#seductive sword dances are their love language

[distantdarlings]

LIKE HE BELONGED THERE // m. riddle

RATING: R / 6K WORDS

Mattheo Riddle x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this and this* After being friends for a while, Mattheo decides to kick your relationship up a notch at the upcoming Halloween party.

+ WARNINGS - Fem!Reader, unprotected PIV, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, soft dom!Mattheo, sub!reader, overstimulation, fingering (f!receiving), slight cum play, creampie, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, language, not fully proof-read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

headache - asal

- - -

Your heels scraped the stone stairs as you bounded down them, excited to start the day.

Generally, you weren’t too happy about having to get up every morning and attend your classes, but today was a Friday. And not only was today a Friday, it was the last Friday before Halloween. And you were well acquainted with what that meant—the annual Hogwarts Halloween party was tonight.

It was easily one of your favorite nights of the school year. Between the costumes, the snuck-in Firewhisky, the snacks, and the dancing, you weren’t sure what the best part of it was. Either way, you always made sure you went all out.

You walked through the doors of the Great Hall, searching for your group of friends. They generally sat directly across from one of the large hearths placed throughout the room.

Above, Halloween decorations floated and dangled—creepy spiderwebs and jack-o-lanterns littered the magical skyline that cracked with faux lightning. Damn, you loved this school.

Excitement floated in your stomach.

You jogged over to your friends where they sat gathered closely around each other, munching on bits of breakfast and likely discussing their costumes for tonight.

All of their eyes came up to meet yours as you selected a seat next to Angelina Johnson and grabbed a muffin from the ornate bowl in the center of the table.

“Are you ready for tonight?” she asked, smiling widely.

“Am I? I’ve been fucking pumped all year!” you laughed. “I’m assuming you’ve all prepared your costumes for tonight?”

“If you can even call them costumes,” Ginny Weasley chuckled quietly.

“Oh, shut up!” Lavender Brown scoffed, shoving her shoulder. “Just because you’re as modest as a damn nun, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be.”

“I don’t think your costume is simply immodest, Lavender,” Angelina joked, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. You turned to look at the girl.

“Wait—what’s it look like? I haven’t seen it yet,” you cocked your head. Lavender tended to have a bit of a penchant for flashy Halloween costumes, but you couldn’t remember a time in years past when the other girls were this interested in what it was.

Lavender produced a cutout picture.

“It’s just a rabbit costume…,” she shrugged, scoffing as if it was inconceivable that she’d be made fun of for her outfit. An outfit that was…definitely immodest.

The photo seemed to come from a wizarding catalog for lingerie, where the model depicted had simple bunny makeup and a pair of fuzzy ears strapped to a headband atop her curly hair. She wore what looked like a fuzzy bra and panty set with a fluffy cotton tail. The woman danced seductively in the moving picture.

“Lav, I think this is lingerie,” you said.

Angelina and Ginny burst out laughing as Lavender cried out. She snatched the photo back away from you, folded it, and shoved it in her robe pocket. Pouting, she placed her hand on her fist and looked away.

“I’m sorry, but I think you may have outdone yourself this year,” you laughed, tears welling in your eyes.

“Oh, fuck off!” she growled. “What are you all going to wear?”

“I’m just wearing my Quidditch jersey,” Ginny shrugged.

“Ugh, boring! You did that last year.” Angelina rolled her eyes. Ginny didn’t seem to care. “Anyways, I’m going as a pirate. I’ve got like an eyepatch and stuff—ooh! I’ve also got a sword.”

Everyone nodded, agreeing that she may have the best costume this year—as she did every year.

“What about you?” Ginny nodded toward you, absentmindedly picking at the food left on her plate.

“I’m being a cat this year. I went the sort of ‘slutty’ route like Lavender.”

The girl mentioned groaned and set her head down on the table. You should stop teasing her but it was just too easy. Besides, she knew you loved her.

While the conversation and picking across nibbles of breakfast continued, you eventually heard a few sharp steps behind you on the rough stone floor.

Just as you were about to turn to catch a glimpse of who it may be, a warm hand tugged on your right earlobe. You gasped and turned to see who belonged to the fingers curled against your skin.

Mattheo turned and sat just beside you, back against the table and arm resting comfortably on the table in front of you. You faked an annoyed groan and rolled your eyes.

“Ugh, look who it is!” you sighed sarcastically.

Ginny and Angelina seemed to sneer and look away before continuing their conversation privately, while Lavender seemed to swoon just a bit over the dark boy next to you.

“I was wondering when I was going to run into you,” he spoke, smirking as he caught the reactions of your friends to him in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, yeah? You think about me that much?” you teased, turning your body more toward him.

“You could say that,” he snorted. “I was wondering what your plans were for this evening?”

“Well, I planned to head down to Hogsmeade to catch a Butterbeer after classes and grab a few more things for my costume. Want to come?”

“Will your friends be coming?” he asked, nodding his jaw toward the girls behind you.

“Yes, we will! We all will! So, it’ll be kind of crowded. You might want to sit this one out,” Angelina interrupted, nodding enthusiastically. You rolled your eyes at her, shoving an elbow back against her ribs.

“Right, I think I will,” he laughed. “Your friends aren’t exactly my choice of company.”

Angelina stuck her tongue out at the boy who rolled his eyes in response.

“We’ll see you tonight, alright?” Ginny said. You nodded as she and Angelina stood and headed out the door. Lavender slid farther down the bench and set her chin in her hands.

“I don’t mind if you come, Mattheo,” she said sweetly, ogling him like a prize.

Mattheo stood and leaned over the table a bit, looking over her. “I appreciate it, baby. But, I think I’ll skip.” He brushed a gentle finger against her chin before heading out the door.

Lavender sat there gobsmacked, watching you like she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Mattheo was a natural flirt—you’d seen it a thousand times over. You weren’t shocked.

“I think he’s in love with me,” she gasped.

“Whatever,” you laughed, before getting up as well to head to your first period.

***

By the time your classes were over, you were practically bouncing out of your seat with energy. You couldn’t wait to stuff your face with all of the autumnal foods and dance until you felt sick.

You knew by the time the next morning hit, you’d be regretting your choices from the night before, just as you always did. But you never cared, because it was so damn fun.

Now, rushing to catch up with your friends who were already halfway down the cobbled path to Hogsmeade, you could feel the excitement bubbling up through your throat.

“Guys! You ready?” you shouted, waving above your head.

“Hell yeah!” Angelina stopped and hollered back.

Ginny whooped loudly and Lavender jumped into the air. You hadn’t seen them this pumped since last year when Gryffindor won the House Cup.

You caught up with them by slamming against Angelina with the force of the downhill stairs, giggling wildly.

The four of you made your way down the rest of the path, fingertips scraping along flaming lilies that grew along the stone, and skirts hovering gently in the soft breeze.

The feeling of autumn was finally beginning to set in around the campus—smokey air, white skies, crunchy leaves fluttering about. It was one of your favorite times of year—the castle always stood out like a painting. You glanced back at it, appreciating its beauty against the fading skyline.

“It’s getting darker sooner,” Lavender noted, stopping just before the door to the Three Broomsticks. Ginny pranced forward and grabbed ahold of the large metal handle, pulling the heavy oak open steadily. She held it as everyone headed in, shivering slightly at the change in temperature.

“Practice will likely be moved up soon, just because of the light,” Angelina said, more to Ginny than you or Lavender. You hadn’t picked up a broom since Flying class and Lavender wouldn’t be caught in the athletic changing rooms.

The two of them were both hell of a player, each with their own set of skills and unique style. Angelina was the captain and you imagined Ginny was next in her footsteps.

You took a table near the back and ordered two rounds of Butterbeer until the grandfather clock in the corner chimed five times.

At that point, you dropped a few coins on the table and followed the other girls out the door.

You stopped on the way back to the castle at a little convenience store stuck to the side of a little wand repair shop. The woman who worked the counter there—not much older than you were—always looked like she absolutely hated her life, so you attempted to crack a few jokes any time you entered the store. Every once and a while, she’d break a slight smile and today was one of those days. To you, that was proof that tonight was going to be an amazing party.

You grabbed a few bits of makeup and Lavender grabbed many bits of makeup and a few things for her hair, while Ginny and Angelina selected “snacks” to pregame the party with. If you were any dumber, you wouldn’t have known that the chips and gummies they selected were infused with a few special herbs designed to make the light a little less harsh. You rolled your eyes at them.

After you’d checked out and made it back to the castle, Ginny and Angelina had already dug into their special treats while you and Lavender had settled onto her bed and began dressing up.

You had managed a cute makeup look with a winged eyeliner, drawn-on whiskers and cat nose, and dark lipstick. All together, you hadn’t done too badly even with minimal help from Lavender.

Of course, when you’d glanced over at her, she’d almost completely finished her look—an extremely detailed, but sexy rendition of a bunny—by the time you’d only finished the eyeliner. She was a pro.

After that, she’d helped you pull your hair into a curled updo and fasten the little cat ears to the top of your head.

You’d pulled a long-sleeved black v-neck on and a skimpy black skirt you’d borrowed from a Slytherin friend. All things considered, you thought you looked pretty damn good.

“Wow, you look hot!” Angelina said. Her eyes had already started to lid over. Ginny smiled lazily, tossing her hand in the air and throwing a thumbs-up at you.

“Thanks!” you giggled. Though it was a simple outfit, you felt sexy. There was proof that pulling a shirt collar down over your breasts and wearing a short skirt with fishnets underneath could put you on top of the world. At least, for you.

Lavender walked around the corner and struck a pose. She looked…exactly like the model did.

“Lav, you look amazing, but you’ll be lucky if a professor doesn’t send you back to the dorm!” you laughed. Ginny and Angelina snorted at your words, guffawing obnoxiously.

“Well, then I guess we’ll see if I get lucky,” she said, smirking. “Or we’ll see if I get lucky another way.”

“Oh, brother,” Ginny groaned, rubbing her reddened eyes.

In the meantime, she had managed to slip her Quidditch jersey and a pair of jeans on. She looked really well for such a simple costume. Somehow, despite her wobbly legs, Angelina had managed to wrap a cushioned skirt around her waist—deep red in color and fastened with a thick brown belt that held a fake sword—and pull a billowy white shirt over her head. She slipped a leather corset around her torso, put an eyepatch on, and tied a striped bandana around her braided hair.

“Angie, your tits look amazing!” Ginny laughed. Murmurs of agreement passed around the room at the beautiful woman who bowed a few times.

“Well, are we heading down or not?” you smiled, throwing an arm around Lavender’s glittered shoulder. The other two girls nodded and followed you out of the dormitory.

The Halloween party was being held in the Slytherin common room this year. The location of the event tended to shift around the castle, but it had been held there a couple of years ago also. And, if you remember correctly, it had been your favorite venue so far.

You could remember the lights and the music and the reflection of the Black Lake outside the windows. That party was the one you’d really talked to Mattheo for the first time.

You’d chatted over pumpkin juice and bumped shoulders along the dance floor, connecting in ways you never thought a Slytherin and Gryffindor could. He’d made you smile and laugh so hard, the snacks settled in your hands had been abandoned so you could walk around the lake with him.

It was easily one of your favorite memories of the school. Oftentimes, it tended to float back into your head whilst you were sad or daydreaming about swimming in the lake.

As you slipped into the dungeon entrance, you were immediately taken aback by the aura of hundreds of treats, flashing lights, and loud music. Beside you, Lavender giggled giddily and shook your arm. Ginny and Angelina chatted back and forth, their voices slowly being more and more drowned out by the music.

To say that you’d been waiting for this party since last year’s was an understatement. Every year, the students who threw this together outdid themselves even further than they had the year before. And it had gotten so big that the professors had just stopped trying to shut it down and, instead, stationed a few of their own about the halls, just to ensure nothing particularly criminal was happening.

On your way to the party, you’d already glimpsed Hagrid’s towering body attempting to hide behind one of the gigantic stone torches lining the walls.

You’d thrown a wave at him and giggled as he pretended not to see you, as he was meant to be spying rather than clearly supervising.

Before you even had a chance to grab a drink from one of the tables set up, Mattheo Riddle swooped in beside you and threw an arm around you.

“My, mama, you are looking ravishing tonight,” he smirked, eyeing you up and down like a treat.

You giggled in response and placed a playful slap on his arm. “Whatever. What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a vampire, can’t you tell?” he asked, holding his arms up to display his outfit.

All he wore was a black dress shirt, only partially buttoned, with matching slacks, and a bit of fake blood scattered across his lips. To be honest, you couldn’t really tell.

“I mean…it’s definitely a Halloween costume. I’m just not sure it screams ‘vampire,’” you responded. “It needs some fangs or a cape or something.”

“My natural ones not enough?” he teased, pressing a tongue against his sharp canines. You rolled your eyes, though a bit of an inappropriate thought rolled through your head at the small gesture. You shook it off, ashamed a thought like that would even pop up for someone like one of your best friends.

They’d happened before, but you weren’t one to listen to or act on intrusive thoughts.

You rolled your eyes and pulled away from him. “Well, what do you think of mine? I’m a cat!”

“I figured, baby,” he said. He glanced down your body once more, not even slightly attempting to conceal his gaze.

Without taking his eyes from you, he reached behind him and selected a cup waiting on the table. He leaned in to hand it to you, pressing his lips near your ear. He placed the drink in your fingers.

His voice was rough against the backdrop of the pounding music. “Wanna dance?”

“You think you can handle all this?” you giggled.

“What, you think I don’t know my way around a little pussy?” he asked, glaring down at you. Your eyes widened as your breath caught in your throat.

“Mattheo, you—” you gasped, nearly sending your cup toppling to the floor.

“I’m picking on you,” he laughed. He slid his hand around your waist and pulled you tightly against his body. The thin material of your skirt and tights was hardly enough to ward off the feeling of his hips against you. A shock of pleasure radiated through your body, eliciting chills down your arms.

Confidently, he gripped the red solo cup by the rim and quickly swallowed the contents in one go. The colored lights flickering overhead illuminated the swell of his throat as it pulsed with each swallow.

You weren’t sure why but that kept the fire in your stomach kindled.

Once done, he crumpled the cup in his hand and tossed it back toward the table. All the while, his hand never left your waist.

“Let’s dance, baby,” he whispered into your ear, liquid confidence already firing up in his mouth.

You repeated his actions, lifting your cup to your lips, swallowing as quickly as you could, and feeling the sudden buzz within your head. It was a small one, but definitely enough to push a little bit of urgency into your actions.

You grabbed onto his hand and tugged him deeper into the dance floor. As you moved past each swaying, grinding figure on the floor, you could feel your audacity building with each step.

With every press of your hand into his, you could feel sparks glowing from within your stomach. The feeling of his skin on yours—no matter how minute—had an effect on you. It always had.

You stopped once in the center and turned towards Mattheo. With a gentle smirk on your face, you pulled your hands above your head and began to sway slowly.

Your hips curved downwards and then back up. The lights flickered over your body, putting every seductive detail on display for the ravenous boy before you. You hoped that this would be enough to get the attention you’d been desperate for months.

The thoughts of lust that had entwined themselves around your brain had finally tightened themselves to their fullest. All you could think was Mattheo. All you could see was Mattheo. All you could hear, feel… Mattheo, Mattheo, Mattheo…

At the sight of your swaying body before him, Mattheo had no control over his desire. He’d held himself back for years, not wanting to scare you off. Wanting to get closer to you and treat you right. Wanting to do whatever he needed to do to get a taste of you.

His hand snaked back around your waist. He turned you into him, pressing your back against his chest. He moved his hips along you, grinding lazily against your ass.

Shock and pleasure coiled against the wall of your stomach, while the strong alcohol you’d down only moments ago began to dim the lights a bit.

If there was one thing Ravenclaw was good for, it was whipping up the strongest Firewhisky you’d ever tasted. One shot usually did you in.

His lips caressed over your ear, whispering sweet nothings. Over the music, it was hard to make out everything he said, but wisps of your hips, of your ass, of your legs echoed in your mind.

Chills flowed down the length of your exposed arms as he traced a finger down them. His hand interlocked with yours overtop the back, palm pressed against your knuckles.

He pulled your hand upwards and hooked it around the back of his neck. Instinctually, your fingers curled in the dark strands of hair down the back of his neck.

Your fingernails scraped against his scalp. He echoed your actions with a quiet groan, punctuating them with a chaste kiss against the connection of your jaw and neck. You sighed, clutching your fingers even tighter.

Your ass rolled against his front, urging a hardened point up from between his legs. You smirked at the effect you were having on him.

Suddenly, he spun you around, seemingly angry that you were affecting him so strongly. He pulled your chest into his and locked his hands onto your ass. The tips of his fingers hooked under the line of your fishnets right where your skimpy shorts ended. His strong hands pulled you as close to him as you would go, your hands tucked into between the two of you.

You gasped as your breasts pressed tightly against him, pushing your cleavage up to be even more exposed.

“Told ya I knew my way around some pussy,” he growled in your ear. You shuddered against him.

You forced forward some more confidence and leaned against his cheek. “I don’t know if I believe you. As far as I can tell, you haven’t handled anything. Your hands have stayed front and center.”

“Yeah? You want my hands, mama?” The tips of his fingers trailed down your sides, drawing every bit of pent-up energy to the forefront. As he reached your waist, his fingers found your wrists and eased them above your head.

For a split second, he caught both of your wrists wrapped into his singular hand. With his free hand, he obtained a firm grip on your ass and moved his hips against yours to the beat of the music. You giggled, embarrassed at the blunt boy.

He released your arms and they landed around his neck. He smiled cockily, flashing sharpened fangs. You wondered what they’d feel like crushing against your neck.

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you leaned back against Mattheo’s supportive arms to release it.

Your neck was exposed to the open air, enlightening sparks of glitter, and that was the last straw for Mattheo. At the sight of your body splayed out before him, arched against his abdomen, and relying fully on his strength, he couldn’t control himself any longer.

Ignoring all pre-conceived boundaries in your relationship with him, he leaned forward against you and pressed hot lips against your collarbone.

You gasped aloud at the sensation, not expecting to feel his mouth on you. Whispers of freshly-shaven stubble caressed your flesh. His breath plumed against your neck as he mouthed kisses against you.

He slowly worked his way upward until he reached the base of your neck, then abandoned his lips in favor of his tongue, which he traced delicately up the line of your throat.

Your head tilted forward to match the speed with which he licked against your skin.

Once he reached your chin, you were back to making full eye contact. You hoped that you weren’t completely flushed and wide-eyed, but you knew that couldn’t be true. Even through your makeup, you were sure that shock and embarrassment were shining bright.

His eyes were lidded, a small smirk curving his lips. He looked fucking breathtaking.

You refused to let him take you by such surprise, though and opted to return the sexually-charged favor.

Interlinking your fingers behind his neck, you pulled his lips to yours.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t as shocked as you’d been hoping and melded his lips against yours without skipping a beat. Like he’d been waiting for it—anticipating the moment you’d finally drop all of your pride and force your tongue into his mouth.

His hands wrapped around you, settling one on your hip, one splayed against your back. Now that he had your lips right where he wanted them, there was no way he’d let you pull away. He’d been waiting for this for months.

Your hands wrapped around the throat of his collar and, without pulling your mouth from his, began to walk backward. He followed willingly, hands refusing to pull from you. He knew what you wanted—he knew you'd wanted it just as long as he had.

Mutual desire hadn't been an issue between the two of you up until about five minutes ago, but that didn't mean neither of you felt it. You'd both felt the longing for the other extensively.

But now instead of desperately fucking your hands in your respective dormitories, you were—hopefully—going to fuck each other's hands in… You pulled away from Mattheo and glanced behind you, nodding your head suggestively toward the staircase leading up to his dormitory…say, ten minutes?

Mattheo snickered at your expression and allowed you to lead him up the stairs. Your hand was entangled in his like it had never belonged anywhere but there.

Once the two of you were past the landing and down the hallway, you clutched his hand tighter for a brief second, to which he responded by echoing the motion.

It was a silent question of which dorm was his. You'd been in his room once before, but only for studying, and it had been a while. You couldn't remember which identical door belonged to him.

He walked ahead, taking the lead, but never dropping your hand.

A few more steps later he was stopping in front of a door, sticking the brass key into the lock, and tugging you in. Once the door was closed, you were only allowed a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room, before Mattheo shoved you backward onto the bed nearest the door.

The pressure of your back hitting the mattress released a squeal from your lips, but that was quickly muted by Mattheo’s lips which found yours again. In the dark of the room, it was hard to tell where exactly he was, but you could clearly feel the bed beneath you sinking in as he crawled over you.

His knee came to rest between your legs, forcing them apart, and nudging against your core. You moaned lightly against his mouth but he swallowed the small sound with each breath he took.

His tongue traced the inside of your mouth lovingly, urging your jaw open further, forcing you to let him in.

Your fingers raised to his chest and began working the few buttons that were fastened apart, revealing his smooth, browned chest. Once the shirt was pulled apart, you pushed the fabric down his shoulders and whined at the feeling of his hot skin beneath your fingers.

He finally pulled his lips from yours and began working his way down your jawline and neck. You sighed in pleasure, fingers curling into his dark hair. Your nails lightly scratched against his scalp as they did so, eliciting a whispered groan from him.

The sound struck a flame in your core. You'd always wondered if he'd be vocal in bed.

Once he reached the divide of your cleavage, he wasted no time grasping the neckline of your busty shirt and pulling down.

Your breasts are pulled free, and exposed to the open air. You were suddenly so grateful to your past self for opting to skip the bra tonight.

He groaned at the sight of you and immediately latched his lips to your right nipple. You gasped aloud at the sensation, chest arching toward his face.

His hands, now free from anything else, got to work pushing your skirt up toward your hips. Beneath, you'd only wore a pair of black panties and the fishnets you'd bought, and it seemed that Mattheo was a very big fan.

Once he'd pulled away from your chest and noticed your legs, he immediately dropped down and began mouthing at your core through your bottoms. You jumped at the sudden stimulation, your fingers clutching at his hair.

“Fuck, Mattheo!” you cried. His mouth was ceaseless, devouring you through your panties, wetting the material completely through. The way your essence intertwined with his saliva had you gasping.

And before you could take another breath, he slipped his finger beneath your bottoms and pulled them to the side. His tongue resumed its previous ministrations, only this time his mouth was pressed right against your folds.

You groaned aloud, your thighs clenching together around his head.

With a deep breath, you snuck a peek down at his face. His eyes were completely closed—peacefully like he was right where he belonged. His jaw worked professionally, devouring you like you were a slice of fruit, and your juices painted his chin as such.

Without warning, he slipped a long finger into you, pressing directly against your sweet spot. At that point, you were done for. The final move pushed you over the edge.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—!” You came ferociously, the waves of pleasure flowing through your body. Your hips snapped involuntarily against his mouth but he never stopped fucking you.

He worked you through the height of your orgasm, allowing you to come down from it gently and gradually.

When all of your muscles finally relaxed and a blissful smile began to spread across your face, you thought he was going to lie down beside you. But the recovery time didn’t last long as he flipped you on your stomach, the skirt still pushed up over your hips.

“Matty, baby,” you gasped, still out of breath from your last climax. “Wait.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered frantically. Behind you, you could hear his belt clinking and the fabric of his pants rustling as he pulled them apart. “But I need to feel you around me.”

You gasped against the duvet—emerald and soft—realizing that you had only a few moments before Mattheo Riddle was going to be fucking you into his mattress. Your fingers gripped the sheets in anticipation.

His fingers grabbed hold of your hips, strong and sturdy, keeping you in place. You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to.

He massaged your skin, watching lovingly as your body moved beneath his stimulation. He’d been imagining what you looked like under all of your uniform for months—imagining the way your ass would bounce when he fucked you into the bed, and the way your tits would flow like the ocean when you rode him. He’d imagined everything.

His hot, exposed core then pressed against the backs of your thighs. You whined aloud, face pressed into the soft comforter.

He felt like fire against your skin. Chills ran down your arms as you realized the sheer size of him, trailing across both of your legs. Fuck.

“Take a deep breath in for me, sweetheart,” he said, clutching your hip tighter with one hand whilst holding himself with the other.

He lined himself up with your entrance, tracing the tip down through your folds. You moaned aloud at the sensation, preparing yourself to take every inch of him within you.

As he pushed himself into you, with little to no resistance from the climax you’d already been given, you cried out. He bottomed out—his hipbones pressed squarely against your ass.

He let out a soft groan. “Fuck, baby, you opened right up for me.”

His fingers massaged your hips as he seemed to adjust to your warmth, lips parted in a silent moan. In his reluctance to move within you, you turned and peered over your shoulder at him, relishing in his pleasure-woven expression.

His eyes peeked open to stare down at you. When his eyes met yours, he moaned aloud and immediately pulled himself out of you only to force back in.

As he pressed directly into that spot deep within your core, you gasped and fell back against the sheets, unable to keep yourself pushed up.

“Fuck, baby, don’t look at me like that,” he said, pounding into you. “Gonna make me fall in love, sweetheart.”

You giggled against the bed, muffled slightly by the pace he was setting. His words were almost as tantalizing as the way his body moved. At this point, though, you didn’t care if he wanted to fall in love or not, you just wanted his body and the way it was learning yours.

“What do you want, baby? Huh? What do you need?” he gasped, his breaths coming out in hard pants as he refused to let up.

“Mm—I need…,” your words trailed off, forced into the duvet. Your hand pulled away from the sheets it gripped onto, to slide between your legs.

When Mattheo realized where your fingers’ intended goal was, he snatched your wrist and pinned it to your spine. His pace quickened, his hips snapping into you like an incredible force. With his free hand, he released your waist and slid it down between your legs.

His dampened chest pressed against your back as he allowed his fingers to reach their full extent. When his fingers touched your core, it only took a few spirals of movement for you to come hard around him.

You screamed at the sensation, this orgasm twice as hard as the previous one. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as he pushed you through your climax, each thrust extending the feeling pulsing through your body.

Still, he never stopped the sensations every part of his body was giving to yours.

You tightened around him. He all but whined behind you, moaning louder with each gradually sloppier thrust.

“Where, baby?” he groaned. “Where do you want it?”

“I-Inside, please,” you begged, forcing him closer to you, refusing to let him pull away from you. “Please give it to me inside.”

He pushed and pushed until he was finally spilling with you, each warm pulsation echoing within you as deep as he was.

He worked himself through his own orgasm, not granting you any relief despite your weakness. As he came to a complete stop, you were barely able to hold yourself up. Your hips sank down pathetically as he pulled himself away from you, moaning softly as he watched his essence pour from your entrance.

“Fuck, mama, you look so good for me,” he whispered. His fingers traced along your core at the mixture of spends. You cried out at the pure oversensitivity you were experiencing.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he said, collecting the pooling of cum around you and slowly pushing his finger back into you.

“Fuck, Mattheo,” you whined, eyes clenching shut.

“I just wanna make sure you get all of it,” he whispered, leaning down to press a biting kiss to your ass cheek. You whimpered at the slight pain fluttering across your skin.

“As a matter of fact, baby, I think you're gonna give me one more… just so I can make sure you're gonna come back to me no matter what,” he said.

And before you realized what he meant and could protest, you felt his mouth press to your core once again, his tongue working dangerous symbols against you.

And before you could remember to return to the party, Mattheo actually gave you two more orgasms—one extra for ‘good measure,’ he'd said. And you had collapsed against the mattress one final time before drifting off into the heaviest, most dreamless sleep you'd had in a while.

Nothing, it seemed, had been done whilst you were asleep, except that he'd dressed you in a pair of his pajamas, placed you beneath the covers, drawn the curtains around his canopy bed, and slid himself right beneath you and the covers. Almost as if he'd always belonged there. It seemed as if he was finding quite a bit of those spaces lately.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @ilovehotmenandwoman, @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74 , @2dloveshp, @seagull-on-toast

[trekbait]

The 8 things Orion women can't resist; the answer will surprise you!

Orion women are known for being irresistible to men of most other species. As well as having a seductive allure, the pheromones carried by many of them are capable of making the minds of men highly susceptible to suggestion. But what do Orion women want? Let’s go through their priorities and snag you a date!

#1 Power

Orions are organised into families who control huge mercantile and criminal empires. So it should be no surprise that an Orion would want to accumulate more power and become the top dog in interstellar piracy and black marketeering. Their wealth is often put on display as a sign of their status and power. If you want a chance, bring your own power to her table (but not so much as to be a challenge to her).

#2 Theft

Theft is an Orion love language; the bigger the theft, the bigger your heart. Don’t make a custom mix tape that will remind her of your first date together; steal something made of latinum that will make interstellar headlines and a manhunt across 30 sectors. Then kidnap the cop in charge of said manhunt and hold them to ransom. Orions will even kidnap each other before a wedding as part of the ritual.

#3 Psychedelic drinks

Powerful women have to let their hair down occasionally and what’s more fun than enjoying some hallucinogenic Orion delaq while playing a game involving murder bugs? After all, when operating a black market cartel you have access to only the best illicit drugs.

#4 Controlling men

There’s nothing more fun than taking some egotistical captain and making him putty in your hand. Having him betray his crew and give up his ship to your pirates. They’re dancing and their strings are in your hands. Preferably in a dungeon. So if you’re a guy then know your place and do as you’re told. Otherwise, prove useful or you’ll be off to the traders market too.

#5 Animal Crossing XII: New Frontiers

This 300-year-old holoprogramme franchise became so popular on Orion that the Orion Syndicate bought out the rights to it from some humans in 2272. Since then the rural cosy programme has begun to take on a more liberal approach to pillaging from and of fellow villagers in the game. Even today it remains much beloved among the most powerful Orion matriarchs when they're taking time out from putting their victims to the sword.

#6 Competent underlings

Perhaps you work for her? Well for starters do a good job and don’t let the prisoner escape. She’s got enough on her mind without an underling who can’t follow orders or ends up letting her valuable cargo escape. She just went through the hard work of stealing it so you’re going to look after it. 

#7 Ritualised combat

Sometimes disputes need to be settled like civilized people; i.e. via duels. Orion women are often trained in martial arts including an assortment of brutal and bladed weapons. When your pheromones don’t always work (and not all of them have them), you have to unsheath another way to make your point. 

#8 Not you

Sorry, but if you’re the kind of person to be reading an article like this then you’ll be nothing more than a plaything to her. Step up your game.

Unfortunately expected contributions to this article from Lieutenant T’Lyn were not submitted so most of this article was generated from existing records and a woman named F’Rea at our local bar who promised to step on us if we did a good job.

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Autumn Nightbloom

My MC for Blades of Light and Shadow/Blades 2

Autumn's portrait by the incredibly talented @lilyoffandoms 💛💛💛

Autumn is an elf raised by humans in the small town of Riverbend, along with her adopted brother Kade.

Initially, she knows nothing about her culture and heritage. She feels like a bit of an outsider in the small Riverbend community and would love to understand better who she is and where she's from. Tyril is the first of her kind she’s ever met. With his help and guidance, she gradually learns more about her cultural roots, though she comes to find elven society too rigid and insular. She is very much a “human” in her worldview and belief system.

After meeting the goblins in Blades 2 and learning more about her family’s sacrifice to protect them during the Elven war against the Shadow Court, she chooses to honor them and adopts the Nightbloom name.

Physical appearance: She is an elf, fair-skinned, blond hair, and light purple eyes.

Personality: Autumn is very curious, with a thirst for knowledge and an adventurer at heart. Growing up, she always dreamed of traveling the realms, meeting interesting people and going on quests, just like the heroes Kade would tell her about in his stories. She is a very caring and loyal friend – not afraid to jump into danger to protect the ones she loves. She is charismatic and uses her seduction skills to get out of many sticky situations – to her friends’ amusement and Mal's occasional exasperation. She is witty and banters with friends and enemies alike. While she is quick to trust, she is slow to forgive – and forget – betrayals, particularly when they affect her friends and loved ones. (Autumn is still working through her anger at Aerin and Valax’s betrayals, though she allies with them for the greater good.) Always very independent, Autumn had never dreamed of getting married or starting a family. Meeting Mal and choosing to run the orphanage with him was an unexpected blessing. Now she couldn't imagine her life without him or the children.

Hobbies: Autumn grew up reading about famous adventurers of the realm and fantasy novels. She still enjoys a good book whenever she can indulge in free time. She enjoys a night out at the pub, drinking and dancing the night away with her friends. Autumn is musically inclined, she learned to play the transverse flute and piccolo growing up. She now plays mostly to entertain her friends and the children at Mal's orphanage. (It's also a much safer alternative to Mal's singing!!) She is a horrible cook but compensates with excellent foraging skills.

Fighting skills: Autumn is skilled with the bow and sword and will practise both for hours to hone her skills. She'll often run through her Kai'tar movements early in the morning as a form of meditation. As an elf Autumn is magically inclined. She practices her skills regularly in the hopes of becoming a powerful battlemage. She also spends much time with Nia learning the secrets of healing magic.

Languages: In addition to the common language of Morella, Autumn learnt the elven language with the help of Tyril in order to read the old manuscripts and understand her house's history and that of Undermount. She is now learning Spanish to better understand Mal and Wren's cultural roots.

Love interests: Autumn was attracted to Mal from the moment she met him not that she'll ever admit that to him. She felt drawn in by his charm and flirty banter, and a little star-struck initially that he was an established adventurer, living the life she had always dreamed of for herself. Her feelings for him deepened as Mal gradually opened up to her, showing vulnerability and more of his authentic self hidden beneath all his charm and cockiness. They also share many of the same opinions regarding the authoritarian nature of the political and religious systems within Morella, and disgust at the elite’s abuse of the common folk. Autumn chose to create a life with Mal at the end of Blades 1, and to help him run the orphanage after Blades 2. She accompanies him on his heists, partly to keep him out of trouble, but also because she needs a bit of danger and adventure to feel truly alive. Also, she'll never waste an opportunity to stick it to the rich & powerful, and redistribute wealth along with the love of her life!

She was also drawn to Tyril when they first met, though that connection quickly blossomed into one of friendship and respect. She was initially intrigued by his stoic and reserved nature, impressed by his remarkable fighting skills and deep sense of honor. And his devotion to his lost friend Kaya. Autumn was also curious to learn more about elven culture and felt a sort of kinship from the moment they allied. She panicked when he was injured in the undermount catacombs, and realized her concern for him ran deep.

[childofflamesandmoonlight]

I would really appreciate some help with interpretation on this deity identification reading! I didn't use a specific spread, but pulled one card from every deck I own - usually this works really well for me, but this time I can't quite put my finger on who this deity is. I have some vague ideas, but I would love to hear your interpretations.

Thank you in advance!

Here are the cards I drew (plus some notes from the imagery and the guidebooks):

Demon of the Day - Camio:

"Be mindful of arguments and disputes. It can feel good to win but not at the cost of a relationship."

Birds, blackbird, trush

Gaelic, Irish or Welsh origin

Dispute, eloquent verbal debate, persuasive argument

Understanding the language of animals and the noise of the water

Angels Among Us - Jesus:

Forgiveness, compassion, love, peace, kindness

Spiritual teacher, spiritual activist, healer

Christian origin

Higher wisdom

Without judgement

Goddesses Among Us - Atargatis:

Mermaids, mer-magic

Transformation, change

Deep diving

Assyrian or Mediterranean origin

Fertility

Protection

Heartbreak, challenge, powerful emotions

Ocean, water, depth

Grieving

Healing

Shadow work

Legendary Ladies - Estsanatlehi:

Transformation

Native American origin

Sky and earth

Linestrider Tarot - Five of Swords:

Conflict

Tension

Disagreements

Inflexibility black-and-white thinking

Compromise

Isolation

Defeat, failure

Interpersonal difficulties

Hollow victory

Selfishness, hurtful behavior

Resentment

Trust issues

Numbers: 5, 59, 14

Associated birthdays: January 20 to January 30

Associated plants: mistletoe, capsicum, calamus root

Pastel Mini Magic Tarot - Ace of Pentacles:

New beginnings

Opportunities

Potential

New financial or career opportunity

Manifestation

Abundance

Wealth

Business

Cat Tarot - Ten of Cups:

Happiness

Togetherness

Home

Family

Divine love

Blissful relationships

Harmony

Alignment

Star Spinner Tarot - The Hermit:

Seeking the truth

Introspection

Retreat

Assessment

Soul-searching

Being alone

Inner guidance

Mondays Tarot - Death:

Change

Ending

Rebirth

Renewal

Transformation

Under the Roses Lenormand - The Snake:

Snake

Deception, lies, tricks

Betrayal

Seduction, temptation

Jealousy

Manipulation

Disappointment

Difficulties

Distraction

Loss

Falseness

Hypocrisy

Indecision

“The other women”

Arcana Lenormand - Lily:

Bees and butterflies

Flowers

Sensuality

Sex

Virtue

Morality

Ethics

Wisdom

Thera-pets - “You don't have to be perfect to be lovable”:

Red panda

Mushroom Spirit - Rosy Bonnet:

Mycena rosea

Poisonous

Pink

Similarities

Details

Looking closely

Not making assumptions

Research

Don't be fooled by appearances

Looks can be deceiving

The Citadel - The Walker:

The Unknown

Journey

Birds

New experiences

Transition, transformation

Finding answers

Moving on

Voice of the Souls - Learning:

Palm reading hand

Evolution

Learning new things, new abilities and skills

Number 13

SOTW Imbolc - Consecrate tools:

"I will claim what is mine, what I see beyond the hidden. Gifted spirit, by tongue my words spill with purpose."

Establishment

Displaying spirit

Claiming ownership

Conscious decisions

Taking what is meant to be yours

Embracing what is before you

No doubts

Fully invested

Permanent fixture

SOTW Beltane - Maiden:

"Demand what is yours and take back what was taken. Reclaim until you've gathered all of you."

Bees and butterflies

Reclaim

Divine manifestation on earth

Powerful, sacred beings

Direct channels to the gods

Embracing your freedom

Power

Inner warrior

Divine feminine

Primal force of creativity

SOTW Litha - Sunbathing:

"The dance of stillness is calling for you to live in its embrace."

Flowers

Spiritual strength

Restoration

Rest

Self-care

Healing

Relaxation

Meditation

Prayer

Spiritual nourishment

SOTW Mabon - Crow:

"Pay close attention to the winds; there's a message making its way."

Crows

Something's coming

Messages

Pay attention

Important signs and clues

Warning

Trust your intuition

SOTW Samhain - Elders:

"Birthed from seed within the belly of the moon, they are the wise felt touches over our hearts and felt deep within the marrow of our spirit."

Wisdom

Experience

Storytellers

Keepers of knowledge

Compassion

Sage advice

Slowing down

SOTW Yule - Father Christmas:

"How did thy get here? Lost perhaps? No worries at all! Gather yourself and clear the frost for the good still lives in you dear."

Naughty or nice?

Kindness

Mindfulness

[d0reah]

LYSENI EXPRESSIONS AND IDIOMS.

Doreah herself might use these when expressing something. While she knows many languages, Doreah will go to Lyseni when she is surprised, shocked, in fear or most likely, in deep pleasure. The first is the phrase, the second is the literal meaning and the third is what it would mean.

"Drakon en luxa." Dragon in the light. A powerful being revealed.

"Seluna sussurat." The moon whispers. Secrets are being shared.

"Sangra pyron est." Blood is fire. Passion and revenge are linked.

"Oenos veritas." Wine is truth. People speak freely when drunk.

"Lux te spectat." The light watches you. You are under scrutiny.

"Cantus thalassae." The sea's song. A call to adventure or longing.

"Glyka in polemos." Sweetness in war. Kindness even in dark times.

"Aurum verberat cor." Gold strikes the heart. Wealth corrupts or tempts.

Gender Matters: "Meus" (mine, masc.), "Mea" (fem.) Plurals: Add -ai → Drakon → Drakonai Adjectives precede nouns: Aureus gladius = Golden sword Genitive (possessive): Add -is → Lux Basilissis = The queen’s light

Lyseni Language: The Language of Paramours & Pleasure

In the city of Lys, famed for its beauty, art, and devotion to pleasure, language is an instrument of seduction, trust, and intimacy. In its pleasure houses, often called Domai Amoraegon ("Houses of Love"), language is both a performance and a contract.

Keeper (exclusive client) - Custos Mērī

Kiss - Basia

Touch - Tangra

Whisper- Susurra

Room - Thalamos, also meaning sacred chamber

Perfume - Aromae

Bond / Vow - Nexum

Silk -Serika

Kissed one -Basiata

Desire -Volessa

Dance -Orchysa

Curtain -Velaria, Dancers are referred to Velaerias.

Mirror / Specula

First Paramour -Primorisa

Customer - Naenie Custae

Matron of the House - Domina Volessa

A new addition to the House - Amorina

Bound Pair - Nexorae, can refer to a prefered client and their lover or a pair that works together.

Phrases Heard in a Lyseni Pleasure House

My keeper awaits. Custos meus manet.

The vow is ours alone. Nexum est solum nostrum.

You are my only flame. Tu es floga mea sola.

Shall I dance for you? Visne ut orchysem tibi?

Your kiss lingers. Basia tua manet.

I am bound to you. Ad te nexor sum.

Your gaze strips me bare. Visus tuus me nudit.

Enter the thalamos. Intraet in thalamon. Formal entry to private space.

I wear only the silk you gave me. Solum serika tua fero. Ownership and softness.

You have claimed me. Me vindicasti.

No other shall touch me. Nemo alius tangra me. Sacred exclusivity

Cultural Concepts Unique to Lyseni Pleasure Bonds

The Bonding Ceremony (Nexoria): When a paramour and keeper enter into exclusivity, it is sealed by sharing perfume, touch, and a whispered vow. This makes the keeper financially responsible but also spiritually connected.

The Veil of Pleasure (Velaria Amorae): A symbolic curtain used in private rooms to mark the space as sacred. Once drawn, it signifies intimacy and silence.

Gifts with Meaning:

Silk scarf (Serika): Given to claim a paramour.

Perfumed oil (Aromae Nexoriae): Used in rituals to seal the bond.

Mirror (Specula Volessa): Offered to paramours to admire themselves as seen through the eyes of their keeper.

[dez78]

🌹🩸 Slyus Headcanons 🩸🌹

---------------------------------

Slyus is very sly, he's charming, persuasive, deceitful, cunning and he can put on a good performance, but he is clumsy and not at all intimidating.

Example: "I'll knock you up! Fuck, no, I meant-shit. Knock you out!"

Slyus can talk his way out of a death sentence and make the executioner blush while doing it.

He's been on the chopping block a lot in his life.

Slyus is extremely unlucky, like the amount of bad luck he has should be recorded in text.

Despite being a mischievous bard. Slyus can be an excellent storyteller when he wants to be. Other times, he does it purely for fun and exaggeration.

Slyus has a heart shaped birth mark on his hip.

Slyus uses his lute as a weapon and thwacks enemies constantly with it.

Since Slyus bashes enemies with his lute often. The poor instrument has been through a lot of abuse but is still in immaculate condition. Slyus takes really good care of it afterwards, he's repaired it many times and polishes it when he can.

Slyus is an incredible player at Lance Board, but a crap gambler. He has no luck in it, but the game? Master. He even sets up battle plans based on the game, and they always work much to the surprise of his companions. Syrus has stopped questioning it entirely.

Slyus got arrested once for seducing a prince. One of the many times he was headed for the chopping block. The morning of the execution, he sweet talked the guard and got let out.

Slyus is the type of bard to sing and perform a show inside his prison cell as he waits to be rescued...again.

Slyus pulls Artemis into kisses at the worst times, like mid battle most of the time.

He is all over her and Syrus is fighting the battle himself when those two are smacking lips.

Slyus is absolutely the persona of Chaotic Energy, he's got a golden retriever attitude, he's very chaotic, and a bit of a dumbass, always getting into troublesome situations.

Slyus is an excellent listener.

Slyus carries his childhood teddy bear everywhere with him because it was the last thing his mother bought him; it's his last reminder of her.

Slyus also carries a music box with his mother's voice inside.

Slyus prefers his lute, but he's not limited to it. He can play the violin, the harp, the piano, and the flute.

Slyus has a flashy, dramatic fashion sense, even rivaling Astarion.

Slyus can dance beautifully, he will take every chance he can get to dance.

He can dance salsa, tango, waltz, etc.

Slyus pulls his "seductive bard" routine on enemies, and it works.

Slyus uses Vicious Mockery like a second language, if he's not confident in a fight with his cross bows and short swords, he will spit insults from the back instead.

Slyus has a soft spot for luxury and lavish things, whether it be elegant clothing, or lounging on silk sheets, he appreciates the finer things in his un-life.

Slyus below the belt is rocking 7" with a slight curve.

Slyus favorite color is pink, almost everything he owns is pink.

Slyus wears a silver belt with a ruby rose buckle with a silver trim.

Slyus's favorite flowers are red roses and pink lilies.

Slyus's name in elvish means 'Mystic Rose.'

Slyus has a silver tongue, he can weave beautiful tales, whether they are real or fictional.

Slyus maybe stupid with survival skills, but he's extremely book intelligent, having deep conversations with Gale and Ryld.

Slyus despite being a vampire, can actually cook really well, rivaling even Gale. He first learned to cook from his mother, then he continued into his adulthood. Then during his seduction to feed, he lured people in with candle lit dinners.

Despite being a creature of the night, Slyus never killed any of his victims. Ever. He's Chaotic Neutral, but he isn't vile.

Though, every one of them fell in love with him afterwards, so he definitely has a reputation as a heart breaker.

Slyus found his first lute in a dumpster behind the Elfsong when he was 11 years old and became a street performer.

Slyus was a natural lutist and performer. He was born for it.

Slyus is quick witted and always has a snarky response ready for every sentence.

Despite his confident and pompous exterior, Slyus is still a scared little boy that misses his parents.

His snarky exterior is a mask to hide his deeper feelings of insecurity, loneliness, and helplessness. He's actually extremely fragile, but he hides it so well. Hiding behind a smile and flirty words.

He's described usually as an arrogant, little peacock by outsiders.

His personality is all a facade for survival, he's barely holding himself together. He thinks his life is a mess.

Slyus is extremely flamboyant, flicking his wrists and using feminine hand gestures. He even stands with his hip out and a hand on it.

Slyus fully embraces his femme side, he'll wear flashy clothes, corsets, and makeup when he wants to be bold.

Slyus enjoys long baths, they are relaxing, of course he will go all out, salts, scented candles, etc.

Speaking of, Slyus's favorite candles are vanilla.

Slyus himself smells like rosewood, cherry blossom with a hint of lavender.

He always keeps his perfume in his satchel during the travels.

As a bard, Slyus obliviously reads and writes poetry. He weaves words together beautifully like a lyric.

Slyus doesn't take life seriously, he treats everything as a joke, it's his defense mechanism.

Despite having fun on the battlefield, Slyus actually is an incredible fighter. He's just squishy and gets wounded a lot.

He uses hand crossbows, but he is an amazing archer with a long bow. He can hit a bullseye with his eyes closed.

Slyus can paint in incredible detail, he gets laugh lines, flaws, and pores. He never shared this with anyone, Artemis found out and Slyus begged her to keep it secret.

Slyus had painted Artemis and she saw it, drinking in every detail of her face. She still keeps the canvas in her belongings.

Slyus is a considerate and delicate lover, he praises everyone he beds, worships them.

Despite his 222 years, he has never had true relationship, he's had one night stands all his adult and vampire life.

Slyus is unashamed in the bedroom, he is a loud lover and tries his hardest to embarrass his lover. Until he meets Artemis and the sorceress tells him, he isn't being loud enough.

Slyus loves breaking rules, he will push buttons to see how far he can get, he is a complete menace in that regard.

His alignment gives him freedom, like he'll save Arabella and offer to escort the Tieflings to Baldur's Gate, but then he'll send Kar'niss to his death in the shadowlands to get the moonlantern.

Slyus does the smolder to get what he wants, it usually works, but with Artemis it doesn't, which is frustrating to the bard.

He also has the biggest puppy eyes, which makes it really hard for Artemis to say no or anyone for that matter.

Slyus is fluent in elvish, common, celestial, drow, and thieves' cant

Slyus can sing in elvish as good as he can in common, he usually charms his audience with his skilled tongue in more ways than one.

Slyus can write in perfect cursive.

Slyus can write in elvish.

Slyus likes to hold hands with Artemis, ensuring she doesn't disappear and leave him behind.

Slyus gives the best massages, his hands are skilled in more ways than one.

Slyus has a "good boy" kink.

Slyus's nickname is "Little Rose." A name from his mother, the only other person to call him this, is Artemis.

Slyus likes to turn into a bat and get carried around camp.

[fallensmith]

Middle-earth Role Playing statsheet

Archi - "Also known as: I AM GETTING TERRIBLY DISTRACTED!!!! I found this tag tame while scrolling and well I fucking love filling things out so. Edited some of this too just because I can. Also I'm just using the normal DND stats bc idk what the MERP ones mean lol"

I concur with this and love the edits, makes it simpler

tagged by: @curufiin .tagging: @thehighkingofnoldor (and your multi), @sewing-elven-maid @anthxlogy and anyone who wants to

❯ STATS ⋯ ✵

STR: 12 DEX: 16 CON: 11 INT: 18 WIS: 9 CHA: 16

❯ BASIC INFORMATION ⋯ ✵

Name(s): Tyelperinquar / Curufinwë 3rd / Celebrimbor Nickname(s): Tyelpë Gender: Male Culture/Race: Noldorin Profession: Weapon & Jewel smith , Lord of Eregion, Prince of the Noldor Alignment: Neutral Good Original Character or Canon Character?: Canon Date of birth: Y.T. 1490 Place of birth: Royal palace of Tírion Current living place: Eregion, Ost-in-Edhil (In some AUs, Lindon/Imladris) Demeanour: Sociable, avoidant in conflicts, compassionate, excitable, trusting Languages: Quenya (Noldorin dialect), Sindarin, Khuzdul

❯ PHYSICAL INFORMATION ⋯ ✵

Height: 7'4" Weight: Healthy weight Eye colour: Silver Hair colour: Black Special physical (tattoo, scars, left eye of a different colour, etc): Some forge scars / many scars in #broken survivor

❯ FAMILY ⋯ ✵

Parent names & race: Curufinwë & Unnamed wife // Noldor Grandparent names & race: Fëanáro Curufinwë, Nerdanel // Noldor Sibling names & race: None Children names & race: None Partner name & race: Depends on verse

❯ ARMOR & WEAPON SKILLS ⋯ ✵

Armor (None, light, medium, heavy): medium Favoured weapon: Bow, short sword/knives Name of weapon: N/A Skills with edged weapons: ★★★★☆ Skills with crushing weapons: ★★☆☆☆ Skills with two-handed weapons: ★★☆☆☆ Skills with thrown weapons: ★★★☆☆ Skills in archery: ★★★★☆ Skills with polearms: ★★☆☆☆

❯ GENERAL SKILLS ⋯ ✵

Climbing: ★★☆☆☆ Riding: ★★★★★ Swimming: ★★★★★ Tracking: ★☆☆☆☆ Cooking: ★★★☆☆ Foraging: ★★☆☆☆

❯ SUBTERFUGE SKILLS ⋯ ✵

Ambush: ★★★★☆ Stalk/Hide: ★★★★☆ Pick Locks: ★★★☆☆ Set/Disable Traps: ★★★★☆

❯ ATHLETIC SKILLS ⋯ ✵

Acrobatics: ★★★☆☆ Brawling: ★☆☆☆☆ Wrestling:★☆☆☆☆

❯ CAREER SKILLS ⋯ ✵

Animal Handling: ★★☆☆☆ Boat Handling: ★☆☆☆☆ Craft: ★★★★★ Navigation: ★★★☆☆

❯ MEDICAL SKILLS ⋯ ✵

First Aid: ★★★☆☆ Apothecary: ★★���☆☆ Midwifery: ☆☆☆☆☆ Surgery: ★★★☆☆ Poisons knowledge: ★★★☆☆

❯ ARTISTIC SKILLS ⋯ ✵

Dance: ★★★☆☆ Play Instrument: ★★★★☆ Poetry: ★★★☆☆ Singing: ★★★☆☆ Tale Telling: ★★★★★

❯ INFLUENCE SKILLS ⋯ ✵

Acting: ★★★☆☆ Bribery: ★★★☆☆ Diplomacy: ★★★★☆ Interrogation: ★★★☆☆ Leadership: ★★★★☆ Public Speaking: ★★★★☆ Seduction: ★★☆☆☆ Trading: ★★★★☆ Trickery: ★★☆☆☆

❯ LORE SKILLS ⋯ ✵

History: ★★★★★ Mathematics: ★★★★☆ Religion: ★★★☆☆ Ainur Lore: ★★★★☆ Dwarven Lore: ★★★★★ Elven Lore: ★★★★★

❯ MAGIC SKILLS ⋯ ✵

Enchanting: Highly proficient in rune carving. Sorcery: does not wield song Attunement: None Spell Mastery: see sorcery above

❯ OTHER ⋯ ✵

Perception: ★★★★☆ Body Development: ★★★☆☆ Read / Write: ★★★★★

[rafael-amado]

Is that RAFAEL AMADO? I heard the THIRTY-THREE year old belongs to THE FAMILY as a BODYGUARD. I’d stay away from them if I were you. I heard they were STUBBORN, but they can also be SEDUCTIVE, so proceed at your own risk.

wc.

Basics.

full name: rafael emmanuel amado nickname(s): rafa age: thirty-three birthdate: april 19th star sign: aries gender: cismale pronouns: he/him sexuality: bisexual birthplace: lovington, new mexico current residence: los angeles, california languages: english, spanish, some portuguese

Reflection.

face claim: maxi iglesias hair color: dark brown eye color: blue height: 5' 10¾ build: athletic  tattoos: the phrase “where there is love and loyalty, there is true family” in spanish on his left abdomen scars: several, nothing he likes to discuss

Personality.

characteristics: passionate, light-hearted, competitive, selectively serious, blunt, alert, bossy, domineering, courageous, adventurous, impatient, hardworking, argumentative, confident, dramatic, bold, caring. fears: death, losing his brother, being abandoned  passions/hobbies: working out, dancing, mixology, grilling, jazz music, watching old spanish telenovelas, swords, camping, the guitar, music, singing, playing and watching soccer (go spain!) character inspo: Don Diego de la Vega (Zorro), Gomez Addams (Adams Family), Inigo Montoya (The Princess Bride), Nathan Drake (Uncharted) drugs/ alcohol/ smoking: depends / yes / when stressed colors: deep blues, earthy greens, burgundy/red wine, charcoal gray, crisp white, and blacks.

aesthetics: flirting in a dangerous situation, former ranch hand, perfectly mimicking any voice, a military grade watch, a crisp white t-shirt, a family photo album hidden under his bed for special occasions, a cigar hanging lazily from his lips, a crude joke told with an endearing grin, grilling steaks on a barbecue grill while wearing a kiss the cook apron, rough hands from hard labor an earpiece, constantly on alert, relaxing at a bar with good music.

Backstory.

Rafael Amado was born in the desert town of Lovington, New Mexico, alongside his twin brother, Hugo. Their early years were defined by hardship and resilience. Raised by their mother, Raquel, and their abuela, Liliana, the twins grew up in a modest home held together by love and determination. Raquel worked as a flight attendant, often gone for long stretches to make ends meet. Their father, a man of few words and even fewer promises, walked out shortly after their birth. Rafael and Hugo never heard from him again, leaving them to rely on each other as they navigated a world that often felt stacked against them. Their grandmother Liliana became the rock of their lives, a strict but deeply loving woman who balanced discipline with unconditional support. Rafael and Hugo, inseparable in every way, were notorious in their neighborhood for their mischievous antics. From sneaking out to explore the desert to pulling pranks on neighbors, the boys were a constant whirlwind of energy. At school, their loyalty to each other was legendary. If one got into trouble, the other was right there with him. They were two halves of the same coin, and no force in the world could separate them.

When they turned eighteen, the brothers faced a crossroads. Determined to escape the cycle of poverty and forge a better future, they enlisted in the military together. Their bond only grew stronger during their years in special operations. Rafael became the protector, a man who thrived under pressure, while Hugo excelled as the strategist, always one step ahead. Their teamwork made them unstoppable. Missions that would have broken others only solidified their reputation as a dynamic duo. For years, they lived in the adrenaline-fueled world of covert operations, but when their time in the military came to an end, both men were left questioning what came next. The brothers leaned on each other as they tried to find their footing, but life threw them a devastating curveball. Raquel suffered a massive stroke, leaving her unable to care for herself. The family rallied, but the burden of caregiving fell heavily on Hugo, who insisted on staying behind. “You always looked out for me, Rafa. Now it’s my turn to do something for our family,” he said. Rafael, unable to argue with his brother’s selflessness, promised to find work and send money home.

Rafael’s search led him to Los Angeles, where a former military friend suggested bodyguard work. It was a natural fit. Rafael’s skills, honed over years in the military, made him a formidable protector. The work was steady, the pay was good, and it allowed him to support his family. But Los Angeles had its own dangers, and Rafael soon found himself working for The Family, a powerful Mafia organization. He hadn’t set out to work for criminals, but the lines of morality blurred when it came to putting food on the table. Besides, the job was simple: keep his clients, the de la Cruz’s, alive. For five years, Rafael thrived in his role. His calm demeanor, unshakable focus, and unmatched skill made him one of The Family’s most trusted bodyguards. Whether it was escorting high-profile figures to clandestine meetings or pulling his clients out of dangerous situations, Rafael excelled. He kept his distance from the darker aspects of the organization, maintaining a professional detachment. But he found a fondness for the oldest Donatelli sister, finding a lifelong friend in her. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was manageable, and Rafael found satisfaction in knowing he was taking care of his family from afar. 

Then came the call that changed everything. His mother’s health was rapidly declining. Without hesitation, Rafael packed up his life in Los Angeles and returned to Lovington. For a year, he stayed by her side, helping Hugo care for her and handling her final affairs after her passing. It was a bittersweet time, filled with grief but also a deep sense of connection to his family and his roots. During those months, Rafael reflected on his life and wondered if he should leave that world behind for good.

Just as Rafael was preparing to start fresh, The Family reached out with an offer he couldn’t ignore. After the deaths of several key members, their organization was in chaos and in desperate need of someone they could trust. They made it clear they wanted him back—and they were willing to pay handsomely for it. The sum they offered was staggering, enough to secure his future and Hugo’s. It was more than just money, though; it was a chance to step back into a world where he thrived, to remind himself of the purpose he felt in protecting others. Rafael hesitated but ultimately agreed, the memory of his mother’s passing a stark reminder that life was fleeting. With a renewed sense of urgency to live fully, Rafael returned to Los Angeles and reclaimed his role as The Family’s top bodyguard, in his opinion.

Now back in the fold, Rafael is not the same man he was before. While still professional and fiercely protective, he carries a newfound zest for life. He’s flirtatious, charming, and determined to enjoy himself, whether it’s through savoring a good drink, exchanging witty banter, or indulging in fleeting romances. Yet, he never lets his guard down when it comes to his work. His clients know they’re in the hands of a man who will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Death may come for him one day, but until then, Rafael is determined to make every moment count.

[nexgenforge]

Embrace the Renaissance Soul: Celebrating the Symphony of Beauty, Brains, and Unapologetic Wit

Introduction

Ever met someone so vividly vibrant they seem to defy the mundane? That's me. A blend of beauty and brains, wit and wisdom, art and heart. In a world that’s too quick to box us into neat little labels, I've danced to my own rhythm, crafting a life that’s as rich and varied as the colors on a painter's palette. This isn’t just my story; it’s a manifesto for anyone who’s ever been told they're too much of something or not enough of another. Buckle up, because we’re about to dive into a world where brilliance and beauty coexist, humor lights the way, and every day is a canvas waiting for bold strokes. In the grand tapestry of existence, most folks find a thread and follow it. Not me. I've always preferred weaving my own tapestry, a vibrant mosaic that defies singular definition. It’s not just about having a foot in multiple worlds; it’s about mastering the dance in each one. Beauty and Brains: A Harmonious Duet Let’s start with the age-old debate: beauty or brains? Why not both? I've never seen the sense in drawing a line in the sand, declaring allegiance to one camp. My life is a testament to the harmonious coexistence of aesthetic grace and intellectual prowess. Each day is an opportunity to challenge the stereotype that these qualities are mutually exclusive. In the mirror, I see the reflection of years well spent, a visage that belies the depth of knowledge and experience beneath the surface. Yet, this isn’t about vanity. It’s about celebrating the complex being I've nurtured over the years, embodying the essence of beauty and brains. The Wit of the Witch: Laughter and Levity Ah, my witchy ways and slapstick humor—a curious blend, some might say. But in the cauldron of life, humor is the magic ingredient that makes the potion palatable. Wit has been my shield and my sword, cutting through the noise of naysayers and lightening the load of lofty expectations. It’s a fine line to walk, using humor to elevate rather than belittle, but when done with finesse, it’s a powerful tool for disarming critics and endearing allies. Humor and wit create a powerful combination, enriching every interaction and brightening the darkest days. Seductive Grounding: The Art of Being Unapologetically You Seduction isn’t just about allure; it’s about being profoundly grounded in who you are. It’s the confidence that comes from knowing your worth and not needing external validation. This isn’t about drawing others in; it’s about being so authentically you that like-minded souls can’t help but gravitate towards your energy. And in this dance of life, I've chosen to be selectively celibate and single, not as a statement against companionship, but as a testament to the completeness I feel within myself. Authenticity is magnetic, drawing in those who appreciate genuine connection. A Renaissance Soul: Master of Arts, Crafts, and Life From writing to painting, acting to pottery, my journey has been a ceaseless exploration of expression. Each art form offers a new language, a new way to see and be seen. As a university student, I delved into the realms of academia with a voracious appetite for knowledge, graduating with honors not just in my studies but in the lessons of life. My career, a mosaic of achievements, reflects a refusal to be pigeonholed. Freelancing has afforded me the canvas to paint my professional path with broad, unconfined strokes. Creativity and intellectual curiosity have guided my path, leading to a diverse and fulfilling life. But perhaps my most cherished role is that of a mother. Raising well-balanced, adult children as a magnetic matriarch, I've woven the tapestry of our family with threads of love, resilience, and the freedom to be uniquely themselves. And through it all, I've maintained a vitality and youthfulness that belies the wisdom of my years. Parenthood is the ultimate expression of my values, nurturing the next generation with love and wisdom. In Conclusion: A Life Unconventionally Lived So to those who whisper in the shadows, who doubt and disparage, I say this: watch and learn. For in the symphony of my life, each note is played with intention, each melody a narrative of triumph, resilience, and unabashed individuality. I am the total package, not because I fit into your box, but because I dared to build my own. Individuality and self-confidence have been my guiding stars, illuminating a path uniquely my own. In the end, it’s not about proving others wrong; it’s about living so authentically, so vibrantly, that your very existence becomes a beacon for others seeking to find their own way in the dark. To those on a similar journey, I extend a hand and a smile, for in this grand adventure, there’s room for all of us to shine. Authenticity and resilience are the hallmarks of a life well-lived, inspiring others to embrace their unique journeys. Read the full article

[lillywillow]

For Heart or For Country

Summary: “You’re in line to be the next ruler of your kingdom. But first, you must marry the young ruler of your worst enemy. Would you risk all of your happiness for the sake of stopping a war? Or will you find true love in the town’s pub?”

 Word Count: 3089

 Pairings: Natasha x gender neutral Reader/ gender neutral Loki X Reader (arranged)

 Warnings: Seductive Nat, arranged marriage

Written for @caplanbuckybarnes ‘s writing challenge. Go check out her amazing works!

From the moment you were born, you were destined to take over from your father. You spent countless hours in lessons learning how to be ruler of the kingdom, been taught everything from politics to art, sword fighting to etiquette. Long story short, everything you needed to take the throne and face the challenges that came with wearing the crown.

 For years, the kingdom had been at war but recently there was at last a chance for peace but it came with a cost... an arranged marriage. You weren’t so sure about it but if it meant your people being safe, you would sacrifice your own happiness.

 Ever since your father had made the announcement of your impending wedding, it had consumed your every thought. You hadn’t even met your betrothed and, yet, you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with them. You had watched the older servants with their spouses and to be honest with yourself it melted your heart. Even your father was a kind and gentle person when it came to your mother. With any luck, the person you were going to marry would be kind to you.

 Deciding you needed a distraction; you put on a disguise and managed to sneak out of the palace. Sure you could have gotten drunk in your room but where was the fun in that? You had crept out on a few occasions so you knew that the townsfolk knew how to party compared to those stuffy nobles.

From the moment you stepped inside the tavern named The Nest, the atmosphere was abuzz with excitement. The walls were decorated with purple fabric hangings, crossbows, longbows, arrows and other archery items. A taxidermy hawk was perched above the door, its eyes ever watching. A one eyed dog ran about the patrons, getting pats from some of them and cleaning up pieces of dropped food. People were dancing, singing and drinking, some leaning on each other for support as they swayed. To any other noble, the scene may have looked chaotic but to you, it only looked like fun.

 With a grin, you made your way over to the bar and took a seat. Still taking in your surroundings, you barely noticed when the sandy haired bartender stood in front of you.

 “What can I get you?”

 “Oh! Um...” You tried to think of something that would not give away your identity as a noble. The man raised an eyebrow at you.

 “Hey, Clint! Two boilermakers over here,” another patron called.

 The man whom you now know as Clint poured them the drinks and turned back to you.

 “So?”

 “I’ll have... o-one of those,” you said, making a feeble attempt to pound your fist on the counter in an attempt to fit in.

 Clint tilted his head and gave you a curious look.

 “Alright...”

 Clint made the boilermaker and placed it in front of you. Thanking him, you took a swig of the drink and felt instant misgivings about it as the alcohol burned not only your throat but your ears and the very pit of your stomach. Clint laughed as you coughed and spluttered.

 “You’re not from around here, are you?”

 “You... might say that,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth.

 “You picked the right night to come. Nat’s doing a show.”

 “Nat?”

 “Wow, you really aren’t from around here if you don’t know Natasha. Just watch,” he advised, nodding his head over to the stage.

 The stage was well lit and crowed around the edges by men and women who were eagerly waiting for whoever was about to appear from behind the purple curtains.

 Music began and a foot decorated with a silver anklet emerged. The audience cheered loudly as the woman behind her curtain slowly began to reveal herself. She wore a black piece of fabric around her upper body, twisted just a little in the centre of her chest. The bottom of her costume was made up of a red fabric front and back which started out solid but faded to transparent as it went down and held together by delicate chains. Silver cuffs adorned her upper arms and wrists. Her lips were painted sinfully crimson. Sparkly onyx hairpins held her red curls in place. She was absolutely stunning.

 The woman slowly began to sway her hips to the music, arms and feet poised. It was almost hypnotic in the way she moved. As the beat picked up, so did her dancing. One of the men near the front of the stage started to get a little carried away and tried to climb up.

 Fearing for the safety of the dancer, you tensed and shifted to help her but Clint placed a hand on your shoulder.

 “Easy. Nat can handle herself around these drunk idiots.”

 You watched as Nat placed her foot on the man’s cheek before kicking him off the stage. The crowd jeered and laughed at the man, some pouring their drinks on him. Despite the interruption, Nat continued her performance.

 Her face was calm and collected, never faltering, as the audience got more and more rowdy.

 Nat ended her performance by kneeling and giving a graceful bow. The throng of people got even more riled up as she headed back behind the curtain and before you knew it, a fight broke out. You could only sit on your barstool and laugh as the place erupted into bedlam. As a noble, the most you had ever witnessed people scuffle as a heated argument that never went beyond words and even then they never used the language you heard flying around the room. Sure, there was the battlefield but once again that was an entirely different situation.

 However, your humour was soon cut short as the royal guards walked in to break up the fight. You felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

 “You hiding from those guys?” Clint asked, not even fazed by the mayhem around him.

 “S-sorta...”

 Clint jumped over the bar and prompted you to follow him. You weren’t entirely sure what made you decide to trust a total stranger nonetheless, you followed his lead. As he walked along, he dodged all fists, tankards and bottles that flew his way. You did your best but still caught the occasional projectile to your body, taking great care not to let any hit your face lest there be questions tomorrow.

 He stopped to look around before opening a panel in the back wall, just big enough for you to squeeze out.

 “Follow the tunnel until the end. That’ll take you to the backstreets. Be fast. The guards will start patrolling the minute they break things up here. Just make sure you close the exit on the other side.” With that, Clint pushed you through the gap and closed the panel behind you.

 Just as he said, you followed the tunnel until the end, closing the door behind you and made your way through the backstreets until you had made it all the way home, fortunately without incident.

 As you got ready for bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Nat. She was just so beautiful... Could this be just a crush? You had to know for certain.

...

 The following night, you once again crept out of the palace and back to The Nest and sat at the bar. The place was busy but nowhere near as packed as it was last night.

 “I see the guards failed to catch you,” Clint commented, making his way over to you.

 “Yeah... um... is Nat dancing again tonight by any chance?”

 Clint gave you a sly look.

 “She’s not dancing but she is working. Hey, Nat!”

 Your heart began to race as the red head walked over to you. Tonight she was wearing a black, off-the-shoulder dress with a red belt around her waist. Even outside of her dancing costume she was beautiful.

 “What?”

 “This is the one I was telling you about.”

 You felt panic seize in your chest. They were talking about you? What in the world could they have possibly been saying? Nat looked you up and down, carefully examining you before glancing over at Clint who gave an approving nod.

 “Let’s dance...”

 Before you could protest, Nat grabbed your hand and dragged you onto the dance floor. It was no surprise to you that she was just as graceful on her feet as she had been on stage. As you danced with her, you could feel her brushing her hands over your hips and waist. You found yourself surrendering to her touch. At the end of the song, Nat wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pressed her lips to your ear.

 “Tell me... what is a noble doing in a place like this?”

 You completely froze.

 “Wh-what makes you think...?”

 “Everything. From the way you dance, to your posture and your speech. So, answer my question.”

 “Is... is there somewhere private we can talk?”

 Nat lead you to the backroom after checking the coast was clear.

 “Now talk...”

 With a sigh, you removed your hood, showing her your face.

 “The heir to the throne,” she whispered reverently.

 You put your hood back on and looked down.

 “You should get out of here. Folks in these parts don’t take kindly to nobles, especially members of the royal family. What are you doing here anyway?”

 “I... I wanted to experience as much freedom as I could before I get married...”

 “So one last fling before finally settling down. How sweet.” Her voice positively dripped venom as she spoke.

 “It’s not like that!”

 “Then tell me what it is like...”

 With a sigh, you looked out the tiny window on the back wall that let in a sliver of moonlight.

 “Ever since I was young, I dreamed of having a perfect wedding with the perfect person I would spend the rest of my life with... but with this war, I’m to marry one of the children of the opposing kingdom as a token of peace... I don’t know what kind of person they are. If they’re good, maybe we could work together to fix some of the broken parts of the city and of course, I would help in their kingdom too but if they’re not a good person, well...”

 Nat was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking.

 “I really hate it when Clint is right,” she sighed.

 You turned to look at her.

 “Clint?”

 “You see, Clint has this innate sense of finding the good in people and helping them out. He helped me a few years back...”

 You held her hand, encouraging her to continue.

 “I was in a really bad place... did some really bad things... Clint helped me get out of it. Got me a job, a home... even made me partner. I owe a lot to him...”

 You couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy for the man even though you knew it was completely irrational.

 “So you and he are...?”

 Nat shook her head.

 “We tried it once but it didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends.”

 You couldn’t help but feel a tiny sense of relief.

 “I would like to get to know you better... for however I have until my impending marriage. That is if you’ll let me.”

 “What about after?”

 “I’ll try and see you if I can... and if not; you can be my one who got away.”

 “That was... really cheesy,” she laughed.

 “I guess it was... but what do you say?”

 “On one condition; don’t make any promises you can’t or don’t intend to keep. I’ve been through enough of that in my lifetime.”

 “It’s a deal.”

...

 Over the next few weeks, you got to know Nat quite well. You knew everything about her and she knew everything about you and not just as future sovereign but as a person. Eventually the time came when the feuding royal family came to your kingdom, bringing with them your spouse to be.

 They introduced you to the youngest member of the family named Loki. Loki was about your age and attractive enough but in the short time you spent with Natasha, your heart purely belonged to her. Your respective fathers left you alone to bond, catching daggers in their backs from the glares from both you and Loki as they left.

 “They certainly can be civil when they want to be,” Loki sneered.

 “You got that right...”

 “You don’t really want to be married to me do you?”

 You thought carefully about how to answer.

 “I don’t even know you... but how else can we stop this war?”

 “I have been doing research on my end. If we can pool our resources, perhaps we can find how it began and how we can stop it. Shall we?”

 Loki offered a slender hand which you took.

 “We shall.”

...

 In the time leading up to your wedding, you and Loki spent every minute of the day together. To anyone else, it looked like a couple bonding and getting to know each other before your upcoming nuptials. To you and Loki, it was a mission; one to find out the truth and put an end to the war.

 Your nights were spent with Nat, talking about Loki and what else you could do to stop the fighting. There was one night you had crept in after seeing Nat and Loki had caught you and you thought for sure you were done for but instead, Loki covered for you. Loki was fully supportive of your relationship with Natasha and encouraged you to pursue her once this whole thing had blown over.

 Eventually it came time when your wedding was fast approaching. The night before the big event, you were of course with Natasha, wanting to spend as long as you could with each other before whatever happened tomorrow.

 “I promise you Nat, we will be together...”

 Nat teared up and shook her head.

 “Remember the deal you made, Y/N. You said you wouldn’t make promises you couldn’t keep...”

 “But I intend to keep this one...”

 “Just go!”

 Nat turned away so you couldn’t see her cry. You gently turned her back to you and kissed her softly. She kissed back, holding you tight as if she didn’t want to let you go. Eventually you had to break for air.

 “If... if this really is our last night together... then let’s make a memory that will last a lifetime...”

 With that, you kissed her again, this time with all the love and passion you could muster. It may have seemed scandalous to spend the night before your wedding with another but you wouldn’t give Nat away for the world.

...

 The following morning, you and Loki had set your plan into motion. The wedding started out like any other with guests arriving and people all taking their places. Your heart was hammering against your ribs and blood roared in your ears as the ceremony began. Loki remained calm and collected, keeping cool until the right moment.

 “If anyone has any objections as to why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

 “We object,” both you and Loki said in unison. The whole room erupted into shock. Instantly, both Odin and your father rounded on the pair of you, absolutely seething.

 “Silence!” Loki snarled. The room fell quiet.

 “Now, the whole point of this wedding was to stop this ridiculous war. A war that was started over a futile reason...”

 Both you and Loki went to where you had hidden two ancient artefacts; one from your history and one from Asgard’s.

 “Many years ago, our kingdom was accused of taking this,” you said, holding the item up high.

 “But they were wrong. We had our own the whole time,” Loki stated, holding up the other.

 “Our two kingdoms went to war when they should have been joining forces as we were once centuries ago...”

 The pair of you combined the two items to show they fitted perfectly together.

 “We should be united once more. Let us put a stop to the fighting once and for all!”

 The gathering all cheered and rejoiced at the prospect of peace. Your fathers sat there sullenly while their wives attempted to gently comfort them. Loki gently turned to you.

 “Isn’t there someone you want to see?”

 With Loki’s blessing, you ran out of the church.

...

 Nat had been drowning her sorrows at The Nest. She had known this day was long coming but it didn’t stop the ache she felt in her heart from losing you to another. Clint did his best to try and comfort her but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t even look up when her name was called but eventually Clint did catch her attention.

 “What?!” she hissed. Clint pointed behind her to where you were standing still in your wedding clothes.

 “Y/N? What are you-” You cut her off with a kiss.

 “Loki and I did it. We were able to restore peace and we didn’t even have to get married. We can be together now...”

 “But I’m just a common barmaid. You’re going to take over the throne...”

 “And when I do, I can make whatever rule I want and marry whoever I want. I want to marry you one day Natasha... that is if you’ll have me...”

 “I...” Nat looked over to Clint who smiled and nodded. “Yes...”

...

 Over the next few weeks, you worked in tandem with Nat to fix the rough parts of the city, just as you had told her. There was a lot of gossip surrounding your relationship but neither of you cared. You had also made a point to stay in touch with Loki to find out how things were going in Asgard.

 After so many years of war, it was nice to finally see some happiness. Maybe in time, there would be a royal wedding after all. A real one out of love that was formed between two hearts that truly cared for one another.

[cathyparrlyn]

TIME FOR A RANDOM HEADCANON POST YEEEEEEEEEE

Six: Fantasy AU

Premise: The queens are all rebels against the Tudor kingdom. They are wanted criminals as escaped wives of King Henry. Anne and Lina were the first two to group together and then decided to get the others to join their force so they could work together to finally put an end to Henry’s kingdom of terror. They then have many gay adventures together.

Aragon: a priestess from the church of Stanlicia (cause Alicia is the god of gay nirvana, no I don’t take criticism). Don’t let the holy woman vibe fool you though, she might focus on her bible, but she also is not afraid to drop kick any fucker who comes remotely close to her in any threatening manner. Aragon, although the only human of the group, is well known as the one you should not fuck with. She is the leader of the group, seeing as she is the only one who can read a map and not get distracted by colorful flowers or ancient ruins *insert Cathy and Kat feeling attacked in the background*. She has stupendous charisma and leadership skills, knowing when to be assertive and when to be cautious. She is also a distance fighter, rocking a nice bow and arrow set. Her talents are pep talks, singing, persuasion, distance offensive maneuvers, and leadership.

Anne: a fucking elf. What else did you expect? Okay, but seriously? Full on elf, raised from status and privilege, yet heavily burdened by expectations and gender stereotypes. Anne is a free spirit just like how her mother was, and after her mother’s passing she took on her mother’s dream of adventuring the world. She ran away from home with Kitty, never looking back. She is definitely the risk taker of the group, often causing chaos and laughing at their enemies failures. Truly a master of combat and swordsmanship, Anne wields dual swords that she had stolen from Henry. She struggles with magic even though she is an elf, and she is very insecure about the subject. She is also a bit of the flirt of the group, but only genuinely means it when she’s with Cathy. Often at times she can be found asking Cathy to do a spell for some impulsive idea she had. Her skills are sleight of hand, deception, persuasion, seduction, animal handling, combat, and dance.

Jane: a nymph who literally tries to adopt every plant and animal in sight. As long as it’s not among the “civilized” races, to her it has a heart and deserves love. Firm believe in fuck humanity and fuck kids, she’s a proud plant mama. A lover more than a fighter, she is more of the groups support. She has plenty of herbs for healing and knows where to go when in need of food or water, or even direction. She also befriends plenty of animals, so when push comes to shove they defend her. She can also control plants which is pretty badass, she literally used vines to yeet some of Henry’s men off a cliff into the lake once. Anne was so jealous and begged Cathy for a week to give her plant arms so she could be badass like Jane. That was a good day. Her skills are healing, navigation, empathy, nature knowlegde, basic survival skills, among a few others. Out of the group though, she is the worse fighter.

Anna: she is part demon. Demon have been banished and slaughtered for years, their existence is believed noneexistent at this point in time due to the years of war and persecution. Although minor, Anna is well aware of the demon blood that runs through her veins and constantly has to hide her dark magic or else she’ll be ostracized and murdered. It doesn’t matter how much demon blood is inside a person, they have the potential to turn into a full fledged demon, and that is Anna’s greatest fear along with the group leaving her and deeming her a monster. Although her race has dark origins, Anna is one of the most loyal and softest people you’ll ever meet, always caring for the others and doing whatever she can to protect them. She is attached to them. Sir, that is her emotional support found family. Just don’t breathe negatively in Kat’s direction, Anna will hear it and then give you a glare that makes hell seem like a playground. Her expertises are forgotten languages, sleight of hand, and tank battling styles. She is very well trained in hand to hand combat and can kick some major ass with her overwhelming strength (which is totally human and not demon what so ever.... hehehe.)

Kat: she is Anne’s baby cousin and somewhat like an apprentice, also a half elf. She is a dual axe wielder, but also quite the performer and grifter just like her cousin. Her elf nature gives off the image of status, even if she is a magicless elf whom are viewed to be worthless scum. However her human side gives her some trouble and nasty rumors, along with making her a bit more impulsive than most elves (then again, seeing Anne, that might just be the family). She is a very gentle gal when it comes to taking care of others, and she begs for a familiar everyday. Kat has a fascination with history and adventure and is the second best story teller, only falling short to her cousin Anne. More often than not you will catch her singing while she practices her axe swinging. Although small and gentle, don’t mistake her for incompetent and weak unless you want to lose a hand or your head to her axe. She might be baby, but babies don’t take shit from bigots. Her expertises are in history, disguise, music, and sneak attacks.

Cathy: She is a fucking witch, and a badass one at that. She was a gifted magic user since a very young age. While most people are able to unlock and control enough magic around the age of puberty, Cathy was able to manage hers at the age of six. This she was very proud of as her dutiful nature allowed her to learns a galore of spells, potions, and legends through her research and practice. However, it also caused her to have to pick her activation phrase and motion, something that can never be changed, at a young age. Let’s just say, she has regrets and Cathy’s parents knew she was bi since Cathy was six. Anyways, she totally kicks ass. After getting bored of mastering the basic extensive magics, Cathy decided to study mythology and psychology and dove into the dark magics. Although dark magic users are ostracized and in majority of the land illegal, Cathy couldn’t stop herself from falling in love with the subject and becoming a dark mage / witch. Her skills are potion making, knowledge of multiple languages, dark magic, sarcasm, explosions, enhancements, protection, writing, and more. She is one of the most powerful magic users in the land and have a vast knowledge of magic and beings. Now if only she could fucking figure out herself, or at the very least learn how to get a decent amount of sleep.

Thank you to everyone who read this xx

Here is the fantasy picrew I used:

[darkromanceblackburn]

Slasher OC: Decebal Avram Chirilă

Full Name: Decebal Avram Chirilă

Nickname(s): Dacia, Dece, The Impaler, Vladislav, Tiger, Lynx, Dracula, Casanova

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Nationality: Romanian

Place of Birth: Bucharest, Romania

Current Location: Travels from country to country

Occupation: Former Romanian Soldier; Now Hitman

Languages: Romanian, English, German, French, Italian, Hungarian, Russian, Turkish

Appearance:

Height: 6'8

Weight: 240lbs

Body Type: Middle Bulky and Atheltic

Skin Color: Warm Beige

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Hair Style: Short on the sides and longer on top, wavy

Eye Color: Pale Grey, almost white, giving the impression he is blind

Face Claim: Stephen James

Clothing: He opts for comfortable clothing mostly because of his job as a hitman and because he is always on the run. He mostly goes with black T-shirts or shirts, a khaki army coat with many pockets, along with camo army pants again with many pockets and black combat boots. He has a long black scarf with the colors of the Romanian flag trimmed along that belonged to his father.

Other features: He has many scars on his broad back and down his arms; his back's scars are covered by tattoos of an eagle and a grim reaper with two swords in an X shape. His has full sleeve tattoos down his arms, picturing all kind of nature scenarios from his country, mountains and wild animals and AK-47's on each forearm. His neck, chest and legs are also covered by tattoos along with his hands. This guy is all inked up. He also has a silver earing on his right ear. He also wears an eyepatch that is covering his scarred eye that he got from a fight with his brother Alexander, the scar mimiking the ones Alexander has, coming from his eyebrow down his eye and over his cheek.

Weapons: Twin Swords, Twin Guns, and throwing knives.

Power/Skills:

Murderous expertise

Brute strength

Skilled usage of weaponry

Skill in hand-to-hand combat

Knifesmanship

Swordsmanship

Multilingual

Cunning Nature

Charisma

Driving expertise

Ruthlessness

Fearlessness

Manipulation

Marksmanship

Master tactician and strategist

Stealth mastery

Symbols: Here is the link to Decebal's symbols

History/Bio:

Decebal was named after a Romanian king by his parents, father Apostol Chirilă, and his mother, Maria Stratulat of Moldovic heritage. They were a poor family that lived in Bucharest during the communist times, a hard period for them. Decebal's father, Apostol was one of the rebels that were against this form of a system of social organization in which all property is owned by the community and each person contributes and receives according to their ability and needs.

Because of this Apostol and Maria, along with their three years old son, Decebal, were dragged into the communistic jails where they were tortured in all kinds of ways from whipping to starvation to being chained into coldness.

Decebal tried to protect his parents even though he was a small child and the army warden that took care of the horrific jails was surprised by the child's braveness and he took him away from his parents, not before forcing him to watch how his parents were killed brutally.

During the rest of his childhood and teenage years, Decebal spent most of his life in the dark underground jail, training with the soldiers, doing hard work. Despite that, the warden thought Decebal about all kinds of languages, cultures, and history. 

'Just because you're a stray dog that doesn't mean you cannot learn to bark and bite.'

In his late teenage years as he grew into an adult man, he got more to the light outside, following the warden wherever he went and did was his so-called 'father' figure did; smoke, drink and got laid with all the ladies.

The warden's words during a drunken late-night:

'You know boy, you will do something big, much bigger than you can imagine. I saw how all these sluts looked at you... You make them fall into your arms like they are desperate whores.'

'Use everything you got; charms, brains, muscles. In this world, there are the ones that walk every inch of the ground as they own it and the ones that follow, all chained. Tell me, boy... Which one you are?'

One of the greatest abilities that Decebal earned during years in the darkness was that he got so used to it that now as an adult, he sees perfectly into the darkness, just like cats do. 

Some people called Decebal 'Lynx'; the moniker originates from the fact that Lynx has exceptional night vision, remarkable hearing, and incredible instincts. The spiritual lesson Lynx carries to you is a reminder to partake of quiet observance, remembering there’s more to the world than what’s accessible through the physical eyes and ears alone.

After communism fell down in Romania, Decebal still maintained the attitude he grew up around; being sadistic, cold, and cruel. People weren't too fond of his attitude; his habits including fighting and torturing people that opposed him, getting laid with other men's wives, strolling down the streets like he owned everything.

He disappeared from Romania when there was a reward on his head to be finally executed. The Romanian army was hot on his trail, turning against him, but he simply vanished.

He strolls from country to country, not having a definitive home and working as a rogue hitman to earn money and to survive.

After a brutal fight between him and his twin little brother, Alexander; the two brothers which resulted in both of them almost dead, they get on an agreement of peace between them, with the help of their third part, their little sister Nadia.

Family: His little brother Alexander Chirilă and his little sister Nadia Nikolina Chirilă

His favorite killing style:

He prefers a kill that will put on a good show, he will shot his victims in both their knees, then he will dismember them with his sharp twin swords.

Personality:

Decebal has two paths of personality; the civilian one and the hitman one, that sometimes cross path depending on the situation at hand. In hi day to day life, he is a charming, handsome man, confident and sure of himself, but also having a modesty edge, just to draw people in closer, because he loves the attention, having a God-like complex.

Despite his childhood, he is a very educated man that speaks many languages, sometimes taking people by surprise, he can even put on fake accents. He also has vast knowledge about other countries history, mostly because that's what his 'father-figure' talked a lot about.

He is a flirt, he simply adores to make women swon by his charming looks and mysterious persona wherever he goes, people always wondering from where he comes. He knows how to sweet-talk people, being extremly manipulative. His looks; big and strong, in his eyes a flaming white glow.

You will rarely see Decebal without his charming smile or dark smirk that makes the ladies sigh and faint. He always puts on a winning attitude, knowing for creating many divorces along his travelings. 

Here goes his saying: 'If the female raised her tail, who I am to deny.'

He has a romantic side, after all he does speaks the romance languages, but it's highly influenced his his Casanova attitude.

He is blunt; this man will tell if you're damn gorgeous or if you're down-right ugly or stupid. He has no problem putting his opinions straight on the table.

His favorite drink: Țuică- is a traditional Romanian spirit that contains ~ 24–65% alcohol by volume (usually 40–55%), prepared only from plums.

His favorite food: Sarma is a dish of vine, cabbage, monk's rhubarb, kale or chard leaves rolled around a filling of grains, like bulgur or rice, minced meat, or both. It is found in the cuisines of the former Ottoman Empire from the Middle East to Southeastern Europe.

His scent: Decebal's scent could be described as a 'game of seduction' with an "exciting rush" of citrus and cool spice top notes. Pungent bergamot "bites" with freshness, revived by cardamom and lavender. Caviar gives a provocative and erotic touch “like a trickle of sweat on a man’s chiseled body.” Masculine and rough notes of tobacco and orris root facilitate the heat of the composition. He has that scent that could be described as smoky confidence irresistible to women.

Other Characteristics:

He is a very good dancer, especially traditional ones and he also knows singing. Attending important parties with his 'father-figure' he learned from the women how to dance and sing. The women basically made him such a charismatic man.

He is a heavy drinker and holds his alcohol like it's water; his moldovic genes showing off. 

He is more of a night person that a day one, mostly because of his very good nocturnal sight.

He is pretty much an Outlaw.

His accent sounds like italian, latin, but with a little bit of russian or another slavic accent. (That's how a Austrian woman described his accent one night)

He is a master at Poker. Another way he earns a lot of money is through poker and plus, he is a master cheater. FUN FACT HERE: He won a man's wife through poker for one night.

He is a sword swallower, bonus he has no gag reflex.

He also loves to smoke from his pipe.

============================================

There lived a certain man in Romania long ago

He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow

Most people look at him with terror and with fear

But to Bucharest chicks he was such a lovely dear

He could preach the Bible like a preacher

Full of ecstasy and fire

But he also was the kind of teacher

Women would desire

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the ROMANIAN queen

There was a cat that really was gone

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

He ruled the Romanian land and never mind the Tsar

But the kazachok he danced really wunderbar

In all affairs of state he was the man to please

But he was real great when he had a girl to squeeze

For the queen he was no wheeler dealer

Though she'd heard the things he'd done

She believed he was a holy healer

Who would heal her son

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

There was a cat that really was gone

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

(This is an interpretation of the song ‘Rasputin’ by Boney M, mostly because the song inspired me into creating him)

For power became known to more and more people

The demands to do something about this outrageous

Man became louder and louder

"This man's just got to go!" declared his enemies

But the ladies begged "Don't you try to do it, please"

No doubt this Decebal had lots of hidden charms

Though he was a brute they just fell into his arms

Then one night some men of higher standing

Set a trap, they're not to blame

"Come to visit us" they kept demanding

And he really came

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

They put some poison into his țuică

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

He drank it all and said "I feel fine"

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

They didn't quit, they wanted his head

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

[Spoken:] Oh, those Romanians...

=======================================================

But when his drinking and lusting and his hunger

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver x OC [Chapter Six]

{WARNINGS: adult language, fantasy violence, woman owning her sexuality and her body, woman using her sexuality and body as a weapon, woman saying “fuck emotions i’m scared”, manipulation mentions, toxic main character but she learns, toxic parents, self-harm in the form of self-poisoning, self-hate, fucked up family}

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four 

Chapter Five 

        Arya took Lord Middleditch's hand, noting the lack of callouses and the way his cuticles looked almost as nice as her own. He was a man who not worked for anything. A man who had never held a sword in his hand. He'd be so easy to play with. It had been far too long since Arya had been able to play her favorite game. Playing with the heart of men had been a pastime since she had first realized that she was something more than beautiful.

        She was sensual.

        She would seduce the man, sleep with his wife or betrothed, and then she would watch as he struggled to pick up the pieces. She had a habit of creating insatiable lust. She had a habit of becoming someone that no one could ever have. She was an untouchable woman. 

        She just had to keep reminding herself that it was safer to play the game than to be played. Dorian Havilliard had been the only man who had ever come close to breaking her heart. A heart that she wasn't sure she even had.

        Thomas' hand was stronger than she expected, his hold on her waist was tight enough to entice her. She fought the urge to smirk up at him. She wanted to make this last longer than it probably should. Seducing him within moments would only make the game end before she had her fun.

        As the two danced, she could feel a gaze on her. It caused an unfamiliar heat to rise in her stomach and spread across her chest. She knew without looking that Galan was watching them. She wondered if he realized that he had no claim over her. Just because he had been nothing but a gentleman since they had met meant nothing. Princelings often thought the world belonged to them. Any beautiful woman was theirs. Any possible thing they could wish for was theirs for the taking.

        Arya would never let that happen to her. She didn't care if she had to stab him to make her point widely known. Although, stabbing him would bring attention that she did not want. It seemed as though the princess was bound to make a terrible decision when it came to Galan Ashryver. It didn't matter what she wished.

        "I must say," Lord Middleditch's voice drew her out of her thoughts. His voice was a seductive drawl, deep and dark like the ocean's abyss. "I didn't expect you to show tonight."

        "And why is that?" One of her brows rose just slightly as she watched the smirk grow on his face. He was handsome enough. The worst part was that he knew that he was. That was bound to cause trouble.

        "Our prince is many things," he started, thinking over his words for a moment before continuing. "An idiot just happens to be one of them."

        "Is that so?" Arya tried to mask the amusement in her tone. "I thought he was quite revered. He fights for his country and is quite dashing. Surely that garners some respect."

        "Only an idiot would fight on the frontlines. Galan thinks he can take on Adarlan by himself."

        "Careful," Arya said before Thomas dipped her gently. "He happens to be my closest friend here."

        "Is that why you've been avoiding him all night?" So he was perceptive. That would have to be taken care of. Arya didn't need anyone seeing through her nor her plans. If he managed to find out that she was just trying to find a husband and steal them away to Kalthanen, who knew what would happen.

        He might decide he was the best man for the position. He might assume he'd be the best king for Kalthanen. She would never let that happen.

        "I have no idea what you're talking about," Arya gave him a demure smile. This man was sure to be someone who she watched for. He wasn't playing the same games that she was. "All I've done was dance with a few men. I'm allowed to do as I please. Free will is man's one true strength, wouldn't you agree?"

        The smirk on his lips chilled her to the core. He looked like a member of Kalthanen's court. The snake-like eyes, the handsome features that masked a horrid heart. She wanted to be sick just looking at him. She took a breath through her nose, knowing that she was being oversensitive. He didn't know anything about her. He would never know anything about her.

        No one could see behind any of the masks she wore. No one ever would. Hell, Arya did not know who she was. How was anyone else supposed to figure it out?

        "I would," Thomas spoke, twirling her just before the song ended. "You seem to have a choice to make." He stared over her head, watching someone nearing the two of them. "You can either spend the rest of your night with me or you could continue to give our prince hope."

        Arya did not glance behind her. She did not listen to the pull in her gut telling her that this was a bad idea. Her instincts normally protected her. She had made a habit of listening to them rather than anything else. She would get into trouble otherwise. But this was a decision that needed to be rationalized. She couldn't just listen to a stupid little pull in her gut. She had to think about what was best for her. What was best for Kalthanen.

        "Lead the way," Arya didn't know if she was going to regret her decision. She didn't think she cared. 

        Thomas took her by the arm, leading her out of the ballroom. As they slipped through the door, she turned her head to see Galan. A look of hurt on his face.

        Her stomach seemed to knot itself but she said nothing, did nothing, as Thomas walked her to the gardens.

        "I find it easier to think out here," he explained as they exited the castle through large, glass doors. The gardens were beautiful in the daylight but in the moonlight they were exquisite. She wondered how hard Galan had worked to make it that way. Had he even noticed it? 

        She didn't know why she was thinking of him. 

        "Yes, it's quite lovely," she said as they passed whispering couples and one who seemed more inclined to fighting than intimacy.

        Arya took it upon herself to note who was nearest them. In case anything happened, she wished to know who she might be able to rely on for protection. 

        It seemed as though the Fae had preferred the gardens to the crowded ballroom. Two Fae couples stood in the gardens, one just along the eastern wall. The woman was small, petite against the man's large frame. Her hair was the deepest ebony and she looked up at the man with the light of a thousand stars in her eyes. The man did not appear to be swayed by her otherworldly beauty. His tanned skin seemed to glow golden in the moonlight, shadows playing around him. He looked as though he was ready to destroy everything and everyone. But his large hand held the woman's smaller one and he appeared almost content. The other couple stood beside the hydrangea bushes just to the south of Arya and Lord Middleditch. The man's face held a tattoo that she could not make out, his white hair flowing down his back and a dark glare on his face. The woman's golden hair was braided in a crown on her head, an impish smile on her face as she said something that Arya couldn't hear. The tattooed man's face grew darker.

        "Don't let them frighten you," Thomas told her with a slight sigh. "They think just because the Ashryver's have Fae blood that they're allowed here. It's quite disgusting if you ask me."

        "I didn't," Arya stated as they sat down on a bench just outside of a maze that was filled with roses and jasmine. Arya briefly wondered how they managed to keep the jasmine alive in Wendlyn. She allowed herself to think of the land back home, where the jasmine grew wild and where she had spent hours in her youth laying on the ground and watching as the flowers bloomed around her. Arya truly loved Kalthanen, even if she knew it could be a horrible place full of equally horrifying people.

        "No, I suppose you didn't," he said with an amused chuckle. No warmth was in his laugh nor in his eyes. "Now, Arya, tell me what you're doing here."

        "Kalthanen needs new trading partners," the lie slid off her tongue easily.

        "Don't lie to me, Princess," the lordling said. "I know better than that. You and your dearest cousin are here for a reason. Now, I can be of service to you, or we can keep lying to each other about our intentions."

        "And what exactly are your intentions?" Arya looked at him, her eyes filled with boredom. She would not let any man get under her skin. She wouldn't allow anyone to tell her who she was or what her plans were. No one had any right to try and control her. No one would ever be that important to her. She had known that from a very young age.

        "What else would they be?" Thomas questioned, looking down at her with a raised brow. "I intend to sweep you off your feet and leave Wendlyn as far behind me as I possibly can."

        "You have faith in yourself," she almost snorted before remembering herself. "I don't intend to give anyone my heart, my Lord," she said the title with more venom than anyone could have mustered.

        "I didn't say anything about stealing your heart," he shrugged his shoulders once as he looked down at her. "Make no mistake, you're beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have you. But we both know that you don't want Galan. I assume that you didn't manage to snag Dorian Havilliard. There are few princes left in this world."

        "There are several island nations left." Arya pointed out.

        "Yes, but what would they do for you?" Thomas questioned, taking her hand in his. She didn't quite hate how soft they were. "They wouldn't strength Kalthanen. If anything, it would just weaken your country. No, you need something better than islands. You need someone from Wendlyn or Adarlan. Since a prince won't do, a Lord would be the next best thing."

        Arya didn't correct him. How could she? He had read her mind.

        "Besides, we can take over from your brother and your cousin in due time. For now, we would be playing the happy newlyweds."

        "What's in it for you?" He was offering too much. There had to be something he wanted. No one was this eager to marry someone they did not know. Briefly, thoughts of Galan went through her mind. What would she do if he found out? What if he learned that she was marrying someone she didn't know despite the way he looked at her? Despite how he made her stomach knot and her heart hammer.

        It was for that reason that she was considering this whole, stupid mess. She didn't want to think about Galan anymore. Didn't want to think about the task at hand. He was offering her a chance to get away from here before she lost some integral part of herself.

        "I'd get off this miserable rock," he stated as he turned his face to look at the stars. The moonlight bathed his skin in silvery light, causing his golden skin to glow. "I'd be able to lay about in a palace by the sea, have a beautiful woman in my bed, and never hear my father's voice again. The potential to become a king consort is also quite tempting."

        "Power and escape," Arya's voice was soft as she stared at the maze in front of them. The twists and turns of the hedges matched by her train of thought. This couldn't be this easy. It made no sense for anything to be as painless as this whole thing. "Do not expect me to love you."

        "As long as you expect the same from me," Thomas said, his gaze turning to her. His eyes were black in the moonlight. She could not tell what was iris and what was the pupil. Did it even matter? She wouldn't be falling for his eyes. Wouldn't be blinded by the fire that blazed within them.

        "Allow me to think on this." She didn't need to think on anything. It was the best she could ever do. He would be the one she would be able to take back to Kalthanen. They would marry and she would kill him after they were crowned.

        "Of course," Thomas stood then, taking her hand as he did. The fluidity of his movements made her wonder if perhaps he had some Fae in his bloodline. He brushed a kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hand and disappearing into the night. She didn't know if she was grateful to be alone or not. 

        She could hear the couple fighting from earlier. The man telling the woman off for hiding a weapon in the lining of her gown. Arya was almost impressed that she had managed it. The woman seemed to think it was nothing. Their voices drowned out the sound of footsteps coming from behind her.

        "You disappeared," his voice caused an unwelcome chill to go through her spine. Her hands gripped the bench, her white knuckles hidden by her voluminous skirts.

        "I needed air," lying came so naturally to the manipulator. The would-be-queen knew that she didn't need to lie to him. But it was easier than admitting to what had just transpired. "The gardens are quite beautiful at night. I don't know why you hadn't thought to bring me before."

        "I saw Lord Middleditch with you," he ignored her words. Arya bristled at that, but he continued before she could say anything. "You can't trust a word that man says. He's the closest thing to evil I know."

        "Careful, Galan," she refused to look at him. "You almost sound jealous."

        A sharp intake of breath came from him. Arya wanted to look back and see his expression but she did not allow herself to. It was none of her concern what Galan Ashryver thought of who wanted to know her.

        "I doubt I have anything to be jealous over," he said as he moved to sit beside her. "You have better taste than him."

        "You don't know me well enough to know that," Arya spoke softly, still refusing to catch his eye. She didn't want to see the grin on his face. Didn't want to see what the moonlight did to him. If it made Thomas look beautiful, she was certain that Galan would look ethereal. Those Ashryver eyes would surely be brighter than stars, his smile would look as though the gods themselves had blessed it. It was too much for her to take. "I nearly married Dorian Havilliard. That should tell you everything about my taste."

        She felt him stiffen beside her, his arm tense where it brushed against hers. She knew that it was not due to the muscle that had been built up by years upon years of training.

        "Then I know that you deserve better," his voice was soft. Barely a whisper. Goosebumps rose along her skin at the very tone of his voice. She hated it. Hated how she reacted to him.

        "You don't know what I deserve, Galan. You barely know me," she stood then, clenching her fists to avoid him seeing how her hands were shaking. She didn't want him to ever see her as weak. She didn't need that from him. "Don't pretend to know me. It will only lead to you being dreadfully disappointed."

        "Nothing you could ever do would disappoint me, Arya," he stood with her, taking her hand in his. She hated how it felt. His calloused hands were bigger than her own, rough and ready to fight at a moment's notice. Without his crown and the way he carried himself, one would never realize that he was a prince. She wished he was more like a prince. Like some pompous ass who she would sooner put a blade through than bed.

        "He asked me to marry him," Arya nearly winced when Galan's hold tightened. It did not hurt. It had just been unexpected. The look on his face, however, was not.

        Galan's easy smile had been replaced by a wounded look. Though his square jaw was set, his lips thinned, and the tendons in his neck were showing he did not appear to be angry. His eyes burned with a fire that told her the truth. He hated to think that anyone else would ask her for the time of day. But what right did he have? What right did any of them have to expect anything from her? 

        "Did you say yes?" She hated how his voice didn't break, hated how he could sound so solid despite his eyes betraying him. It made everything far too easy and yet also made it the hardest thing she'd ever done.

        "Yes," another lie. All she had ever done was lie to him. Their entire relationship was built on the fact that he couldn't trust her. That no one could trust her. "We'll leave for Kalthanen soon enough."

        Galan dropped her hand, staring straight ahead at the maze of roses. "Stay, Arya. You ... You should stay. At least until the season changes and it's safer to sail."

        Arya stared at him for a moment, shaking her head slightly. "I should go. It's growing late," her voice was strong despite the fact that she wanted it to break. She wanted to be able to show that she felt something. But she couldn't. She didn't. She'd been trained for years to avoid anyone ever seeing her. From anyone being able to touch her in a way she didn't like.

        She slipped away from him, avoiding her chambers and Calanon. She walked down corridors that were filled with laughing couples and sconces blazed with warm, friendly light. She passed them as though she were a ghost amongst them. She didn't want to be one of them. She had always wanted to be the one who rose above everyone. She wanted the power, the responsibility. She wanted to change the world. To protect Kalthanen from every bad thing that would ever happen to the island nation.

        Even if it meant selling her soul.

        Arya caught sight of Lord Middleditch as she passed by the ballroom. Her feet ached, her chest felt as though it was breaking, and she could barely keep standing. He, on the other hand, looked as fresh as a daisy. His smile was radiant, his laughter hollow as he drank from a golden goblet.

        She walked back into the ballroom, her chin held high and her back as straight as she could make it. She didn't care anymore. This whole mess with Galan needed to end. The looks they sent each other, the way she felt when he was around her. She couldn't handle him. Couldn't handle what she felt around him. That was why she needed to do the one thing she was sent for.

        "Lord Middleditch," the name fell from her lips as easily as a lie. They would, after all, be spending the rest of their lives lying to everyone. "Might I have a word with you?"

        "Of course, Your Highness," he gave her a small bow before he excused himself from his friends. Arya led him towards a small alcove that overlooked the high windows at the back of the room. Moonlight poured through them, giving the appearance of a sanctuary.

        "I've thought over your proposal," she knew it had been too fast. She knew she should have waited until the next day to speak with him. But Galan had left her flustered. She never wanted a man to leave her flustered again. She was supposed to be the one in control. She didn't care if Calanon was angered by not knowing of the plan. She didn't care what he did to her. Luna would take care of him if he became too much of a problem.

        "And?" Thomas looked at her curiously. His dark eyes were not just a dark color. They were black. She wondered if it was a warning sign of sorts. But she was beyond thinking clearly.

        "I accept," she didn't bother to smile at him. Didn't bother to pretend to be happy about their betrothal. It was business not pleasure. They both knew it. They could pretend for the rest of the world, but she would not pretend with him. It would be stupid to let him think she would ever care for him.

        As soon as he was no longer useful, he would cease to breathe.

        He lifted his goblet then, a grin on his lips. His teeth were straight, blindingly white. A sinking feeling filled her gut as he stared down at her. Had this been a good idea? Would she grow to regret it? Arya didn't allow herself to think of this. She wouldn't question her own choices. Not when there had been nothing else for her to do.

        "Long live the queen."

[thenoblehouseofdayne]

Daughter Dearest 5 {Robb Stark x Bolton!Reader}

Series Masterlist Here!

{Warnings: mentions of mental illness, mentions of manipulative behavior, argument, some language.}

{Sorry for the long wait! I’ve been darting around on vacation for a few weeks, and haven’t had time to settle and write. To make up for it, here’s a lengthy Robb sequel! Kisses, TNHOD.}

Tensions were high inside the Stark encampment. It seemed that the men had forgotten that there was a war to be fought outside the village of tents, and were content to argue and dispute amongst themselves. Robb was the King of the North, but he was also your husband, and he was visibly worried for your safety at all hours. Ramsay, your half brother, was having a grand time being a pain in the ass, making comments about Robb’s feminine approach to ruling and his gentle touch. Roose was staying out of the argument all together, and had more than once suggested you do the same. 

You didn’t care, Ramsay could choke and you’d dance on his grave. He was a dirty rotten bastard, and he caused nothing but trouble. It was only a matter of time before he said the wrong thing, and your ruse would be through. 

That was another matter entirely. Was it a ruse? It had to be-- you were insistent on the fact. You didn’t love Robb, he was a means to an end, a position for your father, and a safe bed for the rest of your life. He could’ve been old or cruel or ugly, but the Gods had seen fit to give you the perfect husband. He wasn’t perfect for you, but he was perfect. 

Robb was pouring over maps, trying to find the perfect ground on which to engage the Lannister army. And more so, where he could hide you during the bloodshed. He was the King in the North, and he didn’t have to bend to the Boltons and their archaic customs. The bastard unsettled him, but he said nothing of it, other than a few snide comments to you in the privacy of your bedroom. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are more interested in those maps than the men who made them,” you quipped from the bed, resting your chin on your elbows, observing his admirable ass with a half-smile. 

“I’m sure,” he replied dismissively, though a smile came to his face at the sound of your voice. He was deep in thought, scratching the comings-in of a beard that he hadn’t had the time or luxury to remove. “It’s late. You’re usually asleep by now,” there was an edge of concern in his voice, but he didn’t chide you. 

“You’re usually asleep by now,” you returned, pulling the heavy furs closer around your shoulders to shield you from the cold. “And I can’t sleep when I can feel the tension radiating off of you like heat waves,” you complained, lifting the edge of the blanket and offering an enticing smile, hoping to coax him to your side. “You need to rest-- or you’ll fall asleep with your sword in hand.” 

It was an amusing image, and it conjured a matching smile at his lips. Sighing, he extinguished the pair of candles on his desk, and began to shrug off the heavy layers of clothing that adorned him during the day. There was no grace or seduction to the movements, but they were done hastily, to close the distance between himself and you. 

Finally, he slipped beneath the offered sheet, and wrangled you closer to him, effortlessly sliding his arms around your waist. He stilled soon after that, his nose buried in your hair, breathing evening out as he allowed the tension to slide out of his shoulders. “Can I ask you something?” He murmured, almost lost in the sound of the wind howling outside. 

You nodded, fingers carving soft grooves in the plains of his chest. 

“That first night, after we...” he paused to allow you to fill in the blank, “you swore that you would never love me. You wouldn’t touch me. Called yourself my prisoner. What changed? You went from feral to docile practically overnight, and I just--” he sighed, “I don’t understand.” 

You felt like he’d just dropped a massive weight on your chest, and squeezed all the breath out of your lungs. You’d thought you’d been so careful... “I--” your mind reeled for a way to rectify the situation. “I don’t know.” You answered honestly, fidgeting in his arms so you could turn to face him, and see those hauntingly beautiful eyes. “My father used to love my mother, more than anything in the world. He was stiff, but he was happy. When she got sick, and when she started to lose her mind...” you hesitated. “I watched him fall out of love with her. Secluded her away to a tower, a few servants to care for her, and told me never to visit. Said it would only hurt more when we left.” You couldn’t look away from his eyes, from the pity in them, and the adoration that still lingered. “I didn’t want to marry you. I never wanted to marry. I didn’t want to be her, loving a man who would end up confining me to a little room to rot.” 

“You don’t have to--” his voice was softer now as he tried to pull you back to his chest, “I am never going to be your father, Y/N,” he insisted, metal in his voice. 

“You’re so lovely,” you continued, ignoring the sympathy in his tone. “And soft and sweet, and you want so badly to believe in love... and I took advantage of that.” It felt like a cool rush of relief to admit to the guilt that had been weighing on your conscious. “My father was worried that you would lose fondness for me, so I embellished a little-- just to give me time to truly grow fond of you.” 

He was very still.

“Robb?” You asked, wiggling in his arms to catch a look at his face. “No, that’s not what I meant!” You insisted, once you saw the hurt and color draining from his face. “I do love you, there was just a moment when--”

“That first time,” he asked quietly, “when you told me you loved me, that was him?” He didn’t release you, his eyes searching your face for truth. “Your father?” 

You were speechless, heart aching as you realized what jeopardy speaking the truth had landed you in. “He didn’t--”

Robb unwound from you at once, scrambling away from you like you’d burned him. “And when we made love, was he pulling the strings? The puppeteer, feeding you venom to spit back in my face?” He was indignant, snarling, hurting. “I loved you!” He spat, not even bothering to don clothes as he retreated to the far side of the tent. “You knew how much I loved you-- and you lied to me!”

“I do love you, Robb, please!” You pleaded, curling up on the edge of the bed, and watching his expression twist in disgust. 

“How do I know this isn’t another trick?” He demanded, cheeks flushing red with anger. “That these aren’t your father’s words leaving your lips?”

You opened your lips to respond, but saw the far tent-flap peek open, and a grinning Ramsay peer inside, seemingly close enough to have overheard the obvious spat. 

“My King,” his voice was oozing with smug pride at having caught his rival in a compromising position, “is everything alright?”

Robb, a fire burning in his chest and his heart-shattered into more pieces than he could count, looked to you. His love, the sweet woman that he had grown to adore-- tears shining in her eyes as she begged for him to forgive her... and he couldn’t hate her. He wanted to, Gods did he want to hate her, cast her out and remove the thought of her from his mind. But he couldn’t. Your brother, however... “everything’s fine,” he insisted, his voice low and testing. “We were having a disagreement.” 

“I’m sure half the encampment knows at this point,” he entered the tent without invitation, his eyes sweeping over to you and taking a look of lechery at your disheveled state. “Is there anything I could do to ease this?”

Robb’s jaw twitched, watching your half-brother ogle over you with shameless lust. He hated Ramsay. Without a word, he stepped forward, a fist curling at his side, and a cruel look in his eyes. “Yeah, actually,” his movements were sharp and predatory, “eat shit.” And Robb’s fist collided with his jaw in a brutal cracking motion. 

[bbrandy2002]

Two Men and a Baby Pt. 5

Not your typical Royal Romance story...crazier

The TRR Gang

Warning: Some sexual content and language.

@carabeth @katedrakeohd @emceesynonymroll

....bum bum bah....You are watching Channel 5 news CBC at 9:00, bringing you all the lastest news updates from Cordonia and Western Europe. Tonight's top story begins in Ramsford where our very own Penelope Bakas is on the scene....Penelope, describe what you're seeing....

Bertrand and Savannah had enjoyed a lovely, candlelit dinner at the top of the exclusive Ruby Tower.  Bertrand had purchased the finest wine,  had the wait staff bring out flowers while the pianist played a lovely rendition of 'The Way You Look Tonight' dedicated to her. Savannah was beaming. They slow danced and laughed over funny memories. Bertrand recited poetry to her and looked at her all evening as if she were the brightest star in the sky. The evening was truly perfect and she couldn't imagine anything in the world ruining this high she was feeling. "This is the best birthday I've ever had my little Nerdy Bertie", she would say several times.

Bertrand took Savannah out onto the balcony to admire the view of his beautiful duchy. As he stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, she, wearing his brown suit jacket for warmth, they both heard sirens whirling by below them. They peaked over the side and seen several cops and fire trucks speeding through town. "Hmm, I wonder what happened?" Savannah asked.

"Im not sure" Bertrand replied, "but, i have one last surprise for you, my pet".

"Oh, do tell." Savannah said with a breathy, seductive tone, while pulling him by his sweater vest closer.

"I know how you've always wanted a carriage ride and I just so happen to have one waiting for you in front of the tower, my little tartlet."

"Oh Bertie, all of my dreams are coming true" she said with a quick kiss to his cheek.

"This way, my dear". Bertrand grabs Savannah's hand, takes the elevator to the first floor and steps off into the lobby.

Out front was a beautiful carriage, fully enclosed and two white horses at the front. Bertrand held the door open and helped Savannah inside.  He told the driver they were ready and off they went.

"Bertie, this is so magical, but, I have one request I would like to make" she said while biting his ear lobe.

"Uh...uh...what is it, my dear?, he asked.

She reached down and palmed his groin, "I'd really like to play with little Bertie".

"Savannah Jane Walker! We are in public!" Bertrand shouted in a whisper.

"So, remember when the king and queen got caught in the corn maze during the Halloween Field Party. That could be us, lets live a little", she pouted.

"Yes and as I recall the King required 10 stitches to his derrier", Bertrand shudders, "corn stalks are no joke".

Savannah moves to the floor in front of Bertrand and slowly starts to unzip his pants. He grabs her hand but she gives him her pleading eyes and he can't resist.

Meanwhile....

Drake stands in front of his friends, who are still laughing uncontrollably. Drake walks over to Olivia and grabs the breastfeeder from her hands.

"You're not claiming this for Lythikos, thats the only way Bartie can drink.....You guys are the most immature people I've ever met", Drake huffs. Olivia continues to cackle at him.

"Uh Drake, whats the deal with Bartie? Why's he covered in yellow goo?" Riley asked while crinkling her nose.

"Thats not goo, it's shit!" he yells back.

Olivia quickly grabbed between her legs, laughing even harder, "ah....ah, I'm going to piss myself.....this just keeps getting better."

"Why is it in his hair?, Liam asks while holding his nose.

"Liam, I swear to God." Drake says while gritting his teeth and clinching his fist.

"Drake, why don't you and Liam get him cleaned up and Olivia and I will check on Maxwell." Riley states. Liam's head snaps in her direction pleading with her to take back his name from that statement. "Love, I think Drake can handle this himself."

Drake looks at Liam, "please Liam, I really need a friend right now". Liam seeing the desperation in his eyes, agrees to help. He turns around to kiss his wife, but, finds that she and Olivia were already running toward the hospital entrance.

Back in the carriage....

Savannah was in the middle of pleasuring Bertrand when her phone buzzed, then Bertands, then the carriage driver. Savannah didnt want to stop, but, she thought it might be a text from Drake about Bartie.

"Beaumonts Unleash Wild Boar on Ramsford"

Bertrand tries to push Savannah's head back down, but, she resists. "Bertrand, what is this about", she asks while holding the phone up to him.

Bertrand grabs the phone and looks puzzled. "I haven't the slightest idea. Look, theres a video".

Savannah sits back in the seat next to Bertrand as he plays the video.

......Penelope, describe what you're seeing....

..."uh, yeah, Penelope here...is this thing on"

......Yes, Penelope, you are live right now.

..."umm, hi Merlin, hi Morgana, look, Mommys on TV, (waves at camera). Anyway, Im here with the Countess of Fydelia, Madeleine, who is also the Royal Communications Director. Earlier tonight, while stopping by the Beaumont Estate, she was viciously attacked by a wild boar. Madeleine, do you have anything you would like to say?

Madeleine, who is sitting on a stretcher, by an ambulance, has a neck brace on and a shiny black eye. "Yes, I have a lot to say..... Maxwell Beaumont, where ever you are, whatever you are doing, just know that I am going to rip your nuts off and shove them up your mother fuc...." (Beeeeeeeeeeep).

Announcer 1: my apologies for that.

Announcer 2: we do have footage taken earlier by a driver near the Beaumont Estate, where he caught footage of an unidentified driver and Lord Beaumont riding in the back of a truck, with a sword, going very fast.

Announcer 1: Let's take a look.

Footage: (Maxwell singing and swinging the sword)

"I will conquer the seven seas.

Take your gold, as my bounty.

All you ladies, your ass I be smaken,

Right before I release the kraken! Arrr"

Announcer 1: (Stunned silence)

Announce 2: "that...was disturbing"

Announcing 1: Anyway, crews are at the scene where the Beaumont Estate is on lockdown after the boar made its way inside and began it's destruction. Swat and Animal rescue is waiting outside to plan their entry to retrieve the animal.

Announcer 2: Looks like the Beaumont Bash is taking place a little earlier this year, hahaha.

Savannah gasps in horror, "My baby!".

Bertrand looks like someone just described a wine as being, pretty good.

"We have to go, now", Savannah says frantically.

Bertrand is very angry. He huffs and sits up in his seat. He yanks his zipper up and, "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Will little Bertie ever work again? What will Drake and Liam use as a diaper? Find out in Part 6.

[dez78]

🎶🩸Slyus Headcanons🩸🎶

Slyus is very sly, he's charming, persuasive, deceitful, cunning and he can put on a good performance, but he is clumsy and not at all intimidating.

Example: "I'll knock you up! Fuck, no, I meant-shit. Knock you out!"

Slyus can talk his way out of a death sentence and make the executioner blush while doing it.

He's been on the chopping block a lot in his life.

Slyus is extremely unlucky, like the amount of bad luck he has should be recorded in text.

Despite being a mischievous bard. Slyus can be an excellent storyteller when he wants to be. Other times, he does it purely for fun and exaggeration.

Slyus has a heart shaped birth mark on his hip.

Slyus uses his lute as a weapon and thwacks enemies constantly with it.

Since Slyus bashes enemies with his lute often. The poor instrument has been through a lot of abuse but is still in immaculate condition. Slyus takes really good care of it afterwards, he's repaired it many times and polishes it when he can.

Slyus is an incredible player at Lance Board, but a crap gambler. He has no luck in it, but the game? Master. He even sets up battle plans based on the game, and they always work much to the surprise of his companions. Syrus has stopped questioning it entirely.

Slyus got arrested once for seducing a prince. One of the many times he was headed for the chopping block. The morning of the execution, he sweet talked the guard and got let out.

Slyus is the type of bard to sing and perform a show inside his prison cell as he waits to be rescued...again.

Slyus pulls Astarion into kisses at the worst times, like mid battle most of the time.

He is all over him and Syrus is fighting the battle himself when those two are smacking lips.

Slyus is absolutely the persona of Chaotic Energy, he's got a golden retriever attitude, he's very chaotic, and a bit of a dumbass, always getting into troublesome situations.

Slyus is an excellent listener.

Slyus carries his childhood teddy bear everywhere with him because it was the last thing his mother bought him; it's his last reminder of her.

Slyus prefers his lute, but he's not limited to it. He can play the violin, the harp, the piano, and the flute.

Slyus hates being controlled, if someone shows any signs of control, Slyus will become fiercely rebellious.

Slyus prefers silver over gold, something about its cool, moonlit aesthetic just feels right to him.

Slyus has a flashy, dramatic fashion sense, even rivaling Astarion.

Slyus can dance beautifully, he will take every chance he can get to dance.

He can dance salsa, tango, waltz, etc.

Slyus pulls his "seductive bard" routine on enemies, and it works.

Slyus uses Vicious Mockery like a second language, if he's not confident in a fight with his cross bows and short swords, he will spit insults from the back instead.

Slyus has a soft spot for luxury and lavish things, whether it be elegant clothing, or lounging on silk sheets, he appreciates the finer things in his un-life.

Slyus below the belt is rocking 6" with a slight curve.

Slyus favorite color is pink, almost everything he owns is pink.

Slyus wears a silver belt with a ruby rose buckle with a silver trim.

Slyus's favorite flowers are red roses and pink lilies.

Slyus has a silver tongue, he can weave beautiful tales, whether they are real or fictional.

Slyus maybe stupid with survival skills, but he's extremely book intelligent, having deep conversations with Gale and Ryld.

Slyus despite being a vampire, can actually cook really well, rivaling even Gale. He first learned to cook from his mother, then he continued into his adulthood. Then during his seduction to feed, he lured people in with candle lit dinners.

Despite being a creature of the night, Slyus never killed any of his victims. Ever. He's Chaotic Neutral, but he isn't vile.

Though, every one of them fell in love with him afterwards, so he definitely has a reputation as a heart breaker.

Slyus knew he was officially gay when he tried to sleep with a woman for the first time and he couldn't perform, embarrassed he left in hurry, never looking back. He was 19.

The first time Slyus was with another man intimately, he was 21 and he performed poorly, extremely embarrassed he apologized, the other man reassured him. Slyus would always remember his kindness.

Slyus and Astarion had met years prior, before their tadpole journey. They met in passing, but don't remember each other.

Slyus found his first lute in a dumpster behind the Elfsong when he was 11 years old and became a street performer.

Slyus was a natural lutist and performer. He was born for it.

Slyus is quick witted and always has a snarky response ready for every sentence.

Despite his confident and pompous exterior, Slyus is still a scared little boy that misses his parents.

His snarky exterior is a mask to hide his deeper feelings of insecurity, loneliness, and helplessness. He's actually extremely fragile, but he hides it so well. Hiding behind a smile and flirty words.

He's described usually as an arrogant, little peacock by outsiders.

His personality is all a facade for survival, he's barely holding himself together. He thinks his life is a mess.

Slyus is extremely flamboyant, flicking his wrists and using feminine hand gestures. He even stands with his hip out and a hand on it.

Slyus fully embraces his femme side, he'll wear flashy clothes and makeup when he wants to be bold.

Slyus enjoys long baths, they are relaxing, of course he will go all out, salts, scented candles, etc.

Speaking of, Slyus's favorite candles are vanilla.

Slyus himself smells like rosewood, cherry blossom with a hint of lavender.

He always keeps his perfume in his satchel during the travels.

As a bard, Slyus obliviously reads and writes poetry. He weaves words together beautifully like a lyric.

Slyus doesn't take life seriously, he treats everything as a joke, it's his defense mechanism.

Despite having fun on the battlefield, Slyus actually is an incredible fighter. He's just squishy and gets wounded a lot.

He uses hand crossbows, but he is an amazing archer with a long bow. He can hit a bullseye with his eyes closed.

Slyus can paint in incredible detail, like he gets laugh lines, flaws, and pores. He never shared this with anyone, Astarion found out and Slyus begged him to keep it secret.

Slyus had painted Astarion and he saw it, drinking in every detail of his face. He still keeps the canvas in his belongings.

Slyus is a considerate and delicate lover, he praises everyone he beds, worships them.

Despite his 222 years, he has never had true relationship, he's had one night stands all his adult and vampire life.

Slyus is unashamed in the bedroom, he is a loud lover and tries his hardest to embarrass his lover. Until he meets Astarion and the rogue tells Slyus, he isn't being loud enough.

Slyus loves to play with feelings and tease relentlessly, this ends up making Astarion question his love and their relationship to which Slyus drops the theatrics completely, he becomes very sincere and considerate, even without the tadpole, Astarion knows it's the truth.

Slyus loves breaking rules, he will push buttons to see how far he can get, he is a complete menace in that regard.

His alignment gives him freedom, like he'll save Arabella and offer to escort the Tieflings to Baldur's Gate, but then he'll send Kar'niss to his death in the shadowlands to get the moonlantern.

Slyus does the smolder to get what he wants, it usually works, but with Astarion it doesn't which is frustrating to the bard.

He also has the biggest puppy eyes, which makes it really hard for Astarion to say no or anyone for that matter.

Slyus purposely wears a bold red lipstick just put lip prints all over Astarion.

Slyus is fluent in elvish, common, celestial, drow, and thieves' cant

Slyus can sing in elvish as good as he can in common, he usually charms his audience with his skilled tongue in more ways than one.

Slyus can write perfect cursive.

Slyus can write in elvish.

Slyus likes to hold hands with his lover, ensuring they don't disappear and leave him behind.