#the colours and lighting is always so luscious

[dingoat]

The Emperor

Upright: authority, structure, control, fatherhood  Reversed: tyranny, rigidity, coldness

Super pumped to be able to include another piece by @mafumafuriah (@mafuriah on twitter) in my tarot project, this time featuring the big bad himself! Mafu is always such an absolute delight to work with and I can't recommend her art enough.

[megalony]

No One But You

Here is another new Emperor Geta imagine, requested by the lovely @emberdreams I hope you like how it turned out.

Please let me know what you all think and keep the Geta requests coming I am on a roll with writing him at the moment.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: On the night of their wedding, (Y/n) opens up to Geta about some of her insecurities. He quashes every one and makes sure she knows how glad he is that she's his wife now.

Enjoy.

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Apprehension bubbled away inside (Y/n) the further they walked down the corridor. She could feel her palms beginning to sweat while she tried to tangle her fingers together in front of her to rid herself of the energy coursing through her veins.

This is what she had been imagining and dreaming of for the last month.

All the preparations, all the panic and the fuss and the organisation, it had all led up to today, but every daydream and every panicked thought (Y/n) had was about tonight, not earlier today.

Her wedding day.

(Y/n) couldn't believe how lucky she was. Not only had she found herself falling for one of the Emperors when she had visited the palace with her father, who happened to be a Senator. But she now found herself married to said Emperor. The highest authority in Rome. The most desired man in Rome, the man who could end a life with the tilt of his thumb. And now (Y/n) was married to him.

Another shiver tore down (Y/n)'s spine when she felt a warm hand pressing into her lower back. She could feel Geta standing so close to her side that his elbow was brushing her side and his fingers were gliding up and down her lower back between her hips. The smooth action caused his fingers to ruffle a few creases in her pale golden dress.

Cream was always a fashionable colour, but when (Y/n) had been told that she could choose what colour she wanted her wedding dress to be, she knew there was only one colour she could choose.

Golden.

Her new husband's favourite colour. The colour of his luscious hair, the colour he seemed to wear somewhere on his person without fail, every day. The colour that lit up Geta and made everyone think of the sun whenever they saw him. The sun, their source of light and life which related to both Emperors in so many ways.

"Here we are." The low, hushed tone of Geta's voice against the shell of her ear almost made (Y/n) swoon.

She looked up over her shoulder to see a slight smirk dancing across his face, but his expression was genuine, happy even. His make up had been applied heavily for the occasion today and it did not disappoint. His eyes were shrouded in darkness like black coals surrounding two pale brown eyes that looked the colour of mulled wine. And (Y/n) had never seen his lips look so blood red before. He truly was beautiful.

Despite the course of the day, the make up hadn't faded and neither had Geta's mood or energy. If anything, he seemed to have gained more life as the day went on.

Whereas (Y/n) felt like she had become more and more anxious with each passing moment.

She wanted to be a good wife, she didn't want to disappoint her husband.

(Y/n) tried to take note of where they were in the palace but she had long since lost her sense of direction and her bearings. She would need Geta to show her around tomorrow so she could be able to roam the halls without getting herself lost.

After all, this was her new home. Her new room, she had to find her way to and from this corridor.

Her head bowed down and her hands continued to fiddle in front of her while she let Geta step in front of her rather than standing behind her, silently directing her through the halls of the palace.

The festivities had ended, but the distant sound of footsteps and chatter could vaguely be heard. The music had ended, the guests were either retiring to their rooms or making their way back home and the servants were tidying up the banquet hall and clearing the last of the dishes and the drunken fellows from the room.

(Y/n) took the time to look around once Geta opened the chamber door and led her inside. It was both what she had expected and somewhat different to her imaginings.

The adjoining room which she figured served as Geta's private study was spacious. Two desks, a balcony, a purple and red rug lined the floor. Plants in the corners, long white veil drapes hung beside the windows behind a large sofa. The only thing (Y/n) couldn't find were any books anywhere. There were some papers on the desk, but they looked like official state business.

She allowed a smile to flutter across her lips when Geta reached out for her hand and beckoned her to follow him. He led her through into the adjoining room. The bedroom.

(Y/n) curled her free hand around Geta's bare arm and leaned into his side as she looked around the bedroom that was twice the size of her room from when she lived at home. She almost didn't notice the maid stood timidly in the corner until Geta turned towards her.

It was clear she had turned down the bed and set some fresh wine on the table.

"You may go." Geta ticked his wrist to the side to give the maid a signal to leave.

There was a slight look of bewilderment in her eyes but she was quick to nod, curtsey and scurry from the room. It was unusual for the Emperor to be so passive and mellow. All the servants were used to being dismissed by Geta raging at them. Sometimes all that was needed was one angered look from him and the maids went running. Other times he would shout at them to move, to leave him be and get out of the way.

Once, after a very bad argument with his brother when Caracalla had been in one of his moods, Geta had thrown a glass at one of the maids when he shouted at her to leave. He regretted it afterwards, and made sure that maid worked in the kitchens from now on so he didn't have to bump into her again.

Once the maid left and the doors were safely closed, Geta turned his head to look down at (Y/n). There was a hopeful look in his eyes as he stared down at her.

"Do you like it?" He was suddenly very anxious and he wasn't sure how he would respond if she said no. He wanted her to like the room, this was going to be her room, her home, from now on.

"It's lovely." (Y/n) leaned her cheek against Geta's arm while she looked around.

She could quite happily live in this room alone. The bed was bigger than any she had ever seen or slept in before. There was a lounge sofa at the foot of the bed and she knew that once the sun rose in the morning, this room would be flooded with light.

There were even flowers in a vase on the far table along with a pitcher of wine. All that was missing was a few books and maybe an ornament or two so it was truly homely.

(Y/n) was surprised by Geta's sudden affection when he leaned down and kissed her temple with his lips still curved into a bright smile.

She felt him murmur "Good," against her temple before he pulled back and her eyes followed him as he moved to the vanity in the far corner of the room. He began shedding the rings and cuffs from his hands and wrists and the golden leaf crown that was nestled so suitably into his hair.

Her eyes found themselves locked on him, surprised and intrigued as she watched him begin to remove each article of jewellery so slowly and carefully. And she noticed that each one had its own place on the vanity. Maybe that was just how Geta liked things, or perhaps it was a strategy to make sure no one tried to pilfer any of his jewels. (Y/n) would have to find out, she had to learn these things, these quirks and habits of her husband.

She continued to gaze across at him while she slowly stepped into the room and decided to perch down on the end of the bed.

The mattress was soft, it felt like sinking into a cloud and (Y/n) laid her hands down on her lap as she continued to watch Geta with growing anticipation and nerves.

All the wine was going to her head.

That thought made a small smile curve at (Y/n)'s lips as she quietly shook her head to herself. It wasn't as if she had drank enough to sink a ship. She had barely had three glasses of spiced wine all night, but that was enough to mingle in with the adrenaline surging through her system making her feel lightheaded.

She didn't want to be so nervous, she didn't want to feel so childish and silly, but she couldn't help it.

This was it. Tonight was going to change things. They would truly be husband and wife after tonight. Her mother had said this would make her a 'true woman' after sleeping with her husband. This was the start of her new life, and (Y/n) wanted so badly to please Geta. It was pressing on her mind so much that she was starting to panic again.

(Y/n)'s eyes followed Geta's movements as he stripped the red and golden robes from his shoulders and the belt from his waist. She hadn't seemed to notice that he had figured out she was watching him until their eyes met. Something mischevious glinted in those dark eyes and she could see his teeth beginning to nibble down on his lower lip while he watched her.

The way he stalked towards her made (Y/n) wonder if this was how the animals felt when the hunting parties went out. If those animals knew they were ensnared in a trap, about to be caught and claimed.

She moved her hands to grip the edge of the bed, steadying herself while she watched Geta walk slowly towards her. Her head angled back and her eyes followed him as he stood close enough that their knees were now touching and he stooped forward so he was leaning over her. His hand gently brushed beneath her chin and he tilted her head back a little more so their gazes were interlocked.

(Y/n) wasn't sure she could scramble one coherent thought together as she looked up at him. And when his other hand glided along her chin and round to the back of her neck, she didn't know what to do.

A small sound tumbled past her lips when she felt Geta's nimble fingers weaving into her neatly pinned hair.

He easily pulled a pin from the back of her hair and watched with a glowering grin as her hair fell from its previous style. Loose tendrils fluttered towards her shoulders and bounced around her cheeks and near her eyes. Geta had the sudden urge to run his fingers through her hair, to knot his fingers in her tendrils and pull and angle her head in his direction.

"Beautiful." He muttered with a grin to rival all others and when (Y/n) tried to bashfully duck her head, she felt his hand press into her chin to prevent her from looking away from him.

She was sure he murmured "Don't hide from me," but his voice was so tender and quiet that she couldn't be sure whether she heard him or simply imagined it. Either way, Geta's lips were suddenly on hers, overriding every other thought she had and turning her brain to mush.

She felt his hands slither down until he was gripping her waist with his thumbs gliding over her hips. (Y/n) felt like she was turning to jelly the longer he kissed her. She was almost going limp in his arms and it allowed Geta to shuffle her further up the bed until she was sat in the middle and he was knelt over her with his knees pressing down on either side of her thighs.

When his wine-stained lips finally let her come up for air, (Y/n) couldn't help but admire the way he sank back on his heels and stayed kneeling over her lap like this. It was a position she had never been in before, but one she was already in love with.

(Y/n) wasn't quite sure what to do with herself when Geta leaned forward and tucked his face into the crook of her neck. She decided on settling her hands on his broad shoulders while she fought back a shiver when his lips attached to the side of her neck. She couldn't help but scratch her nails against his shoulders when his teeth grazed against her skin but it seemed to encourage him further.

She stayed amicably still while Geta leaned further into her and hovered over her, looking like an angel cast in the gentle candlelight.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to daringly cup either side of his neck and her thumbs grazed along the sharp cut of his jaw when Geta lifted his head to kiss her again. It felt like he was stealing all the air from his lungs and (Y/n) would gladly give it all to him if that's what he desired.

She could feel herself going lightheaded while his tongue parted her lips and had her straining to stay sitting upright when he was leaning enough that she was close to falling on her back.

But her eyes opened with intrigue when she felt Geta's hands move. She watched, wide-eyed but somewhat calm and still while he began his administrations of pulling the short golden straps down her arms. The feeling of his fingertips gliding along her skin was soft and ticklish and she held her breath when Geta hooked his finger in the cleavage of her dress so he could further pull it down.

He liked the way her chest started to heave with faster, shallow breaths the more he continued to tug on her dress until he unhooked it from around her hips and discarded it somewhere on the floor. He liked how nervous she seemed and how she was clearly waiting for him to make each movement like she was too afraid to move on her own and do something first.

Although he was pleasantly surprised when (Y/n) seemed to become unstuck and her hands moved of their own accord. He paused with his hands settled on her bare hips and his lips attached to the edge of her mouth, barely touching and parted enough so that Geta could glance his eyes down and watch her slow movements.

He stayed pliant and curious while (Y/n)'s fingertips tickled his waist and she fished around for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Geta obliged, parting from her so she could tug the golden material over his head, following his lead by tossing it somewhere on the floor.

It seemed unfair how he had undressed (Y/n) but had stayed still somewhat clothed before her. She wanted to even the scales.

"Okay?"

Geta's question took her by surprise and (Y/n)'s wide eyes lifted to lock with his as she nodded. Lips slightly parted in that docile look that made her look like a Goddess sat before him.

(Y/n) allowed her eyes to drag along Geta's frame, allowing herself to take in his pale milky skin and search for any marks or scars. Anything on he great canvas that was his skin so she could commit each mark to memory. She wanted to be able to know Geta's body like a map of the world, something she could trace and get to know and navigate even with her eyes closed.

Her observations were cut off when Geta leaned forward and pecked her lips, gently at first. Then again and again until he was slowly nudging her down into the bed, devouring her lips like they were the air he needed to breathe. His tongue swiped over her lower lip and his right hand gave her flesh a tight squeeze as he continued to hover above her.

Her hands moved round to cup his face and her thumbs brushed across his freshly shaven face. He tensed up his chest and pushed down, effortlessly pinning her back against the mattress so she stayed beneath him. Right where he wanted her.

She felt like the bed was made of quick sand that was swallowing her whole. The more Geta leaned down into her, the more (Y/n) felt like she was about to disappear, but in the best possible way.

Geta attached his lips to her jaw while one hand slid down her waist to find purchase on her hip. But after a moment or two, he noticed the faraway look in her eyes like she was wandering some place else in her mind.

His lips peppered across her jaw, up the corner of her mouth and after a few soft pecks to her mouth, he hummed "Okay?" against her lips.

(Y/n) tried to nod, but she could see the look in Geta's eyes told her he didn't quite believe her.

Her hands moved to settle on his shoulders again and she lifted her head, chasing after his lips when he pulled back so he could look down on her properly. (Y/n) didn't want him to worry or think that something was wrong when it wasn't. It was simply (Y/n)'s mind running away without her, she couldn't help all her thoughts that were starting to override everything else.

She knew she needed to calm down and relax, that she needed to let every worry run out of her head so she could be in this moment with Geta. After all, this is what she had been worrying, thinking and dreaming about for weeks now.

She tried again to kiss him but Geta angled his head to one side and arched a brow in that mannerism that told her to tell him the truth. They had been married only hours and already he could tell when she wasn't telling him something.

"I'm just… nervous." (Y/n) did her best to hide the embarrassment from her voice and stop from ducking her head down so she wasn't avoiding his gaze. She guessed if she tried to look away he would simply lift her chin so she was looking at him again.

"Of me?" There was an air of concern in Geta's voice, but it didn't fade the smile on his lips.

A flutter of panic bubbled up in (Y/n)'s chest and ignited in her eyes, especially when Geta moved. She thought for a moment that he was about to climb off her and possibly move away, that she might have offended him without realising. But he was simply switching positions.

Instead of kneeling with each knee pressing into her thighs, Geta shifted until (Y/n) parted her thighs and he could kneel between them instead. His abdomen pressed down against hers and he propped up on his elbows so he didn't let his full weight crush down on her. He began to glide his fingertips along her shoulder and across the bare expanse of her chest which caused (Y/n) to shiver beneath him.

"No, no… I just, I want to be good enough for you. I want to be able to take care of you properly."

That was the best way that (Y/n) could word what was circling through her mind.

She was truly afraid she wouldn't be enough. It was a miracle that Geta had even been interested in her in the first place and that he seemed to truly care about her. All her life, (Y/n) had been brought up to know that any marriage she was presented with by her parents would be about advantages and prosperity, not love or someone she truly wanted to be with.

Falling for Geta had been one thing, but him falling for her too and asking her to marry him felt too good to be true. And (Y/n) wanted to be good enough for him. She wanted to be a good wife, she wanted to be enough for Geta in every sense of the word. It was her duty as a wife to please him, especially when it came to sex and having an heir.

But (Y/n) had never done this before and she couldn't help the gnawing worry in the back of her mind that she might not be good enough for Geta. That he would be bored with her or think she wasn't enticing or satisfying enough for him. After all, it was no secret that both Emperors had their fair share of women. They made that clear when they turned up to events and gatherings with their vast gathering of concubines and whores.

"You're worried you won't be enough?" Genuine confusion entwined in Geta's voice as his smile faded into a frown.

He couldn't gather where (Y/n) would get an idea like that. Had he done something to give her that impression? Did he make a remark that made her worry? Had someone else poisoned her ear against him? Why wouldn't she be good enough for him?

(Y/n) felt like ducking her head down to avoid that intensifying gaze, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she focused her gaze on the dark circles beneath his eyes that hadn't been washed off yet. And she rose her hand to glide her fingertips up the side of his neck, tracing each curve and muscle that pressed out against his skin.

"You've been with other lovers, Geta. I haven't." She couldn't look him in the eyes as she spoke, it made her feel so silly and somehow ashamed.

It wasn't the same for him as it was for her.

It was encouraged for men to be with women before marriage, but if a woman slept with a man before she was married then she was shamed. She was outcast. She was no longer virtuous. And (Y/n) was the daughter of a Senate, her virtue was something she was brought up to hold dear.

Clearly Geta had slept with other women, it was natural and he made no secret of it. But that meant he had more experience with sexual partners whereas (Y/n) didn't. She didn't want to do something wrong or somehow be boring for him and make him prefer the company of his concubines rather than her.

Her eyes widened and finally looked back up to his when Geta reached his hand up from tracing her chest to curl lightly around her wrist that was resting beside his face. He leaned into her touch and turned his head to press a delicate kiss against the inside of her wrist over her throbbing pulse.

"That doesn't mean a thing, dear wife. There might have been others before you, but there won't be anyone else but you now. You're the only one I want; it's you I was determined to marry."

Geta thought his words would have made her smile, but he hated how (Y/n) turned her head to the side so her cheek was pressed into the cushion and she was no longer looking up at him. The action caused a frown to pull deeper at his pale features and he leaned his weight on her a little more so he could reach up and turn her head back in his direction.

He wanted her to believe him because he was telling the truth, he wasn't lying to calm her or give her a false sense of security. She was the girl who caught his eye, she was the one who stole his heart from the very moment he saw her and she was the one who Geta made sure he married.

He spoke to her parents about an engagement as soon as he could, he made sure he didn't have to wait long to marry her because she was the one his heart wanted. He thought she would have figured that out by now.

"You don't believe me?" There was something almost frightful and powerful in his voice which made (Y/n)'s breathing hitch and her chest pushed up against his as she took a deep breath.

She wasn't trying to aggravate him or upset him, she was simply speaking her mind because he had asked.

"My mother prepared me; I know of the concubines and that my place will always be above them-"

(Y/n) had been well prepared.

After the initial shock and her parents brief floundering, her mother had sat her down to talk. She went through everything with (Y/n) from how prestigious this marriage was for their family to what it would mean for (Y/n) to become an Empress.

One of the things that came up was the subject of concubines. (Y/n) knew Geta and Caracalla had a handful of women like that. But she had been told that a wife always came first. A wife was higher than a concubine in the ladder of class and states.

Concubines were mistresses, some of them were treated like wives, they were there for whatever the Emperors wanted whether it was sex, company or someone to talk to. But once (Y/n) married Geta, she would become higher than those women.

Her mother told her that she couldn't expect the Emperor to give up his women. He had a right to have them around the palace if he wished, he would likely get bored and go to them in dark nights when he seeked pleasure. That was something (Y/n) had been told was normal. And when- her mother always said when, not if- (Y/n) became pregnant, there would be a point where Geta would have to abstain from her. It was to make sure the pregnancy wasn't compromised.

During that time, Geta would need someone to go to, someone to be with when he couldn't be with (Y/n).

It hurt, but she had no right to challenge it. She was just hoping that she would be enough for Geta and that he wouldn't go to those women unless (Y/n) was pregnant and couldn't be with him any longer. She didn't want to think of him wandering to those concubines instead of her. Choosing them over her.

"I told you, there is no one but you."

The look of confusion in her eyes seemed to make Geta smile which confused (Y/n) even more.

"I dismissed them after our engagement. The only women of that kind are the ones Caracalla keeps company with. If I must tell you every day that you're the only woman I want, then so be it."

(Y/n) couldn't quite bring herself to comprehend those words. Had he truly dismissed his concubines? Had he done that for her?

He didn't have to, he was the Emperor, he had every right to have those women around him if he so wished. No one could tell him otherwise or question him and none of the men on his council would bat an eyelid about him having those women around or him seeking their company.

After all, Caracalla took a lot of his women everywhere with him and Geta had taken a few to gatherings and parties when he wanted their company. It wasn't something any of them were ashamed of.

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes as his words finally seemed to sink in. Geta wanted her and clearly loved her enough to give himself to her and her alone. He was doing the same as she was. Giving themselves to each other, devoting to only one another. Even during the point in the future where they would have to abstain if (Y/n) got pregnant, Geta was going to devote himself to her and not go with another woman.

Every worry she previously had about tonight and their future had diminished in a matter of minutes.

She took Geta by surprise when she pushed up against his chest and cupped his face in her palms so she could reel him down into a searing kiss. The touch was so surprising that their teeth clashed together and (Y/n) felt Geta groaning against her lips as he slammed his palm down into the mattress before he fell down onto her and crushed her beneath him.

The touch was much appreciated as Geta's other hand squeezed her hip until his fingertips were leaving imprints and bruises in his wake and it felt like they were about to burst through her flesh and press against the bone. But (Y/n) didn't mind. If anything, she welcomed the touch.

She kissed him until the breathlessness made her head spin and she had to drop her head back down onto the pillow, tugging Geta with her until he was practically lying fully on top of her.

The smile that blessed his face was one that made (Y/n)'s stomach flip and she shuddered beneath him, tracing her thumb along the edge of his mouth.

"I'm rather touched you're so concerned with taking care of me, dear wife. That isn't something that happens too often."

There was a whimsical look in Geta's eyes as he spoke and thought about her concern. He was inwardly thrilled that (Y/n) clearly wanted to please him just as much as he wanted to please her and make her happy and take care of her. It wasn't usually like this. It was typically Geta taking care of others; dealing with Rome and her problems and victories. And he was the one who cared for Caracalla.

He watched over his twin, he calmed him when he was enraged and in his awful moods. He soothed him when he was panicked or frightened or when he was drained and didn't feel he could move at all. And when Caracalla was hyper Geta tried to steer him and guide him. He did all he could to protect his brother and it would be the same with (Y/n) too, he would protect and love her with his life.

But it made such a lovely change to have someone else caring for Geta, for a change.

"Now," His words hushed against her lips as a devilish grin spread across his features and he dove down to steal a kiss. "Let me take care of you."

***

The streaks of sunlight that blistered through the drapes cast a hazy orange glow around the room. It seemed to light up every corner and illuminate the room as if (Y/n) had woken up and found herself trapped in a painting with all its brightness and shimmering golden hues.

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust and for her mind to catch up and work out where she was, for this wasn't her room.

Or rather, it was, but it was new. It was what had now become her room, like something out of a fantasy.

A grin spread across her lips at the mere thought and she tiredly lifted her head from the pillow to look around. She couldn't guess what time it was and she wasn't sure what time Geta usually rose, but she figured it would be early. Not today, though. Not for the next three days, in fact, as Geta had made sure there were no plans or meetings that would tear him away from his wife.

Twisting from her side onto her back, (Y/n) looked across at Geta. He was still sleeping.

He looked peaceful when he slept, like every worry had been washed away and he could finally relax. There were no tense muscles, no tightened jaw or clenched fists or angered shouts when no one listened to him or heeded his words and advice. He looked serene.

(Y/n) couldn't help herself. She had to turn to lay on her front and slowly inch closer to him. She knew he wouldn't mind.

Her chin gingerly settled on his shoulder and she delicately looped her arm over his exposed torso so she was nestled up into his side with her chest pressing on his side.

The room felt oddly warm, considering the windows were partially opened and the sheets were tangled near the bottom of the bed. Only one sheet remained over their entwined bodies and it was wrangled around their legs and draped very low over Geta's abdomen and across (Y/n)'s mid section. She was half covered, but it wasn't as if there was any indecency when no one would be walking in to interrupt them anytime soon.

She began tracing the pad of her finger across his pale skin, noticing the few tiny scars he had near his collar bone and the odd ones that littered his chest. He'd either run in with a few accidents as a child or had been on the wrong end of a sword during training. Perhaps it had been his father; (Y/n) knew his father had been less than kind to the twins when they were growing up. And to shield Caracalla, Geta had taken most of the torment they suffered.

She would make it her mission to note down every mole, every scar and freckle that painted his porcelain skin.

Her fingers continued to dance their path along his skin while she tilted her head down and pressed a few fluttering, soft kisses along his shoulder and up the side of his neck.

She thought he was still asleep until she realised his lips had quirked into a grin, despite his eyes remaining closed and the rest of his body staying frozen to trick her. So he could lay quietly and see what she was up to.

"Morning," (Y/n) murmured softly between hollow kisses along the side of his neck that made Geta visibly shiver and he finally broke out of his frozen state.

He slid his arm beneath her waist, hooked his hand over her hip and reeled her in closer while he flopped his head to the side and peeked his eyes open. His nose scrunched up when he smiled and he tiredly reached his other hand across until his fingers could run through her hair.

He had removed all the pins and flowers from her hair last night and now each strand was knotted and tangled up in a beautiful mess. Geta was sure his own hair didn't look much better, it would likely be stuck up in every direction by now after they had stayed up well into the early morning.

His fingers tangled in her hair and he slowly brushed a few loose tendrils behind her ear whilst gliding his knuckles along her soft cheek. His hand curved around to duck beneath her chin and he angled her head down so he didn't have to move as far to kiss her.

He was sure her kisses amounted to the same intoxication as opium. Too many kisses would make him drunk; and that was exactly the state Geta wanted to feel for the rest of his life.

"What are you thinking?" (Y/n) wasn't sure he heard her with how quiet her voice came out, but the hazy look in his eyes and the smile that pulled on his lips showed that he had.

"That I could get used to a view like this every morning."

His smile could rival even the most beautiful of sunsets and he finally pushed up so he could capture her lips with his for a deeper kiss that allowed him to snatch every ounce of air from her lungs.

This was how Geta wanted to wake up every morning from here on out, and this was exactly the future that was install for them both.

[rhenuvee]

Warnings: lots of kissies, established relationship, suggestive (bc of author simping), a little angsty in the last one..?

For Diluc (aka my beloved)'s birthday: Diluc stans, which AU do we like him in?

CEO!Diluc who looks so refined and handsome everyday in his crisp suit. His employees are intimidated by his cold gaze, and don't dare get in his way. Not you though- because Diluc's favourite part of his work days are when you visit him, bringing him a light snack or a drink (to which he grumbles because he insists it's his job to spoil you), completely void of his usually serious demeanour. He finds it especially frustrating whenever an employee bursts in, interrupting you fixing his tie or midway towards a kiss. He will not allow his workers to see him in a flustered state- that is reserved for you.

Rockstar!Diluc who doesn't understand the reason for his popularity. You beg to differ- you always tell him how hot he looks, all mysterious and badass when he's wearing dark colours and the silver accessories that accentuate his look. The way his bangs stick to his forehead, the way his fingers skillfully pluck the strings of his guitar. Sure, performing is exhilarating, but his favourite part about it is when it's intermission- a time where his attention is on you. Where he has you sat on his lap, dazed and admiring your beauty, stroking your cheek, giving you light kisses here and there. It couldn't get better than this.

Hockeyplayer!Diluc who looks gorgeous when he takes off his helmet, revealing his long luscious red hair. You praise him, cooing on how hot and rugged he looks after playing a tough game. He's grateful for having something that covers his face at all times, otherwise his teammates would catch him blushing. He denies your statements, claiming you're exaggerating- yet he will let you hold onto his muscular arms every time. He's sweaty after a game and doesn't want to disgust you, but you're always there to remind him that you love him, sweaty or not.

Fireman!Diluc who genuinely just wants to do good for the community and needs you to stop gushing over him in uniform- or even better worse, without a shirt on. He finds it quite ridiculous how you keep the newspaper of when he saved a cat and his bare forearms were visible on the front page. You shamelessly stare when he comes home taking off his jacket, leaving only his bare chest to ogle at. He catches you every time, resulting in him blushing which he hopes you don't see. So he effortlessly picks you up with your legs hooked around his waist in his strong, beefy arms and wonders, what is he gonna do with you?

Racer!Diluc who always shows up on time at the end of class/work to pick you up in his sports car. He waits for you leaning on his vehicle, until he takes your hand and opens the passenger door for you before kissing your hand like the gentleman he is. He kisses your forehead and caresses your cheek sweetly before departing to start his race. And after a long night of you cheering for his win (which he claims is because of you), he doesn't fail to notice you getting sleepy. He coos as how you try to stay awake, but he once he carries you to the car, he bringing your head to rest on his shoulder, lightly lulling you to sleep.

Prince!Diluc who, despite his high status, treats you like absolute royalty. There is always gossip about the young prince, how handsome and eligible he would be to marry another heir of a neighbouring kingdom. But he pays it no mind- for he is already happily together with you. When it is time for the ball, his eyes go soft, when he sees you in your gown. You ask if you look okay and Diluc can only bury his head in your shoulder, telling you how beautiful you are in between kisses. Every kiss, every dance, every flower- it's yours.

Vampire!Diluc who curses himself for being so greedy with you. Despite him being a supernatural and dangerous being, he retains his gentleness when it comes to you, and you only. When it's time to feed, he feels his heart sink every time because it hurts you. He kisses the spot where he bit as a way to relieve the pain, and brings you whatever you need to relax again. Because of that he clings to you dearly, and is willing to do anything to protect you.

Which Diluc is your fave? Mine personally is fireman!-Luc but you know I’ll take any Diluc any day <3

[writeslikeanaria]

she made me do it

sebastian sallow x reader

summary: you catch your best friend in his most intimate moment and watch (self indulgent writing practice)

word count: 1k+

warnings: pervert!reader, self pleasure, gratuitous descriptions of sebastian, SMUT

You had a very tight routine with your best friend Sebastian. Being someone who held their own time in high respect, if you had a routine, you followed it. Which is why you always followed through with Thursday night study night.

During this time, the sun would have finally fallen past the hills in the distance, and the sky would have finally coloured itself a navy blue. Glistening lights in the sky above signalled that you had somewhere to be. Like clockwork, your feet carried you to the Slytherin boy’s dormitory, countless books in hand, with a satchel thrown over your shoulder, full of fresh parchment and aromatic ink.

It was always you and Sebastian, sprawled across the floor, textbooks decorating the ground like coloured tiles. Some nights, you would even drift off into a careless slumber as knowledge filled your brain. Ominous never joined you, as he himself had plans of his own, discluding you two, not that you minded. Spending time with Sebastian often gave you butterflies.

Which is why you were always so excited to bundle into his room and gaze at him as you worked. Sure, you harboured a docile crush towards the brunet, but you kept it to yourself, never speaking those three vulnerable words out loud. Even if you dreamed every night about his curious eyes, and luscious hair, and long, nimble fingers, attached to his toned arms…

This night was nothing different than usual. The sun had set, so you had begun your journey to Sebastian’s room, but as you closed in on his door, you realised that this night was so widely different from every other night.

Through the small crack in the door, your ears picked up on the gentle hum of Sebastian’s purring. His low voice seemed somehow lower and he was vocalising in the most enticing way. You couldn’t believe it; he was moaning.

At first, you assumed your good friend was in pain, but as you pressed your ear to the door, you realised you were wrong. Through the soft murmurings of his moans, you could also hear the squelching noises of wet against skin. You had no doubt about what Sebastian was doing in the room next door.

But surely you were mistaken, as Sebastian would never forget about your scheduled weekly study. While your brain was trying to sift through every viable reason why Sebastian could be making the most delicious noises behind the door, your lower stomach was pulsing, your cunt tightening around nothing, crying and whining over the lack of attention. With your body against the door, you quietly let your fingers dance around the waistline of your skirt, until it was resting just above your panties.

You contemplated your perverted desires. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but the devil on your shoulder had tied your angel in ropes, and encouraged you to enfilage in the dangers of lust. Rationally, you knew you should leave, and you even got to the point where your hands left your burning skin, but one small noise stopped your fingers departure.

“…Y/N…”

Your mouth ran dry, with all the wetness travelling straight to your cunt. You nearly moaned at Sebastian’s sweet confession, a confession you knew you were never supposed to hear. Every fibre of your being told you to leave, to forgot the beautiful noises you heard, and to respect the privacy of your best friend, but that devil wouldn’t stop persuading you.

Hovering over the door handle, you contemplated, before reaching for your wand and casting a short “silenco” through the lock. At once, the sounds stopped, and your greedy girl down below retaliated with an aggressive clench. You had upset the devil, and now she was taking control.

You knew it was wrong as you turned the door handle. You knew it was wrong as you casted a disillusionment charm over yourself. You knew it was wrong when you crept silently into Sebastian’s private chambers, but you couldn’t help yourself. As soon as you were in ear shot of his sweet noises once again, the devil was satiated.

This time, you could see the brunet in all his glory, and boy, did it make your heart flutter. Spread gorgeously across his emerald sheets, his bare, toned chest was exposed to the world, with a dim candle casting shadows across his muscles, accentuating the curve of his chest and stomach. A glistening sheen of sweat covering his body, adding to the look of lust.

His head was thrown back against his pillow, eyes clenched shut, perfect lips caught between his teeth and his fist worked over time on his cock.

His cock.

Oh, how it was a marvellous sight. Strong and large, the colour of deep scarlet decorating the tip, with pearly white precum generously pouring out. You licked your lips as your watched how furiously he beat his own meat.

“Oh- oh! Nggg—”

You could tell how he was trying to hold in his voice, but you couldn’t be happier that he was failing. The tension in his thick thighs was delicious to watch, as you took notes on the way he pleasured himself. You studied his attempts at teasing, sometimes slowing down his rhythm to slowly trace the underside of his cock, to take in massive gulps of breath.

How greedy.

The devil on your shoulder agreed with your sentiments, giggling to herself. In your ear, you could hear her whispering about all the things you could be doing to Sebastian right now. How you could have him at your mercy, whining and begging for you directly, as you licked up his thick cock. You could be teasing him, making eye contact with him, bathing in those brown puppy dog eyes of his.

Your fingers were now in your panties, rubbing tight circles across your clit, as your eyes were fixed on Sebastian and his task at hand. You tried your best at matching his rhythm, but you were indulgent to yourself, letting your own fingers filled you slightly, as you stroked your puffy lips with vigour.

Lost in your own pleasure, you nearly missed the way Sebastian’s voice elevated, crying out your name one last time. Luckily, the devil peeled your eyes open, allowing you to see the splattering of cum erupt out of the tip of his cock, coating his chest. His lungs were filling with air as he laid there in his afterglow, sucking in breath after breath. You removed your hand from your panties, not allowing yourself that same pleasure.

You were determined that the next time you would cum would be from Sebastian’s fingers, not your own.

~~

haven’t written in over a year + haven’t written for hogwarts legacy before so i thought i’d get some practice in before i write my big fic idea.

coming soon: poly juice + ominis + sebastian

[gabessquishytum]

College AU

Hob was sitting in his Speech Class bouncing his leg. They were going to deliver their big speeches today on why they were artists. Hob didn’t like looking at the guy across from him directly, he just had a dark broody aura about him. The guy dressed head to toe in black, had eyeliner dripping down his cheeks and black messy hair. Hob never talked to him really all he knew was that his name was Dream. Hob hated listening to the speeches, then Dream is called up. He talks about how art should be dark and uncomfortable, how being comfortable all the time is stupid especially in art. The direct antithesis to Hob’s which was about how art can bring hope and light to a cruel world. Hob can feel Dream glaring at him when he gives his own speech.

After class Hob is suddenly shoved and pinned against the wall.

“How dare you!”

It’s dream, he’s tiny but his grip is strong.

“You undercut everything in my speech you stupid jock! How am I supposed to be taken seriously? Art shouldn’t be turned away from the world it should reflect it!”

“Can you let go of me?”

Dream lets him go. Hob brushes himself off.

“Art should reflect the world, the world is beautiful”

Dream looks incensed.

“How could you say such a thing?”

Hob motions for Dream to follow him.

Hob takes the long walk back to the dorm full of parks and natural beauty.

“This is my walk home everyday, isn’t it lovely?”

“It would be more efficient to take the bus,” dream grumbles.

“Sure, but I’d miss out on all of this,”

He motions to the luscious greenery around them.

“I had a dream like this once” Dream muses.

“I wanna show you art the way I see it, you wanna go back to my dorm and watch a tv show?”

Dream looked reluctant.

“I don’t want sex”

“Wasn’t on the table” Hob responses quickly.

Dream looked confused. “You really just want to watch tv?”

“I mean yeah?”

“My apologies I’m just so used to guys just wanting me for-“

Hob stops him. “No need to explain love, cmon”

Hob’s dorm is colorful. It’s mesmerizing, hob leads dream to the couch sitting a respectful distance away.

“I want to introduce you to something called Fraggle Rock”

Dream gives him a look.

“That is a children’s show,”

Hob does not pay attention to him and hits play.

By the end of it Dream is inconsolable.

“They are so silly… but they love each other, their world is beautiful and bright,”

Hob simply nodded, now Dream was getting it.

Soon Dream adds more color to his wardrobe (very dark purple and blue) and Hob sees the merit in disturbing art. They’ve become a bit like each other, a balancing out force for the better. And Dream’s end of the year speech talks about how both comfort and disturbance belong in art.

-🦎anon

This is adorable. "Disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed" is such a dreamling vibe. Both perspectives can be true and both experiences of the world are equally meaningful.

And I honestly don't think we talk enough about Hob as an artist!!!! Of course it makes sense for Dream to make art, but I truly believe that Hob would also make a wonderful artist. I can really see him as a sculpter or maybe working with ceramics - something that really gets his hands into the clay, probably making the biggest mess you can imagine. I figure he probably makes some pretty fucked up disturbing art (maybe Dream’s influence shows here), because after a long time trying to make everything positive and cheerful, he eventually sees that the truth of the world is kind of dark sometimes! And that's actually an okay thing for him to express in his work. He doesn't have to try and make everyone happy. He can just be himself!

Dream is a big fan of Hob’s dark periods and definitely ends up being one of his first customers. But he also has a soft spot for Hob’s radiant, gentle art. Hob’s art is definitely the only primary colour allowed into Dream’s house!!! Along with Hob himself, of course - he is always welcome, no matter how garish his outfits may be!

[lemoncrushh]

Victoria's Secret

Summary: Harry meets Victoria, a beautiful plus-size woman, at a party and is quite smitten with her.

Warnings: smut, body image issues - 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 3216

A/N: One of my early one shots from 2016. Written from Harry's POV.

I saw her from across the room. I wondered if we'd met before, and I racked my brain trying to recall where we might have, or perhaps some kind of clue as to what her name was, but I came up blank. She had a familiar face, though. One of those kind faces that's easy to talk to, someone you instantly want to get to know.

I watched her for a few minutes while she mingled with a handful of people, faceless people. I couldn't even tell you if they were male or female. My eyes were set on her.

She had reddish-brown hair, or perhaps it was coloured, I couldn't really tell. It fell past her shoulders in soft waves that framed her pretty face. She had full lips that I enjoyed watching move while she spoke, though I couldn't make out the words. She wore a black dress that accentuated her full curves with confidence and taste, and a bit of modesty. I was quite taken with her.

After a while I realised I must have looked like a fool for staring, so I averted my gaze and made my way to the open bar. Ordering a drink, I turned around to look in her direction again. We made eye contact, and she smiled.

I think I smiled back. I was sure I did. But all I could think about was the blood pumping through my veins at triple speed, making me feel light-headed. She was stunning.

As quickly as she'd acknowledged me, she'd turned away. Another woman standing next to her had a hold of her arm, and it looked as though she was introducing her to someone else. I watched her shake hands with him, instantly feeling a ping of jealousy.

I wanted to go up to her and introduce myself, but my feet were resolved to keep me bolted to the ground. I shook my head, internally calling myself a git and a wanker, no doubt the biggest idiot in the room. I had no problem talking to women. I had no idea why this should be any different.

I took a massive gulp from my glass, setting it on the bar. Then after letting out a few deep breaths, I turned around again, determined to at least go say hello.

As soon as I took a step toward her, our eyes met again. This time I know I smiled, and she returned it with one of her own before biting her bottom lip. That luscious, full, bottom lip.

"Hey, Styles, how's it going?" I heard a voice to my left.

Narrowing my eyes in frustration, I greeted the man, exchanging pleasantries. I'd already forgotten his name from the last time we'd met, but it didn't seem to matter. He patted my shoulder before strolling past me to the bar, finally allowing me to continue my mission.

My annoyance only grew as I was stopped by more people along the way, but I did my best to give them my attention like I always do. When the last two people decided to make small talk with me, I shifted my gaze to see if the lovely lady was still where she'd been standing. She was, only now she had a semi-circle of people standing around her. I watched her laugh at something one of the other girls had said, throwing her head back before covering her mouth with her hand. I couldn't help but smile. She had a great laugh, and she looked beautiful while doing it.

I heard one of the girls I'd been chatting with, a model I think, say something to me, so I turned my attention back to her, but only to kindly excuse myself. She was pretty and nice enough, but I had my sights set on someone else tonight.

Finally, I was two steps away. I stood behind one of the women she was talking to, my eyes focused on hers, silently willing her to look up at me. When she did, her face broke into a smile again, lighting up the room. The woman to whom she'd been conversing must have noticed, because she turned around.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, looking up at me. "Harry!"

"Hello," I nodded.

This woman also looked familiar, but in a different way. She quickly introduced herself, and I recognised her name.

"This is my dear friend, Victoria," she said, gesturing toward the woman I'd come to meet. "I think she's kind of a fan of yours."

"Stop it," muttered Victoria, poking her friend in the arm.

I grinned as I held out my hand. "Nice to meet you, Victoria."

"How do you do," she smiled, shaking my hand.

I wasn't sure if it was her smile or her soft hand that sent a bolt of electricity throughout my body, but perhaps it was a little of both. Now that I was up close, I noticed she was even prettier. She was not a small, petite girl. She was a bigger gal, with womanly curves. And as far as I was concerned, she could rival anyone's beauty in the entire room. I felt drawn to her, and we'd only just been introduced.

Our eyes seemed to be locked on each other until I heard her friend, whose name now escapes me, clear her throat.

"I think I'm going to get another drink," she announced.

"Okay," nodded Victoria, not peeling her gaze from me.

I smirked as she bit her bottom lip again. If she was going to continue doing that, I might just have to grab her and kiss her right there.

"So, Victoria," I said, "have we met before? You look really familiar to me."

She giggled, shaking her head. "God, no."

"Are you sure?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm quite certain I would remember."

"Okay then," I chuckled. "Maybe it was in a dream."

Victoria was silent for a moment until she let out a sound. "Pppffff. Is that some sort of a line?"

"No," I narrowed my eyes and shrugged.

I wasn't angry with her for thinking that; I was more perturbed at myself for saying it out loud. It was pretty cheesy.

Her face softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No, no," I waved it off, "I'm sorry. That was a dumb thing to say."

I cursed myself as I looked around the room, thinking for sure she was about ready to tell me to get lost.

"No, it wasn't," I heard her say. "It was kinda cute."

I shook my head at the ground before lifting it to look at her again. She had the prettiest glow about her. I couldn't quite describe it. I wanted to know her, to hold her, to kiss her. I placed my hand over my heart.

"I apologise for the cheesy line."

"Apology accepted," she grinned.

Victoria and I spent the next two hours or so getting to know each other. The more I learned about her, the more I liked her, and the more attracted I was to her. There was no doubt there had been a spark when I first saw her, but after spending time with her, I could tell it was full blown chemistry. I wanted her, and her flirtatious personality and body language told me she felt the same.

As usual, other people came up to me during the night, and though I stopped to talk to them, I never left Victoria's side, nor did she mine, except to go to the bar and return with drinks.

As the end of the night approached, I began to feel anxious. I didn't want to say goodbye to Victoria, though I was certain if I asked to see her again she would have said yes. The words that came out of her mouth as she set her empty glass on the bar surprised me, however.

"Harry," she said, looking up at me with her big brown eyes, "I'm afraid I don't have a ride."

"What?" I raised my eyebrows.

"My friends left long ago," she confessed, a shy smile on her lips.

She didn't have to tell me any more. I knew what she meant. I actually felt my heart flutter and my stomach do a flip as I stood up and offered her my hand. She took it with no hesitation, and I led her to the exit.

We were silent in the car until I asked her where she was staying. When she told me, I then told the driver before gently placing my hand on her knee. She smiled up at me, giving me a signal that she was okay with my touching her. Leaning closer, I paused before lowering my mouth onto hers. She tasted sweet, like the cocktails she'd been drinking all evening, sending a buzz throughout my nervous system, like a bolt of electricity.

The car pulled in front of the hotel in what seemed liked mere seconds, the driver opening the door on my side. I stepped out, turning around to take Victoria's hand. With my hand on the small of her back, I walked with her to the lift. She was quiet on the ride up to her floor, but I couldn't stop staring at her. I couldn't wait to get to her room and undress her.

When the lift doors opened, she jumped a little, like she'd been in deep thought. I grinned to myself, knowing she'd been thinking about me and what was to come.

I stood next to her as she opened her small handbag and pulled out a room key, sliding it into the slot to unlock the door. She remained quiet as I followed her in the room, letting the door shut behind me. I watched her as she tossed her bag in the chair beside the window before turning around to face me. She had another of her lovely smiles on her face, but this one was underlined with nerves.

Wanting to put her at ease, I stepped closer to her and took her hands in mine. I rubbed the backs of them with my thumbs as I gazed into her eyes. Then ever so slightly, I lifted one hand to her neck, pulling her to me and kissing her soft lips.

She sighed as her body leaned into mine. My mouth still covering hers, I shook out of my jacket, tossing it on the chair where she'd dropped her bag. Then I grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against me, so close I could feel her heartbeat.

I continued to kiss her as her hands found the back of my head, letting me know she enjoyed being kissed and wasn't wanting to stop any time soon. That was fine with me. She had such kissable lips.

After exploring her mouth with my tongue, I moved my lips across her cheek to her ear, allowing her a moment to catch her breath.

"Harry..." she whispered as my lips travelled down to her neck.

The vibration of her voice against my mouth sent me into overdrive. I felt myself get hard almost instantly. Her skin was so soft, I wanted to explore every bit.

My mouth found hers again as my hands ran up her back, finding the top of the zipper. Just as I began to pull it down, her hands gripped my elbows.

"Wait," she breathed, pulling away from the kiss.

"What is it?" I asked.

I suddenly realised she was trembling, a look of apprehension on her face.

"Hey," I said, sliding my hands under her ears, "There's no need to be nervous with me."

She made a sound, like an incredulous laugh as she shook her head. "Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm not," I confirmed. "I want you, Victoria."

I kissed her plump lips softly, gently sliding my tongue in between to meet hers. I felt her body relax, leaning into mine as I slid my right hand down to cup her breast. When I separated my mouth from hers, I gazed into her eyes.

"Do you want me?" I murmured.

She bit her lip and slowly nodded. "Yes, but..."

"But what?"

Victoria hesitated for a moment before lowering her eyes.

"My body," she whispered.

I quickly clipped her chin with my finger, lifting it up so that she'd look at me.

"You're beautiful."

"No, I'm not," she rolled her eyes. "I'm gross."

I furrowed my brows. "Stop that."

She huffed out a sigh, her shoulders dropping.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Trying my best to reassure her that I thought she was incredible and I wanted her, I lightly kissed her forehead, down her nose to her lips. Then I reached around to grab the zipper again.

"May I?"

Sucking in her lips, she closed her eyes and nodded.

I studied her face as I undid the zipper, letting her dress fall off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra, as the dress hadn't required one, and I heard myself audibly gasp.

"Open your eyes, baby," I whispered.

I watched her eyelids flutter as she struggled to do what I asked. Slowly they opened, her dark eyes darting across the room, anywhere but on me.

"Look at me," I demanded, my hands still resting on her lower back.

Finally meeting my eyes, she let out a breath. I smiled and pulled her closer.

"You're so beautiful, Victoria," I said truthfully.

Grabbing the bottom half of the dress at her hips, I pulled it down, letting it fall to the floor. Immediately, Victoria folded her arms across her waist, but I took hold of them.

"Don't," I shook my head.

"I'm fat," she complained, looking at the floor again.

This time as she trembled, I thought she might be crying. My heart ached to see her like this, so insecure and ashamed of her body. She was gorgeous, and I was determined to make her feel that way.

"Victoria," I muttered, lifting her chin again, "I want you. I want to make love to you. I want to make you feel good. Alright?"

Something I said must have lit a fire inside her, because she grinned and nodded, then crashed her lips into mine. I growled as she ran her hands down my chest, hastily unbuttoning my shirt. I shrugged out of it, tossing it behind me before helping her step out of her dress and shoes. Her arms around my neck, I guided her backwards to the bed, laying her down gently.

Still determined to caress every bit of her skin, I nipped at her neck, making my way down slowly to her chest. I heard her breath catch as I took her nipple into my mouth, licking and sucking sensually. I felt her fingers tangle in my hair as I moved to her other breast, giving it the same treatment.

"Oh, God," she barely whispered.

I lifted my head to look at her as my hands slid down her waist to the lace trim of her panties.

"You okay?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Can't believe this is real," she confessed.

I grinned and licked my lips, shifting back up to meet her eyes. "Tell me how you like to be touched."

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"What feels good to you?" I inquired.

She stared at me blankly, and it was apparent no one had ever asked her that before. Situating my body next to hers, I brought two fingers to my mouth to wet them. Victoria kept her eyes on me as I lowered my hand to her panties, sliding it inside. My wet fingers met her clit and she arched her back with a moan.

"Does that feel good?" I asked as I rotated.

Unable to get the words out through her rapid breathing, she merely nodded. She swallowed hard to catch her breath before letting out a sexy little cry.

Slipping my fingers down to her entrance, I slid them inside. Victoria lifted her hips to meet my hand as I pumped in and out. Resting my thumb on her swollen bud, I began to rotate slightly.

"Ha-Har-oh-God," she cried.

"Yes," I murmured in her ear. "Let go for me, baby,"

I kissed her jaw, moving slowly to her lips. Her breathing was jagged as she took my tongue into her mouth, short moans escaping. As she came, she held onto me, her fingers digging into my back. I chuckled as she released her hold on me, her body still shaking.

"That was good, yeah?" I asked, sliding my hand out of her panties.

She nodded vigorously, bringing her hands up to cup my face before kissing me deeply.

"Victoria," I said, after her breathing was returned to normal.

"Yes?"

"I'd like to have more inside you than just my fingers."

I watched her beautiful lips break into a smile as her eyes sparkled.

"Would you like that?" I asked.

She bit her lip. God, it drove me crazy when she did that. "Yes."

Before I could respond, she reached for the waistband of my jeans and jerked them open. I couldn't help but smile at her newfound bold confidence. It turned me on to say the least.

"Just a minute, baby," I smirked, standing up from the bed.

She kept her eyes on me while I removed my jeans, then grabbed the sides of her panties and pulled them down. Then I slid a condom on my waiting erection before crawling on top of her.

She opened her legs wide for me as I aimed at her center. She blinked slowly when I entered her, sucking in a breath. Then she spread her hands over my shoulders and down to my chest.

"You feel amazing," I told her as my hips rocked back and forth. "So good."

She let her head fall back as I kissed her neck. My left hand rested next to her shoulder as my right held a firm grip on her hip. I felt the burn building up in my stomach as I thrust harder and deeper.

The sounds she made were so sexy, I had a hard time keeping a steady rhythm. One more little kitten-like cry and I might come too soon.

"Ohhhh, Harrrrryyy," she moaned, nearly sending me over the edge.

"Shit, baby, you're so fucking sexy."

I wrapped my arm around the back of her waist then, pulling her as close to me as possible. My thrusts became sloppy and uneven, but I couldn't help it. I was so close.

Victoria cried out then, coming even harder than she had with my fingers. That was it for me. I cursed as I came, two more large thrusts before collapsing and out of breath.

"Victoria," I said, pulling her body to mine.

She looked at me with a myriad of questions written on her face. But her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink and she looked even more lovely than before.

"You're so beautiful," I told her before kissing her wonderful lips. "So gorgeous." Another kiss. "So sexy." And another. "So incredible."

I continued with the compliments and kisses until she started to giggle.

"Okay, I get it," she teased. "I'm the best."

"You are," I sighed, giving her one last kiss. "Yes, you are."

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[misseviehyde]

CORROSION

Alanah was home alone and looking forward to watching her favourite TV shows without any distractions. Her boyfriend, who usually criticised her TV choices, was currently away on a work trip and so she'd fired up the pop-corn maker, snuggled into one of her favourite sweaters and stretched out on the sofa. She could watch whatever she wanted tonight and no-one was going to stop her.

Alanah definitely deserved a little bit of TLC. Work was a killer at the moment. She worked for a charity that supported homeless people and some of the things she'd had to see recently were pretty harrowing. Her boyfriend always said she should get a better job that paid more, but Alanah liked to contribute to society and help others more than selfishly earn lots for herself.

As it went, Alanah was pretty humble and selfless most of the time so the job suited her. Unlike her boyfriend Max, she didn't like to be the centre of attention. She looked reasonably attractive, dressed nicely and lived a good life - but she was hardly going to make an impact on the world.

Such weighty thoughts were hardly on her mind as she picked up the remote and prepared to turn on the TV. A little bit of harmless distraction and fantasy would suit her perfectly tonight.

She pushed the buttons.

Nothing happened. The remote was dead.

Cursing, Alanah dragged herself to her feet and went into the kitchen to the drawer where they kept all the batteries. Rummaging inside she cursed again. There didn't seem to be any in the drawer.

No... wait. There in the corner of the drawer. Two corroded, rusted batteries with a pink shell casing were lurking at the back. As she touched them, the hairs on the back of Alanah's hands rose up and she felt a strange magnetic jolt pulse through her body, making her nipples harden in pleasure. She cradled the strange batteries in her hands feeling a compulsion to use them that overode her every sense.

Where had these strange batteries even come from? Why had they bothered to keep hold of two such obvious duds? It didn't make any sense.

The batteries were clearly of no use, but the sudden urge to try them was overwhelming. It was like the batteries WANTED to be used. Pulling out the old ones from the remote, she slowly slotted the corroded, pink batteries into the remote and clicked them into place.

Pink lightning engulfed the plastic remote and Alanah gasped in amazement. Luscious pink light crawled and sparked over the cheap plastic and it seemed to blur and transform before her eyes. She watched in amazement as the remote changed shape and colour, transformed by the batteries.

In moments a shiny silver chrome remote lay before her, with an entirely new set of buttons. How... how was this possible? Was this a trick?

Reaching out, she picked up the strange new remote and felt the same erotic jolt and throb of pleasure course through her body as when she had just held the batteries. She peered at the buttons in amazement.

They were now labelled with strange titles such as 'Age Control', 'Time-Freeze' and 'Rewind'.

Walking over to the mirror, Alanah shook her head gently. "I must be having a hallucination or something. This... this can't be real."

Pushing the age control button, she aimed the remote at a banana hanging from a hook on the cupboard next to her. Instantly it began to ripen and mature... then turn to black sludge and rot away. Pushing the button down in reverse, she watched as the processs reversed and then went further - the banana turning green and beginning to shrink back to a seed.

The remote now appeared to have powers over time. This was like something out of a science fiction program!

With this remote, she seemed able to control time. Seeing her 31 year old face reflected in the mirror, she suddenly paused and then hesitantly pointed the remote towards herself. What if...?

"Ohhhh fuck," groaned Alanah as she hit the de-aging button and she felt the power of the remote blast into her. Her skin tightened, her slightly saggy breasts firmed up, her buttocks tightened. Youth and vitality flowed into her and it felt so good. As she stopped pushing the button, the effect finally ended and an eighteen year old version of herself looked back in delight.

"This is incredible," she breathed. "I'm young again!"

Turning the remote over, Alanah popped open the battery panel and pulled out the corroded batteries. There was a flash of pink light and now once again she held the normal plastic TV remote in her hands.

She deserved to be young again. This was a gift that she was never going to reverse. Why shouldn't she have some extra life and vitality and be young and free again?

The remote was back to normal, but she wasn't. She was still young and full of vitality. The de-aging effect was obviously permanent until she used the remote again.

For a moment, she pondered putting the batteries back in and changing back immediately.

As she did so, she barely noticed that crackle of pink energy that briefly flared over her own body as she thought of reversing the effect and immediately decided not to.

The uncharacteristic feeling of selfishness felt good. She groaned and her nipples got even harder than they had earlier. She felt... good. Being selfish felt great!

"Hmmmm, these batteries are incredible. They changed the remote into an upgraded version of itself. I wonder what happens if I put them into other objects?"

Enjoying the feeling of her tight young body, Alanah whistled happily as she picked up one of Max's Xbox controllers. Sliding the batteries inside - she gasped as the same pink lightning engulfed that too and in moments the controller had changed.

It still had the same basic shape, but it was no longer for controlling video games. As she switched it on, Alanah saw the TV flicker into life. She was now looking at a birds eye view of her neighbourhood. Fascinated, she pushed the control sticks and flew over to Max's hotel where he was staying for his work conference.

Inside his room, Max was lying on the bed watching TV. Alanah giggled as she saw that she could select him like he was a character in a game. Menu's and options appeared and she saw that she could now adjust and change Max's mental attributes as well as pilot him remotely.

Pushing start, she grinned as she now realised she was in control of her arrogant boyfriend's mind.

A whisper in the back of her head seemed to tell her that she should get her revenge on her boyfriend for the way he always treated her. She hesitated. That seemed wrong.

On the bed Max groaned as the changes took place and his body posture changed. He now looked anxious and worried, no longer the confident business man but a scared little loser. Alanah liked seeing him squirm - this was fun... and horny.

Pink lightning crackled un-noticed over Alanah's body and she relaxed. No... it would be fun to manipulate and control her dumb boyfriend for a change.

An uncharacteristically bitchy grin spread over her lips as she began to decrease Max's confidence and intelligence. She could always put them back later, but let's how he liked being a dumb, subservient little simp.

Wait...

Alanah's panties were wet as she pushed the control up to make Max totally devoted and enslaved to her will. His obsession to please her and serve her would now be unstoppable.

When Max came back from his trip, he would be her subservient little toy. Her grin grew wider. What else could she make him do? Or who else could she transform?

Oh fuck, why did this feel so good?

What the fuck was she doing?

"Noooo what did I just do?" she sobbed, disgusted at herself. "Those batteries... they're... they're doing something to me. Something bad. I... I felt so fucking turned on when I began to dominate Max's mind. This isn't me, I'm not a bad person."

Her grin fading, Alanah felt a rising panic. She loved Max, he was her boyfriend and she'd just violated his mind and fucked up his personality. Looking down she saw a flash of pink electricity run across her hands and into her body and she suddenly realised she was being affected.

With a sudden sobbing gasp she turned over the controller and ripped out the batteries. Pink lightining flashed as she threw them across the room and they hit the wall.

Alanah took a deep breath to steady herself. "I have to destroy those batteries - but... but I need to reverse these changes first. Ohhh shit, why am I so horny?"

Looking down Alanah could see her pussy was soaking. She had been so turned on manipulating Max and her new eighteen year old body felt so good, she had never felt this turned on. Even now - disgusted by her actions - she also couldn't stop thinking how hot it had felt to control Max and have such Godlike power. Part of her wanted more.

Her nipples were errect and her body ached with desire. She had never felt so fucking turned on. Pink lightning crackled over her skin. She needed... mmmmmh... she needed release. No... she needed to deal with these evil batteries.

Crawling over to the batteries she carefully picked them up in her sweater, trying not to touch them. She had meant to go over to the Xbox controller with them, but instead she found her feet carrying herself up to her bedroom.

Alanah could barely think straight. The urgent heat in her loins needed to be dealt with. She could turn Max and herself back later. First - she needed to let off some steam. Urgently.

Ripping down her panties, she urgently slid her fingers into her wetness and began to hump herself like a nympho. It felt good... but not good enough. For some reason she needed more.

Opening her drawer, she pulled out her bullet vibrator and pushed the button. This would do it.

Nothing happened.

"Nooooo I need... I need it," groaned Alanah as she shook with lust. She had never needed anything so badly. Her fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, but the release she needed was lacking.

Her horny mind craved the vibrator. She needed to feel it pulsing against her clit. She NEEDED it.

Wrenching open the battery case she tossed the duds aside. Strange, she'd only changed them recently. She needed power and rapidly her eyes fell on the pink corroded batteries nestled in her sweater.

Yesssssss.

She knew this was a terrible idea, but it seemed so hot. The batteries had already made her do bad things, putting them in her vibrator was surely asking for trouble. Mmmmh but it was also such a deliciously naughty idea. She wanted to be good, but now she also wanted to be bad. The evil side of her was becoming stronger and she wanted to know how it felt to get even worse. She giggled as she wondered what the batteries would do to her tiny vibrator.

Picking them up, Alanah moaned as she pushed them in and let the pink lightning crackle over both her and the vibrator. Giving into the batteries, to the corrosion... it felt GOOD.

"Yessssssss," she hissed as her tiny vibrator began to swell and grow. In moments it had become a sleek chrome wand, with a new row of buttons on.

Slut mode. Bitch mode. Goddess mode.

Intrigued and desperate for release, Alanah pushed slut mode and the vibrator buzzed into life. Large and powerful, it hummed with obscene power as she brought it down between her legs and screamed in ecstasy.

"Yessssss!" she hissed as pink lightning crackled around her body and she humped the vibrator with a wild grin on her face. She could feel the corrosive power of the batteries throbbing into her body, changing her and corrupting her.

"YESSSS I LOVE IT!"

She screamed, quivering and shaking as pleasure stronger than anything she'd ever felt before pulsed through her.

Alanah's small breasts began to swell and grow and she moaned as she pushed the vibrator hard against her pussy. "Yessss make them BIGGER," she cried. She had always been jealous of girls with big breasts, now she would be the one to make others jealous.

Lightning crackled over her body, each surge bringing her closer to orgasm. Each throb and buzz of pink power was corrupting her, improving her, making her better.

"Yessss give it to meeeeeee!"

Her face became sluttier and prettier, her once innocent features now those of a porn star as her hair grew even blonder and her skin became softer. Her ass was now bigger and rounder, her waist slimmer but her hips wider. She had the body of a fuckdoll now and she liked it.

Being an 18 year old blonde slut felt good.

Alanah grabbed one of her now impressively large breasts and squeezed it in pleasure as she rode her vibrator. She felt so good, but she needed more.

She didn't want to be a slut. She wanted to be a bitch.

The vibrator had given her the perfect body but her mind didn't quite match. She was still a goody goody in part. She needed to go deeper.

Her thumb slid up the vibrator to the next setting.

"Noooo, I can't. If I push it... I'll become evil. This fucking thing will destroy my mind and turn me into a total bitch. Ohhh shit why does that sound so hot?"

If she could just cum, she could fight this terrible temptation, but she couldn't. The only way she could cum was if she became a bitch.

She thought about Max... how much she loved him, even if he often was an asshole. She thought about her job, about the homeless people who relied on her. She tried to fight it.

Mmmmmh but why fight it?

A slutty smiled spread over Alanah's face. Wouldn't it feel good to become a selfish, wicked bitch who never had to care about anyone but herself? It's not like she would ever regret this decision once she transformed.

This was her chance to have everything.

"Yesssss, make me into a fucking bitch," she groaned pushing the button for Bitch Mode.

The vibrator intensfied and throbbed even harder against her pussy and Alanah's eyes rolled up into her head as the orgasmic pleasure took her to a new plateau.

The pink lightning intensified around her body and she moaned and gurgled as it crackled into her brain.

She was being rewired... corroded and corrupted. All her decency and kindness was being rewired to cruel-ambiton, selfishness and pleasure.

"YESSSSSSSSS. Ughhhh make me mean, make me fucking evil! Turn me into a bitch!"

Alanah shook and moans came out of her mouth as her head rolled in pleasure. It felt so good to have her entire personality rewired.

She no longer felt any guilt about controlling Max and making him a simp. She loved dominating others and manipulating men. Lying, cheating, seducing, corrupting... these were the things that brought her pleasure. Along with expensive clothes, fine wines and hard nasty sex of course.

Her lips twisted into a cruel smile... a permanent resting bitch face. Cold blue eyes flickered with pleasure as the new bitch luxuriated in her superior personality and looked back at her old life with contempt.

Alanah... such a weak pathetic girl. Her lips curved into a malicious grin as she thought of all those pathetic homeless people who would no longer have any help now that stupid goody goody Alanah was no more. She was a new bitch now - she was Lana.

Lana stretched her body, pushing the vibrator harder against her pussy and sighing in contentment. She was all that mattered. Her tight perfect pussy couldn't take much more. Only one thing remained to do.

Lana pushed the button for Goddess Mode.

"Ohhhh fuck yesss, give it to me," she hissed. "Make me fucking cum and destroy every last ounce of goodness in this body. Finish my transformation into Goddess Lana.

The vibrator throbbed with unholy power and Lana arched her perfect body into the air. She screamed in lust, her angelic, yet evil features a mask of ecstasy as her pussy began to cum.

She squirted hard, juices blasting out as she screamed like a banshee. "OHHHH MY FUCKING GAWDDDD. YESSSSSSS!"

The batteries throbbed with power as they pumped energy into Lana... bolstering her narcissim, increasing her libido and her desire to dominate. She was now the ultimate bitch and the most powerful Goddess.

With a bang the vibrator overloaded and the evil batteries melted in a flare of pink energy. Lana screamed as the last of the unholy energy surged into her body and her corruption was completed.

She orgasmed one last time, another spray erupting from her pussy as she collapsed onto the bed and panted and moaned in satisfaction.

"Mmmmmhhhhhh oh yessssss," she groaned as she removed the ruined vibrator from between her legs and giggled at the drenched bed underneath her.

Standing up, she walked to her mirror and admired her new body. "Mmmmh I truly AM a Goddess now."

But what about her batteries? Her wonderful batteries were ruined.

Walking to the bed, Lana picked up one of the drained batteries that had orginally been in the vibrator. As she held it between her fingers, pink sparks arched between them and she watched with interest as the battery corroded and turned a bright vibrant pink.

"Looks like I have the power now," purred Lana as she charged the other battery and laughed evily.

"I can now corrupt as many devices as I like. Mind control, time control... who knows what else I will be able to do when I try other devices? I truly AM a fucking Goddeas now. This world will be my plaything and I'll do whatever the fuck I want."

Her soul, body and mind corroded - the new Uber-Bitch walked off with a clop of high heels to go find the Xbox controller.

She had even more changes to make to Max... and then the rest of the town would follow.

The whole world was her toy now. It was easy, when you had the power...

THE END

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Ar-Pharazôn comes to visit at night and finds Mairon in a vulnerable position.

Woke up in the mood for some more Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn, and in this one Mairon is once again not having a great time. After posting some pieces in which he has more agency I needed him miserable again, apparently.

Pairing: Mairon x Ar-Pharazôn

Words: 733

Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, non-consensual touching

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta read!

Find it here under the cut.

on granting things

On his bare feet, Ar-Pharazôn traverses the dark corridor. His steps are taking him to Zigûr’s quarters. Giddy anticipation holds his body in a tight embrace.  When he comes closer to his advisor’s chambers, Ar-Pharazôn finds the door to his private quarters ajar; he can see it from a distance; a narrow ray of flickering light shyly licking at the cold black tiles. Ar-Pharazôn slows his steps, approaches cautiously, quietly. A small strangled sound from Zigûr’s room. Ar-Pharazôn’s eyes widen and curiosity takes hold of him. Is the Maia in pain?

Ar-Pharazôn reaches the door. It has opened just wide enough for him to peek inside. Occasional carelessness. He allows Zigûr no locks. When he leans against the wall and casts up his eyes, Ar-Pharazôn has to hold back a gasp. On the soft bed the Maia lies, the bed that Ar-Pharazôn has granted him, a soft bed for soft skin and soft hair, and arches his back. A goblet with red wine sits on his nightstand. Zigûr lies sprawled across the sheets and pillows, his luscious red locks in slight disarray framing him like a broken halo. A pink hue has formed on his cheeks, his eyes are closed, his elegant brows knit and lips parted, just a bit, revealing slightly too sharp canines. The black lounging robe the Maia is wearing, adorned with colourful embroidery, has fallen half-open, exposing his pale-golden chest. One of his hands clutches a green blanket, the other moves in a steady rhythm between his legs. It makes his golden bracelets tinkle.

Hopeless hunger surges through Ar-Pharazôn. Jealousy.

A sigh tumbles from Zigûr’s lips like a promise. Ar-Pharazôn watches his chest rise and fall, transfixed with one nipple. Why does he breathe? Why does his red heart beat? He’s a creature; Ar-Pharazôn reminds himself of it, a beast cloaked in divinity, and yet, the Maia lies there, and does what all men do. Ar-Pharazôn cups his own hardness through his breeches. Zigûr has lifted an elegant hand to his mouth, lets some spit dribble onto his palm, before he resumes the now more frantic motions between his thighs. No, this is not right, his pleasure is Ar-Pharazôn’s to offer him. 

Ar-Pharazôn opens the door and steps inside.

The Maia on the bed jerks violently at the sudden noise, golden eyes fly open and betray confusion. He scrambles back against the headboard, fumbles with his robe.  Ar-Pharazôn sits beside him and smiles. “There is no need to cover yourself. I know what you look like,” he says. Zigûr sits unmoved, still only breathing heavily, leaning against the headboard and a pile of pillows, half upright, half-lying on his side, a certain feline grace in his posture even now. Ar-Pharazôn shifts closer and grasps both of the Maia’s wrists. To soothe him. He smells of arousal and saliva. A hint of sandalwood. Ar-Pharazôn studies his noble features. Zigûr’s lower lip is trembling. Beneath thick lashes, his eyes with the slit pupils and their fiery iris glisten with faint wetness. They swim with wrath. Fascinating. A wounded deer, a lion cornered.

Ar-Pharazôn lets go of his wrists, cups his cheek, rubs it, squeezes it, traces that lip, so soft beneath his thumb. Zigûr swallows, then speaks: “What brought you here at this late hour, king?” Wine on his breath. “Nothing but you,” Ar-Pharazôn says, then adds “You are so beautiful, Mairon, do you know?” He continues to stroke his cheek. A faint smile forms on Zigûr’s lips. “I am aware.” He takes Ar-Pharazôn’s hand in his, removes it from his cheek and gently places it in his lap, his own still clasped over his fingers. 

Ar-Pharazôn moves to lean in, moves behind Zigûr, thigh to thigh, hand firmly on his upper arm, then gliding down his side.  “Tell me, who do you think of when you pleasure yourself? What do you imagine when you do it?” Ar-Pharazôn whispers. He receives no answer. “Let me help you find your release. You were close, I can tell,” Ar-Pharazôn murmurs in his ear, and the heat spreading in his lower body and the Maia’s beauty, that damned beauty that is all angel and all whore, makes it impossible not to press himself up against him. 

The wretched thing shakes his golden head, a small, quiet gesture in Ar-Pharazôn’s arms. Helpless rage wells up in him.

Ar-Pharazôn wrenches the hem of Zigûr’s robe aside.

[justporo]

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies

Hi, uhm - I don't really now how to start. I am currently writing a long fic in which Astarion and Tav get invited to a ball. It's been going for a while and I thought (very selfishly and self-indulgently) how about I promote it a little since so many new people have joined. It's a still ongoing story. I'd say it's a very chaotic mix of sweet, fluffy, spicy even sometimes and some darker tones in between. I really pour my heart and soul into this project and try to challenge myself! But maybe it's better to just give you some sneak peeks (from like every other chapter)? I'd be super happy if you were interested to check it out! Thanks to @megschaef98 for suggesting some of your fave parts, ily!

To the chapterlist!

You looked at the invitation in his slender hands. Two golden lines framed the card and under a decorative print stood in elegant cursive writing: “His Lordship Lord De Grodt requests the pleasure of the Company of Lord Astarion Ancunín & Tav to a Ball at Herrenfordt Castle on October 5th, 1493 DR after dusk.” “They really only just wrote ‘Tav’? Should I be insulted?” “You don’t have a last name?”, Astarion asked while looking up from the card. “No, Astarion, I grew up on the streets, because my parents abandoned me – I’m only Tav, always have been”, you answered, only a tad of bitterness in your voice. “Well, my love, you could always just take mine”, the vampire replied smugly and grinned at you. “Weird way to propose”, you muttered under your breath but then immediately said before Astarion could react: “So what do you make of this?”

(Prologue)

So, you finally strode over and took in the garment: It was a striking deep blue that became lighter and a wonderful shade of purple up to lavender further down the skirt – impressively similar to the colours the sky turned when the sun set. It had a high collar that didn’t fully close around the neck in the front, so it allowed for a deep neckline that almost looked like a four-pointed star and long flowy sleeves that from the elbows down became cascading trains of fabric. The bodice was decorated with embroidered bigger four-point stars and smaller sparkles in silver and a few shiny stones. From the slender belt around the waistline down it became a luscious silken skirt that was carefully draped with few more star decorations that became fewer the more the colours lightened. It was quite frankly stunning. Regal and elegant, but not overly flamboyant which would have been something you would have never felt comfortable to wear. And the most important thing: no corset. You wouldn’t have believed it, but you were actually excited to put this garment on.

(Chapter 2)

All around people were standing as couples or smaller groups: chatting, slandering, laughing, drinking the champagne or eating the food being offered by the many servants passing through the crowd with huge silver trays. Some seemed to be well in their cups already, staggering or sloshing their drinks while talking and gesticulating animatedly. Some couples already seemed very handsy as well – hands wandering deeper from backs to more insolent regions, décolletages emphasised with a carefully placed hand or arched back, spines straightened and shoulders rolled back to look taller and more intimidating. Gold, diamonds and pearls seemed to be everywhere you looked. Everything and everyone was sparkling in their finery and giving off the aura of careless excess and frivolous debauchery. Jewels shone from daunting cleavages, signet rings clanked on chalices, flamboyant headpieces swung around during coquettish laughter, deep red lips left stains on crystal glasses and silk shone like liquid in the dim lighting. An impressive display of languid ignorance and luxurious degeneracy. And it was more than impressive even – it was intimidating.

(Chapter 4)

“So sweet, my dear darling, almost as sweet as you”, he whispered hauntingly while you felt drips from the delicious fruit run over your fingers and hand and waves of arousal ran through your body. Then he leaned in again, taking the rest of the strawberry out of your hand, his soft lips closing around your fingers, sucking for a short moment and his tongue flicking over your fingers. Astarion’s sparkling ruby eyes were still on you, patiently observing your reaction, one eyebrow twitching playfully. Your lips parted slightly and your eyes widened as the vampire then lifted your hand up farther and just licked the remaining strawberry juice off the palm of your hand, his fingers steadily around your wrist.

(Chapter 6)

The demon gave a low and rumbly chuckle. “I see”, he had said and with a snap his admirers had returned to roam his body with their hands. “But if you ever change your mind…” He had left the sentence unfinished, his gaze again boring into you until you felt almost stripped naked in front of him and Astarion had protectively placed his hand on your shoulder and quickly led you out of the room. So now you stood in the back of another dimly lit room and listened to this poet theatrically presenting some of his poems: “The moaning and the groaning, The sighing and the sobbing, Are quieted now, With that horrible throbbing.” He enunciated every word carefully, his tone and conduct underlining the meaning of his words – it was quite a thing to watch and listen to. People sat and stood around the artist in a half circle, the performance area marked by some small cold, bright mage lights that were the only light source in this room. The sharp illumination from below then made the performance of the poet even more ghostly. Astarion and you were both leaning against the wall in the back, observing the show in companiable silence.

(Chapter 7)

CHAPTERLIST | READ ON AO3 | MASTERLIST

[tired0artist]

| ascended astarion x tav |

okay so, @themoonatmingitaw animatic rules my brain. and so here's a little wip, that i did in these past few days. it's not finished and i have no idea if this will become a fic, but i'd love to hear your thoughts!

also english is not my first language! and so there might be some mistakes, as it's also a raw version.

Tav = Tavarra (gave her a name, cause I've seen people do that)

WARNINGS: dark astarion, slavery, abuse

>>>>><<<<<

Tavarra had a porcelain doll once. It sat on a bookshelf in her room, with shiny cheeks and pretty dress in a perfect condition, as young Tavarra did her best to dust her everyday. Throughout the years, the doll remained on that bookshelf and as Tavarra grew, she stopped dusting her as often.

She still loved her dear porcelain doll, it was hers was it not?

So as the years passed, the dust lingered and the doll was no longer as beautiful as it once was. Then, as Tavarra left her home, the doll’s fate became nothing but a stray thought, as it sat on the shelf, all alone. Forgotten with only dust and other pretty things from the shelf to keep her company…

Tavarra once envied the doll, it was so pretty. It didn’t have to study or do any chores… It was a simple task. 

To simply exist and be pretty… 

Tavarra no longer envied her precious doll. 

Not as she sat in a luscious room, surrounded by pretty things, all alone and forever waiting for someone to come and look. To come and dust her off…

She became Astarion’s precious pretty little porcelain doll. Forever chained, not to a shelf, but to a luxurious room. Dressed in the most beautiful of dresses, adorned with the wealthiest of jewellery and with her long hair brushed out. 

It didn’t used to be like this.

In the beginning, Astarion and her walked the same path. Tavarra might’ve been not but a spawn, but oh, she was much more than that. Astarion’s power extended to her, for a while at least…, he shared with her the beauty of immortality and the joys of being a daywalker. 

They danced during the day and fed at night, forever together.

Oh… but how quickly that forever came to an end…

Only roughly over a hundred years, it lasted. Then one by one, changes came. 

It started small, with words of adoration for Tavarra’s light blonde locks. 

“Truly magnificent, my darling.” he whispered that night, as his fingers brushed through her grown out curls. 

Tavarra had been meaning to cut it for some time now.

“Oh you musn’t, my sweet.” he purred, his lips dragging up her tan arm and finally settling against her jaw “I like it long… different from how you wore it before. It makes me appreciate the colour far more, like this.” 

She didn’t cut her hair. Not ever since then, not even when it started to drag behind her, joining the train of her dresses.

Then bit by bit, Astarion took from her. Not only what he gave, but what she herself had.

Her longbow and sword.

Now they hung above his throne, like a prize.

Her throne.

Back when she was allowed to walk amongst the halls freely, she sat beside him. Then a step down. After that it was all the way down the small steps to his throne. And finally she was perched upon his lap, as his hands travelled up and down her body.

Her lute.

It was put away in a crystal display in Astarion’s art gallery. 

Her armour.

Much like the lute, it met the same fate along with Astarion’s old armour. 

Her days in the sun.

Astarion worried for Tavarra’s safety… he wanted her off the streets, and so why should she need to be allowed out in the sun?

Her freedom…

“No!” she screamed, clawing at his shoulders as tears ran down her cheeks.

“No?” he chuckled, cupping her face in his palms “My love. This isn’t a discussion, I only want you with me. Always. Forever—”

“Astarion—”

His face twisted in anger, as his hands moved down, holding her neck “You wanted to be mine. And so you are mine. So why should you want to leave? Hm?” he shook her slightly, his grip tightening “Do you want to leave me?! Do you not love me, my darling?!”

Tavarra sobbed, unable to break the hold he had on her. Still, her nails clawed at his hands as she whispered.

“You’re hurting— me.”

Clarity that rarely came these days washed over him, as his hands retreated, coming to gently embrace her instead “Darling… oh, I am so very sorry.”

She cried against him, not having much of a choice, as the chains he put on her wrists and neck stole her strength.

“I only want to keep you safe. Safe and sound, like you deserve, my sweet Tavarrra.” he whispered, petting her hair slowly “All of this is for you… for us.”

Tavarra just cried, taking whatever moment of comfort that she could from him. 

Stealing from him, just as he stole from her.

>>>>><<<<<

tell me what you think and please go watch the animatic that inspired this! it's so freaking good!

although i don't think that i'd quite follow the ending... no matter how perfect and beautiful it is. i'm too weak for that :(((((

[ryuichirou]

How do you draw Idia’s hair so good?? I struggle with the basic shapes so much!

Sorry for the late reply! Your ask got us excited because Idia’s hair is such a pain to draw, but also such a fun detail, and I’m very happy that you like the way I draw it <3

Katsu suggested to me to record a speedpaint, and uhh, here it is. Please, don’t mind the wonky anatomy and me horsing around with zooming in and out randomly. As you can see, I struggle with Idia’s hair myself and constantly redraw it until I’m satisfied or at least tired enough to say “eh, that’ll do”. In case you’re wondering, it took me ~25-30 minutes to do the hair, and the original video was 59 min long lol I always spend a lot of time moving, reshaping and redrawing details when I draw Idia…

I’ll also list some tips and thoughts about it based on the way I draw it…

The shape of Idia’s hair is not at all consistent. Even in Toboso’s art it looks slightly different sometimes, which makes sense, because Idia has magical fire hair and technically you could do whatever you want with it.

But some rules tend to apply each time. For example, even though Idia’s hair is long and seems naturally “heavy” because of it, the individual strands tend to be turned upwards, like fire would. Not every single one, but the shorter ones and the ones closer to Idia’s head tend to do so. 

It’s wavy, but not too wavy. If the hair starts looking too “soft”, add sharp edges, random strands sticking out, rough shapes, etc.

Oh, and it’s important to remember that it floats. This means, it doesn’t just go straight down, it does this weird “S” shape. It’s also hella long, I always forget just how long Idia’s hair is. If the magic fire logic didn’t apply to it, it would reach the ground easily. The volume of his hair is much bigger than I tend to remember too: it's quite thick and luscious lol So please give him lots of hair!

Tiny little flames + “holes” in the main ehh body of hair (wow there must be a way to phrase it better) make everything look good and more believable. Have fun with it. You might’ve noticed, I draw and redraw and move them around a lot in my speedpaint.

Obviously, I am no expert, and every artist I know draws Idia’s hair a little bit differently. The speedpaint doesn’t show it, but I always have some of Toboso’s artworks of Idia open when I draw him, just to make sure his design is not too off. I would definitely recommend looking at refs while drawing Idia (or anyone), and maybe even trying to redraw the hair from Toboso’s artworks once or twice as a study, it’ll probably make it easier to understand how Idia’s hair works.

You haven’t asked about the colouring, but I love colouring Idia’s hair, so I’ll talk about it a little. Colouring Idia’s hair is simultaneously the most fun and the most tedious part of drawing him lol 15 minutes of my hour long video is just me filling Idia’s hair with the base blue colour with a lasso (I refuse to use a bucket tool…)

But once you’re done with the base, this is where the fun begins. Because at this stage you can be pretty rough, just add in darker and deeper blues near the middle/core(?) of the hair mass. It doesn’t have to be very even or pretty, add some smaller dark spots; we personally really love it when Idia has this round little blob on his bangs. In the video you can see that I added it later on because I forgot about it lol

After the dark part is done, erase the ends of it a little bit with a soft brush. Not too much, we should still be able to see the shapes.

Then, on a separate layer set on overlay mode, with the same soft brush add some additional brighter spots, to make the hair look glowy. I used the same light blue as the base colour, and the overlay gives it a pretty hue.

And finally, add some white highlights at the ends of the strands. This is the stage when everything stops looking wrong and weird and starts looking like Idia, at least to me.

Phew, I think this is everything I wanted to say… I hope it was at least somewhat helpful.

Sorry for the long post, I just love talking about the drawing process. And about Idia too!

Once again, thank you for your kind words; I’m very happy that you like my art.

Have a good day!

[heathens-child]

Okayyyyy @danielashdotcom this is for you, my sweet friend and rp buddy ❤️ I’ve never written a fanfiction before and it’s absolutely shocking probably, but I wanted to do something for your birthday. You’re such a sweet guy and you’ve been there when I’ve needed you. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you and wonder how you are. Life can be pretty shitty for you, I know, and I hope you know that I’m always here to listen and try to help best I can ❤️ I’m sorry if you don’t like it I just wanted to make you something ❤️

Also! They’re meant to be around twenty in this

Start

Peters pov.

I sat among the luscious blades of green grass, bathing in the sun and feeling it’s warm, engulfing kisses all over my body. I gently plucked a daisy that stood bold amongst the large scape of green grass, it’s pretty white petals a stark contrasts against the yellow of the small bud in the middle. Such a beautiful world that we live in…

My musing was interrupted by the loud obnoxious ‘hey’. Ahh what a familiar voice it is.

“Hey, Danny,” I said, aiming to keep my voice level and calm rather than show any form of excitement. I wouldn’t want my friend thinking I’m some kind of fairy.

“Tsk tsk,” he tuts, looking down at me and feigning disappointment, “is that all I get as a greeting now days?”

“Why do you want a big kiss on the cheek or something,” I teased, now turning to look up at him, “or what about a kiss on the lips? Come on! Come get a big wet kiss! The kind your mum gives you! Come on! Come give your old friend a big old smacker of a kiss!”

“I wouldn’t kiss you even if I was paid” Danny said, apparently repulsed at the idea of kissing me.

Danny nestled down on the grass besides me. A calm silence fell over us. But, it didn’t feel awkward at all, as it rarely ever does with Danny, it was nice. Staring out at the field beyond us and at the trees which grew up from the ground like bold mountains.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss Danny. Wet with his spit, his lips were plump and cherry in colour. Pretty. He was unlike anyone else I’d ever looked at. He was almost… otherworldly in a way. His eyes deep like the galaxy and his mischievous glint that sometimes passed over his hazel eyes always brought to mind the twinkle of a star. His hands are strong and big, they’d probably feel quite nice cupping my cheek. His cheekbones are good too. Defined, almost as if they’d be chiseled or sculptured by the gods. I almost wanted to reach out and feel his face. Feel if it was as soft as it looked.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, Pete,” Danny said quietly. He was looking at me and with the sun reflecting onto his beautiful skin, he look ethereal and godly. Oh god. I felt my cheeks go a dark shade of red and my ears felt hot and oh god…

I hurriedly said, “What so you can wank to it?” My tone was way off. Shrill rather than bold and teasing like it was supposed to be. Oh shit.

“Mhmm i thought maybe you’d want to,” Danny laughed, with an odd sincerity to it.

“Fuck that, I’d rather die than wank to a fag like you.”

“Suit yourself,” Danny muttered, turning back to the scene in front of him.

The sun was setting now, it’s warm embrace dying on my skin and skulking off into the beyond. The silence felt odd. Not as calm and undemanding as it had been. I do wonder why the thought had ever even crossed over my mind. Why would I ever want to kiss him? He’s not even particularly my type.

“Augh, I forgot,” Danny announced, my eyes darting to him and watching as he produced a bag from his pocket leaning, it in the grass besides him, now out of my view, i began to panic, praying it wasn’t some kind of drug, I’m not ready to die yet, “here.”

I observed the item he was handing me… a joint. Danny fucking Gaston Ash, handing me a joint. I reluctantly plucked it out of his hands. Slipping it between my lips. Danny watched, carefully.

“Gimmie a light then, dummie”

Danny huffed and dug around in his leather jackets pockets, before proudly producing his lighter.

I leaned in close to him and put my hand up, shielding the joint from the gentle breeze. Danny flicked his lighter and lit it up.

I inhaled sharply, wondering what it would taste like.

“Woah, wait you’ve got to-“ I interrupted him by coughing harshly, crippling next to him and choking dramatically, “you gotta give it time to heat up, Pete. Bet it tastes real gross, huh?”

“Gross? More like your mums arse! This stuff is shoddy!” I exclaimed, handing him the putrid joint.

“That’s because you didn’t smoke it properly. You’re meant to let the stuff warm up before inhaling, obviously.”

“How was I supposed to know that, mr expert in smoking joints,” I asked, dramatically clutching my hand to my neck and letting out one final cough before lifting myself up from bedsides Danny and propping myself up.

“I kinda expected you’d already smoked weed. Didn’t realize you still needed a babysitter, pete,” Danny laughed, his voice light and teasing, a certain fondness in the way he said it that he only ever uses when talking to me.

I watched as Danny raised the joint to his cherry lips, inhaling, pulling the joint away and blowing it out through his slightly parted lips, his eyes trained on the the sky.

“Here, tell you what, you want me to help you smoke it,” Danny asked.

I laughed, “Are you kidding me?” Knowing Danny wasn’t serious.

“No. I’m serious,” Danny said, his voice even and flat, no playful ring to it, “Do you want me to help you?”

I was completely taken aback. Help? How the fuck do you help someone smoke a joint?

“Yeah,” I nodded, unsure and my voice coming out as meek and wobbly.

Danny shuffled around for a minute, and then I could feel him. He was pressed firmly up against my back. I could feel his breath rise and fall, I could even feel his… I brought myself back from that thought and pushed it away. My ears burned and my cheeks flushed. Then before I knew it Danny was holding the joint out to me, his middle and index finger grasping it firmly in place. Then his chin was on my shoulder and oh so suddenly I could feel his hot breath against my ear. Fuck.

“Open up,” Danny commanded, his voice had dropped low now.

I tentatively parted my lips, allowing for the joint to slip slightly into my mouth.

“Well done, now inhale, it tastes better than last time, I promise,” he purred into my ear.

I complied, unable to resist the temptingness of his tone. It tasted… better than before, I supposed. But, in truth I was barely registering anything other than what I could begin to feel against my back. A prominent bulge was now pressed firmly against me. Danny was absolutely getting an erection. Oh god. He carefully slipped the joint back out of my lips.

“Good. Now exhale, go on then, do it slowly though, okay,” Danny whispered into my ear, his breath hot and his voice so close and I could barely think.

So, I exhaled, slowly and I know that we both watched as the smoke left my lips and filled the space in front of us, trailing off upwards into the night, we both scrutinized the smoke as it eventually faded and diminished into the sky.

“Good boy,” Danny muttered, his voice almost a whisper, low and deep.

A silence fell between once more, this time it was thick with tension, I could barely breath. Still acutely aware of the firm erection that was pressed onto my back. I lent my head backwards and peered at him. His expression was soft and gentle, almost reminding me of the time when we first exchanged a good long stare.

It’d been oh so many years ago now, back when we were in school. Danny had been sat at his desk, bored and nonchalant, half listening, but far more intent on ripping the skin away from around his fingernails. I had been watching him for awhile, I felt such a deep connection with him. I was, completely and utterly, in love. Not in a sexual way or anything but I loved him. Something about how… weird he was, completely inthralled me. I knew he was important. I knew he meant something to me, I just knew it. He was my other half. The moon to my stars, the smoke to my cigarette and the blade to my knife. He lifted his head and caught my eye. I was in some trance and I simply couldn’t pull my eyes away. So we stared. He scrutinized me and I suppose saw all my faults and all my flaws and I stared at him and saw all his impurities and imperfections. But his gaze was sweet and kind, unassuming. Basking in his beauty and oddness. Intoxicated on his gaze, I smiled at him. His eyes shot down to my lips and he eventually quirked his lips into a small smile. And that was that. That was the spark to our blazing fire.

I snapped back into reality when I felt Danny lean in. His eyes gazing into mine. As he brought his lips close to mine, his eyes slid shut. Following his lead I closed my eyes and closed the space. It was odd and awkward due to my unusual angle. But, that made it none the less special. It was hot and tentative. I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew that what we were doing was right. I could taste him on my lips, his breath was a mixture of cheap cigarettes and also faintly tasted of weed. It was perfect. Sloppy and tentative. Stars collided and galaxies exploded. I carefully brought my hand up to his jaw, cupping it slightly. I felt him tense and untense against me. Its a completely odd and new feeling for us both, everything dome with caution and fear of ruining the moment or hurting the other. I began to gently caress his cheek, feeling his soft skin underneath the pad of my thumb. He wraped his arms around me and pulled me gently into a better, more accessible position. I find myself straddling his lap, his erection firm against me. He brought his thumb and index finger up onto my chin, raising my face up ever so slightly to meet his chasing lips better. It was so erotic to feel his salvia on my lips wetting my own. Eventually he pulled away, I felt the warmth his lips had brought me, immediately dissolve. His eyes scanned mine, searching for something, searching for some kind of anger from me, I suppose he expected me to lash out, throw some insults and call him a fag. To erase the worry’s from his pretty head I gently pecked his lips, quick and fleeting, far less romantic than the last kiss we shared, but it showed I wasn’t angry and that’s all he needed, for his eyes immediately lit up, sparkles as pretty as stars began to shine in his hazel eyes. I gently pushed him down onto the grass and let myself fall carefully besides him.

Now laying on our backs facing the deep nights sky, looking at the constellations that aligned above us.

“Hey look, Pete, that’s Orion,” Danny whispered. Raising his hand and carefully tracing the pattern into the sky for me.

“I’ve always liked Orion, he is a funny looking bloke though isn’t he,” I replied.

“Guess so,” Danny laughed.

I carefully, slipped my hand into Danny’s warm palm and interlaced our fingers. Turning back to Danny once more,

“I love you, Danny. You mirror all my faults and flaws, you’re special. We are special. We’ll go and do great things. We’ll start a band! We’ll get fans and people will love us! We can be worshipped,” I whispered, as my thoughts had gone to stardom, my voice had raised slightly, obviously expressing my excitement.

Daniel took a long drag from the joint, which I had long since forgotten about, filling the air with smoke.

“Yeah, maybe, Pete, maybe,” Danny muttered, “but, you gotta promise me that we’ll stay close. Forever now. And as you say, we have something special. I can’t lose you, Pete, you mean a lot to me.”

It was oddly sincere. No trace of humor in his voice, he was dead serious.

“Christ, Danny, you won’t lose me, i swear. We’ll be together no matter what happens now! We’ve shared so many special moments. I promise, we’ll stay close,” I muttered, trying to match his sincerity best I could.

“Okay. That’s all I need to hear,” Danny breathed. Snubbing out the joint into the dirt beneath the grass.

I turned over onto my side and edged my way closer to him until our body’s were pressed flush against each other’s. I kissed his cheek gently, savoring his softness, before nuzzling my nose into his side. Closing my eyes. Danny rolled over and wrapped his arms around me, embracing me into a sweet warm hug. I could feel his heartbeat against my ear and I could feel his breath rise and fall against my body. Basking in his warmth, exhausted from the evening’s activities, i nuzzled closer to him and breathed out a content sigh.

“I love you Danny.”

“I love you too pete, more than you’ll ever know.”

END

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Based on this incredible post that inspired the worms. Sorry it's not exactly right @flowercrowngods I just finished this and went to find the post only to realise it went in a different direction, I'm so sorry darling!

I'm sorry in advance if this is rubbish, this is my first time writing clarkson I just hope I did our beloved Uncle Wayne proud 💖

It all started with Dustin Henderson. Didn't everything?

The kid stopped by, trying to bribe Eddie into doing something with the creatures in the campaign or something. Poor boy still hadn't worked out that the only way to bribe Eddie to do anything was through Robin; because since the day Steve Harrington, of all people, had stepped through his front door, the three of them had been as thick as thieves. Wayne didn't question it, just accepted it as one of the eccentricities of the universe, especially when he saw just how happy the ex jock made his boy.

So although Dustin was way off in trying to find the way to Eddie's heart; he'd easily found Wayne's, he'd do anything for good coffee and homemade baked goods.

Especially flavourful, rich coffee and mouthwatering baked goods. Bribery through fresh ground coffee beans and handmade delicacies would always win him over, even if it was a hit and a miss for the little genius. More for me, he'd thought gleefully to himself as he'd pilfered the treats, sneaking out the front door to sit in his rocking chair on the porch, enjoying watching the world go by and listening to his kids bicker with a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

Wayne was a man of simple pleasures. He'd always been happy with his store bought instant and the kind of pastries that pop out of a can, but the delicacies Dustin had brought by just wouldn't leave his mind. He was having cravings, zoning out at work just thinking about them. And then one morning as he was driving home from a long shift, Someone Like You blasting from the speakers, the slow beat easing the tension in his shoulders. The traffic lights switched from green to red as he rolled through town, not that he minded, the only thing waiting for him these days was his bed but as he slowed to a stop, tapping along to the beat on the sill of the rolled down window, he spotted the new bakery the kid had bought them from.

The lights flipped back, and suddenly he found he was pulling into an open parking spot outside Clarke's. He's pretty sure the building had been an ice cream parlour before the quake, but most of the buildings in town had been refurbished and reopened in the last few years; sometimes with the same business, sometimes with something new. The sign above the door was painted in red and white stripes, with Clarke's Bakery written in pretty maroon calligraphy. The notice in the window was flipped to Open, it surprised him, given how early it still was, most of the town was still in bed and there wasn't a soul to be seen when the little bell above the door jingled as he entered, he would've been worried that the building had been left open by accident if it wasn't for the luscious smell permeating the air and the "Be right with you," that someone called from the back room.

Waiting was fine with him, it gave him a chance to familiarise himself with the quaint, little place. The chalkboard price lists, the display cases were so shiny they were obviously brand new, and unfortunately disappointingly empty, but he supposed it wasn't surprising given how early it still was. The smell coming from the back more than made up for it though, it was making his mouth water, and he just knew whatever they were making was going to be delicious in the way that store bought anything just wasn't any more.

Behind the counter was one of those fancy coffee machines, the ones with all the buttons and the levers; Wayne had less to deal with at the plant, but the best thing of all was the array of cups sitting on top of the shiny machine. They were all different shapes, sizes, colours and characters; it reminded him of his old collection, the one he lost to the "quake" but honestly he couldn't be too sad about it, after weeks at Eddie's bedside he was just glad that was all he'd lost.

The whole place just felt really comfortable, the tables and chairs had all been picked for comfort rather than style, most of it was mismatched, but it was the type of furniture that invited you to sit, even the rug under the sofa in the back corner looked like the type you wanted to take your shoes and socks off and sink your toes into.

Homely was the word that came to mind, unlike the kids who'd called it cute, whatever that meant; how anything inanimate could be cute was beyond him. Puppies, you betcha, babies, absolutely; the man who'd just appeared behind the counter wearing a shirt and bow-tie under a flour covered apron, icing sugar splotches on his face and mischief dancing in his eyes, yep, 100%, definitely cute.

"Wayne! Hi," Scott greeted with a wide grin that slowly slipped from his face as Wayne's brain came up with nothing but static, "Scott Clarke, remember? I taught your Eddie. We were paired up together when little Will went missing," he continued, looking less and less sure of himself.

Wayne hated it. He knew all that, he knew Scott, of course he did, but it was like his brain wasn't connected to the rest of his body and all he could do was blink and breathe. It felt like it took a Herculean effort just to breathe out a dreamy "Hi."

Scott blushed and looked down at the counter, glancing up at Wayne through his lashes, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth as he drew delicate patterns on the notepad sitting beside the register that Wayne's pretty sure he recognised from attempting to help Eddie with his homework once upon a time.

"What can I getcha?" Scott asked, pen poised over the paper.

It was like the connection snapped back into place as he thought about the coffee and pastries Dustin had brought.

"Dustin," Wayne started, raising his hand to his shoulder, "curly hair, logo t-shirts," Wayne did his best to describe. Scott taught a lot of students, just because he remembered the class disrupters like Eddie didn't mean he remembered them all.

But Scott just chuckled jovially, "I know Dustin," he admitted fondly.

Wayne smiled softly, anybody who held any affection for one of his kids was good in his book, "He brought something over for Eddie last week, coffee and a-"

"An Americano and a Yum Yum," Scott finished for him with an affectionate smile, pushing himself off the counter to start filling components and pressing buttons before disappearing into the back.

Wayne sighed heavily, leaning bodily against the counter. He was glad for the breather, he didn't know what was wrong with him; an old man with butterflies and a lead tongue, cheeks flushing crimson as his mind played him a loop of his lovesick greeting. He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face, wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Finding a bloke attractive wasn't new to him, he'd been in a committed relationship before Eddie had been dropped on his doorstep by his deadbeat brother, but John had asked him to choose between them and hadn't liked that Wayne didn't even need to think about it, of course he would always choose Eddie.

What was new was being so obvious about it. 

Maybe he'd spent too much time around Steve and Eddie, they were careful in public, of course they were, but at home, with their loved ones, they were never ashamed to let their love and affection for one another shine through; no matter how much the kids would moan or mime gagging, they didn't care. Most of the time, the pair only had eyes for each other anyway. Maybe he was overtired. Or maybe he was just tired of putting up barriers. 

When he'd first met Scott, it was the excuse that he was Eddie's teacher. When they'd been paired to find Will, he'd admittedly enjoyed being with Scott, the man was pretty and smarter than half the town put together but searching the town for a potentially dead kid wasn't exactly conducive for romance. But now, he found he couldn't find an excuse, especially now that he knew Scott was the one behind those heavenly pastries and rich coffee.

Scott came out the back carrying two trays, one filled with glazed doughnuts and the other with the pastries he liked, and Wayne felt his mouth salivate. The smell alone was amazing, but they looked incredible too, and he was hungry enough he felt like he could easily eat everything on both trays and still have room for whatever was still baking. The trays were slid delicately into the display case, Scott's tongue poking adorably out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. Wayne couldn't stop himself from smiling, no matter how much he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, Scott looked up and caught his eye, the two men smiling gently at one another over the counter before Scott turned back to the coffee machine.

"Sorry about earlier," Wayne apologised sincerely, "I just pulled a double at the plant and all I've been able to think about for the past two hours have been your pastries," Wayne admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced up when Scott didn't reply immediately to find he still had his back turned to him, but that didn't mean Wayne couldn't see his beaming smile in all the shiny surfaces surrounding him, or the blush slowly creeping from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

Wayne finds himself wanting to witter endlessly like Eddie does when Steve makes him all shy and giggly. He wants to start talking about his day and the weather and how he can picture Scott in his rocking chair at home, maybe sharing the chair or maybe Wayne could picture building him his own, so they could sit together; eating pastries hand in hand, watching the world go by. He doesn't say anything though, just rocks on the balls of his feet ducking his head, unable to keep the smirk off his face at making a pretty boy blush.

"I guess that means you're taking this to go," Scott finally says over his shoulder, steam clouding around him and turning the icing sugar splotches sticky. Wayne could be mistaken, but he would say Scott sounds a little disappointed.

He doesn't trust himself to speak, the chances of something inappropriate, like "Marry me?", coming out of his mouth are far too high, he is a Munson after all; so he just hums affirmatively.

"I'd say it's a shame, but I have to get to work as soon as I've got the kids set up for the day," Scott admits, his whole ears are beat red, the blush spreading quickly up the back of his neck.

"Maybe we could continue this another time," Wayne says as Scott hands him a warm cardboard cup and a paper bag, their fingers brushing and sending sparks up his arms; it was supposed to be a question, but it didn't sound enough like one.

"I'd like that," Scott replied with a dazzling smile that Wayne can't help but mirror. He nods once, walking backwards towards the door, not quite wanting to break the connection and not really wanting to leave, but not wanting to overstay his welcome or make Scott late for his day either. "Bye," Scott chuckled as Wayne fumbled with the door handle letting himself out with a little paper bag filled wave, floating back to his truck on a cloud as Scott disappeared back into the back.

And that's how it goes for a while, Wayne stops in every morning on his way home from work, they chat about the kids or work or the latest article Wayne read in his copy of UFO. They chat a lot about the children's book Scott is writing, about six kids who all sound suspiciously like the ones Eddie and Steve have practically adopted. A genius with a floppy head of curls who recruits his friends into discovering the secrets of the universe that the adults have been hiding from them. A ginger haired girl with an attitude big enough to fight anyone who gets in their way. A sportsman and an artist who use their unique skills to their collective advantage, and a grumpy kid who always puts himself between his friends and any kind of danger. He nearly laughs when along the way, the little group meet a girl with dark, cropped hair who happens to have superpowers; she can move things with her mind, which she uses to help and protect them along their journey of discovery.

Wayne falls a little bit more in love with every detail, it's like Scott knows, but Wayne knows he doesn't, he's just heard what he'd assumed to be fantastical tales from the kids and pieced it all together with his brilliant imagination.

Then one day, Wayne pushes open the front door and there's no beautiful smells, there's just crashing and cursing coming from the back room then deadly silence other than the jingle of the bell, followed by a cautious "Wayne?"

"Yeah, it's just me," he calls back, flicking the lock on the front door, only noticing that the sign on the door was flipped to Closed when he goes to change it himself.

As he heads behind the counter, he can hear Scott dashing around, the overpowering smell of flour nearly choking him as he wanders into the back. The kitchen looks like a bomb has gone off, there's bowls and packaging and ingredients everywhere. Scott looks beyond stressed, darting between three different bowls and trying not to slip in the flour he's spilled all over the floor. He's not even wearing an apron, so his shirt is covered in flicks of batter; he'd look adorable if he didn't look so distressed.

"What happened?" Wayne asks, picking up the dropped bowl and finding the broom from the closet, sweeping up the flour, careful not to trip Scott up.

Scott sighs heavily, "Power cut killed my alarm clock," he mutters, beating the ingredients in the bowl he's holding, simultaneously pressing buttons and flicking switches on the ovens.

Wayne looks around a little bewildered, he hasn't baked anything other than a box cake since he and Al would stay over at their grans, but he isn't useless in the kitchen, especially with a little instruction.

"What can I do?" he asks, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands thoroughly in the sink, he'd already washed up at the plant, but it wouldn't hurt to do it again, he doesn't want to give anyone food poisoning. Scott doesn't say anything but as Wayne turns around to find a drying towel, he finds it's because Scott is frozen in place gawking at him, Wayne can't keep the endeared grin from his face, "Scott?"

It seems to snap him out of it, he immediately begins stirring again, blush spreading over his cheeks, pulling the towel off of his shoulder to hand it to Wayne. He steps towards the island where most of the chaos lies and points to one of the bowls, "Could you stir that one? Just until the butter goes a creamy colour," he asks tiredly, flashing Wayne an appreciative smile when he picks up the wooden spoon and starts combining the ingredients.

Wayne glances at the clock above the ovens, Scott has to leave for school in the next hour and nothing is even close to being baked yet. The kids would help, sure it's early, but he knows they all adore Scott; Steve and Eddie have done nothing but talk fondly about him for weeks. And Wayne isn't stupid, he knows they've seen the array of coffee cups and paper bags that he's brought home recently, he just wishes they'd stop trying to goad him already.

"You got instructions for each of these?" Wayne asks, wandering around the room looking into each bowl with his bowl tucked under his arm. Scott just nods, counting to himself under his breath, grabbing a binder from the corner of the room and flicking it open on the one spare bit of counter space. It's filled with laminated pieces of paper, ingredient lists and instructions for each of the pastries that usually live in the display cabinets. "You got a phone?" Wayne asks next with an impish grin on his face.

One quick call to Steve's and twenty minutes later the kitchen is filled with the kids, each with their own bowl and recipe. Eddie's in the corner moaning about how early it is, Max is threatening Dustin for bumping into her for the sixth time in as many minutes, Steve and Mike are bickering, Steve hands on his pyjama clad hips as Mike wags his finger at him. It's loud and hectic, but everything is getting done and if they're lucky Scott might only be a few minutes late for work. 

It isn't anything like the peaceful mornings they're used to, chatting amicably as Scott potters, but as Wayne catches Scott's eye over the kids heads, he finds his own besotted smile mirrored back at him.

Dough is rolled and stretched and shaped and placed on baking trays. Robin's in charge of timings, perching herself on a stool with everyone's wristwatch in her lap, shouting out when a pastry is finished. Lucas and Steve are in charge of cooling, mainly because they're the least clumsy and Mike, Will and El are in charge of decoration, most of it only involves dipping the pastries in bowls of icing but the kids all quickly settled themselves into their preferred roles and who are Wayne and Scott to argue when they've collectively got the job done faster than they ever could've alone.

There's only four pastries to finish baking by the time Robin's yelling that they're going to be late. The kids who run the bakery during the day are already set up and dealing with customers, Wayne's agreed to stay behind and pull the remaining trays out of the oven, luckily nothing needs decorating, just cooling and taking to the display cabinets. There are implements piled high in the sink, even though Eddie and Dustin were supposed to be washing up. Wayne thinks they spent more time flicking bubbles at one another and joking around, but he doesn't mind; he's always found cleaning the dishes to be relaxing.

He finds he's exhausted as the adrenaline rush dissipates, but none of that matters as Scott dashes into the office to grab his briefcase and flies back into the kitchen, kissing Wayne quickly but firmly on the cheek, only seeming to realise what he's done after the fact. 

The kids all stop dead in their tracks, the kitchen going eerily silent for a second before Steve and Eddie start rounding up the kids, shooing them out the backdoor, dragging Robin along with them, leaving he and Scott alone in the suddenly quiet space. Scott flushes, panic flaring in his eyes, so Wayne just grabs him by the wrist and pulls him closer to plant a kiss on his flour covered cheek, dusting the ingredients off with his thumb as he wishes him a good day. Scott just grins vibrantly, heading for the exit, pausing briefly in the doorway, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Wayne isn't sure whether it's supposed to be a statement or a question, "Tomorrow," he promises with a nod. Scott's grin turns infectious then he's gone, disappearing into the alley, the door falling shut behind him, leaving Wayne alone for the first time since he left his truck. 

He pulls the first two trays out of the oven as the timer buzzes, letting the pastries cool on the rack. Then he makes a start on the dishes, letting the gentle buzz of the bakery and the warm soapy water sooth him, he hasn't felt this way since he was a teenager; sneaking kisses and sharing cigarettes with Tony behind the bleachers. 

He finds it isn't as terrible as he assumed it'd be, to fall in love again; to let someone into his life because it's easy with Scott, so, so easy. Even when they talk about what Scott calls his theories, Scott just gives him this look that almost says "God, it's a good job you're handsome" like Wayne can hear him projecting that thought into his head with his amused smile. Even when Scott lays out logical arguments that seem to prove to him that the supernatural doesn't exist, it's so easy to just give him a look of his own. They almost remind him of Eddie and Steve when they start up a discussion about sports or the game Eddie likes to play with the kids, each with their own look that says "I love you, but you're wrong" and the thought only makes him smile wider.

It doesn't take him long to finish up in the kitchen, and he feels a calm acceptance by the time the ovens are off, all the pastries cooled and on trays and all the implements clean and dry. He's always been able to do that, have his world shifted on its axis and within the hour just be able to understand within himself that that's his new normal now.

He feels almost content as he drops off the final trays out front, giving a cheerful wave to Claudia when she shouts his name from the line of people waiting for their chance to get their hands on Scott's pastries.

Seeing how busy it is out front, he turns to head out the back door, pausing as he passes the office with this overwhelming need to just leave something for Scott. He wanders in and sits down at the desk, pulling a piece of paper from the notebook on the tabletop; pen poised as he contemplates the soundness of his decision and throwing caution to the wind as he envisions Scott's smile as he'd left for work.

Wayne's never been much of a wordsmith, not like his Eddie, but he's been listening to a lot of his favourites lately, the cassettes in his truck switching regularly between Cash, Clapton and Williams. It'd been Williams this morning, and the lyrics had been circling in the back of his mind since he'd walked into the bakery's chaos. He puts the pen to the paper, hearing Don's voice in his mind as he writes, trying his hardest to make it legible.

Well I don't believe that heaven waits, for only those who congregate. I like to think of God as love, he's down below, he's up above. He's watching people everywhere, he knows who does and doesn't care. And I'm an ordinary man, sometimes I wonder who I am. But I believe in love. I believe in music. I believe in magic. And I believe in you. Pausing, he makes his choice and adds on, Love, Wayne.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 4

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

"How do I look?" Trang asked nervously. I was standing in front of the body length mirror, putting the careful finishing touches to my hair. I had done my best to make it shine with Moroccan oil and had put it up in curlers six hours before the wedding. Now, they were hanging down in luscious curls, all flowing down my back. 

My dress, I had designed myself through sketches and then had asked Madam Malkin if it was possible to make. I had chosen a dark green colour and I looked absolutely gorgeous in it. 

I turned now, both to grab the pearl bobby pins for the finishing touch, and also to look at Trang. "You look gorgeous." I said sincerely. 

Her long frame was wrapped in a tight fitting, red dress, that look rather traditional from Vietnam. There was also intricated, gold designs sewed all over the dress, with a tight fitted collar. 

She had pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail, with some of it loose around her face. She had paired it with light makeup, besides the eyes which were dark and made them pop. She looked stunningly pretty. 

"Oliver is going to have a field day." I continued, grinning. She blushed, looking down at the floor. 

"Is the cake done?" Trang asked, changing the subject as she came over, taking the pearl bobby pins to help me with my hair. I'd always been hopeless at this sort of thing. 

"Yes. I put the finishing touches to it today." You said with a bit of a smile. "I think it's a bit. . . different." 

"Oh? Did you make it chocolate icing instead of vanilla?" Trang smirked. 

"No, it's still a white cake and I still did roses." I answered. "But, well it is seven layers Trang. And so I did some not very traditional flavors for a couple of them. Like one is a softer sort of cake and its cookie dough flavored. And I might've baked some very small chocolate chip cookies to act as the leaves for the roses." 

"It sounds delicious." Trang hummed. "Who cares if its not traditional, I just want to eat the whole thing myself now. Thanks, I'll be salivating the entire time." 

"I'm sure Oliver can help you out." I jested and then yelped as she punched my arm. "Sorry!"

"Are we almost ready to go down?" Trang asked, her blush fading a little as she carefully finished the entire outfit off by adding some earrings. 

"We are," I joked, "But Remus is another story." 

I was waiting last minute to dress my baby boy up in his little tux since I knew he probably wasn't going to like the long sleeves in the beginnings of simmering August. But they were the only kind out there and I wanted him to look smart. I was going to take pictures of him and find a way to get them to Severus. 

I hated that Severus was missing out on his sons 'firsts'. He hadn't spoken yet though, so maybe he would hold off on that until I went back to Hogwarts. 

Remus was a little cranky as I picked him up from his crib. He was pouting, though he wasn't crying yet. He was whimpering in displeasure though. I decided to breast feed him and change his diaper. 

I dressed him up in his smart suit, making sure the bow tie was straight. He had quieted down a little and I smiled. I wondered if it was okay if I let him lick some icing off of my finger. I would ask Mrs. Weasley. It was made of milk but it was also sweet. 

Trang and I walked down the stairs to find that the most everyone was outside. 

The first people I saw were Fred and George, standing with Ron and another red headed boy who was Harry in disguise. They were holding seating plans that they were using to help other people to their seats. 

I saw Fred dart forwards to seat a group of Veela cousins. I smiled a little, knowing that years ago my jealousy would've spiked through the roof. Now, I was just hoping that he had a good time. 

"Do you see Oliver?" Trang's voice was breathless. It would be the first time in seeing him in a while. I knew that she was nervous. I had never seen her show interest to a boy before so I knew this was a big deal for her. 

I scanned the crowd, but didn't see the Quidditch player anywhere. 

"No. But it's still early. It's still just mostly the family here." I said in comfort. If I was right about Oliver, he was rather serious about Trang. He would be here. 

I did see Tonks and Dad approach Harry- or the boy that was Harry. Tonks spoke to Harry but Dad looked miserable and I frowned. 

I knew I could've interfered. Told dad that the baby wasn't going to end up like him. But I also knew that Harry needed to be the one to put him in his place. It was necessary to the future. 

"Trang!" A voice behind the two of us said. I didn't turn around right away because Oliver sounded like a strangled chicken and I really didn't want to laugh in his face. 

After a second, I turned to see that the both of them were blushing crazily, holding hands and talking in soft tones. Oliver did look over and he smiled a little easier, "Hello Elizabeth. How are you?" 

"Good, thanks." I smiled, though it was mostly a lie. "How are you? And Quidditch?" 

"Oh it's been great!" Oliver relaxed completely, and smiled hugely at Trang. "I was actually just telling Trang that we've got a new Captain. I think we're going to make it at the top this year." 

"Well, you are a superb Keeper." I said with an easy smile. "Anyways, Trang. I'll see the two of you inside. I'm going to say hi to dad." 

I quickly left them by themselves and approached the tent as Hermione had just joined Ron and Harry. 

". . . personally, she's rude to everyone." Ron was saying to Hermione. 

"Talking about Muriel?" George asked as he and Fred exited the tent now. "Yeah, she's just told me my ears are lopsided." I giggled hard. "Old bat. I wish old Uncle Bilius was still with us, though; he was a right laugh at weddings." 

"Wasn't he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hours later?" Hermione asked. 

"Well, yeah, he went a bit odd toward the end." George admitted. 

"But before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party. He used to down an entire bottle of firewhiskey, then run onto the dance floor, hoist up his robes, and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his-" 

Harry roared with laughter and I smiled a little. 

"Yes, he sounds a real charmer." Hermione said dryly while Ron added, "Never married, for some reason." 

"You amaze me." 

We were all laughing until a new, thickly accented voice said, "you look vunderful." 

"Viktor!" Hermione shrieked, dropping her bag, which she scrambled to pick up while blushing. "I didn't know you were- goodness- it's lovely to see- how are you?" 

I smirked. 

"How come you're here?" Ron demanded. 

"Ron!" I scolded while Krum replied, "Fleur invited me." 

Harry shook his hand and then Krum turned to me and smiled. "Hello Elizabeth." 

We hugged tightly and I offered to show him to his seat since we were sitting near each other. 

"He is very cute." Krum offered, motioning to my baby. 

"Thank you." I smiled a little. 

Krum and I had kept in contact with each other ever since he'd left school in the fourth year. I felt that I knew him as much as I did with the Weasleys or Hermione or Harry. We kept up a steady stream of chatter until I told him I had to get to my seat. 

I settled down next to Trang who was gaping at me. "You know Viktor Krum?" 

"Oh." I blinked. "Did I forget to mention that we're penpals of like three years?" 

"Yes!" Trang nearly shrieked. "He's a famous Quidditch player!" 

"I'm a famous Quidditch player." I heard Oliver mutter quietly to himself which made Trang giggle and then drop the conversation. 

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George settled around us as well. Harry next to me and Fred and George in front of us. 

Bill and Charlie stood at the front- Charlie being Bills' best man. Both of them were wearing dress robes with white roses in their buttonholes. They both looked extremely handsome and Fred wolf-whistled, which encouraged the veela cousins to giggle. 

The crowd fell silent as music swelled from what seemed to be the golden balloons that decorated the marquee. 

I heard Hermione gasp and I turned to see that Monsieur Delacour and Fleur were walking down the aisle. Well, actually, Fleur seemed to be almost gliding. The dress was actually very simple. But that seemed to work for her best, as she seemed to be almost glowing, the way I imagined elves did in the Lord of the Rings with their long blond hair. 

Ginny and Gabrielle were wearing dresses of gold, Fleur's light seemed to envelope them to make them shine as well. As Fleur reached Bill, his werewolf scars seemed to almost disappear. 

"Ladies and gentlemen. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls-" 

"Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely. But I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low cut." Aunt Muriel's' voice carried from the front row so that I couldn't hear the squeaky wizard that was performing Bill and Fleur's wedding. 

Ginny, hearing her proper name, glanced around and winked at someone- probably Harry. 

"Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle to be your lawfully married wife?" 

"I do." 

Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour were sobbing into scraps of lace in the front row. I could hear Hagrid blowing his nose from the back of the tent, sounding a bit like an elephant. Trang had her hands pressed to her mouth, tears in her eyes while Oliver put an arm around her shoulder. Hermione too, had tears in her eyes. Meanwhile, I fought the urge to starting laughing. 

"Do you, Fleur Isabelle, take William Arthur to be your lawfully married husband?" 

"I do." 

"Then I declare you bonded for life." The wizard waved his wand high over the heads of Bill and Fleur and a shower of silver stars fell upon them, spiraling around their now entwined figure as they kissed. Fred and George led a round of applause, the golden balloons bursting open so that birds of paradise and tiny golden bells flew and floated out of them, adding their songs and chimes to the din of hands clapping together. 

"Ladies and gentlemen! If you would please stand up!" 

I stood quickly, starting to rock Remus a little. The loud noises of the cheers and claps along with the explosion of the bells had woken him from his sleep and he was starting to fuss. 

The wand was waved again. The seats we had been sitting on rose gracefully into the air as the canvas walls of the marquee vanished, so that they stood beneath a canopy supported by golden poles, with a glorious view of the sunlit orchard and surrounding countryside. Next, a pool of molten gold spread from the center of the tent to form a gleaming dance floor; the hovering chairs grouped themselves around small, white-clothed tables, which all floated gracefully back to earth around it, and the golden-jacketed band trooped toward a podium. 

"Smooth." Ron said on the other side of Harry. 

"We should go and congratulate them!" Hermione declared. 

I stood up and moved away to see that Tonks and Dad had taken a table. Tonks was beaming but dad seemed to have a storm cloud over his head. He did brighten a little upon seeing me. 

"Oh! You look gorgeous!" Tonks declared, hopping up, pulling me into a hug. 

"Thank you." I said, hugging her back tightly. "As do you." 

She was wearing dress robes of a pale pink colour. Her hair was blond and she looked gorgeous. 

"Elizabeth." 

I turned to see Charlie there, grinning, "Do want to dance?" 

"Oh!" I said in surprise. "Sure." 

"I'll take this little guy." Tonks said happily, pulling Remus out of my arms, cuddling him close. I smiled and then took Charlies' hand, letting him lead me onto the dance floor. 

We spun around on the dance floor and I managed to forget most of my worries. I still had months before I would lose the people closest to me. And with Fawkes, I now had plans in the marking to save their lives. All of them. 

Charlie and I danced through several different songs. I was half afraid that with the romantic atmosphere, he would try breaching the conversation of the two of us. It wasn't exactly a secret he liked me at this point and Mrs. Weasley had been rather encouraging of it. But I think he also knew that I wouldn't accept him and he was happy enough to simply have this. 

Lee wanted to cut in after though, so I smiled at Charlie and went dancing with Lee. After two songs, Bill stepped in and danced with me while Charlie danced with Fleur. 

"He's very interested in you, you know." Bill said suddenly, eyes flickering to Charlie. 

"I know." I said softly. I guessed I was slightly wrong. He was just going to have his brother broach the conversation. "But I can't." 

"I know." Bill said. "Your heart belongs to someone else." 

"Yes. As stupid as it sounds." I smiled a little. 

"No, it's not stupid." Bill said seriously. His blue eyes suddenly made me wary. They reminded me of Dumbledore's in a way, like they were looking through me to my very soul. "I may not have like Snape and Snape never liked any of us. But he had a soft spot for you and, well, he loves you Elizabeth. Regardless of his path he has chosen." 

"Don't get to wise on me Bill." I joked to cover up my anxiety and feelings. "I still prefer being the wisest person you know." 

Bill chuckled, letting the conversation die out thankfully. But it still left me unsettled as I went and took Remus back from Tonks. 

He had fallen asleep contentedly and I sat down in one of the chairs to rest. I kicked off the thin stilettos heels that I had been wearing the entire time. They were killing my feet- but I hadn't expected to dance. 

Viktor was in a terrible mood, eyeing Lunas' father with an extreme dislike. I knew what Krum though the small triangular sign on his chest stood for. But I also knew what Lunas' father thought it stood for. 

Fred and George both wanted to take me for a spin on the dance floor, though they later sneaked off with some veela cousins after releasing me. I didn't mind. I was more preoccupied with letting Fred have as much fun as possible. 

The red headed Harry was sitting at another table with Elphias Doge and Aunt Muriel. They seemed to be in a great argument while Harry seemed rather stunned and uncomfortable. I knew what the conversation was there and I had no ambition to join it. 

Trang and Oliver seemed to have disappeared and I had my suspicions of where they'd disappeared off to. I had told Trang there would be problems later and she'd probably 'snuck off' with Oliver to keep him safe. 

I figured I might as well do the same. 

I got to my feet now, ready to head back to the Burrow. I wasn't sure where I would go, but I knew I had to go underground before I went back to Hogwarts. 

As though my actions and thoughts prompted instant reaction, a glowing, silver Lynx patronus gracefully landed lightly in the middle of the dancers. Everyones' heads turned towards it and I stiffened. 

My eyes immediately found Harry. It was a little early for this, Hermione had not yet reached him either. 

I pushed aside my own safety, being the only person moving as I ran towards the red-headed disguise. 

"The Ministry has fallen." Kingsley's slow, deep voice emitted from the Patronus. "Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming." 

I grabbed Harry's shoulder. "Time to go Harry." 

Harry let me drag him by the hand while he fumbled, drawing his wand. Hermione was with us in seconds, her wand already drawn as well. 

"Ron!" Hermione screamed as someone else screamed and then the crowd was panicking, scattering like cockroaches under a light. "Ron, where are you?" 

Masked figures apparated around the tent. I drew my wand, switching Remus into my other wand. I saw Tonks and Dad raising their wands. I only heard Dad's confident voice shout, "Protego!" 

Harry and Hermione got separated from me in the chaos. I was using the tall figures of the other people around me to hide. I needed to get away from here. Remus was starting to cry and Death Eaters heads' swiveled towards the sound. 

Shit. They knew about Remus. 

"ELIZABETH!" That was dads' voice shouting above the crowd. Trying to find me. I slipped towards him, before there was someone blocking me. 

Hagrid grabbed my arm, dragging me away from the crowd towards my father. Spells bounced off his back as they usually did and I fired back as I ran with him. 

"Elizabeth!" Dad's voice was relieved and he nearly shoved me towards Trang. "Take her to your parents house! Now!" 

Tonks grabbed my arm and we disapparated on the spot. 

I blinked, feeling slightly disoriented. Tonks was gone again in seconds, possibly back to The Burrow. 

I stumbled up the stairs and knocked on the door. 

Andromeda opened the door. "Elizabeth?" 

"The Ministry has fallen." I repeated Kingsley's words as I hurried into the house, putting Remus down in the crib. I needed to grab something- all of my preparations were still at the Burrow. "They attacked the Burrow. All of the houses have lost their protection. I have to-" 

The sounds of several people apparating sounded outside and all three of us turned silently towards the door. Pounding at the door proved that it was not someone friendly. 

Andromeda opened the door with a flick of her wand while I pushed the crib into the room slightly so that it was hidden. 

I didn't recognize any of the Death Eaters as they entered the house. I could only hope that meant none of them knew who I was too. 

The next few minutes seemed to pass in some sort of hazy blur as I was half stuck in reality, half stuck in my visions. I remember that the others were screaming under the use of the Cruciatus Curse. I remember that I too was put under the curse. 

I remember that they asked about Harry and the flight. Things became a little clearer after that. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were safe. I hoped Hermione had read the letter I left her about how she shouldn't use Voldemort's name since it was taboo. 

I focused on them. I was on my knees, my body radiating in pain. I was stupidly aware of my dress and how I was afraid that it was going to tear. 

"Well?" The Death Eater demanded, turning the wand back on Ted. Meanwhile, one of the Death Eaters had found Remus and had him in his arms. The Death Eater smirked viciously, turning the wand on Remus. 

"I wasn't there!" I blurted out. "None of us were. I was just in charge of getting Mad- Eye Moody's body back. That was it! I wasn't with Harry! I don't know where he is!" 

Lie, after lie, after lie. But Remus was the only thing I really had left of Severus. And he was the person I cared about more than myself. I couldn't bear the thought of my son even getting a paper cut or a small bruise on his knee. Torture? It would kill me. 

"Please." I sobbed, holding my arms out for my baby. 

Remus wasn't given back to me, but handed over to Andromeda who quickly sheltered my little boy. 

"Take her." The Death Eater snarled. 

I knew that if I fought, they would become more suspicious. Right now, none of them seemed to know that I was Elizabeth Kane. I couldn't risk Remus. 

I struggled a little, making sure that my wand fell onto the floor and then I kicked it under the couch. I had had that wand for so many years, I wasn't going to let it get snapped. 

I struggled a little more once we were actually out of the house and as I heard the sounds of more apparition, wanting to see who was here now. 

"ELIZABETH!" Dad's voice bellowed in the air and with a gut wrenching swirl, my eyes met his, before I disappeared. 

⬅️➡️

[grimmeghoulz]

Can i have some terzo x fem!reader where they are chilling in the gardens together? Like tooth rotting fluff too! Thanks!

YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY MORE FLUFF!!! absolutely love me some fluff

this baby has been LONG overdue (i blame adhd)

-----

The Gardens of the Ministry, tended to by Primo, have been you and Terzo's favourite hangout spot for months now. Luscious leaves decorate the walls, gigantic trees singing in the wind as the colours of countless flowers glow in the dawn light.

Terzo sighs as he takes in the sight. "It's always so beautiful, isn't it?"

You can't help but look at him. So few people get the chance to see him without his makeup, yet he's chosen you to look at him daily. He smirks as he catches you staring. "All these flowers and yet you choose to look at me. Flattering."

Your eyes dart away awkwardly. "I'm sorry dear, it's just-"

Suddenly he grabs you by the hips and lifts you above his head, various petals swirling around you as he carries you close to his chest. He always laughs so heartily around you.

You press your foreheads together as you cuddle and laugh. "You're such a tease!", you giggle as you kiss him. Your arms drape across his shoulders as you look him in the eyes, feeling warmth fill your body as the cold of the night creeps in.

He gestures with his head past you, 'Look!', his eyes pointing towards a particular flower. Still in his arms, your eyes sparkle in awe as a purple lilly opens its petals as it bathes in the moonlight, pollen reflecting like stars in the night sky.

Terzo laughs smugly. "That's my heart when I'm around you."

You can't help but jokingly roll your eyes. "So cheesy, 'Lord of Hell'."

He laughs, gently caressing your face as the soft light of the moon illuminates your eyes.

"Anything to make my love smile."

[shimmerbeasts]

One of the things Wyll enjoyed about the Emerald Grove was that he got to help train young warriors. Thus when he was not running about attempting to find Karlach, or out on other hunts that Mizora sent him on, he was here. Many of them knew the Blade of Fronters here, especially the children who often looked up to him. These children often came to him for lessons, which he was doing now. "That's a good swing, but you have to adjust your posture," Wyll instructed calmly as he knelt down before the small tiefling child. He brought up his hands to straighten the child's back and shoulders, then guided his hands to his hands. The rapier the child was wielding was adjusted to a more regal hold. "Like that. Now follow my lead and keep this pose." Wyll stood up and mimicked the pose with ease, pointing his blade at the mannequin ahead before them. A normal human and stone eye briefly flickered to a female figure approaching them, Mizora. Thanks to his eye he would always feel her, no matter the disguise he would always know it was her. There was a glint of grin then, before he turned his attention back to the mannequin as he craftfully thrusted his blade forward, landing a precise blow.

"Exactly like that, if you need do a little dance with your feet, pace back and forth. Now you try." Wyll backed away a bit to get out of their way, moving closer to Mizora. "Come to check in on me, did you?" He whispered into her ear, though never taking his eyes off the tiefling as they followed his instructions. "Perfect strike! Keep that up and you'll be like the Blade of Frontiers in no time. "Do you have any pointers, stranger?" His eyes gleamed with recognition at Mizora, his grin widening. "You look like you could teach him a thing or two."

The Emerald Grove masqueraded its tensions and agitations with warm colours and a group of treehuggers. Even now, Mizora could sense the anxiety and fear, lacing the air like the smoke of a hidden fire. The druids saw nothing but hellions in the tieflings, meanwhile, the tieflings feared they would be turned on at a moment's notice. All the while, not too far away from the grove, the goblin pack was ever encroaching upon their territory.

It was a disaster, waiting to happen, and while Mizora normally would have delighted in such things, right now, she didn't care much for the fate of the grove. Wyll was using this as a distraction. Idling around, trying to play the hero once more when he had a hunt to fulfil. Karlach was still out there, breathing, and Zariel had been livid about her escape. So livid in fact that her mother cared little for whether or not, the tiefling would be brought to her dead or alive.

If Karlach died, then her soul would respawn upon the Styx and Zariel could claim it for herself. That blasted tiefling would finally be below Mizora in status! So below in fact that Mizora would be able to get away with torturing Karlach and have very little fear of repercussions. At the same time, the mere thought of getting to eat Karlach's head... Mizora rarely engaged in openly vile acts, but this would sathe her appetite quite nicely.

To avoid aggravating the tension between the tieflings and druids even more, Mizora had intentionally taken on the shape of a beautiful woman with cream-rose skin and luscious, strong, golden-orange hair. Nobody in the grove questioned her presence. If Mizora wanted, like any devil, she could fool with your senses and make you accept her being there. At the same time, she also knew exactly how to draw your attention exclusively towards her.

Right now, Mizora's sole focus was on the young, brown man, who stood on a wooden podium with training dummies. Wyll's rapier gleamed in the light. He was surrounded by a small flock of tiefling children. They kept just enough distance from Wyll, so that he might show one child in particular how to wield a small sword, which looked already way too long for the brat. Mizora climbed up the ladder and stopped by the staircase's post, crossing her arms before her chest as she watched Wyll finish his little striking lesson.

Like the good bloodhound, he was, the famed Blade of Frontiers heeled immediately and stopped by her side. Their eyes met for a few seconds before, both Cambion and warlock chose to focus on the tiefling child trying its hardest to mimic their steps. Mizora replied: "You have found yourself a nice, little place to idle, Wyll. But remember: Our arrangement still stands. Karlach is still making the Sword Coast unsafe. As entertaining as this little detour is, you must remember your priorities."

She fell silent when suddenly the tiefling children approached her and Wyll curiously. One of them, a young, red-skinned girl with a bandage over what must have been an injured eye, looked between the two of them and gave a cocky grin. She said: "Well, well... Will you look at that? The famed Blade of Frontiers has got a special someone after all? Don't you think you are dating a bit up the ladder, buddy?"

Shock gave way to a swell of laughter. Mizora bent forward and waved her arms a touch as she laughed hysterically, silver eyes closing a touch. The tiefling child shouted: "Oih, what's so funny, Harpy?" Mizora gasped for air and brushed across her cheek with a knuckle as she finally managed to settle back down.

She said: "I am very sorry for laughing, deary. It is just... You are mistaken." Mizora leaned forward to be more on the tiefling's eye level. "I am a very treasured friend of the Blade, not his lover. We go way back. One might even argue, I know the Blade's beginnings."

"Ooooooh", made all the tiefling children in excited union as Mizora rose again and flashed Wyll a grin of her own. However as he suggested that she might be able to teach the children a thing or two, a frown crossed her face. It was hard to pinpoint whether the suggestion was spoken in jest or earnest.

Her red eyes drifted over the tiefling children, who looked between her and Wyll in curiosity and expectations. If her tail were visible, it might have twitched now. Still as Mizora took them all in, an idea sprung into her mind. Curling her lips, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she thought: Alright, puppy. Let's indulge that stupid idea of yours.

Mizora squinted her eyes as if she was indeed thinking about what she might be able to bestow upon these children. Rubbing her chin, she suddenly smiled and said: "I might only know how to handle a rapier, but I feel you little rascals would have a much better chance if I taught you something only you can do. Did you know you are naturally capable of creating fire?"

@faerunscursed cont. from here.