#tag us in your fancasting

[marveladdicts]

#xmenfancasting by @baurelemy

[astonmartinii]

nonsense... or is it? | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

based on this request: sooo, anyways,,, i was thinking maybe a smau where Charles is playing the guy who Milo was and this obviously breaks the internet even more and this leads to them dating ??? idk, just like a really wholesome one where she was his celebrity crush and now they're dating bc of them getting know each other more bc of the music video. sorry if this is all over the place but yeah. - @whoreks

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,200,441 others

yourusername: holla babes !!! the feather music video is heading your way fast xxx if only my real boyfriends were like my music videos ones ...

view all comments

user1: MOTHER

user2: finally music videos are back baby !!

taylorswift: you can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

yourusername: thanks to you baby

user3: oh to be able to call taylor swift baby

user4: y/n's shade is so underrated - i too wish her boyfriends were as good as her mv ones

user5: she's got such a good eye for casting why can't she do this in her actual love life

user6: okay but he's hot based off a single shoulder i'm excited

user7: you got that from a SHOULDER?

user8: he's TALL?

user9: babe y/n is like 4'2 she makes everyone look tall

user10: say what you want about the catholic church, they got the aesthetic down pat

yourbff1: so we aren't asking the mv boyf out? boring.

yourusername: we have lil things called phones? USE IT HOE

user11: charles leclerc in the likes

user12: so true of him

user13: unless he's... the guy

user14: babe he's way too short lol

user15: have yall seen the sky ad? baby aint acting any time soon

yourusername

liked by yourbff1, charles_leclerc and 1,763,550 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: OMG you guys blew the feather music video up !! i'm sure it had nothing to do with this random guy i found off the street? jokes, thank you charles for being the perf mv boyf xx

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user17: HOLY FUCKING SHIT

user18: celeb crush inception no one touch me

charles_leclerc: thank you for my music video debut, maybe you can return the favour one day?

yourusername: i'll return any favour you want

yourbff1: dial down the desperation babe

charles_leclerc: what if i want her to dial it up please?

yourbff1: do NOT encourage her

yourusername: please encourage me :)

user19: Y/N STAND UP PLEASE

user20: actually y/n is so real have yall seen that man YUM

liked by yourusername

user21: y/n is a genius for fancasting her future bf in her music video

danielricciardo: THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT? SHARL WHEN I CATCH YOU

pierregasly: and me :( i thought our friendship meant more ....

charles_leclerc: it was a secret

yourusername: he doesn't kiss and tell xoxo

alexalbon: WHAT ??????

charles_leclerc: okay we can stop joking now

yourusername: fine...

user22: the way charles was defo typing that through tears

user23: y/n make the move we believe in you

user24: believe in her? she can get anyone she wants he's gotta STEP UP

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 2,099,441 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: had a blast filming for my first ever music video, thank you y/n !!

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user25: i'm feeling a new unhealthy attachment forming

yourusername: feel free to come back any time soon

charles_leclerc: or maybe you can come to me?

yourusername: is this my paddock debut?

charles_leclerc: make sure you're wearing red and it sure can be

yourusername: let me check the wardrobe

user26: i will pass away if we get y/n at a race... in the ferrari garage ???

pierregasly: let it be known i am still angry that you didn't tell me, especially after all the weird rants i've listened to

alexalbon: me too

georgerussell63: me too

landonorris: me too

danielricciardo: me too

carlossainz55: me too

maxverstappen1: me too

charles_leclerc: why is max here?

maxverstappen1: that's what you're taking from this?

charles_leclerc: yeah why are you in my business

maxverstappen1: you make it my business you talk about her all the time

yourusername: oh really ???

charles_leclerc: HE'S A BIG FAT LIAR HE'S ALWAYS BEEN A BIG FAT LIAR ALL HIS LIFE INCLUDING WHEN I MAYBE ACCIDENTALLY PUSHED HIM IN A PUDDLE

maxverstappen1: YOU DID PUSH ME IN THAT PUDDLE

yourusername: what is going on here?

user27: poor y/n being thrown into the grid drama

user28: poor charles with the grid trying to expose him

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,334,661 others

yourusername: clearly was feeling myself this week

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user31: lol why is max here

maxverstappen1: doing my due diligence as an investigative journalist

charles_leclerc: choke.

user32: is that charles? are we in the soft launch?

user33: let's not get ahead of ourselves, we know charles doesn't dress that well

user34: consider this: girlfriend effect

user35: girlfriend effect is gonna have to do some heavy lifting when it comes to charles' wardrobe

yourbff1: you think you're so slick don't you

yourusername: maybe. maybe not?

yourbff1: you're so annoying

yourusername: annoyingly cute?

liked by charles_leclerc

yourbff1: keep your nose out of women's business leclerc

charles_leclerc: SLANDER

user36: i mean they seem to have the same sense of humour

user37: not to sound insane but they are perfect for each other and i will be passing away if they are not together

pierregasly: interesting

danielricciardo: add it to the folder

charles_leclerc: folder ???

maxverstappen1: leave us journalists be

charles_leclerc: can you even read?

yourusername: GET HER JADE

maxverstappen1: add that as well

charles_leclerc: why can't we win?

user38: what is going on in the house of commons

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 2,331,663 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: i don't believe in soft launches

view all comments

user39: we been knew... but OMG PARENTS

user40: i am crying they're so hot

yourusername: hawt bf obtained

charles_leclerc: sexy gf in my inventory

yourusername: you're such a cute patootie

charles_leclerc: i cannot speak my mind or instagram will censor me

yourusername: ...oop hurry up and come back :(

charles_leclerc: about to break all US speeding laws xoxo

yourusername: not you in your charli xcx era

user41: he's with her ... in the US ... could we get y/n paddock debut in vegas ???

user42: would only be right i fear

user43: the scheduling just about makes sense before she has to go back to opening for taylor in south america

user44: now why did vegas not get in their bag and get y/n to perform at the opening ceremony?

pierregasly: way to ruin the investigation

danielricciardo: yeah we were in our sherlock holmes era

maxverstappen1: have to spoil everything don't you charles 🤨

charles_leclerc: i thought you guys wanted to know who my girlfriend is?

alexalbon: yes, but we wanted to expose it :(

yourusername: CORNY

pierregasly: oh no. he has someone on his side now

yourusername: damn right frenchie. i can hear your asshole twitching from here

pierregasly: WHAT ???

charles_leclerc: idk what that means but YEAH PIERRE TAKE THAT

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 2,114,762 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: gutted not to be on the top step but an overall great weekend in vegas. glad to have y/n by my side this weekend before she's off again to slay the stage xx

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user48: charles unironically using the word slay, the girlfriend effect knows no bounds

user49: the sky camera zooming in on y/n watching the podium

user50: i think we watched her fall in love in real time

user51: i mean look at the material... podium charles hits so different i think I FELL IN LOVE

yourusername: you're a winner to me babe

charles_leclerc: and that's all that matters

yourusername: NOPE STAY HUNGRY GET THEM POINTS AND DESTROY THE REST OF THE FIELD

charles_leclerc: okay :)

yourusername: good boy

pierregasly: never say that in public again

maxverstappen1: is this why he's blushing so much in the press conference?

charles_leclerc: NO. NO REASON

yourusername: you sure?

charles_leclerc: i am the unluckiest driver ever and am screwed over at every turn sue me if i like a lil praise

user52: charles is so real for that i also want y/n to tell me i'm doing a good job

alexalbon: enough time has passed. @yourusername can lily get some extra tickets for the eras tour

yourusername: of course. anything for my new bestie

lilymunhe: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu. charles you have amazing taste

charles_leclerc: i know :)

yourusername: i mean i got you, so who's the real winner here?

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,667,982 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & taylorswift

yourusername: my leg of the eras tour has come to an end :( this was such an insane opportunity, thank you so much taylor xx but this also means i can go annoy charlie until he has to go back to work !!

one last nonsense outro:

i met this lovely boy named charlie,

he races round the world for ferrari,

giving it to me everyday like ari

view all comments

user53: i think y/n might actually be winning in life

user54: is she referencing everyday by ariana grande which is literally just a song about having constant sex?

yourusername: yes and what about it? f1 drivers have great stamina

arthurleclerc: DELETE ASAP

yourusername: no can do baby leclerc

user55: fave outro for real

charles_leclerc: i am blushing !!

pierregasly: she just told millions of people all you do is fuck and now you're blushing ???

yourusername: i don't think mr doggy emoji is talking right now

charles_leclerc: at least y/n did it in an artful way

pierregasly: believe me i know YOU WON'T STOP SINGING IT DOWN THE PHONE YOU MENACE

yourusername: you sing my songs :) ?

carlossainz55: ALL THE TIME

yourusername: i don't like your tone mr 🤨

charles_leclerc: i am just showing my love :(

yourusername: @pierregasly @carlossainz55 you made him sad APOLOGIZE IMMEDIATELY

pierregasly: sorry?

carlossainz55: sorry i guess?

charles_leclerc: thank you :) i shall continue to sing to my heart's content

yourusername: good.

taylorswift: you were amazing !! i'll see you soon my love xx

yourusername: i'm hearing double date ??

taylorswift: i'm sure that can be arranged

charles_leclerc: OMG

user56: charles and travis are really the top tier himbo bfs and i love them for that

fin.

note: i really loved writing this so i hope this was everything you imagined and more!! i'm just getting into sabrina's music but i was a girl meets world stan so... i hope i did the nonsense outro justice xxx

[wntrswolf]

love mirage

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!secret-lover-betrothed-to-a-bracken

✧ theme/warning(s): slight/implied smut, angst, forbidden romance, star-crossed lovers. — (all characters mentioned are of age!) 18+

✧ word count: 1.8k

✧ author's note: hello! this is my first writing! this one-shot was spontaneously written as it was meant more for self-indulgence but i thought why not share it to others who also has a current obsession with the rising blackwood character, right? :-) anyways, reading fics under the benji tags manifested many scenarios in my head, and gave me inspiration to write something. lastly, forgive me for any possible grammatical errors, i still am an amateur in fictional writing. enjoy!!!

It was the dead of night. The sky had been painted in its darkest hue, the moon stood nearly at its peak, offering its gentle glow along the riverbank. The distant chatter that could be heard during a long day's labor was no longer present, replaced by the solemn silence of nature's symphonies—the flowing river, the rustling of leaves as they danced in breaths of wind, and the lullabies of insects as they clicked and buzzed.

The forest was no stranger to you; befriending the woodland for the passing moons. You often wondered if anyone would, or had, grown an inkling of your periodic disappearance following the hours of supper—what others would think of your father’s only daughter growing a rather sudden interest beyond the walls of your family's stronghold. You always made your way out stealthily, though his words echoed in your mind,

“You are our only hope, daughter. Do not fail us.” A stark reminder of your duty, which would soon bring honor to your family's name.

If it means anything, you knew it was wrong from the start. You had never intended anything as such to happen. For the name of a nobleman was bound to yours, yet your lips would chant whispers of another.

Time became irrelevant right before you met him on this cool summer night. There the young man stood, one hand steady on the hilt of his dagger, ever vigilant should danger lurk in the tranquil embrace of the silent woods; his tense body relaxing upon the sight of your cloaked figure before him—a beacon of familiarity. You had planned to tell him about your betrothal tonight.

Although it was not much longer that you would find yourself a whimpering mess under the Blackwood boy. Your sighs mingled with the saccharine words Benjicot spoke, adding harmonies of moans and gasps of pleasure in the serenity of the haven you both made. You often feared getting caught but Benji assured you in these remote lands, he doubted anyone would be near enough to witness anything— not even the treacherous act you both selfishly indulged in. You still pray to the Gods that they grant you both the favor that no eye spies this clandestine meeting; and the many before.

You never really questioned yourself on why you couldn't confide in your father about your betrothal; had you already envisioned the conversation—mayhem would ensue. It was simple, it was the decision he made—securing your family's position through a marriage pact, a political alliance they called it. Duty, you thought yet again.

You didn't know what, or whom, to shift the blame on—or maybe it was the complexities of guilt. your guilt. You knew the inevitable, yet your selfishness, your greed, your immature desire for love; tainting your rationale. Or that maybe you should feel resentment that your father and the Lord of Stone Hedge, Humfrey Bracken regarded their relationship as close as to being kin. Maybe then you would have the strength to ignore your obligations, this once.

You cursed yourself for thinking the way you did, and you cursed the Gods for the decades-old rivarly between the ancient houses—a hatred and feud born long before either of you were born; beyond your father's time, and his father's before him, yet its roots grew, multiplying the petty divide among those that followed after them.

It made you question what started the war between the two in the first place, as sin begets sin begets sin; however, unwavering was the tryst between you and Benjicot—untouched by the strife and grudges.

He knew. You were aware of his knowledge with the woven webs you had with the Brackens; about your father's bond with the red stallion lord. Your thoughts do not come to a plausible explanation as they endlessly spun in your mind.

And all it took was Benjicot's hips to lower into yours, silencing these whirling thoughts.

Your cloak drapes over you, offering its warmth from the breaths of wind, coming from the riverbank. It spared the watchful eyes of the forest spirits from your unneeded bareness. At your side, Benjicot lays as he adjusts his breeches.

“There’s a war soon to come,” he says as he stares at the sky, hands behind his head, ”And I ought for you to know that given the growing wars, you have not left my mind since.” he nervously confessed.

You hum in response, the weight of his words settling heavily in the quiet of the forest. "I fear what lies ahead, Ben" you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur, filled with both longing and apprehension.

He turns to you then, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that spoke of unspoken promises and uncertainties. "No matter what comes, my love for you will endure." he vows, his fingers gently tracing the contour of your cheek.

You turn your head and sit up, feeling around for your discarded garments to dress.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, sitting up, his expression betraying confusion at your abrupt reaction. 

"No, it's not that." you breathed out, your back faced to him. It was this very moment you had feared since the first: the inevitable.

"Well, did you not finish as I had?" he ventured in jest, a playful side of him that you loved. "Or is it because I professed my love for you?", hoping his declaration had not caused you to pull away. "Trust me, I will make sure there's nothing—"

"My betrothal..." you did not let him finish, "it's to Aeron Bracken." you said, still facing away from him as you rose from the ground. You picked on your fingers picked in nervousness of his next response. The weight of your confession hung heavy in the air.

At first he thought he had not heard you clearly, as if the world had gotten awfully quiet. It was when you repeated once more, realizing his ears did not fail him as his blood got hot—of you saying the name whom ignited an unexplainable fury in him.

"Aeron Bracken," Benjicot repeated in disbelief of your sudden confession, "The Bracken twat, eh?" — the very same Bracken he encountered in fresh conflict, near the mill's boundary stones. Although he did not show it, the tension in the air was strong enough to burn and linger its flames; his knuckles turning pale as he clenched his fists at his side.

"A craven false king follower... is bound to your name, to you." he chuckles incredulously. 

He paced in the clearing, his footsteps heavy as he turned to you. "And what are you to do about it?" He posed the question, pain plain upon his face, though hope bled through the mask of his composure. Deep down, he already knew the answer. He could scare tell if asking you such question was to self-inflict torment, or just a desperate need to face the harsh reality of your confession— not a difference between the two really.

You finally turned to meet his gaze, "It's my father's decision," you explained softly. "I... I cannot defy it." You stood before him, as your tears glisten in the faint light. Torn between love and duty.

"Ben," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "You know the stakes. It’s my duty. My family's honor—” 

"Fuck honor!" he interrupted, his voice thundering through the forest. He strides towards you, "It was long gone the very moment we first met—" he huffed out. He knew in his heart that despite the love he developed towards you, the tangled web of your kinship with the Brackens would soon unravel the bond you shared— still, he gambled with the odds, just as you had.

He had ever hoped that the old Gods would bestow the blessing of his fervent wishes—that it would be you, not some other maiden, whom he would take to wife. He often dreamed of you bearing the heirs of his house, growing gray together, and watch as your blood flow through the veins that would carry on his legacy. Yet, it was only ever a distant dream.

You reached out to him, to calm the storm raging within him, but he jerked away. "Tell me, then," he challenged, stepping closer with fire in his eyes. "Where do your loyalties lie, beyond this," he motioned between the two of you. "Are you suggesting that your father, and even yourself, are to declare for the usurper cunt of a King?" he whisper-yells to you. “Or is this some sort of arrangement with those Bracken fucks, to get back at us Blackwoods, simply just using me as a pawn, 'cus you know I'm now Lord?" His words spitting at you like venom;

“Oh, you know where my loyalties lie," you spat, your voice filled with heartache, "But I won't stand for you questioning my integrity nor my family's honor to secure a future." You glared at him as your heart stung with hurt, "And to accuse me... I would not dare to commit something so heinous even if i could; I'm not cruel, Benji."

Benjicot's jaw clenched, shaking his head as he stood facing the river, incomprehensible words muttered under his breath.

"I never asked for this," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "But I have responsibilities. We both do." you sniffled, swallowing the tension of your throat away, "And I know you know..." you wiped your tears, "we know... that this was bound to occur, sooner or later, Ben." your voice was barely audible, even with the deafening silence the forest came to be. "There's a war coming."

The silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken words and the weight of impossible choices.

Benjicot stood before you, his expression torn between love and anguish. His hands trembled as he gathered his scattered belongings, his movements reflecting the turmoil in his heart. You mirrored his actions, silently picking the remnants of what you felt is to be your last fleeting moment of happiness.

"I swear it," he finally spoke, "would that we were not bound by the enmity between our folks, I would have already vowed myself to you. Long before your father would have you promised to another."

His words pierced your heart with longing and regret, the bitter truth of your circumstances hanging between you like a veil of sorrow. “And I would have gladly accepted it,” you replied with a heavy sigh. "—my Lord."

The Blackwood male nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. With a heavy heart, you both silently acknowledged the futility of your love.

Benjicot turned away first. The distance between you both grew; and his silhouette became one with the dark forest.

You knew that somewhere, amidst the pain and heartache, you would find a way to carry on—a life of uncertainty but fraught with duty. As you walked away from the happiness and love that the forest had given you, the ache in your chest spoke of a love that was lost but will never be forgotten. It would be a bittersweet reminder of what once was, and what could never be again.

[mari-thesapphic-lady]

No one — I said, no one — will be able to convince me that Isabela Merced isn't perfect to be an agathario's daughter, and I'm claiming that for my story.

Like, LOOK AT THIS:

I'm not crazy, this makes perfect sense! THOSE BIG BROWN EYES, DOE EYES!! She's very good for this role! I'm happy to have finally found an actress for my fancast.

"Ah, but Isabela Merced is already part of the MCU, she played Anya in Madame Web"

I DON'T WANNA KNOW, I DON'T CARE, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT! I'M GOING TO USE THIS FANCAST BECAUSE IN MY HEAD IT MAKES A LOT OF SENSE!

By the way, what's the fancast of your agathario OC's people? I feel like we're outnumbered because I at least don't see many people creating agathario oc's, but it would be interesting to talk about it.

-

Bonus: She looks a lot with April, I remembered that because I read a fanfic (WHICH I LOVED, BY THE WAY) of April Ludgate x Jennifer Barkley. So, author, whoever you are, this is for you <3

Updates: I FOUND THE FANFIC! It's called "checkmate!" By fqrcefields (sqyyadina)! Ugh, I loved this fanfic with all my might! If anyone knows the author's @ here on tumblr, please tag here!!

[bearwithegg]

Fight Like a Girl || B.Blackwood || Part 2 ||

My thoughts have just been plagued with scenes I can write for this, i honestly intended this to be 2 parts but I ALREADY HAVE IDEAS FOR PART 3 SO FUCK IT WE BALL???

PART 1 HERE

PART 3 HERE

Kieran!Benjicot Blackwood (fancast) x f!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Swearing??? Idiots in love but they dont know what that means

Tags <3: @spider-stark

***

War, for all that it brings with it, destruction, pain, suffering on a scale hitherto unknown remained a constant and unchanging conundrum. Were the gods so cruel as to let brother kill brother over trivial squabbles? It was a fascinating thing, to understand, to learn. You, however, decided in this current juncture it felt like a personal punishment aimed to torment and break you down. Realistically, the suffering it caused on a wider scale was insurmountable and that was something you could acknowledge. But in this instance, the way your body aches and screams from constant use makes it feel like a personal sleight.

“Your grip is weak.”

A soft groan of frustration exhales when you sigh, “I cannot hold the sword otherwise.” Dropping the sword by your side, it had been hours without respite and weeks of training for what? You still couldn’t even hold a sword properly and that frustrated you only more.

Benji laughs, softly, circling you with his head tilted to the side. You want to hit him but decide against it. After all, he didn’t need to visit your tent and assist in getting you battle ready — yet he did it either out of some sense of male honour or he secretly enjoyed overseeing your own personal agony.

“Does my ineptitude amuse you, my Lord?” You throw the sword on the ground, it landing with a thud on the canvas flooring. In the throes of frustration, you wipe the sweat from your brow and run a hand through unevenly chopped locks of hair.

“Your petulance, perhaps.” The boyish smile breaking through his hardened demeanor always caught you off guard. A gentle reminder that he was not some battle beaten man, he was young and had his innocence ripped from him; more or less like you. “You may not see it but there is improvement,” he dips down to pick the sword up, holding it out for you to take it again.

Right or not, it didn’t matter in the present. The improvement may have been so miniscule it might as well not have counted, though it was always difficult to see one's progress without the lense of the past. And with a sigh of concession, you snatch the sword from his hand and give him a goading look, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Again,” he instructs firmly, tongue protruding slightly out from between his lips — he was too good at that, switching from his natural charming disposition to a commanding authority in an instance. As if two halves of him were at odds with each other, another part of him lay dormant but the crazed look in his eyes often betrayed his steadfast composure. You weren’t sure if you liked it or feared it.

With a roll of your wrist and standing with a sturdy bearing, you take an offensive stance. His eyes wander all over you, in a completely different scenario it may have been flattering or intrusive, but there is no desire hidden away in the deep brine pools of his eyes. Under his scrutinous gaze you hold firm; at least my wrist doesn’t feel like falling off.

Improvement.

He steps to your side flank, head tilted in thought. The low hum accompanying the loud thoughts you wished he’d say out loud.

When did he get so close? You swallow nervously — he was a practical man, but often opted to show you how to do something by watching him first. Surprisingly gentle to the touch he brings a hand over yours, the one that grips the sword and adjusts your grip. Tilting your wrist slightly and nudging your thumb to a different position.

“Can you feel the difference?” He murmurs, an unexpectedly tender moment that would have floored you entirely had you not spent weeks training at his command. Even now though, you feel composure waning, creaking away like a tree that has had its trunk chopped halfway.

“Feels like… I have more control,” You utter, looking slightly over your shoulder. Oh. He was much closer than you thought.

He nods, softly adjusting your grip to keep the blade upright, though he doesn’t move his hand this time. “Your stance is good and solid. But means little if you have no strength to fortify it…” His other hand is held up so that you can see it and slowly brings it down to your hip. Not once during this small interaction does he break eye contact, it was as though he was giving you the chance to stop him if you wanted to.

You don’t, of course.

A moment of hesitation as he tentatively touches your hip before holding it and rotating you ever so slightly, “what you lack in strength, you have in speed… This stance is better for your momentum.”

“Right,” you whisper, blinking out of the daze you felt yourself fall into by the pull of his gaze. His eyes were so lovely. In moments like this they were bright with a golden hue, as if marked by the Gods. Other times they were dark, dangerous abyssal pits that you could equally get lost in. But not now.

“Good,” he smiles, the same boyish smile that makes you a little nervous and nauseous concurrently. Which was a strange feeling because you weren’t repulsed by him and yet your body reacted all the same. No one had ever elicited such strange reactions within you like he did.

“Try and disarm me.”

“What?” You feel your arm immediately drop as he steps away and unsheathes his own sword. No longer honey touched eyes boring into yours, they were void and wild. He doesn’t give you a chance to process anything before swinging his sword, you have no choice but to stumble back, practically flailing your own sword to stop from getting hurt.

Clang!

The metal blades ricochet off one another and you take the chance to scurry across the bed swiftly before he can attempt another blow, “fuck, fuck — fuck!” You hiss, standing on the other side of the tent, barely a chance to think properly before he’s back onto you like a grounded tempestuous storm.

With wide eyes you jump out of the way, his sword connects with the side table and wood splinters off into pieces. The first casualty — you’d have laughed or joked if you weren’t absolutely fearing for your life in a way. Heart pounding hard as you take a chance to counter, using a leg to disable him by going for his knees but he sees it and contorts his body just in time.

“C’mon!” He shouts, eyes wild and borderline murderous.

Unsure what possibly possessed you other than it felt right. Call it a childish rebuke or not, you instantly straighten your stance and yell back at him, a deep and guttural yell, like one would trying to fend a bear off an attack.

He licks his lips, the grin of a mad man apparent, “there she is.”

This time you swing first, kicking off the back leg gives you a good enough propulsion and wind up with the sword. Cling! He cross blocks, letting your blade slide down his own and the two of you are practically face to face, the slightest smirk pulls at his lips and you match it with a barely audible snarl.

Using your full body weight, you push into him to get distance which only just works.

Another swing from him, narrowly missing your shoulder as you jump aside, his sword clashing with one of the bed posts, it snaps under the force and limply hangs onto the unmarked wood. You take advantage of his over extension, ducking beneath his arms and opting for the best option, shouldering him in the waist and bringing him down to the ground.

Not your finest work, but he tumbles - and you with him - onto the canvas flooring, but at least you had the upper hand and though strength was not in your arsenal just yet, speed was. Pinning him to the ground, you straddle higher than the waist to keep him from bucking you off or swinging his legs around.

Both of you held your blades to each other's throat in a stalemate, chests heaving with heavy breaths.

“A fair play, my lady,” he pants quietly, though the impish grin on his face suggested otherwise. Your eyes travel down to his other hand where he had his dagger pressed softly against the leathers of your tunic, no doubt a lethal puncture in the abdomen if you were in a real fight. He lowers his blades, “you are improving — getting better at trusting your instincts.”

“You went easy on me,” you whine, tossing your blade indignantly. The semi victory loses its glory almost instantly, souring in your mouth. Standing back up seemed to be more effort today than usual, muscles shaking, screaming for a modicum of respite. But war does not rest so neither shall your body.

“If you wish for me to kill you, then you need only ask,” he jests, you knew this — he was holding out for a reason. You hadn’t seen him in battle but can very well imagine without much stretch of the imagination how he has coined the notorious namesake of ‘Bloody Ben Blackwood’. Even more it seemed, he was often harsher, stricter and more brutal when he would lead training with the younger boys.

“Don’t offer such a tempting proposal,” you laugh, tired, exhausted.

He looks at you, seriously for but a moment, “if you desire rest, it is okay to take it.” And the sweet, caring and kind Benji fronted, flecks of gold honey in his eyes as he steps forward and grabs your hand with a touch so kindly it seemed foreign. He need not force you, tugging you to the bedside and sitting you down, “you are not weak for needing rest.”

You chuckle softly, “there is no rest for someone like me, I need to be ready for when we march forward within the tenday.”

“You won’t be much use to us if your legs cannot even carry you. Rest.” He says firmly, pushing gently on your shoulder which didn’t need much for you to collapse onto the bed. “We can resume overmorrow.” He’s seated on the side of your bed now, you open your mouth to contest but he glowers immediately, tilting his head forward and setting his jaw as if to silently say ‘don’t you dare’.

So you don’t dare.

“If I was less encumbered by my exhaustion I’d have hit you for looking at me like that,” you bite, rolling onto your side and instinctively curling in on yourself.

“You certainly would have tried.” He laughs.

“And succeeded, I pinned you already today — I could do it again if I willed myself.”

“Is that so? Perhaps we should get a maester to check those ears of yours, did I not request you disarm me? I don’t recall asking you to pin me.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes at him though the barely suppressed smile betrayed your poor attempt to keep a straight face. “I stopped thinking the moment you attacked me like a brute.”

He nods along with your words and though his words are vaguely threatening, his smile indicates a hint of mischievousness, “a Brute am I? You have a crass tongue, My Lady, you’d better keep it in check.”

“Clover.”

“Hm?” His head tilts to the side, like a dog hearing a command.

“Call me Clover… Garrus finds it easier… Less likely to accidentally call attention to my identity.” You run your fingers over the furs of your bed, naturally you omit the little part of the nickname because that seemed sacred to Garrus. Only he can call you that. But Benji had your trust, and you had his, even if it be an unspoken bond that grew stronger the more time elapsed within one anothers company. He at least deserved a little part of you.

There is silence, as he sits on your words, a faint smile ghosting his lips and he nods singularly, “As you wish, Clover.” And the strangest feeling encompasses the tent, it was thick but not suffocating, warm but not a hellfire. His hand moves so deftly, you hadn’t seen it until his fingers barely grazed your temple, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He holds it, a moment, two moments, before his eyes blink rapidly, something reminding him of his place and he flushes red, retracting his hand quickly as though he had touched hot coals. “A-Apologies… forgive me — that was wholly inappropriate. Please do rest, I will see you overmorrow.”

It happened rather quickly, he stands and you sit up as swiftly, “Benji.” You call but he was out quicker than bat out of the hells. Your shoulders slump, a faint pout on your lips as you try to decipher what that could’ve been about. Whatever it had been, you liked it, you liked him but that could mean a plethora of things.

You sigh, falling back into the bed and staring at not particularly anything. Perhaps it would be prudent to speak on the matter with Garrus when he returned.

[tnbsecretsanta]

Welcome to the Advent Calendar 2024!

Didn't make it to Secret Santa due to lack of time? Don't worry! This year, there will be a complementary event called "Advent Calendar" where you can spread your love for the series without sticking to a schedule!

What is an Advent Calendar? Traditionally, an advent calendar is a special type of calendar that counts down the days until Christmas Day, starting from 1st December.

How do I participate? Simply create a Tumblr or Twitter post with the activity indicated for the day and use the tag #TnBAdvent24, and we'll reblog/retweet it!

Do I have to participate every day? No! The point of this side event is for you to spread your love for the series without the pressure of a schedule like in the Secret Santa! You can participate any day you want: one, two, ten, all of them! Your choice!

Can I participate in the side event if I joined the Secret Santa? Yes! This event is entirely free, so that you can participate at your leisure.

If I missed an activity from a previous day, can I still post it? Yes! Just use the tag we'll reblog/retweet it! We just suggest that you don't use an activity scheduled for a later date and wait until the indicated day to publish it.

Happy creating!

See below the cut for the text version of the activities indicated

1st - Start reading a Fanfic (emphasis on start, no need to finish it the same day)

2nd - Create a NEXT power

3rd - Which Proverb would make for a good episode title?

4th - Share your favorite piece of official art

5th - Post a WIP (This can be any work-in-progress related to T&B, a merch collection, a shrine, a cosplay, art, MMD video, ita bag, progress of your read-through of the manga, that stuff!)

6th - Share your Favorite Tiger & Bunny-related song (This means any song made for Tiger & Bunny specifically, including character songs and music used in the episodes and credits)

7th - Re-watch any episode of Tiger & Bunny (and then feel free to post a review of it)

8th - What do you want Tiger & Bunny to collab with next? (Collaboration in this context is a collab with another property, such as a company like Sanrio, a store chain like 7-11, restaurant/fast food chains, games, and similar)

9th - Make a fancast for a hypothetical Live Action Adaptation of Tiger & Bunny

10th - Share a headcanon - new or old - that you have

11th - Share an instance of "Tiger & Bunny Spotting" you've seen IRL (T&B Spotting is seeing things like their colours or associated animals-theming in unexpected places. Pets can count for this; If it's not your pet, ask for permission before posting.)

12th - Come up with a food or drink themed around a character. Actually making it is entirely optional!

13th - Come up with an 'Alternate Universe' (AU) plot. You don't have to write anything beyond a plot synopsis or roles.

14th - Ramble about your favorite character or pairing!

15th - Share either a "hidden Gem" fic, or your favourite fanfic! Maybe it's both?

16th - Pitch a Season 3 or Third Movie plot

17th - Post a meme you really like, or make a meme from scratch

18th - Share your favorite OR your most wanted piece of Tiger & Bunny Merchandise

19th - Tell us about your favorite Villain

20th - Picture/Write about yourself as if you lived in Sternbild

21st - Assign a song you like to a character or a pairing

22nd - Share your favorite piece of fanart! Make sure to credit the artist, or repost the art directly through reblog or retweet or similar features.

23rd - Share your favorite piece of trivia about any Tiger & Bunny character

24th - Tell us what Tiger & Bunny means to you

25th - Free Day! Happy Holidays!

[erisweekofficial]

Eris Week Ask Game 🔥🐶

Send me an emoji and I'll answer the corresponding question. 

creators please reblog, do not send @erisweekofficial asks 🤣

🔥⇢ When did you first start liking Eris as a character? ❤️⇢ What is your favorite Eris ship and why? 🔗⇢ Share a link to one of your favorite Eris creations from another creator! 👏⇢ Give yourself a complement! Yes. You have to.  🐶⇢ Tag another creator and give them a compliment!  💬 ⇢ What's your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?  ✏️ ⇢ Add 50 words to your current Eris wip and share the paragraph here. Or spend 20 min working on your art / moodboard / poetry etc and share a sneak peek. 🎉⇢ Summarize one of your Eris creations using the format of “It’s like X meets Y!” 📙⇢ Give us a title for the Eris Novella that SJM is definitely writing rn 📝⇢ Share a snippet of something you are working on for Eris Week!  🦇⇢ What did Azriel say to Eris during the High Lord’s meeting? 💭⇢ What's a dream project you'd love to make for a future Eris Week? 🍷 ⇢ What's your favorite headcanon about Eris? 🌲 ⇢ How do you imagine Eris's relationship with his brothers? 🏅 ⇢ What's a scene with Eris you’ve always wanted to create but haven’t yet? 🍁 ⇢ What’s the most challenging part about writing or creating for Eris? 🍂 ⇢ Describe one of your upcoming creations using three emojis. 🍎 ⇢ What’s a song that reminds you of Eris? 📜 ⇢ Do you see Eris as a hero, anti-hero, or something else? Explain why. 🦊 ⇢ What’s your favorite fan theory or speculation about Eris? 📅⇢ Which day of Eris week are you most excited about?  ❓⇢ What question would you ask Eris given the chance?  🎥 ⇢ What‘s a movie that reminds you of Eris? 👄 ⇢ Give us a prompt for next year’s Eris Week 📱⇢ Give us some modern Eris headcanons? 👀⇢ Who would you fancast as Eris?  #️⃣ ⇢ On a scale from one to ten how excited are you for Eris week? 👔 ⇢ Describe Eris‘s style in three words. 👶 ⇢ Eris as a girl or boy dad? Give us your favourite headcanons. ✨ ⇢ What would Eris think if he knew there is a celebration week for him? 

[prettylittlels]

The movie (tom blyth x reader)

summary: your book is becoming a movie, can you guess who the cast is?

liked by addielaruemovie, lbardugo, tomblyth, and 23k others

@/yourusername i'm thrilled to announce that my beloved book "the invisible life of addie larue" is being adapted into a movie. we've worked so hard for this to happen and we'll be updating you guys very shortly. you made this possible!

tagged addielaruemovie

user 1 OMG THIS CANR BR HAPPENING SJSLJSNSKSJBS

user 2 everyone say thank you y/n

addielaruemovie can't wait 💋

lbardugo congratulations 🖤

user 3 this is going to be AMAZING

liked by yourusername, tomblyth, hannahfldodd, tom.hughes_ and 20k others

@/addielaruemovie hannah dodd is addie larue. tom blyth is henry strauss. tom hughes is luc. out july 29th 🎬

tagged tomblyth, hannahfldodd, tom.hughes_

hannahfkfodd so excited 💘

user 4 tom hughes as luc?????? tom blyth as henry?????????? what???????

user 5 my fancasting dreams are coming true

user 6 tom blyth and y/n y/l? i need to see them together.

-> user 7 omg yessss he mentioned he loved her books a while ago!!

tomblyth hope i make you guys proud 🫶🏻

-> yourusername don't worry, i made sure i chose the perfect henry for my addie

-> user 8 wait WHAT

liked by yourusername, tomblyth, rachelzegler, addielaruemovie and 21k others

@/voguemagazine yourusername tells us everything about her book publishing journey: from teenage fanfiction, to producing her own movie. click here to read more about y/n and her dream come true!

tagged yourusername

user 9 omg in the interview she mentions tom all the time!!!! potential new couple

-> user 10 "when i met tom at the casting we bonded straight away. he started fangirling over my books and i started fangirling over his movies. it was the start of a great friendship. i couldn't had found a better person to cast" 🥲

tomblyth beautiful ❤️

-> hannahfkdodd back off she's mine

[jimblejamblewritings]

the fake date plot | part 1.

Summary: Gryffindors, seventh years, classmates, unrequited love. Just a few things Y/N and James Potter had in common. When a brilliantly dumb plan is hatched the two end up getting something a little different than what they wanted.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The James girlies have led me down a rabbit hole and some of the cutest stories are in the James tag. So before you read this, please read: If I Kiss You, I'm Sorry by @astonishment which is what inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: literally none that I can think of this is supposed to be just good fluffy fun

Pairing: James Potter x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N II: I literally use whatever gif comes up when I type in 'James Potter' but imagine your own fancasts and I might switch up every now and then

Series Masterlist

“Prongs, there’s some owl at the window,” Remus said as he exited the kitchen. 

James lifted his head, trying not to disturb Peter who was using his chest as a headboard while he tried to solve the Rubik’s Cube Remus had bought him for his birthday. It was summer and naturally, as someone going into his last year of school when break ended, James threw a party at his house.

His parents were going to be on business trips most of the summer. The party was a major success. Only the marauders, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary were still there. They had all planned on staying, already having their trunks there. School was in two days. 

James hopped up from where he was on the floor, cleaning the smudge of his glasses. “Oh, that must be Elton.” 

“Elton?” Peter asked. 

“Y/N’s bird. She really likes Elton John’s music. He’s some muggle singer. Moony knows, the Crocodile Rock dude.” 

James left the rest of his friends in the living room to ask how he even knew you while he got your letter. He dug around the fridge to give Elton two blackberries as a thank you. James opened your letter in the kitchen before going back to his friends, in case your letter had confidential information in it.

He hid the smirk on his face behind the letter when he saw his friends’ expressions. They totally bought it and they would buy it even more when he saw you on the Hogwarts Express in two days. You and James came up with the best fake date plot known to man last school year: 

It was the Yule Ball. Hogwarts kept the name even though you didn’t have Triwizard Tournaments every year. The students like that. It was always fun to go to a ball. It was also nerve wracking. Everyone was trying to get a date or they’d risk being talked about for a century. James was failing at asking Lily out and you were failing at avoiding a few boys that wanted to ask you out. None of them were the guy you wanted to ask you out. 

Even when you got to the ball, boys were still trying to ask you to dance. You grabbed a cup of punch and excused yourself. You walked further away from the Great Hall and to a small corridor. A dark figure made you stop for a moment before continuing on your path. A sniffle made you stop completely. 

“Are you okay?” 

James jumped. Wiping at his eyes, he looked over at you. James stuttered through lies before giving up and turning the other way to lean his back against the windowsill. He took a sip of the drink he had in his hand and looked over at you. 

“She can't even spare a dance with me. I thought everything was going well this year.” 

You gave a dry laugh. “I totally know the feeling.” 

James raised an eyebrow. He patted the space next to him and went to join him at the windowsill. The two of you clinked glasses and downed the rest of your drinks. James disappeared the cups. 

“So which bloke did you want to dance with?” 

“Oh, I don’t really think that’s important.” 

“Nope, Y/N. It is totally important. I’ve poured my heart out to you, it’s just not right to be the only one.” 

“Fine. Xenophilius… Don’t laugh.” 

“I’m not laughing. Him? Really?” 

“I know he’s snogged a lot of people but h—” 

“Love, he’s shagged nearly all of Ravenclaw. The only long term relationship he’s ever been in was Pandora.” 

“But they lasted all of fifth year plus the Ministry added eighth year so there’s still time to see him a lot.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me about eighth year.” 

The Ministry was very concerned with the amount of Hogwarts graduates getting married and having children right after leaving school. Especially when a good chunk of them died either fighting for Voldemort or against Voldemort. Adding an extra school year was a way to try and quell that phenomenon. As someone so close to graduating, you hated it at first. It became only a minor annoyance when you realized the Ministry probably wouldn’t be changing their minds until Voldemort was defeated. 

James shrugged his shoulders. “So what’s your plan exactly? Pine after Xeno all of next year and then when eighth year comes around hope he stops hooking up in Gryffindor locker rooms long enough to realize you’re perfect for him?” 

“He hooks up in Gryffindor locker rooms?” you asked with slightly widened eyes. 

“Unfortunately. Our rooms are closest to the pitch, easier to sneak in and out during games.” 

“Do you really think I’m perfect for him?” 

“Y/N,” James said with a roll of his eyes. “I haven’t sat next to you in Potions every class since first year to not know that if Xeno took just a week off from trying to fuck everything with a pulse he’d know you are one of the nicest and cutest girls he’s ever going to get. You’re wicked smart too which is up his alley… I still don’t understand how he still gets the grades he does.” 

“Thanks, James. For what it’s worth, I think Lily is missing out on a very observant and handsome and sweet guy even if your pranks go a little too far sometimes.” 

“Well, we only save those for people that like to pick on those smaller than them.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you feel like going back to the ball? Because I don’t.” 

“Not really.” 

James held out his arm. “Shall we make our way to Gryffindor, my lady.” 

“We shall, good sir.” 

You and James skipped through the halls until you made it back to Gryffindor tower. You ended up following him up to his dorm which you had never seen before. Despite being assigned class partners since you two were eleven, you weren’t exactly friends with James Potter. Just acquaintances was what you were. 

The marauders’ dorm was nice. The first thing you noticed was the fact that they reconfigured their beds. Almost every bed was laying horizontal and flush against the wall, like a bed turned couch. And the wardrobes were also flush against the wall either at the head or foot of the beds, whichever allowed all the beds to see each other. You’d have to proposition your roommates about doing that. It made the space so much wider and seemed to give everyone a personal area. 

James led you to his bed area with a blue rug in front of it. You took off your shoes and set them neatly next to his, noting how he was very organized about his shoes being lined up underneath the bed. James moved to the wardrobe at the foot of his bed. His hand dug through the shelves for his pajamas. 

“Do you want something to change into?” 

You took some of his clothes with a thanks and went into the bathroom to wash and get changed. You and James were going to open the firewhiskey in Sirius’ trunk and vent to each other while getting progressively drunker. James started to make himself a little cot on the floor while you took a shower. Something told him that you two would probably stay up late and potentially fall asleep. He already decided that you were getting the bed. 

You laid down on the bed and ate some fizzing whizbees while waiting for James to finish showering. You shot up when James practically broke his own door. His hair was still wet and his clothes looked very disheveled on him. 

“I have a plan so dumb it might work on luck alone,” he said as he shook your shoulders. 

“I’m listening.” 

“Go out with me.” 

You laughed. “James, are you already drunk?” 

“Just a bit tipsy. But listen to me. You want Xenophilius, I want Lily but neither of them seem to really notice us. So let’s make them notice.” 

“You want to make them jealous?” 

“Well, I don’t know if they’ll be jealous but I want to make them feel something. Don’t you think they would at least be curious about why we suddenly stopped pinning over them? They’d at least talk to us more, I just know it.” 

“Okay, one problem. You scream through the corridors about how much you love Lily. I think only my friends know that I like him and one of those friends is Lily.” 

“You two are friends?” 

“Well, we’re roommates, one of the few Gryffindor dorms with five girls. I’m really just friends with Dorcas and Alice when she’s not holed up in Hufflepuff.” 

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to do something embarrassing.” 

And that was how you found yourself waiting outside Ravenclaw’s locker room before the big quidditch match on the last day of first semester. If anyone talks, it’s going to be quidditch players. They chuckled a bit while you waited for Xenophilius to come outside, some even going back in to tell him that you were there. 

He finally left the dressing room after what seemed like forever and stood right in front of you. Reluctantly, you gave him a small gift and wished him luck before scurrying to find your roommates in the stands. You didn’t think it would take very long for the gossip to spread. What you didn’t expect was for you to get the label of a lovesick puppy. That was worse than what they called James. You told him such over winter break. 

The two of you were at his house for the entirety of the break, teaching each other all about yourselves and finishing the plot. You two wouldn’t start fake-dating until the start of seventh year, on the Hogwarts Express to be exact… with James doing a big gesture that was entirely his idea. He was super invested in making it believable. If it wasn’t believable then there was no point. 

James handed over your letter to Peter who was still next to him. “Y/N says hi and she’s sorry she couldn’t make it to the party.” 

“Since when were you talking to our roommate?” Marlene asked. 

“Since I’ve sat next to her everyday in Potions and Transfiguration since we were first years.” 

“You’ve been assigned that long?” 

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Minnie and Slughorn never switched us. I should probably write something back to her.” 

The only thing in James’ letter was that he thinks the plan might work. Everyone perked up at the notion of you two being secret friends so maybe fake-dating would work after all. You threw the letter into your trunk and headed to Platform 9 and ¾. You went to find Alice who would hopefully be alone or with her other Hufflepuff friends. 

That was what James wanted anyway. He came in about halfway through the train ride when you were in the middle of talking with your friends. James sheepishly held up a sweater and tapped on the window. Alice nodded for him to come in. The girl was shocked when he immediately turned to you. 

“Bug?” 

“Yes, Prongs?” 

“Do you remember last year when you said you sew? Do you think you can mend this?” 

“It’s not even autumn yet. Why do you need the jumper now?” 

“I just thought I’d forget unless I said it right at this moment.” 

You rolled your eyes but looked for a sewing kit in your trunk. Setting it on the bench, you grabbed the sweater and gently pushed him out of the room. 

“Why am I friends with you?” 

“Because you love me.” 

“Goodbye, James Potter.” 

“Bye, Bug. Thank you.” 

You sat back down and dug through your sewing kit before muttering that you didn’t have navy blue thread and would try to find some. You had already known that you didn’t have the correct color thread. But a certain Ravenclaw probably did. Your hand shook a bit as you closed the door to your compartment: 

“What are Xeno’s hobbies?” James asked when you two took a break to hang out at the pool in his backyard when you arrived early in the summer. 

“I don’t know.” 

“That’s a load of bull. I know Lily’s favorite gemstone is carnelian because it matches her hair. So what’s one of the man's hobbies?” 

“He likes to sew.” 

“Oh this is brilliant.” 

You knocked on the door of the train compartment that Xenophilius, his friends, and the new girl he was with for the start of school. He and his friends smiled at seeing you and let you in. You held up the sweater. 

“Do any of you have navy blue thread? I’m trying to mend a jumper.” 

Xeno summoned the spool of thread from out of his trunk. He held it up in his hand until you came in to receive it. His hold lingered on yours. 

“You like to sew?” 

You shrugged. “It’s more of a hobby. I’ve only ever done stuff for myself until now.” 

“Is that for your mum? My first gift to someone else was for my parents.” 

“No, James Potter. The idiot can’t mend a simple hole in a sweater. Thank you for the thread, I’ll return it before dinner.” 

You smiled a little as you walked back to your compartment. Xenophilius’ smile had twitched a bit when you mentioned James’ name. Maybe his plan might work. Your friends had clearly been gossiping about you when you were gone. There was no doubt that the Ravenclaws were gossiping about you when you left. And because James insisted that you give him his sweater once everyone got into the Great Hall, you were sure other people were bound to gossip. 

James ignored the other marauders when they got back to their dorms. He’d tell his friends the truth eventually but it was necessary they also believe the lie for at least a month or two. You and him were supposed to be close friends for the first month. If Lily or Xenophilius didn’t make a move from that alone then you would start fake-dating. It was a foolproof idea really.

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie

[lovechar]

A Tender Touch.

pairing; James Farrow x Stirling!Reader

summary; after you get injured, james helps clean you up.

warnings; friends to lovers, violence, making out, grinding, fluff

notes; fem!reader but can be read as other, since the start, callum turner had been my main fancast for james idk why, i know james sleeps in the tower but shh, idk if anyone will even read this there’s like no iwwv x reader stuff, not much dialogue, no use of y/n, wouldn’t rly say any spoilers

As always, Richard got different, when he’d start drinking. He was always violent, since childhood, even—you remember back to when he’d accidentally hit you too hard with a pillow or shove you too hard playing tag. But the real violence, the real Richard, came out when he was blackout drunk, unaware of his actions and their consequences in the later moments.

Being his sister, you always tended to keep an eye out for him at parties, sipping slowly at your drink in an attempt to not get drunk and keep a clear mind. Occasionally, you’d let go and enjoy yourself, but the one time every couple months where he drank too much made you constantly paranoid.

You poured yourself another drink from one of the many bottles that stood shoulder-to-shoulder on your kitchen countertop. “Hey,” a slightly deep voice rung out from behind me. You turned, pressing you back against the counter. “Hi. Where are the others?” You smiled at James. He stood beside you, looking over with a fond grin till his attention turned to the drink selection. “Don’t know. We all split off and now the only one I can find is you.” He poured himself a drink as he replied; vodka with some random mixer he found.

You sipped slowly at your drink—feeling a slight burn slide past your throat—as you watched the on-goers of the party. James turned back from the counter and leaned against it beside you, mimicking your position. The both of you watched as people chattered, drank and slowly swayed to the music. You could feel the buzz from the alcohol taking its time to kick in.

Talk filled the air till it slowly was hushed and replaced by shouting from outside the Castle. With furrowed eyebrows, you looked up to James and he looked down on you with a similar, confused expression. His hand slid into yours as you tugged him along, heading for the door.

Once you reached the soft garden grass, the chilled breeze attacked you in every place your navy dress hadn’t adorned, bringing goosebumps along your arms and legs. There was a crowd circled around the center of the yard. James moved ahead of you, pushing through the crowd and dragging you along till you both reached the front. “Come on, Oliver. Man to man, let’s see who gets her.” Richard was yelling at Oliver, inching forward while the smaller boy crept backwards with each step. Meredith, who you assumed Richard was getting thick over, stood slightly further back in the middle, watching them and screaming at Richard to leave Oliver alone.

Your jaw hung slightly as Richard shoved Oliver who was obviously fidgeting to apologise and attempt to calm Richard down. On impulse, you discarded James’s hand from yours, running over to Richard and pushing him away from Oliver slightly.

“Rich, what the fuck are you doing?” Your tone was harsh and stern—as if you were taking the place of your mother. His gaze turned to you and he snarled, “get out of my way. This has nothing to do with you.” His breath reeked of liquor. “You’re drunk, stop this now, you’ll regret it in the morning.”

A small thwack sounded out; a stinging feeling humming in your cheek and you stumbled back a bit, eyes looking up to glare at Richard. He had slapped you with the back of his hand. He never hit you before and you were left with a shocked expression, not fully realising what he just did.

Your cheek felt strange so you reached your hand up to feel it, being met with a crimson liquid dripping into your fingers. The ring that embellished your brother’s finger had made such impact, it had split your cheek. An iron-like taste lingered on your tongue but you ignored it as Richard wasted no time after the hit.

“You wanna get involved, huh?” The cruelty of his sardonic intonation brought an unease in your chest. A wicked grin was plastered across his face and you knew you weren’t looking at your brother in this moment—more of a dark shadow that cast over him like a dull cloud. “It’s none of your fucking business what I do.” He shoved you again, this time hard enough to make you fall back.

From the corner of your eye, you saw James spring forward towards you as you made impact with the ground, a sharp pain slicing through the back of your calf. Your leg had landed on a jagged rock, carving a narrow cut through your calf.

Two arms hooked under your arms from behind, lifting you up; you looked behind to see who it was, just to be met with James’s soft stare. You stood up on your feet, the cut on your leg throbbing gently. Richard’s gaze burned into you but you avoided it like the plague, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you upset, although you knew he would feel guilty throughout his hangover the next morning. That didn’t mean you had to forgive him.

During this whole encounter, you had completely forgot that there was a crowd around you all watching and your cheeks grew hot as tears pricked your eyes. You crossed your arms over each other. The humiliation kicked in as people watched you walk back inside, James hot on your tail, holding both your forearms and guiding you through the people. The party was now filled with tension and you noticed people starting to leave.

James led you upstairs and you followed him aimlessly. He brought you into the bathroom, lifting you tenderly by the waist to sit on the counter next to the sink. You focused on levelling your breathing but all you could think about was the fact that Richard had actually hit you, and in front of all those strangers too.

“Hey, you okay?” James spoke delicately as he searched through the cabinet beneath you. He pulled out a cloth and a couple bandages and some gauze. “I’m ok.” His careful fingers wrapped around the damaged leg, lifting it up slightly to take a look at the cut. “‘s it okay if I clean this?” His eyes gleamed up at you, waiting for an answer; you just nodded silently.

James moved over to the sink, dampening the cloth with cold water before bringing it to your leg. He carefully cleared the blood from your leg, handling you as if you were porcelain. The wet pat against your calf stung, and you pulled your bottom lip under your teeth, trying to ignore the light sting.

Once he was done cleansing the wound, he moved back to the sink, grabbing the gauze. You turned your head behind you to take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was slightly ruffled and your bottom lip graced a red slit, the blood starting to crackle and dry. Unintentionally, you licked your lips to moisturise them and tasted the metallic flavour of blood.

James still stood at the sink and your eyes flickered over to him. He’s gorgeous, you thought, then tried to shake away your thoughts. The awareness of being half-drunk made you convince yourself that you were just being affectionate and flirty with everyone, and James just happened to be the only one in the room.

You ripped your view away from the mirror and looked to the ground tiles. The silence in the room wasn’t tense, and you felt as if you could relax in it. As James came back to stand in front of you, he started to wrap the gauze tightly around your calf and your head fell back against the mirror, eyes closing and lips parting into a sigh.

It didn’t take long for him to bandage the cut. Your eyes flitted open and you were met with him standing infront of you, looking at your face. He steadily brought his hand—which gripped the wet cloth—up to your cheek, smoothly wiping the small gash from Richard’s ring.

His hand lingered, even when the slice was washed out, and your eyes couldn’t tear away from each other. If your legs hadn’t been stretched out from sitting on the counter, forcing him to maintain a distance, you mulled over how far from your face he really would be. The eye contact drew on—aside from the broken moments where you strained from the temptation of looking at his plump lips but failed—, the silence turning to a deafening tension. You hauled your eyes from his, moving your face to glance at your lap and clearing your throat.

“We should get you to bed,” he said. You could hear the stiffness in his voice, as if he was forcing himself to break the silence. “Yeah,” you replied. James wrapped his hands around your waist, lifting you down from the counter. It seemed he was reluctant to let you go, only sliding his hands off when you moved to the door.

The mahogany knob turned and you both stepped out from the bathroom. Your body felt exhausted but your brain still buzzed happily from your previous few drinks. “Do you want me to take you up to the tower?” James’s voice was quiet although there wasn’t anyone in the hall. Oliver and you both stayed up in the tower, while everyone else’s bedrooms were scattered around the Castle.

“‘m too tired to go up there, can I stay with you?” Your question had caught him off guard and you pulled back a smirk upon seeing the strawberry blush hinted across his cheeks. “Yeah . . sure, of course.” He held onto your hand as you headed down the hall to his room. Pushing the door open, James led you inside his room. Your eyes darted around—as if it were your first time in here.

The warmth from his hand faded as he let go and went to sit on the small couch he had in the middle of the room. You followed, taking a seat beside him, maybe too close. You sat, one leg dangling off the couch; the other, bent at the knee and tucked under you. James’s arms were stretched out, resting on the channel back of the sofa.

“Thanks,” you murmured out, looking over into his eyes; they looked blue from afar, but really they were silvery-gray, even with a hint of gold-hazel splatted through them. You could see yourself in the reflection. He didn’t say anything, just gazed back at you with a longing look etched into his features.

James really was beautiful. You’d always known it, just never really had time to dwell on it. But now you felt like you had all the time in the world and couldn’t help keeping your eyes from flickering between his and his lips. It was as if you were contemplating which were more endearing, and right now his lips were in the lead. The heat in your cheeks tingled and you silently wished he couldn’t see your blush in the darkness.

Even if he did register your blush, he didn’t make it known to you. He did, however, seem to notice your quivering gaze. You weren’t sure if you were just imagining it, or if he really was leaning closer, but you subconsciously mirrored him. The tension and silence felt suffocating but all you could focus on was his lips.

The two of you leaned in painstakingly slowly. Your nose brushed his and it tickled you, mouth curling into a slight smile. Eventually after what seemed to be ages, his lips grazed against yours. He didn’t push them to meet yours any further, just letting them skim past as if to tease you, or maybe just to be gentle, you didn’t know.

After that ghost of a kiss—if you could even call it that—you leaned back slightly, noses barely an inch away, and smiled at him softly as he returned the smile. You pushed forward, kissing him again but this time deeper and more controlling. James’s hand drew up to hold your jaw between his fingers. His lips were pleasant and velvety under yours, his touch gentle and caring.

Taking your sweet time, you pushed against him and he to you. His head tilted back a little as the kissing grew passionate and needy. Your lips slot together like a perfect puzzle. You bit his lip gingerly, prodding your tongue at the crease and sliding it across his lips, asking and waiting for access.

Without hesitation, his mouth curved open more and allowed for you to slide your tongue in. They danced together, roaming every inch of each other’s mouths as if searching for missing treasure. Before you knew it, you were throwing your leg across him and straddling his hips, holding him by his chest and pushing him further into the couch with your kisses. His hands fell to your waist, caressing the slope.

Every now and then you’d pull back to catch up on your rapid breathing. The tiredness you’d felt earlier was quick to disperse and allow for the adrenaline of the moment to kick in, leaving a buzzing feeling in your stomach, like butterflies.

Your temptation to grind down on his hips caved and when you did, his mouth parted and he drawled out a low, deep groan. His hands went from resting along your waist to grabbing down on your hips, helping you move against him. Warmth spread throughout and you couldn’t help but smile and continue pressing kisses to his lips.

He moved his head downwards, kissing along your jaw, then suckling on your neck. You gasped as his teeth plucked at the sensitive skin and tilted your head further upwards to grant him a larger canvas. Hips moving against his, your stomach fluttered in the best way possible.

His hands that held onto your hips tightened and held you in place, refraining you from moving any further. You frowned and pulled back from him with a whine. “What’s wrong?” You asked, breaking the silence that had encased the room long ago. James shook his head. “Nothing, nothing,” he assured you. “But we can’t do this right now, you’re drunk.” You smiled, then let out an airy scoff, “I’m barely tipsy, James.” You didn’t want anything other in this moment but him.

Still, you felt the fatigue come back and slowly got off him, sitting down beside him again. Begrudgingly for you, his decision was probably for the best so you just complied. You pressed a kiss to his nose then stood from the couch, making your way to his bed that rested behind the sofa.

“You need some clothes?” James asked, now also standing but making his way towards his drawers. “Yeah, please.” You pealed your dress down, slipping the navy straps from your shoulder as James threw a large shirt over to your direction. You threw it over your head, then slipped on the pair of shorts he gave to you. You crawled under the patterned covers of his bed. Your arms sprawled out above the covers as you waited for him.

Glancing in James’s direction, he still stood at his drawer. He was now wearing loose, green pajama pants. Unaware of your attention being on him, he lifted his shirt up, tugging it over his head and throwing it somewhere random, thinking he’d deal it with tomorrow. Breath hitching, stomach fluttering; you admired his slim but not so toned figure. You stared with no shame, as if it were your first time seeing his bare chest. Sadly for you, he tugged a grey shirt over his head, and you looked away as he approached the bed.

He climbed under the covers beside you and you felt his arm brush up against you. Turning on your side to face him, he was already facing you, seemingly staring at your face. The pale moonlight shone down from the window, illuminating one side of his face. God, he’s so kissable, you thought. Leaning forward in a sluggish, drowsy move, you pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. Moving one hand to rest under his head and cheek, your eyes were still shut when you placed another kiss on the corner of his lips.

Finally, your eyes opened to be met with his metallic ones looking back at you. In that moment you wished you could lay there forever, placing kisses along his angelic features. Had it not been the slight shine of the moonlight, you’d barely be able to make out his flushed cheeks in the dimness of the room.

James opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then continued. “You’re so beautiful; breathtaking.” His cheek was still cradled against your palm and your fingers curved along it, caressing it gently. You smiled, a breathy laugh coming out along with it. “So are you,” you replied and kissed the tip of his nose.

He shuffled closer to you and you rested your head on his shoulder. A kiss was placed on the skin just behind your ear and you draped one arm across his shoulder, around his neck and let it lie behind his head. A warm but dainty hand crept up your waist, tugging you impossibly closer. And you both lay there, breaths mixing together in the darkness. It wasn’t long before your breathing evened out, and when James noticed that it did, he allowed himself to fall asleep.

[novakiart]

hey! first of all, recently discovered your account and. almost binged it in one sitting. amazing quality stuff, i'm in awe! also, while i'm RAPIDLY making my way through the old content, any new recommendations on fanfiction/comics/anything at all? atp i trust you more than i trust myself. no pressure, feel free to ignore this message! tnx, byee

thank you so so much!!! also ohh wow it's like you're putting your life in my hands... a potentially catastrophic misjudgement

since you've consumed my tumblr I'm assuming you've already seen my fic recs tag, which is filled with kind strangers on the internet recommending all the good stuff, including some recs of my own! if you missed it, I also have some comic recs here

as for some recent stuff I've liked, they've all been pretty lighthearted:

another one bites by seateainthemountains is chaotic and goofy in a very comic book-y kind of way

ryanoid on the brain by firefly_ika is another goofy one but also short and sweet. peter versus bug spray

it had to be you by fancastical in which wade recognises peter every time - except when it counts. I'm just a wimp for identity fics, sorry

cross the highways of fantasy is another one by fancastical and is a special shout out because I adore the concept of peter and weasel having history (and peter and wade using that to be insufferable)

five times peter says I hate you, and one time he (finally) doesn't by bestie has a brief scene with wade wreaking havoc with photographer-on-the-job peter and that's a woefully underrepresented trope I adore

I hope you find something you like here!

[sotwk]

Nothing matters mlre to me than Mirion and Legolas relationship I love them so much. do you have any more cute headcanons about them?

I love that you love them, Anon! Thank you so much for asking me these questions! <3 Mirion and Legolas's relationship means a lot to me too, and I hope I've been able to convey that in the few fics I have written. I hope you've been able to check these out!

Greenleaf's Day Out - Chapter 5, A Royal Welcome

Greenleaf's Tree

Yuletide in the Elvenking's Realm - Chapter 4, Four Calling Birds

A Stab to the Heart

I hope to continue writing more, and your support encourages me to do so! Here are some additional Mirion & Legolas headcanons, just because you asked! :)

Mirion & Legolas Brotherly Headcanons: Thranduil's Eldest and Youngest Sons

SotWK Fancast: Henry Cavill as Mirion Thranduilion

Although all of his older brothers were kind to Legolas and cared for him in their own ways, Mirion was the most patient and tolerant of Legolas's hyperactive nature. He was rarely bothered by Legolas’s tendency to be underfoot, which meant endless nosy questions and constant requests of “can i come??”. Indeed, when Legolas was in his elfling stage, Mirion was the family member he succeeded at tagging along with most, even more than his parents, who could not always permit his presence due to the formal and serious nature of their work. (Which had grown more demanding since their earlier days of parenthood.) 

It was through Mirion that Legolas learned much about their realm and their duties as a prince. Legolas has a very good memory, especially with names and faces, and he liked to impress Mirion by showing off how well he remembered the names of people he was introduced to, and places they visited together. Adult Legolas modeled Mirion’s example of humility, the belief that a prince is a servant of his King and therefore of the King’s people. That is why Legolas never flashed his royal title around, and was always willing to contribute and get his hands dirty. 

Legolas’s devotion and loyalty to Aragorn was likely also influenced by Mirion. At the dawn of the Third Age, Mirion developed a strong friendship with Valandil, King of Arnor, whom he had met in his youth--the two shared a birth year! This led to an alliance between Arnor and Eryn Galen that lasted all the way to Eärendur's reign. Unfortunately, after the splitting of Arnor, relations gradually weakened. Upon meeting Aragorn, Legolas was happy to see the line of Isildur restored in him, remembering how much Valandil’s friendship meant to his brother. 

Little Legolas liked to spend hours watching Mirion work in the forge, making weapons and armour. Although Legolas did not quite have a knack for metalsmithing, he had a very creative and artistic mind, and as a child he was enthusiastic about sketching up designs and presenting them to his brother. Occasionally, Mirion would take some of the elfling’s best sketches and implement them into his work. And as Legolas grew older, the two began to genuinely collaborate on weaponry for real use. Legolas's expertise in Elvish blades (remember how he was able to identify Orcrist on sight?) came from Mirion.

When he was a younger elf still learning and training to be a warrior, Legolas had in his mind that he wanted to fight using a broadsword, just like Mirion did. However, the brothers did not possess the same strengths, and Turhir (who oversaw Legolas's fight training) advised that Legolas's talents were better suited for short swords. It took a while for Legolas to overcome this disappointment, but with his older brothers' encouragement, he embraced his style of dual-sword fighting--especially after Mirion made and gifted him with a beautiful set of fighting knives, the ones he carried during the War of the Ring. Nonetheless, Legolas can still swing a pretty mean heavy sword in battle, because he learned from the best! (see BotFA)

Mirion’s son, Aranion, is similar to Legolas in personality and temperament, which made the two of them naturally close friends. After Mirion’s death, Legolas did his best to help fill the fatherly role Aranion needed in his life.  Legolas’s devotion to Mirion’s children was one of the main reasons why he never left Mirkwood, even during its darkest times, until his participation in the Fellowship.

Want to learn more about Mirion? Mirion Headcanon Masterlist

OTHER USEFUL LINKS:

Introduction to SotWK

Main Headcanon Masterlist

[barbswo]

Why do new chapters take so long? It also feels like you’ve been going through some dark shit, why is everything so angsty? Tides used to feel like cappuccino, bitter but sweet, and now it’s a double exspresso with no sugar

*it’s espresso, let’s leave our exes out of this

So. I’ll chew on this topic one last time and leave it alone, because it has become repetetive.

‘Tides’ has a plan. I wrote it chapter-by-chapter, and even when I was “going through some dark shit” I didn’t write anything that hadn’t been pre-planned. That little “Angst and Drama” tag isn’t there to look pretty. “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat”, too.

I don’t do fan-service. Don’t get me wrong, of course it’s very cool when you share your reading experiences with me, but please know that the whole shenanigan of “please don’t write this, write that, or I’ll be upset, oh no, I’m already upset, how could you, I’m disappointed” won’t work on me.

I won’t be changing my story just because some poor soul on the internet cannot handle it. And no messages and pleadings to give Lucerys and Aemond five kids and ten unicorns will make me rewrite this fic. Ao3 is full of wonderful stories that you can turn to instead of ‘Tides’, go read them.

Now about my posting schedule.

Are you serious?

I spend an astronomical amount of time plotting, writing and editing this thing. What you get is the tip of the iceberg, somewhat polished for the audience. I’m not even going to talk about all the chapters I had to rewrite from another POVs because those fit better, all the deleted scenes and crossed out characters.

Mind you, nobody is paying me to do this. It’s a hobby. Writing is my passion, and when I have a story bubbling under my skin, I itch to get it out. When and how I want it.

That being said, I’m eternally grateful to all those readers who support me, write long reviews, add soundtracks and offer fancasts, ask questions because they are genuinely interested and guess some of my future plot-twists. This love is insane and fuels me with inspiration.

You make me want to continue even when people like the one who asked this question decide they know better. Thank you.

[wntrswolf]

an arsonist's lullaby

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!targaryen

✧ theme/warning(s): dark, heavy angst turned fluff — tw: mentions of hallucinations, anxiety / progressive panic attack(s). + all characters are of age! (18+) | contains hotd spoilers!

✧ word count: 2.7k

✧ a/n: this one-shot is a gift for @ithilwen-blackwood! firstly, thank you for tagging me on your request! it sparked a drive in me that i thought had left years ago, i had a great pleasure writing this one. secondly, given the prompt, i hope you, and the other pretty readers, enjoy reading my version. c: thank you!!!

✧ summary: to dream is to escape, granting a momentary nirvana as one falls into the refuge of imagination. yet, for the princess, a night in the supposedly cursed fortress of the riverlands, dreams became not mere fantasies but glimpses of destiny that would seal unwritten fate.

Daemon’s voice roars in the vastness of the dining hall. “We shall make camp before night falls. Come the morrow’s light, we resume our travels. See to it you are rested, we have yet a journey ahead of us.” Your father meets your gaze and nods solemnly, signalling his dismissal. You return the gesture with a faint smile, acknowledging his silent command to depart.

The murmurs of the troop swelled, each hastening to claim their place within the grim walls of Harrenhal. You remained steadfast, observing the weariness that were etched on the faces of the scrambling men around you. Gradually, the ache in your body began to throb, a reminder that the arduous journey had also taken its toll on your body. Despite the envy others held with their perceptions, it was not an easy task being a dragon rider—for an adult dragon, it was a feat far from simple.

Celestrya, much like her namesake, is a magnificent dragon. Her iridescent scales of aquamarine and amethyst create a mesmerising display of colours as she glides through the heavens. Yet, behind the deceptive beauty of your winged serpent lies a stubborn and formidable nature. Beneath her elegant appearance lies a fierce determination and commanding presence that demands respect from all who crossed her path. 

Your gaze swept the hall a final time, assuring all was in order before you sought your own repose. However, capturing your attention was the distorted shadow that stood by the hearth. The wavering figure you always came to see ensnared you yet again with its haunting presence, engulfing you in its deafening whispers. As was your custom, you sought to evade the encroaching darkness, only to collide with another in your haste escape. Unaware you had been holding your breath, you gasped heavily, abruptly jolting back to reality.

“Princess,” the young man spoke, “my apologies.” The firm grasp on your arms steadied you, preventing any falter, while your palms pressed against his chest. Slightly breathless, your eyes scanned for the shadow that had mysteriously disappeared.

“Princess?”

You hummed in response, your voice barely above a whisper, “Oh, my apologies.” You steadied your breathing, glancing up at the young man to realise the close proximity between you. In a moment of fluster, you withdrew from his grasp. 

“No,” he says as he scratched behind his head, “the fault lies with me. I failed to watch my path.” his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. As you regain your composure, you recognise the young man before you as belonging to House Blackwood, evident from his attire and the sigil pin securing his burgundy-black cape.

“Should my father and I be concerned, then?” you quipped with a nervous chuckle escaping your throat, eager to lighten the mood of the exchange and conceal your own tension. Playing with the thread on your dress—a familiar nervous tic—you continued, "I mean, a lapse in attention seems trivial, but in these times of impending war, every misstep carries weight.” a subtle smile gracing your lips. 

He responds with a nervous chuckle, striving to maintain his composure. "Forgive me, my lady, but I assure you, House Blackwood stands ready for whatever battles may come—and I have seen to it myself.” He spoke his words earnestly, eyes reassuring you that he indeed spoke truth—a revelation of his confidence in both his army and himself.

You chuckle.

“It was but a jest,” you offered him a warm smile, "Nonetheless, I am heartened to hear of your preparations. I believe our houses make a strong alliance, Sir…” 

“Benjicot Blackwood, my lady.” 

“Ah, the Lord of Raventree.” you acknowledged respectfully. “I extend my deepest sympathies, and I thank you for standing as a stalwart ally in our cause. It means much to us.”

“Thank you, my lady. If anything, it is an honor.” 

“Daenyra,” you replied softly, setting aside formalities in the presence of the young Lord.

What had prompted this departure from convention? You did not know. Could it be that despite his fierce demeanour, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability? his vulnerability. Perhaps you saw in him a fledgling lord who had witnessed the brutal toll of conflict—on his kin, his men, and even those he had been compelled to confront in his duties. A fledgling thrusted into authority unexpectedly—an experience you both share.

“It has been a long day,” you continued with a chuckle, “I believe I have had my fill of the formalities for now," feeling your nerves starting to settle.

“Of course, my la–” he began, but stopped short under your playful glare, “Ahem, Daenyra… Daenyra.” His voice softened, the repetition of your name becoming more natural on his tongue. The young man had uttered your name many a time, yet with your insistence that he address you by your name, simply your name, made him feel acknowledged.

You both chuckled. 

“Although, pardon the intrusion, I hope it does not mean to offend,” he continued cautiously, “but were you alright? When I bumped into you, you—” 

He had.

He had noticed. 

“Princess Daenyra,” a slender, raven-haired woman called out, interrupting your exchange with the Blackwood Lord. You thanked her mentally; wondering if it was deliberate or mere happenstance, but chose not to dwell on it. Turning towards the woman who commanded your attention, you were immediately captivated by her mystical aura and hauntingly beautiful features. “The camp is set. We shall have you escorted to your quarters.” she announced, her sharp blue eyes locking intensely with yours, leaving an impression that lingered in your mind. 

“Yes, of course,” you breathed, turning to the young Lord, prepared to bid him goodnight. “I apologise, Lord Benjicot–”

“Benji,” he corrected in haste. You were slightly taken aback, finding the informality endearing—as it reflected your own.

“I apologise, Benji. It has indeed been quite a journey, and we are weary and in need of rest,” you replied, your nervous tic making a subtle appearance again. Glancing around, you realise that it was just you, Benji, and a few other swordsmen left in the dining hall. With a slight huff, you added, “I shall see you in the morn, then?”

“Y-yes… my lady– D-Daenyra…” he stuttered, inwardly chagrined at his stumble. Despite his embarrassment, you bestowed one last smile and nod before pivoting on your heel, the echoes of your departing footsteps fading gradually into the distance.

In your absence, he chastised himself that his worry might have gotten the best of him; it was ridiculous, really.

After all, you were a Targaryen Princess, the sole daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, with the pure blood of the dragon coursing your veins. You inherited the ruthless and intense nature of your father, feared in combat where no man ever survived your blade. Needless to mention of the adult dragon under your command, the beast could devour him and his entire retinue, and would still be insatiable.

But amid the thoughts, he saw something in you that he could not quite describe—perhaps the sight of your gentle hands fidgeting, a stark contrast to the image of a warrior who must have slain a thousand men by now, he reckoned.

Reflecting on the moment of your collision, he realised that you, too, were simply a young woman—a lady of his own age—navigating a world fraught with responsibilities imposed by the realm. And now, on the march, leading an army of men to fight against the usurpers, and reclaim the justice that your mother, the Queen, had lost.

A familiar whistle—a melody only his dear aunt used—pierced through his thoughts, instantly capturing his attention, “Let us retire for the night, yea?” Her thumb gesture over her shoulder as she looked at him expectantly. 

"Yeah... yeah," the young man nodded, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as weariness settled in.

Perhaps he was simply tired, allowing himself to dwell on thoughts that were not his to ponder. The princess was more than capable of defending herself, even from a lord she had met that night.

And still, he did. 

It was still the dead of night, you surmised. The clamouring assembly that would rouse you from slumber had yet to commence, awaiting for the break of morn. Pain gnawed through every fibres of your being; the harsh, cold surroundings of Harrenhal offered no respite from your discomfort. Your gaze fixed on the patterns of the canopy you lie beneath, the soft patter of rain acting as your lullaby. You closed your eyes as you sought after slumber once more.

Without success, you shifted uncomfortably in the makeshift mattress, propping yourself up on the firm pillows that offered little comfort. 

You sigh.

To your confusion, a sudden breeze rustled the entrance flaps of your tent, the fabric dancing along the gentle gusts. Goosebumps prickled your skin as you hear the familiar whispering—voices that haunted you time and time again; yet, it would be the first time you heard it spoke your name, 

“Daenyra…” 

You sucked in a breath, the thump in your chest increasing its tempo. The phantom’s whispers are heard beyond the refuge of your tent. Your palm dampens with cold sweat, as terror etched itself onto your features. 

Despite the urge of pursuit, fear had kept you in its confines, afraid of probing what had lurked in the darkness—in fear that the spectre that observed you would swallow you with its frightening taunts.

Or could it be an ambush? A ploy orchestrated by the Greens. A sorceress used to alter the perceptions of the formidable princess of the realm—a plausible explanation, is it not?

The vendetta within your family: Retaliation.

An eye for an eye.

A son for a son.

They would just simply have to seize the moment, right when you are in your defenceless trance.

‘Ambush the Blacks, slay the princess and prince consort while abed, and we make the Blackwoods bend the knee to the rightful heir,' you reckon they thought.

An absurd, petty measure, but an irrefutable one closer to a checkmate. 

Nevertheless, a ruse as such would never come to pass—existing only in the realm of imagination.

You were torn between fears: a haunting apparition or mortal hands that could lead to your demise.

Your conscience came to a ground that despite the fear residing in your bones, an audacious drive took over you to follow the bewitching voice. 

The ominous sight of the empty hall sent a chill in your spine, dim candles and occasional flashes of lightning provided sparse light amid the storm. You held the lantern, a guiding luminance, close to your body to warding off the encroaching darkness and hoped that the flame would not cease; and your other hand grips tightly by the hilt, wielding your sword.

Guided by the mystic call once more, you prudently tread your way within the ruin.

“Daenyra…” The voice growing clearer and louder with each step.

“Daenyra…” Again. 

“Daenyra…” Your breath grew ragged and shallow. Panic gripping your chest like a vise, squeezing air out of your lungs. 

It was not until you reached the grand iron doors that you realised where it led you—the dining hall. Thrusting open the heavy door, it creaked loudly. Once again, you were confronted with the shadow by the fire—the sight intensifying your fear, quickening your heart. 

“Daenyra…” The once-unrecognisable voice now rang clear, luring you towards the flame.

You approached the hearth cautiously, a sense of foreboding thickening the air as the shadow dissipated. The crackling of the fire seemed to roar in your ears, the blaze casting its orange hue upon you and its warmth seeping into your body. Entranced, your brow furrowed as you stared into the flickering flames. 

The voice spoke yet again, shifting to that of your weeping mother, calling out your name.

Your body tensed, skin tingling as if touched by flames.

"Mother?" you breathed out.

Suddenly, within the flames you hear wails of anguish as a hand emerges from the flames. With a sense of charmed urgency, you cried out and reached for the hand, the flare enveloping yours with a searing kiss.

Agh!

Recoiling, overwhelmed by the blinding flash of pain, you collapsed to your knees. Your sword dropping with a clatter as the haunting echoes of voices reverberated louder than ever in your mind:

That of the cries of babes, blood-curdling screams, galloping horses, agonising shouts of a thousand men, clashes of metal, thunderous roars of dragons and fire, and in the haze, unintelligible murmurings. 

“No… no… no,” you whispered, each heartbeat echoing like thunder in your ears,

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

The dining hall began to close in around you, the heat becoming overbearing.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trembling hands covering your ears in a desperate attempt to silence the chaos consuming you.

“Daenyra…” It cried.

“Make it stop…” you pleaded, rocking back and forth. The sword lay forgotten on the stone floor, and the lantern burnt out, its presence unnoticed in the turmoil. 

“Daenyra…” It cried out again.

“Please…” 

“Daenyra?” A male voice softly whispered to you, gently shaking you from repose. “Dae–”

You woke with a sharp breath, a sob escaping your throat.

The dark figure hovering over you prompted a renewed wave of anxiety as you sat up abruptly, causing the figure to topple back. Your eyes darted around in fear, spotting a dagger that sits on the foot of the mattress, you still as dread overcame your body—unable to muster a shout or a scream.

It was not until the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the dishevelled form of the Blackwood male that you realised you had emerged from sleep. You watch the young man in confusion as he had been hovering over you while you were abed, his blade just within reach. 

“B-Benji?” you croaked out as your chest heaved with staggered breaths. Your hair stuck to your tear-stained face, glistening beads of sweat lining your neck and chest. Trembling hands grasped onto his arm. 

“Princess,” his velvet voice replied gently, “Forgive me, my tent neighbours yours,” his eyes locked onto yours, “I could not find rest. I-I remained awake, but I heard sobs and…” 

You release a breath of relief that had been caught in anxiety.

“T-Thank you,” you uttered, meeting his gaze gratefully. For a moment, the tension in the air begins to ease. “For waking me up.” you added with a slight nod, your breath steadying in his reassuring presence.

Benji's expression softened, his gaze tender and unwavering as he, hesitant at first, gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "'Tis nothing," he murmured softly.

You offered him a faint smile, your hands working to compose yourself from your unsettled state.

Just a night’s terror.

Sighing softly, you wiped your palms over your face, hoping to dispel the lingering fatigue that still weighed upon your body.

At that moment, Benjicot hesitated, unsure whether to depart now that you had acknowledged his role in rousing you from the terror. Despite this, he remained seated with you in the hushed confines of your tent. His concern, which had grown since your exchange late last night and continued into the early hours of the dark morn, stirred his curiosity about your well-being before your unexpected encounter.

The fragility in your voice shattered the pregnant silence, “I…” you chuckled softly, airily. “I– I don’t know what I saw,” you admitted softly, voice slightly trembling.

“All I know is that it felt… real." you said pensively, unconsciously playing with a loose thread on the quilt that covered you. "It sounded so real.” your voice barely above a whisper.

Noting your nervous tic, “Dreams can be cruel,” Benji spoke. You watch as his hands gently took hold of yours, his thumb brushing soothingly over the backs of your hands—the gesture fluttering your heart. “But they are also just dreams, m’ lady.” he reassured with a smile.

He continued ever so delicately, "I too face the same darkness. You are not alone.” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

His words enveloped you in comfort, as did his mere presence—offering solace with each reassuring word and gentle touch.

You found yourself instinctively seeking if he would become a comforting constant in your moment of vulnerability. You long for his warmth, a feeling you had already sensed from the young man, since the previous night's encounter. 

“Stay… will you?” you whispered, your hands nestled in his, a self-conscious gaze falling to your lap.

He tightened his grip slightly, offering you a comforting squeeze. "As my princess commands," he replied softly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

a/n: soooo how was it? i feel like i rambled a bit too much in my writing. my brain went haywire since i wanted to add everything i thought of (ideas were popping up left n right up n down) but i added what i could: character cameos, witch's hallucination vs dragon dream??? hihihihi anyways! do not hesitate to comment ur thoughts, i appreciate reading them! ♡

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.10

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - Martyn begins to suspect his family is using his sister disappearance to further a senseless war. Shanda buckles under pressure while awaiting the trip to riverrun

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, mentions of violence, depictions of choking, adult language, period typical misogyny, advanced misogyny, condescension, adult language, complicated family dynamics, feud behavior, misplaced rage, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2.5k

Shanda in the gold gown the Blackwoods lend her. Listen all I’m gonna say is the advanced misogyny tag is there for a reason. And we stan Martyn, the only character with a good head on his shoulders. If you hear maniacal laughter throughout while reading, thats me I apologize.

“It was her!” Royce insisted. “She was climbing the bank of the river back to the Blackwood side!”

There were murmurs around the room and Martyn had heard enough.

“How do we know you didn’t set the fire? I didn’t see you when it started, nor to help get anyone out.” He felt a prickle of pride when Royce’s face screwed up in an expression of anger.

“That’s ridiculous.” Royce huffed.

“No more ridiculous than you accusing our sister of conspiring to burn our own people!”

“You didn’t see her! Bloody Ben was right beside her, what more proof do you need brother?”

A whole hell of a lot more, Martyn thought.

“Yeah and he’s the same man that just had her sentenced to death Royce. She was probably trying to run away!”

“Enough, both of you.”

Martyn sat at his father’s voice, his brother hesitated a moment before following suit.

“Your loyalty is touching Martyn. But we can’t so easily dispute what your brother mentions. After all, she never told me of any plan to gather Blackwood secrets.”

Martyn groaned internally, he was surrounded by idiots.

“Harold, surely you know our sister wouldn’t conspire this way.”

Harold, another of their brothers, was in his thirties but had spent many days hanging with Martyn and Shanda when they were children.

“I agree with Martyn. Shanda wouldn’t do this.”

“We should wait and judge her behavior in Riverrun.” Responded Gerolt, who was a few years older than Harold and decently liked by Martyn.

Another murmur went through the room at the suggestion.

“Has anyone heard from Normon?” His father asked.

Normon was a brother of theirs who spent his time sailing. Last Martyn heard he was in Oldtown, bothering the citadel. Normon was barred entrance since books had a tendency to go missing in his presence. Shanda had every missing tome hidden in their family library. Silence followed his father’s question.

“That’s too bad. We could use him at Riverrun.” Amos had replied at last.

“What will our defense be?” Gerolt asked the question they were all wondering about.

“We deny it of course.” Their father responded. “We’ll say Shanda is only a woman. She can’t be held responsible for this. The heat got to her fragile mind.”

Martyn knew his father did not really believe this but his hand twitched towards his sword at the words regardless. It was this backwards rhetoric that had made Shanda feel the need to leave in the first place. It made his blood boil. He knew his sister was twice as smart as more than half of this room full of blithering idiots. Said idiots all nodded at his fathers words, lapping it up.

“Then we’ll talk about the Blackwood scum sulling her. Twisting her mind.”

Martyn was wound so tightly he was likely to shatter into a million pieces listening to his father talk about his sister this way.

“Maybe we could work in what you saw Royce. Use it as proof of Blackwood influence.”

That was enough for Martyn who stood harshly shoving his chair back and leaving the room, slamming the large wooden door on his way out. How his own family could sit there scheming ways to pin the blame on Shanda was beyond him. It made him sick. He would make his own petition at the trial separately from his father and brothers. Stalking off to a guard tower, Martyn vowed not to let his sister's name go down without a fight.

***

Shanda never heard any word from her family. If they were writing to her, the Blackwoods were holding the letters back. She missed Martyn horribly and wondered tirelessly why Royce had been so upset the other night. No answers ever came to her though. Benjicot had made it his mission to try and fill the familial hole in her heart. He never left her side, she’d tried everything to get rid of him. Bringing up his responsibilities, cursing him, trying to physically remove him from the premises. But each plan failed and eventually she had just let him be.

He would sit quietly and play with the long strands of her hair while she stared listlessly out the window most of the time. The date had been set for the trial in Riverrun but it was weeks from now. The Tully’s had invited damn near the entire Riverlands to bear witness and as such wanted to give everyone a chance to arrive. Raventree hall and Stone hedge were both only a stone’s throw from Riverrun, so she just had to wait. When she grew desperate to escape his presence she would go find Alysanne. Who seemed perfectly capable of driving her nephew away with only a harsh look. He would raise his hands in surrender and blessedly leave her alone for a few hours.

It was on one of these occasions that she had a peculiar conversation with the heirs aunt.

“He doesn’t like strong women.” She’d stated, frustrated with Benjicot’s attempts to steamroll her into going on a hunt with him.

“He’s always so condescending, talking to me like I’m some stupid child! I don’t know how you can stand to be around him.”

“Benjicot doesn’t dislike strong women. He reacts well to a strong hand. You’ve seen that.” Alysanne had responded, utterly amused by her rising anger.

That had only made her angrier. Did any of the Blackwoods take anything seriously? They were always laughing, as if life were one big joke. It made Shanda yearn for a conversation with Martyn.

“He doesn’t respect them then! Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” She had stormed out of the room her and Alysanne were in and had a guard guide her back to her room.

That was two days ago and luck was on her side. As the annoying heir was still out on the hunt he’d tried to get her to accompany him on. Shanda had no patience for hunting with people she loved, she wasn’t going to have any with her enemies. While he was gone she prayed to the gods that he would snap his leg while out. Or that his horse would throw him, he’d get an arrow to the eye. It couldn’t hurt to merely suggest to the gods that he meet a terrible fate. She knew it was unlikely to happen but it made her feel better for a while. She imagined herself being freed of the growing attraction she had to him. It left a bad taste in her mouth, to imagine going back to her boring life in the library tower. If she did get out of here, she would start seriously trying to leave Stone Hedge. She would miss Martyn but maybe he could come visit her, wherever she ended up. It would get him off of guard duty at the very least.

She had made up her mind to ignore Benjicot when he returned. No matter what he did, she had to remain calm and neutral. It was obvious he enjoyed riling her up, so she needed to be unaffected. That was easier said than done but regardless of how she really felt, she had to reflect nothing on the outside. She just had to wait for the trial and then she could get her life back.

***

Benjicot had abandoned the hunt after the fourth day. He had bagged several animals, including a wolf and decided he was done. Mostly he couldn’t stop thinking about the pretty Bracken stuck inside waiting on him. She would be so bored and lonely without him and it was his job to keep her entertained. Alysanne had sent him a raven yesterday, telling him about the amusing argument she’d had with Shanda. “She thinks you’re a woman hater, nephew. Are you mistreating her? She specifically mentioned condescension, maybe try not being yourself so much.” He’d snorted at that. Then he left after sunset on the fourth day, riding back to join her. He was a wreck of dirt and grass, so he had gone to bathe first when he arrived back. It was late, the ride had taken him well over an hour. She was probably asleep by now. The thought didn’t do anything to discourage him from looking in on her.

He dressed in a loose white shirt, he left the top untied in his rush to get out. His pants were loose and breezy in the humid air. He had dismissed the guard outside first before he slid her door open carefully. He did not want to wake her if she was asleep. Entering her saw her passed out on the bed and he left the door cracked open. He picked one of the wooden chairs from the table and quietly set it beside her bed.

Her chest was rising and falling steadily, her mouth was slightly open, relaxed in the grip of sleep.

He watched her for a tender moment before he decided to wake her up. He knew he shouldn’t but who was going to stop him? Half of the castle was still out in the wilderness, drunk camped around fires under the night sky. He stroked her head, smoothing her hair back from her face. Then he smirked before placing his hand over her mouth and using his thumb and index finger pinched her nose closed, cutting off her air supply.

It didn’t take long for her crystalline eyes to fly open, darting frantically around while she flopped like a fish out of water. He let go of her nose, allowing her to suck air in but didn’t remove his hand right away.

“Shhh. Calm down, it's just me darling.” He calmly stroked her hair while he repeated soothing words to her. When her shoulders relaxed, he removed his hand from her mouth.

“Hello,” he smiled at her. “Did you miss me?” He didn’t stop petting her head and she sleepily rubbed her eyes blinking up at him.

“What are you doing back?” She asked in a small hoarse voice that sent all of the blood rushing away from his brain. Using his free hand he wove their fingers together and rubbed circles with his thumb. He needed to keep his hands busy, to stop himself from doing what he really wanted to. Which was to pull her into his lap and kiss her until she was bright red and panting against him.

“I wanted to see you.” He said simply, staring into her pretty eyes. She turned a dusty shade of pink at his words and he relished in the sight. She was less on guard here, still sleepy and cozy in bed. He tried not to think about how easy it would be to climb in there with her. Instead he turned the question back on her.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He unwound their entwined hands, bringing his hand up to gently cradle her neck. He could feel her pulse pounding under his fingertips. “Did you miss me?” He felt her heart skip a beat at his words and he’d nearly moaned out loud. The old gods had blessed him and now they were testing his resolve. How long could he wait to have her?

She answered so softly he almost hadn’t heard her.

***

Benjicots hand was around her neck, lightly holding her still while he stroked the top of her head. It was ecstasy, she was vibrating on the inside. His was the vision of an angel, decked out in white. His chest was exposed from where he had forgotten to tie his shirt closed and it had sent her spiraling. She wanted to sink her teeth into his exposed skin. She’d been secretly delighted to be woken by him, even if she was momentarily scared out of her mind. When he said he’d wanted to see her as his reason for early return, she couldn’t help the blush that spread across her face.

“Hello, are you paying attention baby? I said, ‘Did you miss me?’” He very lightly squeezed at her pulse point.

In a few minutes he’d managed to make all of the resolve she had built over the last few days crumble. It was pathetic. So pathetically she whispered her answer. “Yes, I did.”

And she had missed him. Alysanne was fine company but Shanda knew she was keeping her from her normal duties. Alysanne seemed to run the entirety of Raventree, barking orders day and night at an army of men. It was admirable, but made their hangouts a bit strained. And she could only stare out the window for so long without going insane. She’d been trapped at home but here she was a prisoner. Unable to freely go wherever she wanted.

“You’re so perfect. Bracken or not, the gods hand made you for me.”

She felt lightheaded at his words. Why couldn’t he have died out in the field? She knew scores of Bracken ancestors were cursing her through the sands of time. But they were dead and she was so, so alive.

“My aunt mentioned that you think I don’t respect women.”

She’d looked at him with her face showing the shadow of betrayal she felt at Alysanne exposing her behind her back. That was on her for trusting a Blackwood though.

“I said you don’t like strong women.” She corrected him, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Oh I like strong women fine enough. You just aren’t one.”

Her stomach dropped into her feet at his words. He squeezed her neck harder, forcing her eyes up to meet his. “You want to be. Desperately trying to fill your mother’s too big shoes.”

She would’ve slapped him if she weren’t running out of oxygen.

“But you’re just a soft, pretty, weak woman.” He eased up on her neck, letting her gasp in some air before he cut it off again. She stared into his eyes, feeling her insides coated in flames. “You need someone to take care of you, tell you what to do.”

He took his hand off of her neck, letting her breathe properly and she sucked in air greedily.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hand holding her by the jaw.

“You can’t admit it to yourself, embarrassed that you aren’t up to the task. But I’m not judging you baby, I like my women soft.”

She felt humiliated and aroused. And she opened and closed her mouth, trying to think of anything to say back to him. To deny the horrible truth he’d laid bare at her feet. But her mind was blank, still reeling. He filled the silence when she failed to answer.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it's true and so do you. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

He pulled back from where he was whispering in her ear and she knew her face would be washed blood red. She was trembling, overwhelmed. He looked at her with a soft pitying expression, like she was a wet cat who’d accidentally fallen in the pond.

“It’s late, you should go to sleep.” He didn’t rise to leave though, just went back to stroking her hair. Then he began to hum and slowly her heart stopped trying to escape her chest. She didn’t bother to remind him, he had been the one to wake her up. Instead she drifted off to sleep, her last thought being of how utterly screwed she was.

[shiftingwithmars]

About Me

Names:Mars, Jaden

Age:Secret

Gender: Genderfluid(Maybe trans)

Sexuality: Aroace, unlabeled(in terms of romance), questioning?

Pronouns:He/They preferred although any are fine

Rules: Bigots, Proshippers, Anti-shifters and anyone who limits beliefs DNI

(Non-shifters who are supportive and kind about it are always welcome😌)

About donation links: I am unable to donate due to me not having the money to do so, but I will answer and post about vetted campaigns for others to see. I sadly will not answer unless proof of legitimacy due to scammers. My heart is with Palestine and I hope you all are okay. Donation asks of all kinds are welcome

Lore: Hopeless Romantic| Mentally married to Mattheo Riddle| I hate math| ADHD, anxiety and depression| pjo fanon lowkey getting on my nerves recently| Barty Crouch Jr, Mattheo Riddle, and Illyana Rasputin stan |Anti-bigotry| Activist

Rules for fic requests: No nsfw or really anything immoral. Most of what I do is Fluff and Angst.

Common tags: #Marsrants #Marspolls #Marsgifs #Marsconfesses #Marsistired #Shiftingwithmars

Currently in a shifting slump.

Notable blogs to check out:

@slytherinslut0 @helpimhopelesslyinlove @finalgirllx @theeslutintheroom @maddies-chronicles @bookwormfangirlwitch @florashifting @zipperrants @urimaginarygirlfriend @theshifterbride @thesunnishone @themanirealityshifter @doremimosasol @writingsbychlo @slytherinstarzz @slytherinboysappreciation

@annaisabookworm @florashifting @urimaginarygirlfriend @faeriemarie @doremimosasol @theshifterbear @writingsbychlo @zipperrants @thesunnishboy @xstrawberryshiftsx @xnyla777x

Ignore how unorganized my masterlist is, I’m still working on getting it reorganized.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist (WIP)

Fanfics

Mattheo Riddle(My husband)

Favorite Fangirl-Mattheo Riddle(Band Au)

Mi Vida-Mattheo Riddle

Scars-Mattheo Riddle

Nightmares-Mattheo Riddle

Disaster-Mattheo Riddle

Dial Tone-Mattheo Riddle

Pay Attention To Me-Mattheo Riddle

You want what?-Mattheo Riddle

Eighth Horcruxe-Mattheo Riddle

Five More Minutes-Mattheo Riddle

Simple Misunderstanding-Mattheo Riddle

My Hero-Mattheo Riddle

Candy Cane Kisses-Mattheo Riddle

Theodore Nott

Only you-Theodore Nott

Ebony-Theodore Nott

Your Hoodie-Theodore Nott

Tie The Nott-Theodore Nott

Those Eyes-Theodore Nott

Does This Mean You’re Mine?-Theodore Nott

Barty Crouch Jr

Taking A Break-Barty Crouch Jr

Kurt Wagner

Nightmares-Kurt Wagner

Marauders Era

Family Line-Black Brothers

Twins Of Flames-Rosier Twins

Jily Cuteness

Laundry-Jily

Auto-Love—Dorlene

Headcanons

Mattheo’s Backstory(Not Mine)

Mattheo during your period

Theodore Nott Headcanons

✨|~Clingy~|✨Mattheo Riddle

After Class with Mattheo Riddle

Barty Crouch Jr Headcanons!

Tired!Mattheo Riddle

Soft!Barty Crouch Headcanons

Mattheo Riddle with an ADHD reader

Shifting

Incorrect Quotes-Teen Wolf Dr

incorrect quotes-Teen Wolf Dr Pt. 2

Semi-Book!Accurate PJO fancasts

OUAT Fairytales for DR

Who I plan on telling that I shifted

Me and Scott-Teen Wolf DR

Turtle

Marvel Dr incorrect quotes

Marauders DR Incorrect quotes

Avatar DR Edit

Me And my S/O in my Ideal CR

Teen Wolf DR intro

Ships in my Marauders DR

My H20 dr as incorrect quotes

My Fame DR

Fame DR as incorrect quotes

Young Fame dr incorrect quotes

X-Men DR intro

HP dr pictures

Mattheo’s camera roll

Couples in my HP dr

Streamer DR Scenario

Harry Potter DR

Young Fame DR Films

Harry Potter DR friends

Halloween in my Harry Potter DR

My Hero-Marvel DR fanfic

Cute things about my Miraculous DR

DR auditions (for people to join my drs)

Band DR

Daily Diary (WIP)

Daily Diary #1

Daily Diary #2

Daily Diary #3

Daily Diary #4

Daily Diary #5

Me and My Friends<3

Us as incorrect quotes

Us as incorrect quotes pt 2

Ree Core Fifi Core Mars Core The Girls

Me and Mattheo

Our nicknames for each other

Mars and Mattheo

Feral and Unhinged

Twitter ≈ Tumblr

Crush vs fictional character

Starting shit with Zipper

Duolingo Song

Me and Zipper Core