#were her and paddy still together then?

[humansofnewyork]

“Just the other day a video popped up on Facebook. It was only five years ago. We were in the park. I was pushing her on the bike, letting go. We used to have so much fun together. We’d always get ice cream. She’s a strawberry girl. I’m a vanilla guy. Chipwich, actually. I’m a Chipwich guy. She’d give me a hug afterward, tell me I was the best dad ever. We were such good friends. But now it feels like we’re so far apart. She doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. Even when she’s upset, she’ll ignore me and go to her room. It’s like: C’mon. I was fifteen too. I know what it’s like. But she’ll come back, I know that. They always come back. But it does feels like you’re getting your heart ripped out a little bit. But look, I get it. She’s figuring out life. You have to back off. You have to give them space. Cause if you charge after them and get all aggressive about it, you might push them away forever. But they always come back, right? One day she’s gonna realize that I’m not the enemy and I’m really her dad, her friend. I still get a flicker of it, every once in awhile. We had a really surreal moment last year. Her birthday is March 17th. She’s a St. Paddy’s Day birthday. We always take her to a Spanish restaurant on Long Island, but this time we did something special. Her uncle used to be a bodyguard for Taylor Swift, and we still know some people at the company. So they got us tickets to her concert. Fifth row seats. I mean, don’t get me wrong. We paid for them, but fifth row center. She was crying. I got a big hug. A big kiss. A ‘Thank you, Dad.’ It wasn’t ‘You’re the best dad ever.’ But it was a really big: ‘Thank you, Dad.’”

[call-me-little-sunshine84]

Last Call

Patrick "Paddy" Feld (Speak No Evil) x female reader

MDNI - 18+

pairing - Paddy x female reader

summary - working at a small pub, you meet a sexy mystery man. He's just another customer - until he's not

w/c - 1400+

t/w - unprotected sex, Paddy is a tiny bit rough (he's a trigger warning by himself), mirror play?

a/n - not sure what it says about me that this morally bankrupt character is the one who broke me out of my year+ long writer's block, but here we are. For the purposes of this, reader has no idea what Paddy gets up to in his spare time

Starting over was such a pain in the ass. You never pictured that you would be here, 30 and divorced. It had come as such a surprise that your head was still reeling. Deciding on a clean break, you had packed up your belongings, taking little more than the essentials and your beloved cat, and set off, leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.

Settling in a little village in the West Country, you found yourself adjusting to your new life a lot easier than you expected. The pace was so much slower there compared to the city, and you quickly found a job bartending in a small pub. You loved working nights, listening to the stories exchanged by the locals. You mainly dealt with the same group of regulars, and their welcoming attitude was helping you to come out of your shell.

You had first noticed him come in late one Saturday night. He was the kind of man who commanded everyone’s attention. He was loud and outspoken, his voice and laughter carrying throughout the room. You overheard some of the other customers call him Paddy.

You were immediately attracted to him, his demeanor so different from your ex that it was intoxicating. He always flirted with you, but you never took it to mean anything since he was that way with everyone. The more you were around him though, the more he began to consume your thoughts. Picturing the way those muscular arms would feel wrapped around you, how his stubble would feel against your thighs when he was between your legs…

There was just one problem - he was married. His wife was always with him. She actually seemed really nice, which only served to make you feel more guilty about the amount of time you spent fantasizing about her husband. That’s all it ever could be though - you might be a lot of things, but you weren’t a homewrecker. You and your vibrator had become best friends. You could at least have him in your head, right?

Maybe that was why you were so flustered when you realized that this particular night he came in alone. “Hey Paddy, what can I get you?” you asked, trying to keep your expression neutral. It was becoming harder and harder to be around him, and you didn’t know what to do about it. “Surprise me,” he replied, watching you as you poured him a drink and slid it over.

“Where’s Ciara?” you asked. An expression you couldn’t quite judge crossed his face before he replied. “She’s not feeling well and decided to stay home.” Your heart sped up at the thought that you could spend time with him alone. And you did - when you weren’t busy with someone else, Paddy kept you entertained with endless stories and conversation. The other patrons began paying their tabs and heading for the exit. Realizing that just you and he were left in the building, you checked your watch. You couldn’t believe the time.

“Last call. Can I get you anything else?” you asked as you dried the glass in your hand. The old jukebox in the corner was belting out Black Velvet. It was a little too perfect. He looked at you, his expression suddenly serious. “I do want something else, but it’s a little off-menu. “What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, having no idea where this was going.

“Darlin’, what I want is you .” Your stomach felt like it dropped out of your body. Is this really happening?? “B-b-but what about Ciara?” you stammered, barely able to string a sentence together. “It’s fine, occasionally we dine out. Helps keep it fresh. She doesn’t care,” he replied, standing and walking his way behind the bar toward you.

You couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the deafening sound of your heartbeat pounding. He stood in front of you, and your brain froze. All you could think was that he smelled so damn good, so manly, and it made your mouth water.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as much as I do,” he said. The look on his face was half smile, half cocky smirk, and it made you want to rip his clothes off. Instead, you just nodded, throwing the towel you were holding to the side. Quickly making sure the door was locked and flipping over the closed sign, you returned to him.

He leaned in, tracing his fingertips down your jawline, kissing you slowly at first. You could taste the alcohol on his breath. Backing you up against the bar top, you could see the lust in his eyes. He looked almost hungry.

The heat inside you was already building as his tongue licked a line down your collarbone. Throwing your tank top off to the side, he traced the lace edge of your bra and groaned. “Mmmm, so beautiful darlin’,” he said, unhooking it and throwing it behind you to land on a bottle of whiskey. The chill in the air immediately hardened your nipples, which he took turns taking inside his warm mouth. Your brain felt like cotton candy, all coherent thoughts leaving you as he expertly sucked and bit at you.

Removing the last of your clothes, you stood bare before him. “This seems a little one sided, Paddy,” you teased as you stripped him of everything he had on. Once he was also naked and you really looked at him, you sucked in a breath. He was even more gorgeous than you thought possible.

He wasted little time with foreplay, turning you around and bending you over a nearby stool. He teased your entrance, but you didn’t think anything could prepare you for his size. He took his time, letting you adjust to the sweet stretch of him filling you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips. You nodded, and then all bets were off. He slammed into you, fully enveloping himself in your warmth. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he grunted as he worked your body over. “S-s-s-sorry, it’s been a while,” you managed to choke out between thrusts. “Feels so fucking perfect,” he replied, his hands roaming all over you. You could already feel that familiar pressure building in your abdomen, impending bliss already blooming inside you.

One hand gripped your breast and the other reached up and wrapped around your throat. Applying slight pressure, he pulled your upper body taut. There was a giant mirror behind the bar. “I want you to look up. Watch yourself while I fuck you,” he whispered in your ear. Fingertips dug into your throat just a little tighter, riding that fine line between pleasure and pain, and you did just that.

You didn’t recognize the version of yourself you saw in the mirror’s reflection. Disheveled hair, sweat beginning to drip down your face, you looked happy for the first time in a long time.

“Paddy,” you moaned, bucking your hips back into him even harder. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, you’re going to watch me make you cum,” he growled.

You had never felt more exposed, or more aroused. Your ex would never have dared to talk to you this way during sex. Paddy was unlocking some primal side to you, and you were loving every minute. His hand moved away from your throat, allowing you to breathe fully again. He started rubbing slow circles on your clit. Contrasting with the fast pace at which he was still thrusting into you, it felt like all your nerve endings were on fire. You felt yourself about to tip over the edge. Still watching your reflection in the mirror, your orgasm washed over you in a wave. “That’s my girl. You look so beautiful when you’re coming undone,” Paddy said, fucking you through your high. While you were still clenching around him, he also came, filling you full.

Almost collapsing against the bar top, your body felt like jelly. He slowly pulled himself out of you. He threw his pants back on and retrieved your scattered clothes, handing them to you. “I’ll never be able to look at this place the same way again,” you said, cheeks burning as you glanced at the mirror behind him.

“So, same time next week?” he asked with a wink. That familiar heat started to build just thinking of the possibilities. You watched him walk toward the door, his jeans hugging him in all the right places. “I’ll be here.”

[janeyseymour]

My Irish Girl

Anon asked for a fic where Mel and r celebrate St. Paddy's! Not edited in the slightest because I wanted to make sure I got it out before the day is over!

WC: ~2.3k

Melissa and you have been together for just about a year, and coming up was your holiday: St. Patrick’s day. As an Irish woman, you were delighted to tell her about all of the different traditions that you loved to do back in your homeland before moving here. You were more than excited to partake in some of the American traditions as well. 

“So, why do we wear green for St. Paddy’s?” your girlfriend asks you as the two of you roam around Walmart, chuckling at the different apparel that was set out for the upcoming holiday.

“Wearing green makes you invisible to the leprechauns… the mischievous things- going around pinching those who aren’t wearing green,” you chuckle.

She hums. “Good thing I look good in green then.”

“Damn right you do,” you grin as you kiss her cheek.

You continue to peruse the aisles, throwing various things that you need for your living space together, as well as a few little trinkets for the holiday. It’s the usual things that you throw in- four-leafed clover glasses, a few festive shot glasses, the ingredients to make irish potatoes and the dinner that the two of you will be having on the day of corned beef and cabbage.

You’re heading for the checkout with the cart when you realize Melissa isn’t following you anymore. No, she’s stopped in front of the shirts that are there for the Irish day.

“Look!” she grins. The redhead is holding up one of those shirts that says, ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish!’ on it in a font that looks quite similar to the Lucky Charms cereal font. 

“I think people know I’m Irish just by looking at me,” you roll your eyes playfully as you gesture to your clearly natural ginger hair and freckles. “And if they can’t tell by looking at my complexion, when I talk, they definitely know.”

Your girlfriend shrugs. “I’m buying it anyway.” She throws it in the cart before taking it from you and steering it towards the checkout area.

She pays for it, of course she does (always spoiling you), and the two of you head home to make some of the treats you want to make for your students.

You’re in the middle of mixing together the cream cheese and butter for the Irish potatoes when your mother calls you.

Immediately, you switch into your native tongue as you pick up the phone, balancing it between your ear and your shoulder as you continue to beat together the ingredients.

Your girlfriend looks over to you, still in awe at the fact that you are bilingual. The conversation is short, mostly just explaining to your mom that you’re doing just fine out in Philly, that yes you are still going to church and are celebrating St. Paddy’s day. You also let her know that Melissa says hello, and that the two of you are quite looking forward to coming out to visit during your Summer vacation.

“Hi, Esther,” your girlfriend pipes up as she settles behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, setting her chin on your free shoulder.

Your mother switches to English, greeting Melissa kindly. “Hello, dear. Are you taking care of my daughter?”

“Mam,” you groan. “I already told you that we are doing just fine over here.”

“You know I have to check,” you can practically hear your mother’s smirk.

“I’m taking care of her just fine,” Melissa promises. “We’re in the middle of making Irish potatoes for the kids at school as we speak.”

“Oh, how lovely. I suppose I’ll let you go, but give me a holler on St. Patrick’s day- preferably before you decide to get intoxicated with that blasted green alcohol,” your mother tells you.

“Will do, Mam,” you roll your eyes. “I love you, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye, Esther,” Melissa singsongs.

“Chat later,” your mother says. “Love to you both.”

The two of you finish making the sweets for your students before settling on the couch.

“So tell me more about your own traditions,” your girlfriend requests as you take a sip from your wine glass.

You do. Your eyes light up as you tell her what your family used to do, and how you’re quite thrilled to be able to share the traditions with her- even if some of them are silly.

“What do you usually do?” you ask her.

“Get piss drunk,” the faux redhead grins. “Go down to all the skanky dive bars and drink some green beer to pregame the parade.”

“And what do you do with the kids?” you roll your eyes. “I kind of assumed that was what you did.”

“Oh,” she laughs. “Sometimes we make leprechaun traps, I’ll put a few gold coins around the classroom, and whoever finds them gets a prize. They usually all get a baggie of Lucky Charms… and sometimes I dye the toilet water green in the morning and tell the kids that I guess we were struck.”

“That’s cute,” you say as you snuggle into her. “I’m sure they love it.”

“They have for the last… however many years I’ve been teaching at this point,” she sighs. “But I’m sure this year, they’ll all be more excited when you bring in the potatoes and when you teach them the basics of Irish dance.”

“Oh, god,” you groan. “Don’t remind me that Ava practically blackmailed me into doing that.”

“I think it’ll be good. The kids like interactive stuff… you see how they still talk about Tariq and his short lived career with F.A.D.E.”

“I guess,” you roll your eyes.

Your girlfriend is right. The kids are delighted to learn from you and learn about you and your country. You don’t think you’ve ever seen their eyes light up the way they did when they each got a few of the potatoes you and Melissa made last night.

You teach them a few steps, and they love it.

“This is so cool, Ms. Y/N,” one of your sweet students tells you.

St. Patrick’s Day at school comes to an end, and the two of you go out to happy hour with your crew to celebrate a successful school wide holiday. 

The Philly streets are already in the spirit, with green painting the town. Most are wearing their Eagles gear to get into the green spirit, and a chorus of ‘Go birds!’ can be heard at any given time as you walk through the streets with your girlfriend and work friends.

You find your usual little pub and order a round. The beers are already dyed green.

“So, what are your plans for this holiday?” Janine asks you.

You wrap an arm around Melissa as you speak, “Get hammered? Make dinner drunk, and then show up to church on Sunday hungover as hell?”

“Sounds about right,” Gregory rolls his eyes. 

Saturday morning rolls around, and you and Melissa get ready to head out for the day. You bought those little shamrock tattoos and place one on each of your cheeks before grinning.

“My Irish girl,” Melissa grins as she kisses you softly.

“We should probably call my mom now before we go out,” you chuckle. “We can do it while we get ready.”

You dial her, greeting her in your native language before switching back to English. You and the redhead chat with her for a few minutes, also getting to say hello to your father, before she lets you go to ‘participate in juvenile activities’.

Melissa has all of her eagles gear on, complete with the jersey that she has signed by Jalen Hurts, and you have on the ridiculous shirt that the redhead threw into the cart at Walmart.

You head down to the pub the two of you frequent, and while it’s busy as hell, even for 10:30 in the morning, you’re able to get seated due to the staff knowing you.

Melissa looks away from you to order you a Guinness and her a Yuengling before spinning back around to look at you. She pecks your lips quickly.

While it’s not unwelcome, you do raise a brow. She’s not usually so big on PDA.

“Your shirt,” she chuckles.

Your bartender hands her the drinks and then she turns back around and kisses you again.

“I think I see how today is going to play out,” you chuckle. The two of you clink glasses and chug your first beers. 

By the time the parade starts at noon, it’s safe to say that both you and your girlfriend are intoxicated. She’s yelling ‘Go birds!’ at anyone she sees who is also clad in Eagles gear, and there are a lot of people wearing the football team apparel. She holds your hand tightly as you roam the streets around city hall trying to find the best spot you can to watch the parade.

The two of you are delighted to watch as the parade goes on around you. You spend the next hour and a half smiling and laughing so hard your faces are red. Each time she turns away from you and turns back to you, she kisses you- and the more intoxicated she is, the harder she kisses you. There’s something in the back of your mind that tells you at some point today, you’ll end up in bed.

There’s only one hiccup during your outing. Melissa has let go of your hand and is doing her best to sound as sober as possible when one of her old students comes up and gives her a hug. She’s engaged in conversation with the child for a bit, and when she turns around, there is a man who is very clearly trying to hit on you. His lips are puckered, and he’s telling you that he’s just trying to follow the directions on your shirt.

“Hey, asshole, she’s very much spoken for,” Melissa shoves him away from you.

The man stumbles slightly. “Her shirt says to kiss her.”

“I’m the only one who gets to kiss her,” your girlfriend says as she pushes him again. “If you wanna try again… well, fuck around and find out.”

He backs away with his hands raised in surrender, and before he can turn around to run, Melissa’s lips are on your own. She kisses you deeply, throwing up her middle finger in the direction of the guy as she dips you just slightly.

When she pulls away, your cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are filled with lust.

“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

You follow her quickly as you head back in the direction of your apartment.

“Fucking asshole thinks he can get my girl,” the second grade teacher grumbles. “No way in hell.”

“Hun, it’s fine. I could’ve handled it myself,” you tell her as you squeeze her hand gently. “But it’s nice to know that you would fight a man in my honor.”

“Like hell,” she tells you. “Ain’t no way anyone else is gettin’ my girl.”

As soon as you’re inside your apartment, she has you pinned up against the door. Once again, her lips are on yours aggressively, and her hands quickly roam to other parts of your body. She squeezes gently, and you have to bite back a moan when she bites down on your neck. She grabs you by the thighs and lifts you up, taking you back into your bedroom.

By the time the two of you are finished, you’re breathing heavily. That was… wow.

“C’mon, baby,” she whispers as she holds you close. “We gotta start making dinner.”

“I’m gonna need some time to gain feeling in my legs,” you sigh out.

She chuckles as she kisses you softly- much more softly than she was earlier. “That’s fine. I’ll get it started.”

When you finally catch your breath again and the shaking in your legs subside, you make your way out of the bedroom. You still have your ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish’ shirt on, but you have her denim shirt on overtop of it and a pair of her shorts.

“Damn, baby,” she licks her lips. “You come out looking like that and expect me to be able to focus on dinner?”

You roll your eyes and head back into the bedroom before returning wearing a pair of sweatpants. She pouts, but that quickly goes away when you wrap your arms around her waist and kiss her cheek.

“What all have you done?”

“Gotten a beer,” she says cheekily as she cranes her neck to kiss you.

You roll your eyes. “I was in the bedroom for like forty minutes.”

“Okay,” she sighs before confessing, “So I had two beers while I looked at the pictures I took of you. Sue me for getting distracted by my gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Get the cabbage,” you swat her away from you. “And grab me a beer, please?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she grins as she kisses you again.

Dinner is delightful, and the two of you drink a few more beers before heading out again to meet up with the Abbott crew, aside form Barbara and Gerald. You end up getting absolutely hammered, chugging green beer after green beer with your girlfriend.

By some grace of God, the two of you get home without Melissa getting into a bar fight for all of the creepy men trying to hit on you.

That outing ends much like the first outing earlier in the day. But after, she holds you close and the two of you drift to sleep.

The next morning is brutal, both of you hungover as hell and promising you’ll never drink again (until the next time you decide to drink). You both get ready for church, moaning and groaning the entire time as you drink pedialyte and try to rehydrate yourselves.

While the hangover is killer, this Saint Patrick’s Day is one that will go down in the books. 

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Never wake a sleeping Dragon - Yan!Viserys x fem!reader

warning : yandere, obsession, implied overprotective, mentioning of death/war, hurt/comfort , fluff, kissing

Summary : Visery the king in him is the burning blood of the dragon. A thing that most of the people around him tend to forget he is "the peaceful" however when a new Queen is needed a heir for the kingdom the dragon awakes when a storm is starting to geather and obsession is forged. He will not let her get away from his dragon dream.

Info : Never imagined that I would be writting for Viserys but I like the idea of a quiete yandere type that goes full obsession when his love tries to flee. Afterall he is a Targaryen and everytime a Targaryen is born the coin decides the fate ;) And Paddy looks good so yeah....have fun;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~

The King of the Seven Kingdoms Viserys, peacefully the first of his name, was the ruler of King's Landing and all the lands. A man who had ridden one Balerion to the Black Death, the mighty beast that had been dead for decades. A man who was always eyed, especially by his brother.

Daemon, the only prince of the realm and his younger brother, on the other hand, was the picture of a Targaryen. Quick-tempered, insanely brutal and lusting after blood and fire. But his brother Viserys was peaceful, enjoying the simple pleasures of music, jousting and building stone decorations.

The sleeping dragon was what his enemies, the common people and the king's court called him. A dragon on a throne who slept and sent his brother and troops instead of unleashing his wrath.

A man who mourned all his lost children with his first wife Aemma Arryn until his only child Rhaenyra was born. The princess of the realm of the rich and handsome.

The beautiful image of her mother and the fieriness of her uncle Daemon who was devoted to his niece. The dragon was happy for some time, his dream, his dragon dreams had shown him a son, another prince, and when his wife became pregnant again, the queen gave birth to the son Baelon through the blood of the falcon and the dragon.

The king was filled with joy, but this was to be taken from him. His own wife condemned to death, his son dead and his daughter turning away from him in her own grief, he had lost everything.

He had lost his flames, his dragons and seemed completely alone. Alone in his chambers, just himself and the dim fire in the fireplace, the unfinished Valyria and the wine at the table. The dragon seemed to have lost his own.

The gaze of the violet eyes of the tired, haggard man had turned away from the fireplace and was looking at the picture of his wife, the painting he had had painted.

Until a knock at the door made him look up. ,,Away!" he had said loud enough for the person to disappear but when his door opened he placed the portrait on his bed and rose to confront the intruder.

The glow inside him seemed to spark and he wanted to be alone. ,,I said I want to be alone!" he hissed and was about to reach for his sword when he saw a woman a little older than his daughter, a lady in waiting, a then still young chick from his wife, the rest of her.

He vaguely remembered her from his grief, how she chose her ladies in waiting, how the ladies enjoyed themselves and spent time together. But after her death they were all gone, he had given them money and sent them back to their families, except for her.

She stayed, her relatives died in the battles in the kingdoms. She was the lady of the house without a seat without a stay and now the only lady-in-waiting who held on to Aemma.

,,My lady… what can I do?" He asked, his voice no longer angry but tired and exhausted. He sat back in the armchair and covered his face with his hands. ,,My king? Lord Hand has instructed me to bring you some food," he heard her voice, still caring for him despite his suffering.

Her king. She should be mourning her kings friend. What sacrifice from such a woman he thought and raised his eyes to her dark black dress. Grief. Saw her coming towards him a moment before he waited for her to sit next to him on the chair.

They had not seen each other since the funeral of his Aema and Baelon, days in which he had not seen her. His Aemma-no, her smile. ,,That's very kind of you…do you mind staying?" he asked her and it seemed to him that as the king, the man with the most power, he was asking her permission.

He saw how she didn't hesitate, how there was only a brief flash of uncertainty about his well-being. ,,Of course, here's some tea from the Maestar," she said and Viserys shifted in his seat even though he was only wearing his loose shirt and trousers, the jewelry on his body made him look better.

Putting on his expensive clothes, however, meant going back out there, following the sad eyes to a throne without her. Glancing at her, his violet eyes watched as she handed him the plate of bread and eggs, the bacon still warm, and he felt his stomach actually craving food.

Only wine and drugged flowers were not food, at least not what he was supposed to have. Until suddenly he heard a cry of pain and wheeled around to face her. Almost throwing the plate aside, he saw that the boiling water had splashed on her hand by coming up in the goblet. ,,Wait," he said hastily and took the cup from her hand and the pot.

The vapor, the heat showing effect on her hand red hot and hurting her. Like the flame of a dragon. ,,It's… all right Viserys," she pressed out, tears in her eyes saying something else and at that moment he didn't feel helpless, not intimidated. He was alive. The fascination, his dream.

The fire, his son. ,,Burned by fire-I mean, did you burn yourself very badly? Wait, I'll get something," he said, feeling his thoughts racing as he rose from her, she would end up making the dream real, replacing his imagination. This woman in smoke and flames?

He fetched a pain-relieving ointment from his bedside cabinet and came back to her, seeing how she had pulled out her handkerchief to dry her tears, but the trembling of her hands made it rather sluggish. ,,Thank you Vis-forgive me my King but you don't have to" she insisted as she watched in panic as the King knelt before her, his hands gently and lovingly taking the cloth and wiping away her tears.

His violet eyes did not leave hers and he saw this dream more and more clearly as she looked at him with respect, gratitude and something he could not interpret. Something he was only told later by his brother. Fear.

,,Please, I insist that your tears should not be shed any more. A gentle healing as opposed to the flames," he murmured, pleased when he saw that she had stopped crying and gave him a grateful look. Applying the slab to the wound the burning disappeared after a few minutes the warmth remained but the fast beating heart in her chest from the shock was slow to recover.

,,Thank you my king… I should go, my presence disturbs the mourners" she replied to him and rose from her seat, the handkerchief falling into his hands before she hurried to the door. The flower in the face of the sleeping dragon, the pretty coin unused and still open to a hand.

As if possessed by something else, he reached for her hand and held it, not wanting her to leave. ,,My lady, please… I expect you to stay with me," the words of the tone that was a command left his lips at the same time. She had no chance of escaping from this room and the flower had no choice but to give up her pretty goodness to him of her own free will. She came back to him, sat down next to him and stayed with him.

She kept her king company as he commanded and for the first time something like joy, devotion and perhaps love seemed to return to the king's heart.

It was a feeling that had consequences, for in the days and weeks that followed, this feeling was transformed into something found in the Targaryen madness. As the blood of the dragons flowed, the king felt a sense of ownership.

She was his possession and for the first time the dragon in him seemed to stir and finally get rid of the name of the peaceful one.

Something his lovely counterpart had no idea what it meant to face a Targaryen.

The next few days and weeks changed to a different rhythm. Instead of Alicent, the daughter of the hand, the king always had the lady called to him, seeking her company at any given time.

In the morning at his breakfast, he had her called to him, his violet eyes showing joy when he saw her figure, the tip of her nightgown sticking out from under her dark robe.

,,My king, you wanted to see me again," she said and joined him at the table where she sat down opposite him. She knew that he was lonely, her beloved Aeamm was dead and she felt guilty for giving comfort to the king as well as the princess and heiress.

The princess Rhaenyra without a mother, who had often come to her, had taken her lovingly in her arms and cried together while they had been more closely connected. But Viserys felt almost uncomfortable in the face of the dragon.

Rhaenyra the young dragoness her warmth was healing but his fire was burning. She had always liked to be there for her king and somehow also a friend, but now it seemed like the stories in the Masters' books. Every Targaryen is a dragon and a dragon obsessively searches for its treasure to guard.

But something told her that Viserys would gradually fall for this side of the infamous coin. Something she was right about and yet she had no idea how far this would go.

The pair's breakfast was quiet as she saw the king's smile, something that made her happy inside, but as the days and weeks wore on, the dragon's fire seemed to tighten around her. When she was not with Rhaenyra, Alicent or her own advisors for her house, she was always seen with Viserys.

The dragon took the first step when he got up one evening after dinner and fetched a box big enough to store several things in. ,,My dear, I want to thank you for everything you have given me in the last few weeks…I could finally smile again and feel something special," he began and opened the gift of a dress and a necklace for her.

,,Viserys this is a sign of unbelievable craftsmanship I can't accept this" she said and turned away the fear that he would command her again was there but the fear of losing her king and husband of her beloved friend and queen into this darkness again no she couldn't do that. Wasn't it everyone's duty to keep the king happy no matter what the cost?

But the blond Targaryen would not be beaten, he had not just let her body mass give way to images.

He had taken her as far as he could from the outside. With the dress, the fabric he had chosen, the necklace of the best metal of Valyrian steel and the ruby, he would touch her for all to see and make her his. ,,But I insist, my love, on a dress as a token of my gratitude for what you have done," he continued, handing her the fabric, a look of shame on her face as she realized he wanted her to try it on.

Looking around, however, she saw that he must have taken precautions because a partition carved out of fine wood with dragon motifs and legends stood in the room that had not been there before. ,,Please, I insist," he said, not necessarily emphatically, but she knew what he meant.

She could not ignore an order from the king. The fabric of the dark dress was surprisingly warm, like the scales of a dragon, and even if he no longer had Balerion, she knew he could have taken any dragon that was still alive or about to hatch.

His violet eyes lay on the wood seeming to peer through it to see her soft body and the dragon's violet eyes showed lust and devotion as she stepped forward a few minutes later.

,,I-I look like a Targaryen," she murmured, the dark black dress with the red embroidery of a dragon and the finest gold escaping her thoughts. It was not the colors of her house, it was not the color of her Aemma, its colors were the colors of King Viserys Targaryen.

He came up to her and circled her, running his hand carefully over the fabric, ,,Handsome and beautiful," he murmured the words of praise before he stopped behind her and she heard the faint tinkling of metal as she listened to the chain.

She held her breath as she felt the cold Valyrian steel around her neck and ran her fingers over it. ,,A Targaryen you will be too for I have decided my love I want you as my new wife as the new Targaryen Queen" he said taking her hands and for the first time she saw his own madness of the dragon flicker in his eyes.

A will of the King a will that made her cry because even though she liked him and had certain feelings for him, a marriage, becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the responsibility that came with it to bear him children was true.

She couldn't say yes but that's how he knew he could force her…and he did. The first traces of his obsession with his madness were laid the day he married her in the tradition of his house.

The tradition she could not escape. And even if only years later he married his second wife Alicent, the story of the Dance of the Dragons would play out as it was foretold, until then his madness with his second wife his flower was the only thing that mattered.

Her colors of the house long forgotten only reflected in the ring her mother had left her, the lands of her house given to a distant relative whose right to finally see his second niece was punished with wrath by the king.

Viserys for the first time any lords who even dared to question the second queen found themselves impaled on the castle walls, their tongues severed or burned by Syrax, Meyleys or Caraxes when the king ordered his kinsmen to do so.

,,All this because of a woman who doesn't even come from a significant house," she had heard Lord Corlys say, who was on his way back to Driftmark with his wife and the two of them had met with Rhaenyra and Daemon.

The king himself knew from the trouble she was causing that lords and ladies were already looking around whispering about what was going on with the king.

,,Help me my lords my princess," she had dared to join the group, the dark colors on her now like an endless dragon pit where fire awaited her every night.

Viserys didn't let her out of his sight, she slept in his bed every night and even though she tried to love him, she was always trying to return the physical contact with kindness.

With each night, with each time, she saw more and more marks on her body that he left behind, not painfully, but she knew that the fabric of her clothes could hardly cover them any more. She had waited as the king released his anger on her kinsman and banished him from the city.

He had robbed her of her right to the title of Lady of the House. ,,Targaryen should marry houses from Valyria the simple flower perishes in fire" she had begged the group Rhaenyra who had asked her for help so many times had tried to help her.

But with every attempt they made to dragon, to bot or to escape with the carriage everything was blamed on a mysterious attenat by the four of them.

But every attempt failed, and the kingdoms watched as the news of Alicent Hightower's second pregnancy spread through the realms with joy in this delight to the fear of Corly, Rhaenys, Rhaenyra and Daemon Visery's second wife.

First Aemma Arryn died the second wife full of mysteries and strange events the jewel of the king which suddenly disappeared and the third wife who brought peace and war for the future.

But what they all didn't know was that in the depths of the castle, when the king went down with the torch in his hand, he went further in than even his brother probably knew.

The old forgotten Valyrian part and influence revealed itself. ,,My dear, I'm back…did you like the metal?" he asked as he walked through the common room past the cells where he had spiked her after her four "attacks". He wasn't stupid he knew that his own daughter and brother had tried to "save" her with his cousin and her husband.

He knew that they did not approve of this marriage, neither politically nor personally, she had only wanted to return to her home to the last people she had left.

Her friendship with Rhaenyra and Alicent was over. Now she would never escape from the castle again, nor from him

Pulling the key from his robe, he unlocked the large door to the cell. The metal gave way and the bolt was pushed back, which was once for the most serious criminals or the people most in need of protection.

It was the place where the king could finally turn to his true treasure. Not his daughter, his wife, his son or his brother. He was with her, with his true dream, with the woman who would bring him his son and promised prince.

Walking into the great room he saw his beloved his Targaryen the clothes he had brought her the clothes he had given her all in the black and red of the house the jewelry, books and paintings were to entertain her when he was not there. When the dragon didn't come to her in his madness, she prayed almost every night and even though time passed, her belly didn't swell.

No child wanted to grow inside her, but no, it wasn't her fault, it was something else he was sure of. Because when he took her, the shadows of her dragon reflected on the wall and the sounds of her love echoed through the room, he knew that the prince had to spring from her womb.

,,My pretty wife... tell me, how are you feeling?" he asked, walking over to her armchair, where she sat, as always, in front of the fireplace with a book on her lap and an absent look in her eyes.

Fear had been reflected in it at first, but after an indefinite time every house broke under the dragon sooner or later. He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, cold and not warm like him, the smile that played around his lips threatening to tip over. The madness only ever lasted until a dragon was no longer entertained.

The grip on her hands tightened for a moment, becoming painful until she finally looked at him. ,,Viserys...you're back...how did it go?" she asked as usual, obviously pretending to him that she was still living on the Hoffe with the others. As if she was always waiting for an opportunity to leave.

But they both knew that she would never leave this room again. ,,The lords are satisfied for a while, don't worry my queen, tell me how your prince is doing" and he put his hand on her flabby belly where even after the countless nights of trying. In trying, she had tried to see all this as a story, a book of the lost maiden who would finally be free when she gave birth to the king's son.

But it seemed that with each passing month everything would become less warm, the fire in the fireplace not warm, the clothes on her no color and his love was the madness of the dragon she had never seen so strong. ,,I try my king every tincture, every meal...even the old books but I don't carry your seed" she murmured and looked at him the violet of his eyes just like Rhaenyras and Daemon's she missed the court, her friends and the sun.

Now she would never be able to escape from the castle or from him. Pulling the key from his robe, he unlocked the large door to the cell. The metal gave way and the bolt was pushed back, which was once for the most serious criminals or the people most in need of protection.

It was the place where the king could finally turn to his true treasure. Not his daughter, his wife, his son or his brother. He was with her, with his true dream, with the woman who would bring him his son and promised prince.

Walking into the great room he saw his beloved his Targaryen the clothes he had brought her the clothes he had given her all in the black and red of the house the jewelry, books and paintings were to entertain her when he was not there.

When the dragon didn't come to her in his madness, she prayed almost every night and even though time passed, her belly didn't swell. No child wanted to grow inside her, but no, it wasn't her fault, it was something else he was sure of.

Because when he took her, the shadows of her dragon reflected on the wall and the sounds of her love echoed through the room, he knew that the prince had to spring from her womb.

,,My pretty wife... tell me, how are you feeling?" he asked, walking over to her armchair, where she sat, as always, in front of the fireplace with a book on her lap and an absent look in her eyes. Fear had been reflected in it at first, but after an indefinite time every house broke under the dragon sooner or later.

He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, cold and not warm like him, the smile that played around his lips threatening to tip over. The madness only ever lasted until a dragon was no longer entertained.

The grip on her hands tightened for a moment, becoming painful until she finally looked at him. ,,Viserys...you're back...how did it went?" she asked as usual, obviously pretending to him that she was still living on the Hoffe with the others. As if she was always waiting for an opportunity to leave.

But they both knew that she would never leave this room again. ,,The lords are satisfied for a while, don't worry my queen, tell me how your prince is doing" and he put his hand on her flat belly where even after the countless nights of trying. In trying, she had tried to see all this as a story, a book of the lost maiden who would finally be free when she gave birth to the king's son.

But it seemed that with each passing month everything would become less warm, the fire in the fireplace not warm, the clothes on her no color and his love was the madness of the dragon she had never seen so strong.

,,I try my king every tincture, every meal...even the old books but I don't carry your seed" she murmured and looked at him the violet of his eyes just like Rhaenyras and Daemon's she missed the court, her friends and the sun.

Viserys let out a disappointed sigh he knew it wasn't because of her she never did she was young and of Targaryen blood there had to be a child someday. His hand went from her leg to her hands and took the book from her, his specially chosen book on Valyria.

She knew that ever since he had given her the keldi that he had made her into something. A Targayren tried to transform her in one way and another. His hand slid gently over hers, its softness stimulating, it was something like another time.

But when his other hand slid down from her flat, bare belly and stroked the fabric of her legs, she knew exactly what he wanted. What he was here for almost every time. His initial gentleness soothing the kisses, hugs, gifts and caresses.

But his other way the coin that was thrown this madness was burning. ,,I know you're trying my love and I'll be there for you...for our child" he said softly as he lifted her out of the chair and gave her a kiss.

His warmth burned on her like a fire but it was the only thing she felt that was still real as she returned the kiss. her arms slowly wrapped around him, clinging to the dragon's scales, her knees to his wings, feeling the warmth of his fire as he gently stroked the kelid from her body.

The dragon laid her on the tower of coins, the bed of old wood carved with signs of Valyria. His gestures, words and pain the lust mingled with the pain. But she seemed to react to him again after a long time, to finally feel that burning sensation inside her.

But she looked at him saw the dragon the madness and perhaps it was because of the flames of the fireplace that she saw Balerion the black dread in the shadows, Viserys rising as the dragon Valyrias.

She herself was seized by the fire when she felt him again, as she did every night. But this time it was different it seemed the uncertainty was burned out of her the house she once belonged to the name was irrelevant.

She mattered as his queen...as the woman who would bear the promised prince to the king. Perhaps she herself had fallen into the madness of the Targayren before all this, and now rose as a dragon from the flames.

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

[2rats1gogh]

although i REALLY like the cast of HotD I can’t help but criticize the fact that they all are a little off for their canonical ages.

And it creates A LOT of problems.

Whenever I look at Olivia as Alicent my brain just cannot comprehend the fact that she is supposed to be the mother of Aegon, Aemond and Helaena. She looks like their older sister. I get that they were trying to go for the effect that “she was too young when she had her children” which is valid but still, she looks five years older than them at best. She is supposed to be almost 20 YEARS older than Aemond, yet in some shots of them together he looks like he’s older than her. It just makes it not really believable.

Rhaenyra is also supposed to be much much older than her siblings, yet they all also look just like three years apart. They don’t look like a woman in her mid to late thirties fighting with a man in his early twenties which is what it should’ve been. It takes away the drama and puts them on the same level.

Ewan Mitchell is amazing as Aemond but he looks so so much older than the actor who plays Luke. During Storm’s End, like many people have said, it actually looks like a grown ass man chasing a small kid, when the characters are supposed to be like four to five years apart. Where Luke is believable as a 14 year old, Aemond absolutely does NOT look 19.

Rhaenyra and Daemon also look fairly the same age because obviously there was no Daemon recast. They did a good job to make Paddy (Viserys) age throughout the years, but they kinda forgot to make Daemon age as well. And therefore Matt Smith looks the exact same in ep 1 and in ep 10, even tho these two episodes are like AT LEAST 20 years apart?? Matt Smith was in his early forties when they were filming, but by the end of season 1 Daemon is literally supposed to be in his mid to late fifties. The fact that Emma and Matt look around the same age, maybe having a 5 year age gap max, makes many people forget that they are two fully different generations of people, being around 20 years apart in the show, and hypothetically could’ve been father and daughter.

And obviously Laena. Other people have already talked about this, but I also find it super weird that the show tried to convince us that Laena went from (1) to (2) in like, i don’t know, two years maybe? And then after a timeskip of only like one decade, she suddenly looks like she aged 20 years? The actress is literally older than Emma, and Laena is supposed to be younger than Rhaenyra.

It just doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t really have a problem with changing some of the characters’ ages, but you have to consider casting the right actors as well. They did a fairly good job when adapting Game of Thrones, because they kinda aged up everyone and kept the same actors without having any timeskips. The only exceptions are probably characters like Brienne, because although I LOVE Gwendoline Christie, Brienne should’ve been a literal teenager.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

A Different Kind of Love Story

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

The cold of the night seeps through the walls of the old, decaying mansion where Y/N finds herself. Her heart pounds in her chest, but not out of fear—it's a strange anticipation that fills her. Her wrists are tightly bound to a chair, and the room is dimly lit. The silence is suddenly broken by heavy footsteps on the creaking wooden floor.

Paddy steps into the light. His gaze is cold and calculating as he approaches Y/N. He expects fear, panic, maybe even tears. But when their eyes meet, all inhibitions vanish from within her. The dark, menacing aura surrounding him strangely draws her in. She watches every movement he makes—powerful, calm, controlled.

Paddy raises an eyebrow. "You're not afraid, are you?"

Y/N slowly shakes her head and smiles slightly. "No," she whispers, "not of you."

He frowns, visibly confused. "This is supposed to go differently. You should be scared."

But Y/N remains unfazed. "Maybe I'm different."

Suddenly, the door behind Paddy is thrown open, and another captive is dragged in. It's a man who falls to his knees, whimpering and begging for his life. Paddy grabs a knife and, without hesitation, slashes the man's throat. Blood splatters across the floor, and instead of disgust or horror, Y/N feels something entirely unexpected—fascination.

She looks Paddy directly in the eyes and whispers, "I want to kill someone too."

Paddy stares at her, dumbfounded and surprised. "What?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"You heard me." Her voice is firm, confident. "I want to do it. Show me."

For a moment, Paddy stands still, overwhelmed by this bizarre turn of events. "This isn't... this isn't normal. You should hate me, you should be afraid."

Y/N leans forward slightly, her eyes glowing with excitement. "Maybe you're just the first one who truly understands me."

Paddy can't deny his fascination with this unusual woman. She's different. Instead of seeing her as a victim, he sees... something he hadn't expected. A dangerous fire that matches his own.

"Fine," he says quietly at last, "I'll show you."

---

Weeks pass, and Y/N and Paddy become an unstoppable duo. Together, they move through the nights like a well-rehearsed team, finding victims, hunting, and killing with an eerie precision and passion. Paddy is amazed at how naturally killing comes to Y/N, how she adopts and refines his every move. Between them grows a dark intimacy that connects them in a way that can't be explained by violence or bloodshed alone.

One night, however, a victim fights back. The man they have captured suddenly pushes Y/N, and she falls, her arm getting cut by a sharp object. A deep red stream begins to flow down her arm.

For a moment, Paddy freezes, but when he sees the blood, a burning rage overtakes him. His eyes narrow, and before Y/N can react, he grabs the man and slams him against the wall with brutal force. His fists crash down on the man's body until he collapses lifeless to the floor.

"No one hurts her," Paddy growls, turning to Y/N. A dangerous, possessive fire burns in his eyes. "No one."

He kneels beside her, gently taking her injured arm in his hands. "Does it hurt?" His voice is now quieter, almost tender.

Y/N shakes her head, her lips curving into a slight smile. "Not really."

Paddy pulls her closer, his hands surprisingly gentle as he inspects the wound. Their faces are mere inches apart, and without another word, Paddy presses his lips firmly against hers. The kiss is rough, intense, filled with the unspoken passion and obsession that has grown between them.

Y/N returns the kiss with the same intensity. It’s a moment of complete surrender, one that needs no words. Paddy holds her tightly, as if she were his everything, as if the thought of losing her were unbearable.

"I’ll protect you," he whispers hoarsely, breaking away for a moment, only to kiss her again, this time softer, but no less intense. "No one will ever hurt you."

Y/N looks at him, her gaze clearer and more determined than ever before. "And I will always be by your side."

Together, they know now, they are unstoppable.

[larixxz]

Risa Hayashida (Wiki entries)

Here are some facts about her!!:) i’ve managed to write a little bit about her story, not too much but enough 😭💀 (sucks to be in the final year of highschool and prepare urself for exams and graduation 💔)

⚠️my oc’s story will include sensetive topics such as violence, murder, loss etc.!! ⚠️ (also sorey for my english🥹😟😟)

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆ ˚⋅

ᯓ★ I. Overview

ᯓ★ II. Personality

ᯓ★ III. Appearance

ᯓ★ IV. Breathing Style

ᯓ★ V. Abilities

ᯓ★ VI. Backstory

ᯓ★ VII. Relationship with other

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆ ˚⋅

★ I. Overview 🌺

• name―୨୧⋆ ˚

➤ Risa (梨彩) meaning: “Pear“

-Risa is a vibrant name rooted in multiple languages and cultures. However, its most widely accepted origin is Japanese. Based on the kanji characters used to write it, Risa exhibits numerous connotations.

➤ Hayashida (林田) meaning: “forest rice paddy”

-this surname was chosen because for centuries Risa’s ancestors were living in the mountains near forests, harvesting crops.

•birthday―୨୧⋆ ˚

➥ march 10th

•age―୨୧⋆ ˚

➥ 17

•sex―୨୧⋆ ˚

➥ female

•height―୨୧⋆ ˚

➥159cm

•occupation―୨୧⋆ ˚

➥ demon slayer (ever since 12 years old)

•rank―୨୧⋆ ˚

➥ hashira (since 14 years old, so for 3 years straight!)

•breath―୨୧⋆ ˚

➥ Dragon Breathing Style

★ II. Personality 🌷

Risa , the Dragon Hashira, is very well known not only for being an extrovert but also for an empath, showing sensitivity and understanding towards the other members of the Demon Slayer Corps. She has no trouble lending a hand in need even for the smallest inconvenience possible, as she considers it’s the Hashira’s duty to make others feel comfortable and welcome. She makes it very clear from the start that if you ever need something you can count on her!

However, with close friends, she does seem to be more on the playful, mischievous side as she loves to pull (harmful) pranks and tricks! She thrives on the reactions of others to her pranks, finding joy in laughter and amusement. But, sometimes, it does get out of hand… (as one time Risa, together with Tengen, faked a love letter from Mitsuri to Obanai but as consequence got her butt beaten by him🪦.Tengen managed to run away from the situation tho💀💀)

★ III. Appearance 🌸

In her childhood, to keep Risa safe from head lices, Hayami would often keep her hair really short but still cute, a short hime cut.

(example)

However, in her adolescence years, to honor her mother after her passing, she let her hair grow really long below her knees. It gave her some closure every time she looked in the mirror, thinking that it’s the only way to feel somehow connected to her.

She has a very long luscious hair kept in a low ponytail, ranging from the top of her head with a light coral that eventually fades to a cardinal red color. She kept the same face-framing layer from her childhood, a hime cut but longer sidelocks.

Thanks to her hair color it really accentuates the intensity of her azure eyes with a little bit of light yellow. Unlike average people, her pupils are thin and sharp, similar to a reptile. Her thick eyebrows doesn’t go unnoticed either.

Her attire consists in:

• top & bottom : standard demon slayer uniform (dark brown).

(she did got the revealing one just like Mitsuri from that perv but ultimately declined, shoving that “defected” uniform into his mouth and forcefully made him chew.)

• she wears a large indigo haori made by her mother, filled with red and white flowers.

•footwear : sandals idk😭

★ IV. Breathing Style ���

I should probably give a little bit of context (cringe aleeert😍😍 my 14 year old ass ateee ) :

Risa retains an ancient sword that she managed to obtain at the age of 12 years old by overcoming certain obstacles in order to become a Demon Slayer. This particular sword is actually possessed by a deity’s spirit who couldn’t find it’s peace yet after being killed centuries ago. Even though his physical body died, his spirit still remained lost on earth and withdrew itself in the sword.

The spirit’s name is Ryoma and takes form of a dragon with long horns and fluffy fur. The rest of his body is packed with scales. Not everyone can see him, though. So, sometimes, it looks like Risa is talking to herself. (which creeps people out…)

It might seem confusing but she gets a boost of power, benefiting not only from her swordsmanship styles but also from Ryoma’s strength. However, it is not unlimited as Ryoma needs energy to fight. So whenever he gets too tired, Risa will just simply use her style. (squiggly movements, similar to a dragon’s pattern)

He restores his energy by either sleeping.

In some cases, Ryoma can fuse with Risa’s breathing style, becoming more powerful but uses ton of energy.

(she also refuses for anyone to forge her weapon as it actually hurts for Ryoma. only she gently takes care of it.)

Dragon Breathing Style consists in 7 known forms:

1. First Form: Inferno Breath.

2. Second Form: Azure Tempest.

3. Third Form: Crystal Rain.

4. Fourth Form: Ryū Roar.

5. Fifth Form : Mizzle Dance.

6. Sixth Form: Savoury Munch.

7. Seventh Form: Immolate.

(will explain these forms another time😍😍)

★ V. Abilities

Even before becoming a Demon Slayer, she was blessed enough with a muscular built passed by her ancestors and having denser muscles than an average person. (not like Mitsuri tho ofc, maybe just three times denser).

Besides her strength, enhanced eyesight are also one of her main abilities that contributes greatly in battles. She can very clearly see the opponent’s next move.

Speaking of speed, she would definitely be the same level as Rengoku.

It might sound weird but sometimes, in a battle field, in order to keep the same speed as the opponent she uses all of her limbs to move, climb, drag herself around faster. (think just like Inosuke lol😭)

Her stamina and endurance is pretty average, it depends whenever she benefits some special effects from her Breathing Technique.

★ VI. Backstory 🎥

Risa- just a newborn.

- She was born into a community, far away from the other villages. This clan is thought to be a descendant from Ryoma, an immortal supreme creature that existed throughout the centuries on earth, before Muzan was ever born.

(PAST)

It is said that it’s clan appearance took apart when, several decades ago, a small community of villagers fled to the top of a mountain to escape starvation and the demons unleashed by Muzan. There, they found a cabin inhabited by a tall, pale man with platinum, silky hair and celadon eyes. He looked too beautiful to be human. The man, sad upon hearing their unfortunate story, suggested living in the same area as him only with the condition to help eachother out. Over time, living close with one another , they finally started creating familles together, they had the time to finally focus on what they can improve on skill-wise. Danger wasn’t a problem for them anymore as demons weren’t usually crossed the paths towards their new “hideout”.

The tall, white-headed man was finally happy to be surrounded by humans.

His name was Ryoma. But.. was he actually immortal?

[PRESENT]

Risa was the only daughter of the Hayashida Clan, which had only been blessed with boys for hundreds of years. The arrival of a girl in the family was seen as a positive change, as Risa would grow up to become a strong, beautiful, and inspiring lady who could serve as a role model for her peers.

Until.. all of their hopes were crushed.

```

Late one night, an unexpected and vicious attack was launched by demons sent by Muzan at the small village, catching its inhabitants off guard. The surprise attack resulted in the deaths of many, leaving only a handful of survivors. Among the survivors were Risa and her oldest brother, Rikku. In a desperate attempt to escape, Rikku fled to the closest village with Risa's baby sister cradled in his arms, but not before sustaining a major injury to his abdomen. Even though he had never left the mountain, Rikku managed to grab an old map of Japan before fleeing in search of refuge. However, the journey was fraught with danger and difficulty. With each passing moment, Rikku's wounds grew worse, he had left a massive trail of his own blood. Plus, Rikku was still far away from the village he had to refugee in with Risa and to report the Demon Slayer Corps about the night attack.. It was late.

He failed everyone from his family.

```

The only thing that made him proud in that moment was the fact that he protected his baby sister so well- no scar on her delicate, fair skin. He had no choice but to rest under the nearest cheery blossom tree and accepting his destiny in a matter of hours.

This was his last moment to admire nature’s beauty one last time before closing his eyes and falling into a deep, deep sleep for eternity.

```

For Risa’s luck, just the next day, he was found dead. His corpse, along with baby Risa sleeping peacefully in his arms, were found by a woman who just happened to live in the village Rikku was supposed to arrive in. The woman, named Hayami, noticed a small letter beside the young man, written in blood. Upon reading his letter and their situation, she felt pity for his fate and decided to give him a proper burial and took Risa into her care.

Nothing is known of her expect the fact that her name is Hayami. She is just a simple, hard-working women who sadly her husband “died” and suffered from infertility. It caused her a great moment of happiness finding Risa, thinking she could finally have someone to take care of and cherish.

```

Risa- a teenager. (12 years old)

Growing up, Risa has always showed her admiration and gratitude towards the swordsmen from the Demon Slayer Corps. Whenever she would see one doing a check-up in her village, she did not missed a chance into chatting with them about their routines, strenght and overall their life style as a demon slayer. The first Demon Slayer she ever talked to was actually an hashria, Uzui Tengen.

By the time Risa was 12 years old she already found out about her origins from Hayami. For some time she could only feel emptiness. It definitely messed her up, both psychically and mentally. Being the only blood line survivor that knew nothing of her past made her feel like a stranger to her own heart.. However, because of this reason, she did not wanted to happen similar or worser to someone else. So she made a very drastic choice of becoming a Demon Slayer.

When she told Hayami about her future plans she had her full support, letting her know she will always be by her side. Before attending the Final Selections, she had only one wish- visiting her hometown where she actually came from.

In this case, Hayami handed Risa the old map Rikku had with him the whole time he tried to escape. Thanks to this map, she was able to track the same path where her family used to live.

Risa took a few days to reach her final destination. As Risa made her way towards her destination, she couldn't help but notice the overgrown plants that had taken over the small houses. The sight filled her with a sense of melancholy as she tried to imagine how her family used to live there before their passing. How were they as people? What did they used to like? Were they good people? All kinds of questions started to pop in her mind. Suddenly, she stumbled upon a dusty scabbard with a sword inside. As she cautiously touched the handle, Risa felt a strange sensation, an electric shock, which made her instinctively drop it. However, she gathered her courage and took a closer look at the katana on her second attempt. As she carefully took out the sword, she noticed how it’s blade was changing colors to a lavander color which totally confused her, not knowing why. (yet LMAOO)

Thinking this might be the only evidence she can gather from her bloodline, she did not hesitated to bring it back with her home.

It was way too early when she arrived home, not even the sun was up by then. But, to her surprise, the doors were freely open with no one inside. Where was her mother? It coulnd’t been an attack by a demon, that’s for sure.. there were no blood. Risa had yelled for Hayami but to no response- she wans’t here.

That’s when Risa ran outside of her yard, trying to find someone to ask for help from her neighbors but the only sight she could catch was a large crowd in the middle of the commune, asseverating remarks of someone to be immediately burned. Making her way to see what was going on, every noise surrounding her quickly turned into a muffle and her vision blurred.

Her mother was tightly tied to a skate, ashamedly looking down at the ground. Hayami was a demon all along that outlived every single relative of her family years ago. Ultimately, she got saved by Lady Tamayo and inherited proprieties that once belonged to her family, making her very rich. However, because of Zaiaku Jigoku, a noble who wanted to buy some land owned by Hayami but was rejected, he managed to find all kinds of secrets about her and her identity and turned everyone against her to get all of her wealth after her death. He had a reason to execute her now- for being a demon and lying about it.

Calling out for her mother and intervening between people to save her was in vain - the guards sent by Zaiaku took hold of her and did not let her interfere with her mother’s execution. Hearing her daughter’s cries, Hayami couldn't do anything but sadly smile at her for the last time before being consumed by the sun. Even though she could have easily killed the humans, she chose not to, as she was committed to this decision. She never wanted to hurt anyone, but to be considered normal, like she was once before being turned. Before being consumed, she mumbled something that Risa couldn’t understand.

Her vision was blurred by her tears. Her heart was aching, as if a thousand daggers were piercing it repeatedly. She was compelled to watch as her mother was mercilessly taken from her. Despite her agonizing screams, no one intervened. At that moment, Risa's desperation gradually morphed into anger as she realized that the bystanders were indifferent to her mother's death, and the Japanese noble was going to basically win, making Risa homeless. Unwilling to let this pass, rage consumed her and she finished off almost everyone involved - specifically those who sided with Zaiaku.

Before dispatching the noble, he begged for mercy and pleaded with her to let him go as he has children who will mourn his passing. Risa had nothing but hatred towards this man; “How dare you ask for mercy just so you can move on and live a normal life with your family, while I have to mourn the death of my mother for the rest of my life?”

Eliminating the nobility did not ease Risa's pain, instead, it worsened as she stood before the bodies, covered in their blood. The realization that she had become what she detested most - a demon - left a heavy lump in her throat.

For years, in silence, she suffered. She never really told anyone about this but Gyomei.

★ VII. Relationship with other hashiras 🪷

She does get along with most of them thanks to her outgoing personality!

(still have to do what impressions she has for the kamaboko squad but wtv)

END. <3

(might just add/edit some stuff another time🤨)

[rose-of-the-grave]

Dancing in the Evening

Pairing: Lily x James

Hey everybody, here's a fluffy jily fic of them dancing, I hope you like it! This is for this request! I know, I know the gif is misleading. In this they are like 24 I think. I'm the author (please don't repost)!

Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: dancing, romantic fluff, jily as parents, possible pregnancy(mentioned once), light angst, jily lives!!!, James calling Lily "my love", let me know if there's anything else

Word Count: 913

Description: After putting Harry to bed, Lily and James dance around, having fun together.

Taglist: @sylveryfire

The sun lowered past the horizon, bathing Godric’s Hollow in golden light as it went. It was a few days after their son, Harry’s, birthday and Lily was tucking him in for bed. She and James would alternate each night, telling their son stories. Lily would tell him tales that she made up or from books while James would regale his son with his and his friends’ antics from their Hogwarts days. Today was James’ turn.

Lily looked up from where she sat on Harry’s bed to her husband, leaning against the doorframe. He smiled at her before shifting his focus to their baby boy. Harry was growing up so quickly, it seemed like only yesterday they had found out Lily was pregnant.

“So, Harry m’boy, you ready to hear about the time your Uncle Sirius spent a week with pink hair?”

Harry nodded, giggling. Some of his favorite stories were of his Uncle Sirius, or as he called him, Paddy.

“I’ll leave you boys to it.” Lily said, getting up. She paused on her way out of the room, watching James hop on the bed, tickling Harry who was laughing uncontrollably. Smiling to herself she padded quietly to the kitchen where James had run the dishwasher. She started to put the dishes away, careful not to lose her balance when reaching for the higher shelves.

Once she was done, she started piecing through the post that had been left on the counter, wondering if she would have gotten anything. Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley never came to Harry’s party. She wasn’t surprised, they hadn’t come to the past two but some part of her had hoped they would at least send him a card.

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist, a familiar head of messy hair rested on her shoulder.

“Hey.”

She placed her arms over his, hugging him to her. His hands started to drift further south to her still fairly flat belly. They had only found out a few days ago that she was pregnant again but hadn’t been to the doctor to confirm. Harry had been such a surprise so early in their marriage that they hadn’t really thought about having a second baby until more recently. Lily wanted him to have a sibling, hopefully one that he’d be close to like her and Petunia had been before she got her letter.

“Is Harry asleep?”

“I think so but it’s hard to tell.”

She hummed.

“Still nothing from your sister?”

“Yeah.” Her disappointment coming through.

“I’m sorry, I know how much you wish the two of you were closer.”

She nodded. “I just wish Harry could get to know all of his family.”

From the dining room, the faint echoes of some song on the radio carried through the evening air. Getting an idea, James pulled away suddenly. Curious, Lily turned to look at him. He bowed, making flamboyant motions with his hand, a devil may care smirk on his face.

“May I ask you, my fair lady, for a dance?” Holding his hand out.

Grinning, she put her hand in his. “You may, my good sir.”

He twirled her into him, dancing her around the kitchen and into the dining room/living room of their cottage. Every once in a while he’d twirl her before dipping her at the waist and giving her a kiss. With every single dip she giggled, her green eyes alight with pure joy. He met her with his own eyes, gazing into hers.

He twirled her out and away from him before pulling her back in, her beautiful red hair flying in the air. She fell into him a bit, dizzy, placing a hand on his chest for support. Leaning down, he picked her up in his arms and twirled her around, careful to make sure she didn’t hit anything. Quietly, she whooped, not wanting to wake up Harry.

“I’ve got you, my love.” He reassured her, his hands holding her firmly on her waist.

Slowly, he brought her back down, still slowly twirling her as the song neared the end. She kissed him, short and sweet before pulling away to sing along to the lyrics as the song ended. Joining her, he put on a fake accent, making her laugh.

When the song changed to a slower tune he held her close and simply swayed. She leaned her chin on his shoulder and simply enjoyed the moment.

“I love you, James.” She straightened up to look him in the eyes. “I love Harry, I love this life we’ve made for ourselves, but most of all I love you and my love for you grows with every passing day.”

He leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too. I’m so grateful that we’re here, together, alive. It feels like a miracle. You are my miracle.” A tear slipped down her cheek and he gently wiped it away. “Everyday that I get to spend with you and Harry is a blessing and I am so thankful that we are here and that we survived.”

She nodded. “Me too.”

“Mama? Papa?” A little voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

They turned to look at their son, in his little golden snitch pajamas, and smiled grateful that they were all three together.

"Come here sweetie!" Lily beckoned as the song changed yet again. Together, the three of them just danced around until midnight, happy to spend time with each other.

[bestiarium]

The Namandi [Aboriginal mythology, Aboriginal Dreamtime]

In the stories of the Aboriginal Dreamtime, Namandi are spirits known for their unpredictability. They wielded potent magic and were sometimes malicious against humans. These spirits are typically somewhat humanoid, though they also have large leathery wings that are sometimes compared to those of large bats.

So we know that they have wings, but actual depictions of the Namandi seem to be rare. In 1912, Paddy Cahill was appointed as ‘Protector of Aborigines’ for his interest in their traditional lifestyle and respect for their identity. That same year he met professor Baldwin Spencer, a biologist and anthropologist at the Melbourne University, and together they would commission and collect over a hundred paintings from native artists, depicting the characters and spirits from both their history and stories. The undeniable impact that these two men have made on Aboriginal anthropology is attested by how often I come across their names when researching stories from the Aboriginal Dreamtime.

One of the bark paintings in their collection (currently residing in the Melbourne Museum) depicts the spirit Nuojorabipi, which is thought to be a Namandi, though this isn’t certain. The spirit appears humanoid and has the bones of dead people hanging from its elbows. Nuojorabipi is known for devouring human corpses.

Another painting in the same collection shows Warraguk, a honey-eating spirit. Though I found no confirmation that Warraguk is one of the Namandi, he does have their bat-like wings.

Here is a traditional story about a Namandi: once upon a time, a young Namandi spirit was sleeping on top of a boulder. He dreamt that a human boy would come his way, and upon waking up he saw that his dream had predicted reality, for a young man had just left his home to gather goose eggs and passed by his boulder. The Namandi eagerly introduced himself and offered to help the lad with his hunt. And so, the two friends hunted for animals and eggs until it was too dark to return home. Now the young hunter was faced with a dilemma, as he was far from home and attempting such a long journey at night could prove very dangerous. The Namandi offered to let him sleep at his home, which the boy uneasily accepted. The problem was the Namandi’s mother, a very large and dangerous spirit who loved nothing more than the taste of human flesh. The boy washing himself thoroughly in a nearby river to mask his smell, and then followed his friend.

The Namandi knocked on the trunk of a very large tree, and a hole magically appeared, leading into his subterranean home. His mother was laying by a fire, half asleep, and immediately noticed that something wasn’t right. ‘What is that smell?’ she asked. ‘Why, I think I smell a human! You must have met a human today, haven’t you?’ ‘No, mother,’ the spirit replied, ‘you are mistaken. I have been out hunting by myself all day, and have not seen any human.’ The boy hid himself underneath his friend’s wings, and together they sat down in the darkest spot of the room. The boy only breathed when the Namandi did, and took care to not make any noise. He ate only when the Namandi ate, and although the spirit’s mother was looking at them, she did not see the human underneath her son’s wings, because they were sitting in the shade.

Shortly before dawn, the Namandi woke up his friend and said ‘hurry, it is still dark outside, so you must leave now. Soon the birds will wake up and start to sing, and then my mother will wake up.’ And so the young hunter grabbed his eggs and meat and left. But the Namandi’s mother woke up and figured something was off. Smelling a human clearly this time, she ascended the tunnel beneath the tree and arrived at the surface just in time to see the hunter disappear in the distance. The elder Namandi was furious at her son. ‘I knew you were hiding a human! What a bad son you are! You know that human flesh is my absolute favorite, and still you hid him!’ She started beating her son cruelly and furiously.

Eventually the Namandi’s father arrived and saw his wife (well, ‘partner’ would be more accurate, I don’t know if Namandi spirits have a concept of marriage) beating the ever-loving crap out of their son. ‘Stop this at once!’ he yelled, ‘I have a solution. From this day on, I will go out during the day to hunt, instead of our son. He will stay at home with you. He will never meet another human again, and that is for the best, because I know you’d devour his human friends.’

And that is what happened. The young hunter arrived safely back at his village, but he never saw his Namandi friend again.

Another, less depressing story about Namandi is the tale of Maradjira. Maradjira was a hunter who lived in Moraidbag. One day, he happened to kill a particularly large possum. The man had no way of knowing this, but the possum was abnormally large for a reason: it was the pet of a Namandi spirit who loved it dearly. As Maradjira was skinning and roasting the animal, the Namandi was looking for his missing pet. He saw bloody marks on the ground, noticed the tracks of a human nearby, and immediately understood what had happened. He tracked Maradjira down, found his camp, and proceeded to knock him down before the hunter even understood what was happening. The Namandi scolded him furiously, but then plucked the dead possum from the spear and magically healed its wounds. It blew new life into his pet, and the animal was alive once more as if nothing had happened. He scolded Maradjira again and returned home to his wife.

After the Namandi had left, the hunter got back up and resumed his journey. After some time, he met the spirit again, who had brought his wife and child with him. But the Namandi had had time to cool down, and realized that Maradjira wasn’t evil. He was a human, and couldn’t have known that this particular possum was the Namandi’s pet after all. So the family of spirits proposed to accompany Maradjira on his journey, and they became friends.

Eventually, the unlikely traveling party came upon the human settlement of Yirwaraidj, where they parted ways. This story serves as a reminder that Namandi spirits are unpredictable: meeting one might end with you getting devoured or punished, but you might also make a friend for life.

Sources: Taçon et al., 2022, Majumbu (‘Old Harry’) and the Spencer-Cahill bark painting collection, Australian Archeology, 89(1), pp.14-31 Anonymous author, 1995, Sprookjes uit de Wereldliteratuur: Aboriginal Mythen, Elmar B.V., Rijswijk, 128pp, p.117-128. (note: the authors of this publication chose to forego author rights so that proceeds from book sales go to a charity for Australian Aboriginal peoples.) (image courtesy of Melbourne Museum for both images)

[peakyscillian]

Bend The Rules | Cillian Murphy Series

Summary: Cillian is unhappily married, to someone who doesn’t care about him, surely he can bend the rules? Warnings: Cheating, drama, Smut, Mature themes, sexual content, language. Angst. Minors DNI Pairing: Cillian x Fem!Reader Part: 12 A/N: No disrespect to Cillian/his family this is purely fiction.

Bend The Rules | Part Twelve

Masterlist | BTR Masterlist

Part Twelve

It had been ten months since Manchester, six months of sleeping in your sister's guest room, four months in a houseshare, but today was the day you were moving, a new job had come along in Dublin, not somewhere you ever saw yourself going after everything that happened. 

The job was too good to pass up, something you could throw yourself into and forget about any mistakes you’d made. Dublin was a big enough place to never have to run into Cillian. 

You’d kept your promise, you had messaged him two months after leaving Manchester, let him know you were okay, he’d replied and told you how he was heading to New Mexico for a new Christopher Nolan role, you were a little bit jealous that his mistakes hadn't cost him his whole career. 

You had wanted to ask about her, if he was still with her, if she was really having this baby that had blown everything apart, but you stopped yourself, why would you torture yourself with an unwanted answer. 

So instead you’d sent a short message back, before trying to move on. 

-

Cillian was shattered, but his brother had convinced him that he needed to come out for the evening, he’d just got back from filming, the jet lag still biting him in the ass, but he hadn’t been out for a while, hadn’t let himself have any kind of life. 

The pub was busy, which wasn’t unusual, Friday night in Dublin was always packed. He had been in the pub for an hour, when it was his turn to buy drinks for the group, he’d weaved through the crowds, getting a spot at the bar, people next to him shouting their orders over the noise. 

“Shit, sorry” he heard the small laugh from behind him as someone stumbled into his back “Shona! Watch yourself please” the voice shouted, he turned to let the person know it was okay, no damage done. 

The second he spotted her, all 5ft of her, the smile pulling dimples onto her cheeks, he froze he hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, and here she was in one of his favourite bars, in Dublin looking so at home with the group of girls behind her.

“Y/N?” he shouted, god no wonder he used to get up the next day with a no voice in his younger years, she looked up with eyes wide “Cill” she smiled, biting at her lip. 

“Can I get you a drink? and your friends?” he asked, she nodded “We were getting wine, a bottle, if that’s okay?”, “Works over for the week” she added. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest, three weeks in Dublin and of course you’d run into him, his hair was still short, you’d seen pictures of him filming for Chris’ new film, he looked so thin, loved to throw himself into a role right down to the smallest details. 

Cillian handed you the wine with five glasses “Is one enough?” he laughed, you nodded “We’ve had two already, but thanks” you shrugged, “Can we catch up?” he smiled, hoping you weren’t going to walk away again.

“Tonight?” you asked, the girls were heading to find a table, bottle of wine in hand, you didn’t think they’d have any luck, “Yeah, please” he turned quickly to pay for the drinks “You can sit at our table, it's the massive one in the back corner, enough room for all of you” he suggested.

You took two of the pints “Is that okay?” you asked, as you followed him to the table “Of course” he turned with a smile, you gathered your friends, all slipping into the booth together. 

You could feel the skin of his bare arm radiating heat against your own, “Alright Cill, we know you’re divorced now but do you need five girls?” the younger man laughed, Cillian shook his head “Girls, this is my annoying little brother Paddy, who thinks he’s hilarious”, he introduced you all to the whole group.

He was divorced, you felt yourself relax slightly.

-

A few hours later you excused yourself from the table, you needed air, your head was spinning, sitting so close to him, feeling his arm brush against you, the accidental nudge of a foot under the table when you were moving to grab something.

You lit up your cigarette, taking a quick drag as the door opened, Cillian stepped out, fishing a packet of his own cigarettes from his pocket. “Hey” you smiled as he joined you on the small wooden picnic bench, placing his pint down.

“Hey you, it's good to see you” he smiled, you nodded because it was good to see him, you had missed him but Christ you hadn't allowed yourself to think about that for months.

“What are you doing in Dublin?” He asked zipping up his jacket, September had turned cold, “I moved here, there was an amazing job and I'd spent months living with my sister” you explained, Cillian nodded taking in the information, sipping from his pint.

“I should have come after you” he spoke suddenly, you looked up at him, “no, I asked you to let me leave, you did the right thing” you took a long pull on the cigarette.

Cillian nodded, pushing his free hand through his hair, “are you living in the city or further out?”, you dropped the end of your cigarette on the floor “Blackrock, didn't want to live right in the city” you smiled with a shiver.

Cillian laughed lightly, shaking his head “I live down the road, Monkstown, sold the city house when, well you know” he didn't finish the sentence as you nodded, understanding what he was getting at.

You looked at him, taking a sip of his pint with a smile “I need to know, was she actually pregnant?” you noticed Cillian smirk shaking his head “believe it or not she was, not mine though as confirmed by my lawyer she admitted it to Linda, had a baby boy two months after the divorce was final” 

You nodded, hand slowly moving to sit on top of his “I've missed you” you admitted out loud for the first time in ten months, “you've probably moved on, it's just.. yeah it's good to see you” 

Cillian shook his head “haven't moved on, haven't let myself, it was all such a disaster I didn't want to try again” he confessed, you linked your fingers through his, “I'm sorry about that night, I shouldn't have left like that” you looked embarrassed biting at your lip.

“We both made mistakes, I shouldn't have gone and got drunk the night when it all happened, should have come and talked to you” he squeezed your hand, letting the silence sink comfortably between you.

“Can we have dinner or something?” Cillian asked, looking hopeful, “there's some nice places in Monkstown I could pick you up?” He really didn't want to say goodbye to you again.

You couldn't deny it anymore, you had been punishing yourself for too long, had nights where all you wanted to do was call him, tell him you'd made a mistake walking away like you did, “yeah I'd like that” you smiled tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Cillian returned your smile “Sunday? Or is that too soon?” You shook your head “Sunday is fine” you stood up, shivering in the cold wind, Cillian stood up as well, catching your hand he pulled you towards him “feels good to be near you again” he confessed with the lightest kiss across your cheek.

You held onto him, feeling the comforting press of his body against yours, before you both broke apart, Cillian held the door open for you to walk back into the warmth of the pub.

Settling down at the table again, you felt lighter, Cillian topped up your wine, you thanked him with a gentle squeeze to his knee as you all fell back into conversation with the group.

-

You were sitting in Cillians car, parked outside your house, dinner had been comfortable, catching up on things that you'd both missed. 

You didn't want to get out of the car, you didn't want to end the night and possibly never see him again, you'd found each other so unexpectedly, you weren't sure you could let him go again.

You'd walked away once, you'd broken your own heart packing up your apartment, driving away from the place you'd felt truly happy, but you had needed to leave, you needed to be as far away from it, you'd been humiliated.

“I don-'' you started at the same time he did “we could-” he laughed, allowing you to carry on “I don't want tonight to end” you admitted, Cillian turned to you “we could go to mine? I'll drop you back later?” He suggested, you nodded “I'd like that” Cillian nodded, starting the car and pulling away.

-

Cillian let you both into his house, a Victorian townhouse close to the harbour, he took your coat, “come through” he smiled, leading you to the kitchen “wine?” He asked, pulling a bottle of red from the rack.

You spotted the wine glasses reaching for them, “fit right in” he joked, you shrugged “make me feel comfortable, Cill” you smiled.

He nodded with a smile, filling the glasses before handing you one, “do I get a tour of this big house?” You asked, taking a sip of wine. 

Cillian had his hand on the small of your back, directing you out into the hall “never been to yours before” you giggled lightly.

“Ah but you have, you slipped out in the night” he joked, you diverted your gaze from his “we can joke about it then?” You spoke softly, “of course, makes it easier” he laughed, pulling you into his side “because I've never felt like a one night stand in my life until then, and it was awful” he admitted.

You looked up at him, feeling guilty “sorry” you mumbled, taking a sip of the wine, he nudged his hip against yours “I've done it, just never had it done to me” he confessed.

You giggled slightly “Cillian Murphy the dark horse” his mouth fell open in mock shock “always the quiet ones” you quipped as he pulled you towards the lounge. 

Cillian sat on the sofa, watching as you straddled his legs, in one swift movement he had pulled you into his body, you felt the energy shift in the room as you locked eyes with him, his fingers brushing across your cheek “can I kiss you?” He asked, you instinctively licked across your lips, “please, kiss me” you smiled.

Cillian’s lips softly pecked against yours a few times, tenderly catching your bottom lip with his teeth, you pushed your hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands, earning a small groan against your lips, you took the chance to lick into his mouth, tongues clashing together. Cillian’s hands on your waist holding you against him.

You both pulled apart, slightly breathless “we should stop” he huffed out a breath, teeth pulling against his own lip, the feeling of yours still pressed on them. “We should” you agreed.

Cillian cupped at your cheek “we've only just met, should take you out on more dates” he had a cheeky glint in his eye as he spoke, you batted at his chest playfully.

Sinking into his body, lips pressed against his, he pulled away slowly “Stay the night” he asked, you pressed your forehead against his, “Cill, are you sure?” you asked, he nodded biting at his lip “Yeah of course, just want you to stay, nothing else” 

You thought for a second, trying to battle with your head and your heart, you bit at your lip why were you still trying to punish yourself? You smiled nodding your head “give me this grand tour then, don't want to get lost in the night” 

You stood up, taking his hands to pull him up “oh when you sneak out again?”, Cillian lead you out of the lounge, you rolled your eyes “when I need to use the bathroom obviously” you replied, Cillian looked at you over his shoulder as you walked up the stairs “I have an en-suite” 

You gasped “who said I was staying in your bed?”, Cillian stopped, arms looping around your waist pulling you into him again “I've got to keep an eye on you” 

Your arms were around his shoulders, hand on the back of his head “I don't plan on running off ever again” a beaming smile pulled onto his face, nudging your nose with his “thank fuck for that” he sighed, kissing you softly, hands pushed under your jumper resting on the warm skin of your waist. You pulled away from his lips, “I need you” you whined breathlessly, Cillian smiled “I’ve got you darling” he led you down the hall, looking back over his shoulder to take you in, kiss swollen lips, a flush on your cheeks, eyes wild with desire, fuck he’d missed you.

-

Taglist

@cillmequick @runnning-outof-time @look-at-the-soul @gypsy-girl-08 @heidimoreton @thomasshelbee @forgottenpeakywriter @shelbydelrey @allie131313 @cillixn @midnightmagpiemama @zablife @queenshelby @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @cloudofdisney @being-worthy @vhscillian @radioheadgirl @elenavampire21 @datewithgianni @magicalpieex @camilleholland89 @cilliansangel @uchihacumdump @inkandpen22 @ysmmsy @lyarr24 @anotherhitandrun @alreadybroken-ts @flyingjosephine-blog @moral-turpitudes @duckybird101 @lostgirl219 @blyanyan @flippittygibbitts @stevie75 @winchestergirl22 @stars-of-scorpio @lespendy @lovemissyhoneybee @pocket-of-possibilities @otterly-fey @gotohellandbackforyou @tinyminxie

[journey-to-the-attic]

I've just discovered the pet zoo au and I.am.obsessed.

NO CUZ LIKE IMAGINE IK AND BELPHIE LISTENING TO "WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY" AND BELPHIE JUST STARTES MAKING FOX NOISES ON THAT PART.

Also for some reason I think beels "woof" would be like that one meme with the husky where the humans are trying to sush it and he just lets out the most definde 'woof' ever.

Another thing,what if they tried to write out their names??? Like Satan steps in int and tries to make multuple paw prints on a paper to draw out his name in a way (he fails)

Also, it's said that crows can learn some words...what if crow Mammon (due to being magic as well) manages to start saying a few words and even starts making full on sentences. Can just imagine him flying through the window and landing in front of Ik and her dad like "feed me mortals or perish" as a joke to freak them out BC 'omg a talking crow' AND THEY INSTEAD START SCREAMING THWIR BUTTS OFF WHILE MAMMON IS TRYING TO CALM THEM DOWN BUT IT ONLY TURNS WORSE.

On the talking crow Mammon topic,what if he tells Ik what the others want to tell her?? Like "Yeah Lucifer wants you to put more Britney Spears" or "Levi wants to watch you play this game" or "Asmo says you gotta go pet him"

(wanna hear more from you tho BC I like your hcs, they're funny and silly)

orders given, orders received (/j i've been wanting to talk more about this au too!!)

i love the idea of the brothers attempting to communicate their names,, i feel like lucifer and/or satan would come up with some really smart method of going about it (like laying out books or ripping up a newspaper and using the letters), but ik and her dad are just like 'ah, what silly animal antics' and clean up the mess without even noticing what they're trying to spell out

so at first they just all have nicknames-

lucifer: peter (as in Peter the Peacock)

mammon: car (crow goes "caw!", caw sounds like 'car', ergo, car)

levi: socks (on the first morning after they took the animals in, ik found him trying to hide inside one. it's also funny because usually you get cats or dogs named this)

satan: paddy (aunt lisa picked this one - as in st paddy, for his green eyes)

asmo: duchess (ik had a feeling he'd like it)

beel: boof (it's the noise he makes)

belphie: hu (from the chinese word for fox (zhao picked this one). sometimes it's extended to hu-hu)

at first, satan and asmo are the only ones who like their new nicknames, while everyone else is mostly neutral on theirs, apart from lucifer, who HATES his

however, he still responds to it, so really it's his fault that it sticks

eventually everyone warms up to their new nicknames, but they'd still like their new family to know their actual ones

i like the idea of mammon learning speech, so yes he'd be the one to eventually relay the message!

he hops around on ik's shoulder going "lucifer! lucifer! lucifer!", and ik thinks her crow friend is conducting a ritual up until she realises he keeps pointing his beak at peter the peacock

she does switch to their actual names once she learns them, but in her head she still tends to refer to them by their nicknames, and they still respond when she uses them aloud

mammon's language would be more fluent than a regular crow's, but i don't think he'd generally be able to string together full sentences

so it's more like a "hey! food!" when he's hungry, "kid? okay?" when he's concerned, "levi. bowl. broke!" when he's snitching

he can manage full sentences if he tries really hard, but he usually can't be bothered, so he saves them for when he's serious

for example, if ik were getting bullied, he would go full fluency mode to say "i'm gonna kill them for you"

the other brothers are mostly happy to just chill (particularly levi and belphie), but lucifer gets so restless with no work to do that he starts assigning himself random chores to occupy himself

for example he's decided it's his job to open all the curtains in the morning and close them at night

ik starts bringing home random worksheets from school and lucifer will just sit there staring at them (he doesn't have hands to write with so he just has to answer mentally)

levi has a little box by the window from which he can see the tv and also sunbathe

ik brings home a sheet of stickers so that he can pick some to decorate with

beel is SUCH a big dog that he would take up the whooole sofa or bed if he sat there, so usually he very politely sticks to the floor

but then they buy him a big blanket and he starts carrying it with him from room to room to rest on (belphie also steals it a lot)

everyone has their own little spots around the house where they usually stay, apart from mammon, who is nearly always found on ik's shoulder

if ik isn't home he will stand on zhao's head instead

satan nearly always sleeps on either ik or zhao's bed and at some point his habit extends to the others, so they start taking it in turns being 'guards' for both humans at night

lucifer pretends to be above it as if he DOESN'T trot himself right to rooms and stay there the whole night as soon as it's his turn

whenever ik's stressed out from school she comes home and just plonks herself on beel

he's such a big dog that he barely even feels it so he's perfectly happy to be a big fluffy pillow

levi spends most of his time in his box but he'll also be quite happy to go around the house draped around ik's neck and listening to her narrate her whole day to him

sometimes ik brings asmo ribbons and such and he gets so excited that he does that jumpy twisty thing rabbits do (i think it's called binkying?)

asmo and satan both get the zoomies but satan's always so embarrassed about it afterwards, while asmo simply owns the energy and then flops over for pats afterwards

belphie's normally very quiet and docile but occasionally he'll just SCREAM and it scares everyone in the house

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

ladies who brady, this one's for you ;) link to the masterlist is here

05. Throw the Guy A Rope

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was still warm. It wouldn’t get dark for hours yet. Birds chirped to each other in the trees, their leaves and the grass swayed in the light breeze, and Freddie’s stomach rumbled as she awaited dinner. She tilted her head back to face the sunshine, closed her eyes against the light, and laughed as numerous grumblings of frustrated confusion were directed at her once again.

She’d explained her promotion three times already and still most of the other wireless operators didn’t get it.

“So you’re not a translator,” Amy was saying, her face scrunched up in confusion, her eyes squinting into the sunlight. They were all sitting in the grass outside the mess hall, watching idly as Amy dug her fingernails into the stems of daisies and made them into daisy chains. She’d already made two into flower crowns for Freddie and Millie, who were both wearing them proudly, while Jem had one on as a bracelet and Paddy was waiting patiently for one of her own - she’d requested a necklace.

“No,” Freddie replied, twirling the grass at her sides, still with her eyes closed to soak up the afternoon sunshine. “I’ll still be a wireless operator. I’ll just be talking to the Germans instead of the Americans.”

“Why would the Germans want to talk to you?” Jem demanded.

Freddie scoffed, opening her eyes to show Jem her feigned offence and nudging her playfully with her elbow. “They won’t know they’re talking to me, specifically. But because I speak German with a native Austrian accent they’ll think they’re talking to one of their own w/ops. I’ll tune into their fighters’ radios and give them false orders - tell them to stand down when our boys are heading in, mess up their formations, confuse them on where they are - things like that. It’s supposed to make life easier for our bombers, so they meet less resistance.”

Freddie watched as the clarity of understanding flooded some of the girls’ eyes, but others remained puzzled. Paddy opened her mouth to ask another question but Millie, who had of course been the first to know and thus was sick of having this conversation over and over again, cut across her. “Will you still be living with us, Fred?”

At this, Freddie shrugged and looked down at her fingers where they were still tugging at the prickly grass. “For now,” she answered. “They don’t have enough of us yet to fill up a bunk but they’re recruiting, and when the operation goes live they’ll want us all to bunk together.”

“When does the operation go live?” Jem wondered.

Freddie breathed a laugh, shaking her head as she met Jem’s eyes. “That information is far above my security clearance. The major just said that one day I’ll be told to report elsewhere and that’s how I’ll know my job has changed.”

“Still with us for now, then,” Millie said quietly, glum but clearly trying to hide it.

Freddie leaned into her until their arms were pressed together, until she could rest her head on her shoulder. “You’re still stuck with me for now, yes,” she agreed.

“Dinner must be close,” Jem remarked after a moment. Freddie stayed where she was leaning against Millie but followed Jem’s point to watch as crew after crew of airmen started to filter across the grass towards the mess hall. 

“Finally,” Paddy grumbled. “I’m fucking starving.” 

“Ladies,” Bucky greeted as he passed them with Buck, tipping his hat at them. 

They chorused a greeting back and continued surveying the men who passed them. 

“How do I get me one of them crowns?” Bubbles Payne wondered as he neared them. 

Freddie laughed while Amy positively beamed. “You want one, Bubbles?”

“Absolutely I do.” He was grinning back at her.

“You can have this one,” she told him, batting away Paddy’s protests; in spite of being Amy’s best friend, she’d been waiting the longest. “I’m almost finished, just give me a second.”

“Do I get one, too?” Crosby asked, grinning from beside Bubbles, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“If you’ve got five minutes to wait around, then certainly,” Amy assured him.

Freddie was still leaning against Millie, smiling as she observed the conversation. They exchanged a few amused words concerning Amy’s newfound infatuation with Bubbles, both girls smiling to themselves as they recalled her sudden interest in Benny that morning which, it seemed, had quickly been forgotten. Halfway through a comment about how Bubbles might be a good match for Amy, however, Freddie trailed off when Millie waved to someone. She followed her eyes to find Rosie, surrounded by his crew and waving back at Millie, a laugh in his eyes.

Millie nudged Freddie with her elbow so insistently that Freddie had no choice but to sit up straight. When Rosie gave her a smile, a softer smile which she knew somehow, instinctively, was meant just for her, she flushed as she smiled back, then returned to twisting the grass at her sides.

“Go talk to him,” Millie whispered to her. She tugged on Freddie’s sleeve.

Shaking her head, Freddie felt herself blush harder. “No,” she replied, shaking off Millie’s hand. “Last time I talked to him I kissed him.”

From her other side, Jem laughed. “Fred, he clearly wants to talk to you. Just go. You’re a grown woman, for crying out loud.”

“You go talk to him,” Freddie challenged, for lack of any other retort, and frowned when she watched Jem push herself to her feet, brush the grass off her skirt, and shoot her a self-satisfied smile.

“I will,” Jem said, and with that she turned on her heel and marched up to Rosie.

Freddie watched her go, not entirely believing she would actually follow through with it, until she was also forced to watch Jem engage Rosie in a conversation which immediately had not only him but the rest of his crew, too, all laughing. The corners of Freddie’s lips tilted down, her fingers tightened their grip on the grass, and she watched with tense shoulders as Jem said something else which made Rosie laugh before she reached out and stroked his bicep.

“You gonna let her take your man like that, Fred?” John Brady asked. All of a sudden he was sitting beside her and she had no idea when he’d gotten there, but when she tried to meet his eyes he was sharing a grin with Millie.

Freddie frowned and turned her eyes back to Jem and Rosie. “If it’s that easy then he can’t be mine, can he?” she muttered, watching Rosie say something animated in reply to Jem.

At this, Brady laughed, shaking his head. “You two,” he said, pointing between her and Millie. “You have no idea how hard you make it for the boys, do you?”

Millie grinned but Freddie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Finding no shame in Millie’s challenging smirk, Brady focused his attention on Freddie. “Well, you’re not exactly making it easy for him, are you, Fred?”

“What do you mean?” she said again.

Brady tilted his head back and groaned. “I mean,” he said, with exaggerated slowness to communicate how he felt this should have been obvious, “you always make him come to you, refuse to give him the time of day if he doesn’t beg for it, and then complain that he’s not falling at your feet.”

“John,” Millie warned, shooting him a look.

“I’m not saying anything but the truth,” Brady defended himself with hands raised in mock surrender. He turned back to Freddie. “All I’m saying is, would it kill you to throw the guy a rope every once in a while?”

“I kissed him the other night!” Freddie exclaimed, indignant. 

“On the cheek,” Millie added with a quiet smile. 

“Even still,” Freddie said. “If that’s not a rope then I don’t know what is.”

When her eyes sought Jem and Rosie once more she found them both looking at her, Jem saying something with her hand still on his arm. And Freddie flushed, unsure if it was out of embarrassment or jealousy, but before she could look away Brady was climbing to his feet and offering his hand to her.

“Come on,” he prompted when she didn’t move.

“Come on where?” she asked, eyeing his hand suspiciously. “To do what?”

“Just come on,” he insisted with a roll of his eyes.

Millie nudged Freddie with her elbow to prompt her and before she could properly second guess herself she was taking Brady’s hand up and helping to push herself to her feet. Brady shot her a grin and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, then shot a wink at Millie as he led Freddie over to Rosie, Jem, and Rosie’s Riveters, as his crew tended to be called.

“Hey, Rosie,” Brady greeted easily as they came to a stop beside the group. “Jem,” he added, then inclined his head in greeting to the Riveters he presumably did not know by name. For her part, Freddie only knew Pappy, Rosie’s co-pilot; the rest she couldn’t have picked out of a lineup, let alone have addressed by name.

“Brady,” Jem greeted in return, watching him curiously. “Nice of you to finally make an appearance, Fred,” she added, turning to Freddie with a smile.

“Hi,” Freddie said. Her voice emerged soft and small and she blushed because of it.

“You guys going to the party later?” Brady asked casually, bringing his other hand up to rest over Freddie’s where it remained in the crook of his elbow.

Freddie turned to seek out Millie’s eyes and found her giggling to herself in the grass. She gave Freddie a big smile and a thumbs up, the only explanation she was at liberty to offer, so Freddie forced herself to turn back to the conversation with more questions than she had answers as to what, exactly, John Brady was doing parading her around like some sort of sweetheart.

Rosie and his Riveters all answered that yes, they were going to the party later. 

Jem grinned first at Freddie and then up at Rosie. “Will you save me a dance, then, Rosie?”

Freddie’s eyebrows furrowed tightly together. Her hand in Brady’s elbow gripped onto his sleeve.

Rosie’s eyes were on Freddie, in spite of how she’d been refusing to so much as glance at him ever since she’d come over. His eyebrows, too, were furrowed, his lips pursed as he watched her closely and wondered what was going on.

“I wasn’t planning on doing much dancing, if I’m to be honest, ma’am,” he eventually answered Jem. His eyes were stuck on Freddie and how hers were stuck on Jem.

“That’s a shame,” Jem answered, sliding her hand down from his bicep to his forearm. “I’m quite the dancer.”

“Freddie and I will be dancing, won’t we, Fred?” Brady cut in with a wide smile. “She’s got a reputation for turning down offers but it’s just ‘cause she can’t dance with me when I’m playing with the band, ain’t that right, Fred?”

Freddie’s jaw fell open. Her hand fell from his arm. She looked at Brady, wide-eyed, unsure of what exactly he was playing at and whether she should be feeling hurt. 

“Fred?” he asked, turning to her. He finally dropped the act.

“That’s not why I don’t dance and you know it,” she told him lowly, taking a step away from him.

Suddenly everything made sense. This game they were all playing. Jem with her outrageous flirting with Rosie, when Freddie had never seen her flirt like that the entire time she’d known her, and Brady with his escorting her over and talking like they were a couple. This was all some kind of scheme to force her and Rosie together, to make them jealous and speed up the process. And while Freddie knew they all had good intentions, she didn’t like to have her feelings played with.

Finally, tentatively, Freddie sought Rosie’s eyes and found them already waiting for her. He was watching her closely, trying to puzzle her out, and his face was so kind, was filled with so much concern and care, that in a moment of impulse Freddie reached for his hand and led him away from the group, then promptly threw herself down into the grass and began pulling daisies out of the ground.

Rosie didn’t say anything for a while, just sat beside her and let her stew in peace. He watched her for a while, then watched her making a daisy chain, and when the tension in her shoulders had eased he asked quietly, “You alright?” 

Freddie nodded, humming a quiet ‘mh-hm’ in reply. She watched her hands, continued weaving daisies together, and then informed him, “They were playing with us.”

At this, Rosie cracked a smile. He shrugged, looking over to where they’d been standing before and where the Riveters had since vacated, having headed into the mess hall for dinner. The reminder of where they were, of where he should have been, made his stomach rumble, but he pushed his hunger out of his head. There was nowhere he would have rather been than right here, sitting next to Freddie in the grass and the sunshine, even if she wasn’t particularly pleased herself.

“I kinda figured,” Rosie confessed after a beat, smiling ruefully sidelong at Freddie.

“Brady and I are not a thing,” she added matter-of-factly.

Rosie chuckled under his breath. “I know.” He declined to admit that for a second there his heart had dropped. That when he’d seen Brady offer her a hand to stand and when she’d taken it the warmth in his blood had gone cold, that when he’d led her over to their group with her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow his blood had then gone from freezing to boiling. Declined to mention that he’d misinterpreted her shyness for embarrassment when they’d first come over, assuming she felt she’d been caught leading him on, when now it was clear she was just bashful.

They lapsed into silence, thoughtful and contemplative, as the world went on without them. Millie and the rest of the girls, now accompanied by Jem again, were still sitting in their little circle, but the rest of the men had gone inside. Groups of the American Red Cross girls were starting to appear now, the only real sign of the passage of time, and just when Rosie was about to ask Freddie if she was ready to go and get dinner she turned to him abruptly.

“For you,” she said, showing him the daisy chain she’d made into a flower crown, much like the one currently sitting atop her head. 

He grinned, charmed, and instead of reaching to take it bowed his head for her to put it on him herself.

She did, using gentle hands to place the crown amongst his dark curls, fighting hard against the urge to run her fingers through them. Sitting back, she admired her work as he looked up, and grinned back at him. “Beautiful,” she said, reaching up to adjust it just slightly.

Rosie laughed. “I’ll treasure it forever.”

Freddie rolled her eyes jovially. “When the daisies die, come tell me. I’ll make you another one.”

“Should I wear it to the party tonight?” Rosie asked next, still grinning at her.

Freddie beamed. “Of course!” She glanced at the mess hall with a shake of her head. “You’ll be in good company. Amy made some for Bubbles and Croz, too.”

“Well, I’ll wear yours with pride.”

Freddie nodded. “Do. I only made the one. It’s special.”

Rosie laughed. “I’m honoured.”

“You should be.” She grinned at him. “Brady doesn’t get one.”

“He’ll be heartbroken.”

“I’m sure.” She pushed herself to her feet then, with no explanation, and looked down at him. “I’m hungry,” she said.

“Right.” As fast as he could manage, Rosie got to his feet and brushed the grass off his trousers, nodding. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”

[tomholland1996simp]

Funny blurb of toms daughter walking in being like “daddy what’s sex?” and she thinks it’s a game and says she wants to do it. (Age 5) Tom Holland x daughter.

The birds and the bees || Tom holland x daughter.

All of the Holland brothers are gathered outside, sitting on the chairs, chatting away about random things. Beers in their hands, as they spend quality time together. There at there family house where they grew up in. Today they decided to all chill by the pool, it having been a hot day in Kingston.

Tom had just recently returned from filming, spider-man no way home. He missed his family a lot, especially his five year old daughter, Y/N. He did see her sometimes when he was away, but he was always busy. FaceTime calls were the only way he could really speak to her. He made sure to try call his parents or his brothers to speak to her before she had to go to bed.

Today Y/n wanted to spend time all together with her dads family, by the pool. They all played games in the water, laughs filling the garden as they ate and drank what Nikki and Sam had prepared for the day. Now the boys are sipping their beers, tired from a full day in the sun.

Nikki had suggested to run y/n a bath and get her into her new comfy pyjamas, so Tom could spend time with his siblings. It was dark now, but still wasn’t too cold outside. Harry was telling his brothers of how he met a girl he had recently been talking to.

“Yeah, man, I met her in the club we went to for Sam’s birthday.” Harry explained to them.

“Did you have sex with her?” Sam asked, not noticing the five year old, who had just got into her fresh pyjamas, holding her favourite teddy in her hand.

Before Harry could reply, Y/n walked over to the boys, looking at her dad. “Hey, princess” Tom smiles at his little girl, moving over in his seat so she could cuddle into him.

“Daddy, what’s sex?”

The question took them all by surprise, mostly Tom. No one realised that she was listening in the conversation. It took Tom by surprise as he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think his five year old daughter would be asking him about sex, well not at this age.

Of course she would find out eventually, but he didn’t want to have this conversation with her at this day or age. “uhhh, wait, what did you say?” Tom asked her, wanting to make sure he heard her right.

He placed down his beer on the table, sitting up more to hear her. “What’s sex? I heard uncle Sam ask Uncle Harry if he did it” Y/n proudly smiles, not thinking anything of it.

“Well, Sex.” Tom was lost for words, he looked over to his brothers for any sort of help.

Then Harry speaks up, “I-it’s a game” the rest of the boys nodding, hoping that she won’t ask anymore about it.

“I wanna play. Daddy, Can I have sex?” The five year old asks, trying to use her big smile when she wants something.

“No, no. You can’t have sex…yet, anyways.” Tom told her, freaking out over what his daughter had just asked him.

Nikki and Dom then walk into the garden, Tessa trailing behind them. “But I wanna have sex now! Pleaseee, I just wanna play it.” Y/n stomped her feet, Nikki and Dom’s head snapping to the girl after hearing what just came out of their granddaughters mouth.

“Can I play it with someone at school?” She asked, still confused to why she couldn’t play what she thought what was a game.

Sam chocked on his beer, “Darling, you can’t play it, it’s not a game” He told his niece.

Y/n’s face pulled into a frown as she looked at Tom. “Your uncles right, sex isn’t a game, baby. And don’t ever ask someone to do it either. Not at school, no where.” He grabbed her arms softly, pulling the girl closer to him as he spoke.

“What is it then?” She asked curiously.

“The birds and the bees” Paddy said, Y/n looking at him even more confused.

Tom thought for a minute, thinking how he was going to describe it to a five year old. “So you know when two people love each other?” He asked and y/n nods.

“Like nanny and grandad?”

Tom cringed at the use of example she used, “Let’s maybe use another example…you know Uncle Harrison and auntie Grace?”

“Yes” Y/n smiled knowing them.

“Anyways, when two people love each other they have these feelings. And these feelings are all a big bundle of love. Sex leads into that as that makes..well, babies.” He smiled at the little girl.

Y/n nodded, “So that’s how I was made?” she questioned.

“Yes, that’s how you was made. Babies are made by sex, but it’s about love. Babies happen through love and feelings. Then when someone is pregnant they carry that baby that’s full of it all.” Tom picks the girl up, putting her in his lap.

“So i’m just filled with love?”

Tom nodded, “Yes, you are. A big bundle of love, and that’s why you can’t have sex. As adults can only do that” he tells her.

“When can I?”

“Well when your in love, and you can not do that until your like 30. And then you will learn more things about it, but for now just think of it as love. Understand, baby girl?” He asked as she crawls out of his lap, teddy still in her hand as she smiles.

“Yes! Thank you, daddy.” Y/n smiles then adverts her attention to Harry. “So your in love and have sex?” She asks her uncle.

Harry just nods not knowing what to say except from, “Let’s just not use the word sex anymore, okay?” he chuckles at his niece as she runs up and hugs him.

Tom then let’a out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, happy the conversation was over with. “You handled that well, Tom” His dad pats his shoulder, his mum smiling agreeing with him.

After a minute of silence, Tom checks the time seeing that it was past the five year olds bed time. “Right, time for bed, baby” He stands up, going to pick y/n up.

“Wait, daddy” She tells him, going over to Harry, everyone confused when she lifts up his shirt and kisses his belly. “Goodnight little baby of love” Y/n smiles, extending her arms for Tom to pick her up.

Everyone laughs, “What do you mean?” Harry says, confused.

Tom picks up y/n, her resting on his hip. “Uncle Harry is pregnant” She smiles, placing a kiss on her dads cheek.

“What?!”

I don’t like this.

[generalkenobitrash]

spoilers for ep6 of hotd s2

i'm completely confused by the writing at this point, but i do like that we're getting more team green representation because they were too cartoonishly evil and not cool last season. i would've wanted corlys to have an outburst over rhaenys' death last episode, rather than simply going to driftmark for baela to convince him. rhaenyra making him hand of the king would have had more importance then, i think. jace is sitting the council at last lol. knowing what will happen to steffon darklyn, i feel kinda bad for him. it was a bit of a stupid decision, especially considering bastards are perhaps a better bet than a kingsguard (a very needed one, at that) whose relation to house targaryen is pretty distant. but i do admire than he genuinely wanted to help his queen and thus kinda sacrificed himself. okay, my wish for daemon to hallucinate viserys has come to pass at last. though viserys says the same stuff as in season 1, but it's much more...soft. i actually prefer this one to the scene in s1. viserys is more vulnerable and it's always a pleasure to see paddy considine. daemon's storyline is a bit slow but i'm glad to see him being driven to the edge of madness. matt smith is a phenomenal actor, so he carries the sometimes boring writing. simon strong is being an icon as always. i love caraxes so the screen time is much appreciated. i just know alys giggles to herself when daemon has his luigi's mansion moments. i do love that she makes him face his faults when he's trying to run. daemon has always wanted the crown, but it's so clear to see that he's not fit for it. he's right that rhaenyra never wanted it, but she rose up to the occasion. she's being a leader. daemon struggles to raise men by threat of fire. alys and mysaria are the most interesting characters to me this season. by saying that in three days the winds will shift, i think alys meant that grover tully will die and oscar will take his place and therefore secure an army for rhaenyra. i am still sad to lose kermit tully. i understand the muppets association but it's legit a cool name 😂. the scene where ser steffon tries to bond with seasmoke was very interesting. it's pretty neat to get more insight into the dragonbonding process. anyways, rip steffon darklyn. you did your best. i do like sylvi (the brothel madam) and dyana, so i'm curious to see what's next for them, though i think sylvi may not appear again. anyways, the smallfolk have my heart. i like that after suffering yet another loss, rhaenyra feels utterly frustrated and desperate. i love love and love rhaenyra and mysaria. i kind of don't like the "the people will be hungry and will need someone to blame", because yes, the keep has more than enough food for themselves, but it was rhaenyra who initiated the blockade. the blame could easily shift to her. with all the dismissing and whatnot, i don't think otto even managed to reach oldtown before he's being summoned back lol. aegon didn't really listen to his council, but atleast he tried, while aemond's being outright mean to his council. tom glynn carney is amazing. no matter what aegon did, i don't think he deserves to be lowkey tortured by aemond. tgc is seriously too charismatic and too good to make me hate aegon. i truly wonder if they'll make rhaena tame sheepstealer. i love my sweet girl sm. the baby dragons are so cute. i'm sorry jeyne arryn is so beautiful i can't focus whenever she's on-screen. i'm lowkey stressed that the battle of the gullet is coming. i love the rather subtle way they're using to show that addam and alyn are bastards. i like alyn in the show. i love that even rhaenyra is sick of daemon. he truly has to get his act together and recognize that it is rhaenyra's claim he should uphold. how did the fisher guy not see the boat before it was right there at the beach? oh well. food for the smallfolk yay. lyman beesbury haunts the narrative. i write as i watch the episode and i'm already at the limit and the episode is not even over 💀

[julieverne]

Five times Maura saw more than she wanted to of Jane (and yet found it wasn't quite enough).

One.

Jane slept in her clothes, which meant in the morning they were rumpled. Jane got undressed quickly and unselfconsciously, sniffing at her shirt. She did pause before discarding her bra, an insecure look over her shoulder at Maura before a shrug that dropped it to the ground.

Then Jane was in just her underwear, scrubbing at her face with the heel of her hand, yawning.

"Y'want a shower?" Jane drawled, and Maura nodded, and a moment later Jane was gone, coming back in to throw a fresh towel on the bed next to her. Jane had somehow already forgotten she wasn't dressed as she went through the closet for a fresh outfit. She somehow didn't notice Maura's gaze linger, didn't think anything about her quip last night about wondering if she should be a lesbian.

Maura wanted to tell her it wasn't black and white like that, that sexuality was a range, a scale, a spectrum.

But instead she took the towel and showered quickly while Jane pottered around, putting the coffee on the stove, digging out socks and throwing them in her laundry basket.

When Maura pushed a mug of coffee her way, Jane startled and raised a hand over her still-bare chest.

"Forgot you were here," Jane admitted bashfully, but she drank her coffee before taking her own shower.

When they went to the bar that night, Jane more than returned the intense stares Maura had given her that morning.

+++

Two

Maura ran to Jane as she fell to the pavement. She used Danny's body to properly Jane up, tearing her shirt open in her hurry to assess the wound, to make sure compression wouldn't cause further damage. All the doubts that had plagued her while she'd worked on Frankie were gone now and she worked on instinct alone.

Jane was breathing; the paramedics were coming.

In the ambulance they cut Jane's shirt and bra off, not even glancing at Maura who was still keeping pressure on the wound. They found a vein and started fluids and Maura saw her own blood stained hand prints on Jane's torso. She saw Jane's eyes blink open and fix on her and she froze, worried this might be the last moment they had together.

Jane's hand threaded into Maura's hair, her eyes watering. There was an oxygen mask on her face, so she couldn't speak, but her touch was enough. Her expression was enough.

"Frankie's in another ambulance," Maura told her, and Jane's hand slipped away.

When Maura looked down, she'd left a bloody handprint over Jane's heart.

+++

Three

"The hard way," Maura said sternly. She drove her fingers into the scar on Jane's side hard enough to make Jane yelp, then, while she was distracted, discarded her sweatshirt.

Jane hadn't been wearing anything underneath it. Maura flushed and Jane watched her, a taunting little smile on her lips. Maura licked her own lips, seeing Jane's eyes follow the movement, seeing Jane swallow. The moment was fragile, but Maura was used to those sorts of moments. She let her fingers settle over the wound, just enough pressure to be a gentle threat. If they brushed Jane's bare chest, that couldn't be helped.

"Really? The hard way?"

Jane swallowed again, but she didn't flinch away from Maura's fingers.

"Sometimes I think you like seeing me in pain," Jane said, her voice low.

Maura thought to Hoyt, how he'd hurt her, how he'd enjoyed hurting her. She thought of Paddy Doyle and how he hurt people. She thought of all the unknown darkness within her, all the reasons she didn't work on live people.

"Is that why you shot yourself?" Maura returned, used to their verbal sparring by now. She was getting used to not having to take things so seriously. Jane's face dropped. "Because I can promise you, I didn't like that."

And just like that, meek and mild, Jane dressed herself in her uniform.

"I look like a man," Jane complained, but Maura was familiar with what lay behind the harsh lines of the garment and she disagreed.

+++

Four

"Unzip me," Maura said. She knew Jane would agree that her dress was much more appropriate for the location of dinner and the company she would keep.

Instead Jane looked confused and perplexed. Maura knew the signs. She explained slowly, and Jane nodded, closing the door and the blinds before tending to Maura's zip, and then her own shirt.

Jane had worn a bra that was visible beneath the dress, and Maura undid it as she helped Jane into the dress. There was a lot less of it when it was on Jane. She had to pull it up in places and down in others until Jane was decent, Jane blushing the entire time as Maura's fingers lingered over her skin.

+++

Five

They were getting dressed for a revolutionary war reenactment, and Jane was still in the tee she wore under her blouse.

"You'll have to take that off, Jane, it's not authentic."

Jane was startled at the sound of Maura's voice and turned to look at her. Maura was only partially dressed; she would need some help with the stays.

Jane's cheeks turned a dusky shade of pink and she looked away quickly, coughing and touching her chin to cover her embarassment. She shed her shirt, then came over to help Maura with the stays, her long fingers brushing against Maura's back.

"Okay?" Maura asked, and Jane blushed again, looking away. When Maura looked down she tucked away a little more - not much, it was just the edge, where the colour started to change. Jane nodded. "Do you need help?"

"I'm good," Jane said briskly. "So we really gotta do this?"

"You wanted to 'scope it out'," Maura reminded her. She watched as Jane realised she couldn't wear a bra with this outfit; the boning on the corset was too hard. Pouting, she took her off too, and she had the same problem as Maura when she turned around. Only a little more, and the corset had pushed her up far enough that she couldn't see what had happened.

Maura scooped her hand under the neckline of Jane's dress, allowing gravity to do the rest, to deliver the payload into her waiting hand, which she tucked away carefully out of sight.

Jane's face was flaming when Maura looked up, making her finishing touches. Jane touched Maura's cheek softly, then let her fingers drift away as she swallowed.

"Thanks," was all Jane said.

"My pleasure," Maura told her, but it wasn't, not just yet.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

The Night of Deception and Passion 2/2

X Men Masterlist

Part 1

SMUT

Y/N and Paddy stand still, their bodies close together. The warmth of the fireplace, the flickering of the flames on the blood-smeared walls—everything feels more intense. Their hearts are racing, not just from the violence but also from the growing desire that unites them in these moments.

Paddy grabs Y/N, his fingers digging firmly into her hips as he pulls her toward him. Her eyes flicker with desire, and without a word, he presses her against the wall, his lips immediately finding her neck. He kisses the soft skin roughly, biting lightly, and Y/N moans as she throws her head back.

"More," she whispers breathlessly, her fingers gliding over his back, digging into his muscles as she pulls him closer. "I want more, Paddy."

His lips travel to her mouth, and when they kiss, it's not tender. It's wild, rough, full of desire. Their tongues battle against each other as their bodies are pressed against the wall, their movements hungry, almost animalistic. Y/N pulls him roughly by the hair, forcing him to dive deeper into the kiss, growling with a mix of lust and dominance.

"You deceived them so well," Paddy whispers between kisses, his hands running over her body as if he wants to possess her. "Played so innocent, so... seductive. I love it when you're like this."

Y/N smiles against his lips before suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him back with a forceful push. He stumbles a few steps, surprised by her rough strength, but his surprised expression quickly turns into a wide, lustful grin.

"You love it when I surprise you, don't you?" Her voice is seductive as she walks toward him, practically devouring him with her eyes.

Paddy nods, his breath heavy. "Always," he growls, his hands clenched into fists as he feels the tension between them rising. "Every time you show me you're just like me."

Y/N reaches him, her lips finding his, and this time, she's the one in control. She kisses him harder, her fingers roughly pulling at his hair as he grabs her hips, tighter, almost painfully, but exactly the way she loves it. The kiss grows more intense, their bodies pressed tightly together as if they can't get enough of each other. The adrenaline from the murders is still coursing through their veins, mixed with the wild lust they can no longer hold back.

Then Y/N pulls away from him, her breath heavy, and she looks at him, her eyes full of desire but also full of power. "It was perfect," she murmurs as she lets her hands slide along his neck. "Every moment. Every plea. They were so easy to break."

Paddy grins, his hands sliding over her waist. "You led them into the trap so perfectly," he says before pulling her toward him again, his lips at her ear. "And that only made me hungrier."

Suddenly, he spins her roughly around, pressing her against the dining table in the middle of the room. Y/N chuckles softly, her breath quickening as she feels him leaning over her. "Paddy..." she whispers, her voice almost a moan. "Do you want to show me how much you love it now?"

His hands roughly glide over her body, caressing her waist as he presses himself closer to her, his lips at her neck, biting lightly as he growls deeply. "I'll show you how much," he replies, his voice deep and rough.

Y/N can feel him clearly—the hardness of his body, the arousal hidden behind his clothes. A moan escapes her lips as Paddy holds her tighter.

"Paddy..." she gasps, her voice thick with desire. She loves it when he takes control, when he shows the raw power of their connection.

Without another word, Paddy grabs her even harder, his hands finding the waistband of her pants. He pulls them down in one quick, jerking motion, his eyes locked on her. Then he quickly undoes his own belt, his movements hurried and full of urgency as he lets his pants fall to the floor.

Y/N breathes heavily, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as she feels Paddy position himself behind her. She trembles in anticipation, her skin tingling, and then, without warning, he thrusts hard and deep into her. A loud cry escapes her lips—a mix of pain and intense pleasure—as he immediately sets a hard rhythm.

"Oh God, Paddy!" she moans loudly as he moves into her with relentless force. Every thrust is deep, demanding, their bodies colliding roughly, and the sound of their joined bodies echoes through the room.

Paddy grips her hips tighter, his fingers digging into her soft skin as he thrusts deeper and faster into her. His breathing is heavy and rough, and each of his deep growls makes Y/N's body tremble even more. She feels the tension building inside her, the way her desire ripples through her body in waves, growing stronger with every thrust.

"So damn good," Paddy growls, his voice hoarse and full of hunger. His hands roughly slide over her back, grabbing her tightly as he drives himself even deeper into her. "You feel so perfect... every damn time."

Y/N can barely respond, her voice broken with lust as she throws her head back, moaning. Her fingers reach back, grabbing Paddy's hair, pulling it just as roughly as he's touching her. He growls with pleasure, the pulling at his hair only driving him further.

The passion between them is raw and uncontrolled. Their movements are hard, almost animalistic, and every thrust brings them closer to the edge. Y/N screams his name as she feels the heat inside her rising uncontrollably.

Paddy lets out a deep, rough moan, his hands wandering roughly over her body, grabbing her even tighter as each thrust pushes her closer to climax. His movements become faster, harder, more relentless, until Y/N finally trembles beneath him, her body shaking in a powerful orgasm, and she screams his name.

Paddy follows her shortly after, his movements becoming erratic, his breathing heavy and uncontrolled. With a deep, animalistic growl, he thrusts one last time into her before he, too, comes, his body trembling with overwhelming lust as he presses deep inside her.

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but their heavy breathing, the crackling of the fireplace, and the intensity of what they’ve just shared. Paddy slowly pulls away from her, his hands gently stroking her back as they both remain leaning against the table, still panting.

Y/N turns her head slightly and looks back at Paddy over her shoulder, a mischievous smile on her lips. “You’re really insatiable,” she whispers, her voice soft and full of satisfaction.

Paddy laughs roughly and pulls her closer, his hands still gripping her hips firmly. “You’re the reason for that,” he murmurs before pressing one last longing kiss on her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

They stand for a moment in the stillness of the room, their bodies exhausted but content. The bodies of their victims lie still on the floor, but for Y/N and Paddy, they are just another part of their game—a game that never ends as long as their insatiable lust and dark desires persist.

“It will never be enough, will it?” Y/N asks quietly as she leans against Paddy, her eyes half-closed, a satisfied smile on her lips.

Paddy grins, his hands gently wandering over her body as he pulls her closer. “No,” he murmurs, kissing her again, hard and full of desire. “There will always be more... and it will always be better.”