian grins brightly, and I sigh when his hands come to my hair again, his fingers soothingly running through the knots, easing the ache of where had been tugging minutes before.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked quietly, and I couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at my lips as I glanced forward to him, seated between my legs, hands rubbing at my thighs, and a worried frown on his lips.

“Remember when I said you would know when I was worn out?” I whispered, my voice sore as I rose onto my elbows, a soft laugh escaping me when both their eyes dropped to my breasts, shaking with the movement.

“This is me worn out,” I bite my lip, and the way their faces brighten, the way they both smile- it was pure masculine satisfaction, the most Fae male thing they could do.

“Then it seems we did our jobs, angel,” Cassian winks, settling so that I was leaning against his chest now, my head dropping against his still-racing heart. I felt my cheeks heat, but I smiled as he ducked his head, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

I groaned as Azriel’s hands began massaging across my body, from my calves to my thighs, up my hips and waist, over my arms and shoulders, until his body was towering above me, hazel eyes glinting like stars.

“It’s also our job to take care of you after wearing you out, Y/N,” Az whispered, a small grin tilting his lips, and my heart fluttered, so full of light, as he kissed me, just as pure and careful as Cassian had.

“Just relax, sweetheart.” 

____________________________________

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[utterlyotterlyx]

Azriel prompt 2 and 3!! Don't make it sad though lol

Work Song

Summary - A mission with Azriel takes a bad turn.

Warnings - angst, mentions of death, fear of death, fluff

"God - here just hold my hand."

"Is now a bad time to tell you that I'm claustrophobic?"

Took all of my willpower to not make this sad af.

Death.

It was always something that had terrified you, they all knew that you had spent many a night lying in bed thinking about what would come next for you, and no one knew of your fear more than Azriel, the one who soothed that fear and made it evaporate with his searing adoration for you.

Azriel assured you that no matter what came next, he would follow you anywhere, whether that be into the eyes of death and a life of entangled souls, with you, it didn't matter where he was. You were his home, his everything. The sun to his moon. The bird to his spring breeze. The dawn to his dusk. Everything.

But as he knelt before you, nose bloody and panting with wildly wide eyes staring at you in the hands of the very male you had set out to exterminate, he could see that fear in you, he could see it in the way your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, he could see it in the sweat rolling down your forehead and in the gulps of air that you took as his knife pressed to your throat.

You were just as talented as Azriel as a spy, if not more, you had grown up as an orphan in Hewn City and had no choice but to fend for yourself. Rhys had found you tailing him a couple hundred years ago along the Hewn City streets, he admitted how impressed he was by you, by your nimble athletics and swift fighting style. Azriel hadn't been happy when Rhys had placed you under his wing to train, though he found himself becoming fond of you rather quickly.

There was a sense of shared trauma between you, with his marred hands to the thick cracks slicing through your back. Life hadn't been kind to either of you, but it gave you some form of solace to know that you weren't alone.

Then the bond snapped, and Azriel often refused to ever leave you, he just wanted to be with you, slaying the Night Court's enemies or entangled with your body in the small cottage you shared in Velaris.

Azriel loved you more than anything he ever thought possible, the need to have you near, to protect you, was so great that if he wasn't with you he would believe you to be in danger. It wasn't like you couldn't look after yourself, he certainly didn't doubt that after the copious amount of times you had flipped him over your shoulder with a smirk on those beautiful lips. It gave him peace having you near, it was like he couldn't truly believe he had you, a mate, an eternal love.

Blood trickled down your neck as you heaved a shaky breath, the tip of the knife prodding into your skin. Your eyelids flickered closed, and he watched your lips move as you spoke to yourself, he watched you pray to the Mother for Rhys to hear your calls.

"God, here - just hold my hand," Azriel spoke gruffly to you as darkness shrouded you in its embrace, there was no light source in the tiny hallway, the walls were close, so close that you thought the world was caving in on you, and it didn't help that you couldn't see anything in front of you.

Blindly, you reached for him, finding instant comfort in the warmth of his digits entwining with your own, no matter how serious Azriel had to be sometimes, his touch alone told you how much he loved you, it was always so soft, and he always rubbed his thumb across the surface of your skin.

"Is now a bad time to tell you that I'm claustrophobic?" You had squeaked, flinching at the sudden tense of his hand, you couldn't see him but you knew he had turned his head to you, slowing his shuffling sideward steps.

A cold embrace curled around you and you relaxed into the shadows that cradled your face and shoulders, they purred at you, and you hummed in the softest of thanks as you felt his lips press to your temple. Such a simple thing, but something that gave you life in a way nothing else could.

"One step at a time, Dove," you smiled slightly at the name, the one he called you often, light as a feather he had said, swift and elegant, poised and perfect, "We'll be home soon. How does a bath sound? I'll even let you put one of those facemasks on me."

A small giggle pushed through your lips and you could feel him sigh in relief, "That sounds perfect, Az."

Then he had pulled you from that suffocating nook and fallen to his knees after a brute force slammed against the back of his head, awaking to find you stood before him in your leathers, hair pulled into a tight braid, gasping for air in the arms of another.

Every fibre of his soul, everything that made him, was fighting to get to you, but he couldn't. Chains were secured around his limbs and wings, carefully placed so that each tug would threaten to rip his wings from his body. But he would do it. He would lose everything for you even if it meant tearing himself to pieces in front of you.

Azriel grunted in frustrated annoyance, in agony as he tried to reach you, "Stop Az, your wings," tears brimmed in your eyes and your bottom lip wobbled.

A gentle tut pulled his gaze from you, focusing on the male who held you tightly in his arms, his face illuminated by a single streak of moonlight that slipped through the crack of the roof. A revolting thing held you, smirked at the smell of your blood, and it made Azriel boil.

"Do you love her to death?"

Azriel's eyes darkened as you whimpered, bristling in his iron clad grip, "Speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life."

It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever said. Pity.

"No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her, no matter what."

The chains rattled and you squeezed your eyes shut, you couldn't see your mate try to rip himself apart for you. A chill breath fanned against the back of your neck and you shivered involuntarily at the sensation as the blade limply curved around your neck, threatening to spill the contents of your throat onto the damp stone floor.

Rhys. Please.

Azriel screamed in frustration, "Dove, look at me," he commanded, and you listened, you knew what he was trying to do, he was trying to soothe you with that calm voice that had the power to convince you of anything, "It's going to be okay. Just keep your eyes on me."

"I'm scared," you whispered into the pitch black room, forgetting the blade pressed to your neck at that moment.

"I know, Dove. We're going to get out of this alright? Soon we'll be back in Velaris and you'll be in my arms, alright?"

A shaky hum sounded in your throat, one that was full of tense tears and sadness.

The sensation of the body ripping from you made you gasp and you lurched forward, into another set of arms. Red siphons entered your clouded vision and you could have sobbed in relief as those arms cradled you as your attacker gargled on his own blood at the hands of your High Lord.

Moments later, chains rattled and clattered to the floor, and Azriel was on you within seconds, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips into your hair line.

"What happened?" Rhys asked, looking at your shaking form with worry as Cassian scoured the room top to bottom, Azriel was too focused on you to care about the mission at hand.

Azriel ignored his brother, cooing to you softly as sobs recked your body, a body that was trying to recover from the possibility of your greatest fear coming true, "Not now, Rhys," Azriel murmured as he scooped you into his arms and stalked from the room, following every winding path to the courtyard and lifting off into the sky without a second thought.

Azriel flitted around you once he had placed you on your bed at the cottage, he ran the bath and added all of the oils he knew soothed your muscles and anxiety. Your mate peeled the clothes from your body, then his own, and settled into the tub with you, gently washing away the blood around the already healed spot on your neck.

Candlelight illuminated the space, from the matching toothbrushes in the holder by the sink to the array of soft cotton towels folded neatly atop the organiser. Neither of you needed much to be happy, you had grown up with far less, so little that any opulence made you feel uncomfortable; but that didn't stop Azriel from showering you with gifts daily and making sure your shared abode was as comfortable as it could be.

Fear rolled off of you in waves, and he knew that you were thinking of your blood spilling onto the floor, he knew you were thinking of the grasping to life and the garbled mutters of your love confessions from your bloody lips before darkness consumed you.

"Hey," he turned your head to the side and found emptiness in your eyes, "You're home. You're safe. We're fine, okay?"

Slowly, you nodded, acknowledging his words and settling into his arms once more, sighing as the searing hot water worked its way into your muscles and coaxed you into relaxation. His lips peppered along your shoulder, slowly, lovingly, like every kiss was a declaration to the Mother of his thanks.

"I love you," your voice was weak, Azriel buried his head into the crook of your neck, "I thought you were- that I was-"

"I won't ever allow anything to happen to you," your silence was drowning, a solemn pause in your otherwise blossoming lives. Azriel's finger dragged along the curve of your jaw, "I need you to say it, Dove. I need you to believe it."

Sliding down a couple of inches, the back of your head found the space at the centre of his chest, the water rose to your shoulders and you curled onto your side, "You won't let anything happen to me," you repeated quietly, "We're safe. We're okay."

Azriel spent the rest of the evening doting on you, making sure you ate and drank, he nestled you onto his lap and read to you, he allowed his fingers and shadows to rake through your hair, and he held you tightly to his chest when your body couldn't fight slumber for a moment longer.

As long as he had you in his arms, nothing would be able to take you away.

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Coriolanus Snow might be a heartless monster, but he'll always be yours. You'll always be his obsession. And that was one thing that Dr. Gaul underestimated her protege about: his obsession with you.

Masterlist here

Heartless Pt. 2

Coriolanus always thought that if he ever laid eyes on you again that he'd kill you. Wrap his hands around your neck, squeeze, and watch your life force drain out of you. He always thought that he'd look deep into your eyes until they glazed over with the death that he brought you.

But Coriolanus never thought that when he saw you again that he'd be keeping vigil at your bedside, watching your ashen form weak and in an endless sleep, while rocking your- his newborn son in his arms.

A son that he only found out about when your older brother called him up, frantic.

That call changed everything. It replayed in his mind on an endless loop as he stared at you, hopelessly willing you to open your eyes.

Coriolanus was sitting in his office in the lab. He finally got promoted from intern to assistant. Coriolanus was right underneath Dr.Gaul; he was proud of how quickly he was promoted.

7 months of hard work had paid off. He now had power, authorization to top secret projects and documents, and a large say so when it came to gamemaker duties. His work was very important to him; he had the steel spine that it took to make the hard decisions that some other game make s and interns turned green about.

Coriolanus Snow was rewarded because he was a heartless monster that did anything to get the result that he needed. That he wanted. He would do anything to see the games remain a success, even if that meant proposing some measures that would make the game a total spectucal.

Dr. Gaul approved of all of his ideas and suggestions. And the one that she pushed for, well he approved of and pressured the other low level gamemakers into approving it too.

It was genius, his mentor’s idea.

Having all children born on District Peacekeeper Bases be registered as a district citizen belong to the district of their birth instead of being granted automatic Capitol citizenship would ensure that their was a larger participation pool for the games; it also prevented too many officers from muddying their Capitol blood with that of district scum.

Coriolanus was looking over a chart for a mutt experiment whenever his private office phone started to ring.

Ring, ring ring…Ring, ring, ring…Ring, ring, ring…

Oh no, was Grandma'am’s memory worsening? Was she giving Ma Plinth a hard time? God, he hopes not.

Ring, ring, ring…

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a deep sigh before picking up the phone. “Assistant Gamemaker, Coriolanus Snow. Whom may I be speaking with?”

“Snow, it’s Officer Rein Halvir, Y/N’s older brother. I'm calling because I need you to get to the base in District 12 right away. Y/N’s been in labor for nearly 36 hours, the doctor won't do a cesarean because Dr. Gaul put into effect a new policy that surgical resources can only be used for peacekeepers and not any civilians living on base, and it's not looking good, Coriolanus.”

“What?...” Was all Coriolanus could say. He was stunned. You could possibly be dying in childbirth? With a child he didn't know about? And on a district base.

On a district base.

Oh no! Not that!

“She was afraid to tell you, Snow. You had her terrified with the stalking: nonstop roses and jewelry. Our mother sent her to stay with me. Once it was announced that children born on district bases would be district citizens and eligible for the games, I tried to get her to go back to the Capitol, but mother refused to let her come back. I even told Y/N to call you; try to work things out with you, but she refused. Said that you never loved her; wouldn't care what happened to her or the baby.”

“I’ll talk to Dr. Gaul about approving a cesarean for Y/N right away.” Coriolanus told Rein as his dead heart started to bleed.

“Thank you, Snow.” Rein replied, a hint of gratefulness in his normally stern tone. “Will you be coming to the base? To see-” your brother began to ask, only for your ex to cut him off with, “I’ll be there, but only because I don't want my child raised in such a filthy, mud hole of a district as 12.”

Coriolanus didn't say another word. Just hung up his phone.

Machines beeped, monitoring you as you slept. Coriolanus felt that you looked dead, not asleep. He was so angry. You weren't supposed to be unconscious in your bed. You were supposed to be up, sitting in bed, holding your baby. You were supposed to scream and cry at him when he walked into your room. You weren't supposed to be just lying there, hanging in-between life and death.

Not when he had faxed the paperwork with Dr. Gaul's signature for the approval of your emergency cesarean.

You were supposed to be okay. You and the baby both. Not just the baby.

As Coriolanus watched you, waiting for a sign of life, he got lost in the recent memory of when he first saw you again.

When Coriolanus got off the train at the District 12 depot, he thought your brother would be there to greet him, but he was wrong. Instead, he had to make his own way to the District 12 base. Thank God he knew where it was, from his short stint as a peacekeeper, otherwise he'd be lost.

The walk to the base was long and grueling. He’d forgotten how far off the base was from the train depot. From the main part of the district itself.

Once he reached the on base hospital, he inquired about your whereabouts and was told where to find you. When he walked into your room, he was expecting you to be tired, but conscious. He even thought you'd be holding or nursing the baby.

Coriolanus never thought he'd walk into your room only to see you hooked up to a machine with your brother’s girlfriend (some district trash he picked up at the hob) by your side. A baby bassinet between your bed and her chair.

She introduced herself as Ashlie (didn't give a surname, not like he cared) and gestured to the bassinet, only to tell him, “That's your son, Cassian Xandros.”

Cassian Xandros.

A name befitting a Snow heir.

“You may go now. I'll watch over her.” Coriolanus told the skinny girl, who looked to be from the Seam. He didn't even bother to introduce himself. He just wanted her to go so he could- hell he didn't know, he guessed sit by your bedside until you woke up, but he didn't want some district whore watching him as he sat by your bedside with your son.

His son.

Cassian Xandros.

Ashlie nodded, a pitiful look in her eyes. She felt bad for both you and Coriolanus, but was too afraid to voice her opinion. The Seam girl just scurried out of the room, leaving Coriolanus alone with you and your son.

She didn't know much about what happened between the two of you, just what Rein told her. And your brother didn't share much since he only knew the handful of facts that you shared with him.

What both Rein and Ashlie knew for certain was that your son with his pure Capitol blood and fine Snow linage was doomed for a chance to fight for his life in the infamous death battle royale known as the Hunger Games all because he was born on Peacekeeper Base-12.

Her heart broke for you, Coriolanus, and your son because no matter if you lived or died, well the platinum blonde father would never be able to bring his son home to the Capitol with him. District born citizens of Panem were forbidden to travel outside of their district of birth unless it was to be delivered to the Capitol as a tribute for the annual Hunger Games. Due to the new rules and laws put into place regarding children born on bases being registered at birth as a citizen of the district of the base, your son was forbidden to leave District 12.

If you die, well, Coriolanus will have to give Cassian Xandros up to Rein (and Ashlie) to raise. That subject’s the reason why your brother’s avoiding Snow.

Once your brother's girlfriend had left, Coriolanus sat down in the chair she had once been occupying. He sadly sighed as he took in your condition.

When his eyes landed on his son, he felt pride well up in his chest. The boy, Cassian Xandros, had his natural platinum blonde hair.

He looked just like him.

Was his little mini me.

He gently picked up his baby boy and cradled him to his chest. When Cassian began to stir Coriolanus rocked him. “Don't worry, son, I got rid of the evil lady that tried to take you and your mother away from me.”

Cassian blinked his eyes open, revealing them to be blue. Coriolanus smiled at his son, seeing that he had striking blue eyes, and told his son, “You're mine and your mother's mine. Nobody ever takes what's mine and gets away with it.”

The baby just blinked at his father, not understanding anything he was saying since, after all, he was just a newborn, and then scrunched his nose. He then closed his eyes and went to sleep in his father's arms.

His father's murderous, monstrous arms.

When your eyes fluttered open, Coriolanus felt a sense of relief he didn't know possible. After not knowing if you'd ever wake up, seeing your beautiful eyes again was like heaven.

And to think that he had once vowed to kill you if he ever crossed your path again. But that was when he thought you gave up on him.

No, things changed when he realized that you were trying to protect the Snow heir because you felt unsafe after that package you recieved.

That damn package Dr. Gaul, his mentor, had sent you. A tape with a letter persuading you that he was incapable of loving you.

A letter he didn't know about until Dr. Gaul let it slip when he approached her about signing off on your emergency cesarean forms.

Too bad she let it slip…Well, too bad for her since it ended her career. And ended her too, by the hands of her most prized prodigy.

The memory makes Coriolanus smile as it washed over him like a warm waterfall.

Coriolanus strode into Dr. Gaul's private lab, where she had her latest deadly mutt experiment in a terrarium, with one mission in mind. To get Dr. Gaul's approval for your cesarean.

He might hate you for leaving, but he didn't want you to die in childbirth with his baby. He didn't want you and your child to succumb to the same fate as his mother and baby sister.

Not when he could help it.

He was a child when his mother and baby sister died during child birth in the Dark Days, he was helpless when it came to their fate.

But now Coriolanus was a man, a very successful one that had cunning, wits, and charm to carry him far. He had an endless supply of money too. He was no longer helpless when it came to the fate of his- well his heir and it's mother during a deadly childbirth.

Coriolanus now has the means to beat fate when it came to death in the birthing bed; he was going to make sure that you and his heir did not share the same fate his mother and baby sister all those years ago during the war.

“Dr. Gaul, I need you to sign off on an emergency cesarean for Miss Y/N Halvir. She's at the military hospital ob Peacekeeper Base-12.”

“Hippity, hoppity, looks like Snow's melting for a baby boppity.” Dr. Gaul sing-songed in a mocking cackle as she watched the mutts moving around in their tank.

They looked agitated, starved even, as their colorful bodies slithered around, sharp claws scratching their glass enclosure, and sharp teeth gnashing and snapping.

The mad scientist was teasing them by holding a bucket full of food, pulling a rodent from it and dangling it by the glass terrarium. She was teasing them, gauging their reaction to her lunchtime torture.

She had snatched away her most successful experiment’s most desperately wanted meal before he could eat; Dr. Gaul had even spoon fed him a meal that was just as good, but not what he wanted. It was what he needed, what she needed him to have to be the monstrous creature she wanted by her side to do her bidding.

She enjoyed teasing and taunting her experiments.

The only creatures of hers that she actually fed were her eels. But…they were more like beloved, dangerous, pets then mutts at this point since Dr. Gaul's had them for so many years.

Dr. Gaul placed the squirming mouse back into the bucket, turning away from the glass tank to look at Coriolanus. “No.” She simply said before walking across the lab to shelf the bucket of rodents.

She'd have an assistant feed the baby anthropomorphic reptiles in the terrarium later, after she shooed away her favorite creation, Mr. Snow, and had her milk and crackers.

“No?” Coriolanus parroted, his tone full of disbelief.

How dare she tell him no? He wasn't asking her to authorize a procedure on anyone, but the mother of his child.

“But, Dr. Gaul, without the procedure Y/N and the baby might die.”

“If they die then they die, Coriolanus.” The mad scientist shrugged nonchalantly. “Death is a natural part of life. If someone weaker or lesser than is removed from the cycle of life then it just proves that their contribution to the ecosystem would not have mattered. Death is the natural way of purging those creatures that are useless in the world.”

Coriolanus could not believe what he was hearing. His mentor was giving him a lecture on why he needed to let the mother of his child and his heir die.

Was he supposed to agree with her?

Well, he couldn't do that.

He didn't want his heir to die.

And you…well…he wanted to be the one that killed you. For leaving him, of course.

“I'm not talking about weak helpless creatures, I'm talking about-” Coriolanus began to say, only for the mad scientist to cut him off with a scoff.

“The little girl that left you over a few words of warning penned in a letter and your damning tape of your best friend Sejanus’ rebel plot. Her bastard offspring that’ll be as weak hearted as its mother. That's who you're talking about, Mr. Snow.” Dr. Gaul told, not asked, Coriolanus as she crossed her lab. Going over to where she had a small table with crackers and milk set up for her snack.

A letter? What letter? He knew about the tape, but not a letter. You never told him about the letter.

“Might as well be weak helpless creatures, considering their dire circumstances and the lowly district they're in.” The mad woman added in as a slight after thought.

“I never told you she received a letter.” Coriolanus, who had figured out what Dr. Gaul has done, told the scientist while following her. His floor shines clicked heavily against the linoleum floor as he told her, “The only way you'd know would be if you sent it.”

Taking a seat at her small snack table, the scientist with wild, frizzy hair, giggled, “Oh, yes, you see, it was indeed me that sent the weak little girl that care package.” Reaching for her napkin and snapping it open, she evilly grinned, “Miss Y/N Halvir and the bastard she carries would only have held you back.” Setting her napkin on her lap, she explained, “The feelings they would have invoked in you would only make you weak.” Giving her protege a proud smile, she giddily announced, “I only made you stronger by removing an element not needed in your life at the moment.” Reaching for a cracker that was on a plate, Dr. Gaul failed to see the rage in Coriolanus' blue eyes. Perhaps if she did, she wouldn't have said, “You should be thanking me, for making you stronger and more powerful then you could have been months ago with the weakness of that stupid girl and the vile creature she's incubating.”

Hearing Dr. Gaul calling you stupid and calling his child a vile creature was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Coriolanus was barely hanging onto his sanity when he realized that Dr. Gaul made you leave him, made you want to protect his child from any dangers (including him) because of a letter and a tape she sent you. But the moment she insulted you, the woman that has consumed his thoughts and has been his obsession since his freshman year in the Academy, and his child in a way that made you seem inhuman, well, he snapped.

He was blinded with rage as he pounced on the mad scientist, catching her off guard and causing her to fall backwards; off her chair.

Coriolanus kneeled over her while wrapping his hands around her throat.

“Y/N was mine, you knew she was mine, and you took her from me! You took her and our child from me when you knew all I wanted was a life with her!” Coriolanus wildly exclaimed as he choked the life out of Dr. Gaul.

“Everything I've ever done was all for her! I needed to win the Plinth prize for her, for our life together, and I had to find a way out of the Peacekeepers, out of 12, for her! You knew that and still, you made her think she meant nothing to me; made her view me as a monster and leave me!” The platinum blonde ranted as his long fingers pressed so hard into the dark skinned woman’s neck that the bones began to crack.

Dr. Gaul gasped for air as her lungs felt like they were going to explode. Her eyes were wide and frenzied with the horrific realization that her favorite mutt, the monster she molded and shaped, had turned on her all because somewhere deep down inside of his black, dead heart, he still had a space reserved for his childhood sweetheart.

The blood vessels in Dr. Gaul's eyes burst due to the pressure Coriolanus was applying to her airway. He smirked wickedly as he watched the life drain from her.

“Snow lands on top.” Was the last thing Dr. Gaul heard before she died and went straight to hell.

Coriolanus, upon seeing that the evil scientist was dead, quickly tossed her into the pool of eels to cover up the crime.

Then he forged her signature on the documents needed for your cesarean; faxed them to the hospital on the base in District 12. He also made a quick note in her desk planner stating that he had to take an emergency family leave due to the birth of his first child. It was the perfect alibi to cover his tracks. Nobody would question his whereabouts if they thought Dr. Gaul herself authorized your emergency cesarean, authorized his family leave as well.

You were weak as you took in the bright artificial lights of your hospital room. When you tried to sit up, you were gently stopped by a large hand you hadn't seen in months. “You need to rest, darling. You're still weak.” A baritone you never thought you'd ever hear again told you.

Looking towards the voice, you saw Coriolanus sitting by your bedside with your baby in his arms. Your heart stopped beating and all you could say was, “My baby.”

You didn't know if you were afraid that your ex was holding your son or overwhelmed with a sick sense of joy, but all you knew was that you wanted your baby.

“Our baby, Y/N.” Coriolanus corrected you before standing and placing the newborn into your awaiting arms.

As you held your son to your chest, you shuddered and began crying. The last thing you remember was passing out and when you woke up…well…you had no idea what happened to the baby.

“Did my brother call you?” You asked, realizing that's the only way Coriolanus would know where to find you. Honestly, you were shocked he even came when Rein called.

“Yes.” The platinum blonde nodded. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he wrapped an arm around your back and promised, “As soon as your cleared to leave, I'm bringing you and Cassian Xandros home with me, to the Capitol.”

Looking between your son, nestled soundly in your arms, and his father, you sadly sighed, “Cassian's district, Coriolanus. He was born on base; he won't be allowed on the train.”

“Don't worry about that, my darling rose. I promise, our son will be allowed to return to the Capitol with us.”

You doubted your ex’s words, but nodded anyways.

Little did you know that Coriolanus threatened to kill the nurse’s family who gave him the registration papers for your son if he was marked down as anything, but born in Capitol General.

Like hell was his son, his heir, going to be district. His son wasn't going to grow up in a filthy mud hole. And he sure as hell wasn't going to be fighting for his life in the games.

Coriolanus kills so that his son, Cassian, doesn't have to.

So, folded up neatly in his pocket was a birth certificate that falsely states that Cassian Xandros Snow was born at Capitol General, in Capitol City, Panem.

Even tho Coriolanus Snow was a heartless monster, he was yours. He’s always been obsessed with you and now that you share a child with him, well, even the devil couldn't keep you and your son from him.

After all, he did send the wicked witch of the Citadel to hell for you and his son.

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