#"i would argue that putting others needs in front of your own is the definition of being a hero' AHSGGGDSHAHGG

[the-al-chemist]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday! As you've written a fair bit about Charlie, I'm sure you've thought a lot about dragons by proxy. Are there any headcanons/ideas you have about dragons in your world (that Charlie is likely to talk about at length to people)? - @hphmmatthewluther

Well, look who is here asking me about things that I love to talk about. Dragons? Yes please. Charlie Weasley? Even more yes please.

So, I had a good think about dragons when it came to Learning to Fly. I’m a stickler to canon, so I knew I wanted them to be completely wild animals, but I needed to have Norbert(a) able to interact with Charlie. So, I based my “characterisation” of dragons on a few things, some of which made it into the story, some of which remained unpublished.

Until now.

I’m so sorry, you hit my nerdy/hyperfocus spot. This is such an essay of a response. I’m leaning into it with picture examples and everything…

Anatomy/Physiology

Firstly, I used birds as an inspiration. This is an obvious one, sort of. Generally, you have two different dragon appearances in recent western fantasy: either they have four legs plus a pair of wings or their wings are their front limbs. In the Harry Potter films, they use the latter. It’s less cute, but makes more sense in terms of them actually being able to fly.

All the terms I used to describe Norbert(a)’s body parts were anatomical terms for these body parts in birds, e.g. the keel. The keel is the breastbone, and in birds the muscles used for flight all attach here in order to keep the centre of gravity low on the body for flight. There are tendons that then extend up through a loop of bone and act as pulleys for their wings, the bones of which are actually very similar to our own arms, if you look closely.

As well as their flight mechanisms, birds have a bellows system of air sacs that I wanted to borrow for my dragons. Birds use these for respiration (think about oxygen at high altitudes during flight), but for my dragons, they have another purpose. Because, what else needs oxygen? What is it that dragons are most famous for? What is responsible for those burns on Charlie’s arms?

Fire.

I am not much of a reptile expert, so I didn’t take much in the way of inspiration from reptiles when writing about my dragons. I do, however, have the headcanon that, like all reptiles, dragons are cold-blooded. Most physiological adaptations have more than one purpose, and so, my dragons don’t just use fire for hunting and defence purposes — they use it to keep themselves warm. They produce the flames in their thorax, where there is a good oxygen supply and the blood can be warmed easily due the proximity to the heart, and the muscles and thick bone of the keel are able to protect it.

Behaviour

I used more elements of dog behaviour when writing Learning to Fly than anything else, for the simple reason that it is the animal body language I understand best and that I thought most readers would understand best. However, I would argue that dragons are far more like cat species than dogs in regard to their behaviour, so I included some cat-like tendencies as well.

Dogs are social creatures, and most of their behaviours have evolved in order to maintain order within a pack. They hunt in packs, roam in packs, raise offspring in packs. Other than lions, cats are usually solitary creatures, only joining together as adults to mate. There are exceptions, of course, but this is usually the rule. The same goes for dragons, from what we see in canon. Therefore, their behaviour will largely be based on avoiding conflict in order to avoid injury to themselves, and on solitary hunting. I did put this in with Norbert(a) — in one of the final chapters, she engages in play behaviour by mimicking hunting, like a cat.

I also took a lot of inspiration from orcas, mainly in respect to the ethical arguments surrounding their captivity. If you haven’t seen Blackfish, you should definitely do so. I headcanon dragons to be immensely powerful and intelligent beings with wide roaming ranges, who do not cope well in captivity. In canon, it is known that dragons are too dangerous to keep as pets, and judging by the treatment of the Gringotts dragon, the ones that are kept in captivity do not lead happy and fulfilled lives.

I have written several times that dragons kept in captivity suffer from severe impairments to their physical and emotional health, to the point that they have reduced length of life as well as quality of life compared to their wild counterparts. Most of that has been in the form of dialogue from Charlie.

Three guesses what is the thing he really won’t shut up about…

#al speaks #charlie weasley #dragonology #about those dragons tho #dragons #wbw asks #did I mention that I love dragons

[bella-goths-wife]

“No arguing princesa” Valentino commands as his grin drops “we don’t want to get Vox involved, do we?”

Different anon but may we get how Vox shows ownership over his pet like how we got with Velvette? Despite how pathetic he is with Al, he still seems to be in charge of the Vees canonically. He and Vel passes the one brain cell to each other lol

How does Vox show ownership over pet reader

Warnings: forced ownership, forced affection, abuse, markings, non consensual tattooing, burning, exploitation, Valentino,

Vox is the one who runs the Vs

They would never be able to survive a day and keep the businesses going without him, velvette is too prideful and Val would waste all their money on drugs or whores

He lets them think that they are all equals, but he knows that he is the one who runs them

And sometimes when they get on his last nerve, he wants a subtle reminder that he is more powerful than them

And that’s where you come in

You are the one thing they want, and the one thing they can’t have

Vox may allow them to spend time with you and pretends that you are owned by all of them, but they all know that Vox owning your soul makes him your true owner and you his pet

And the other two demons wish every day that they got their hands on your soul before him

So when the other two Vs anger him, he will bring out a reminder of who truly owns you

He’ll do this by stating that he ‘desperately needs’ your help that day so you couldn’t work with the other two, and you can’t refuse because he literally owns you

This will piss the other two off massively, but if they dare confront him about it he’ll instantly up his game

Suddenly whenever the other two Vs are around you two, he pulls out the soul chain and yanks you towards him

Sometimes he’ll even make you sit cross legged on the floor in front of his feet like a dog while he holds onto your chain like a leash, all while making direct eye contact with the other two Vs

If he wants to show your ownership off to the public, he will decide that it’s time that you should be put on an advertisement for voxtech

So there are hundreds of billboards with an advertisement of you holding the latest voxtech gadget with a fake smile and voxs hand on your shoulder

He liked the photo that the photographer took for that advertisement that he got a smaller copy put in a frame and it sits on his desk or on his nightstand

He liked it so much that he decided that you should be photographed with all of the Vs for a ‘family picture’, but that’s a whole different post

He’s also made voxtech gadgets names after you as a ‘gift’

When I say named after you, I mean they called it the ‘pet’ brand

They don’t know your actual name well enough to name something after you

But all musical type of gadgets like headphones or music streaming apps will part of the voxtech ‘pet’ brand

You are literally the face of this brand by the way, but every time your photographed for an advertisement you’ll be dressed in voxs colours and Vox will always be in the photo with you

I also believe that while he is with you and there are other demons around, he will be extra affectionate

He will give you excessive paternal affection as he wraps his arm around your shoulder or he holds a hand on the back of your neck

This way people know to say away from his daughter assistant

I also believe that the Vs will have at some point forced you to be tattooed with a V on the back of your neck, in a similar fashion to how farmers will brand their live stock or pet owners will have their pets chipped

But Vox will take it further and insist that the tattoo ink be a colour of his choosing, and he chooses a dark colour that will look black unless the light shines directly on it

Once the light is on it, the tattoo will be a shimmering blue similar to the blue of his suit

He’d make sure your tattoo is always showing whenever you do an advertisement with him, so he’ll force you to have your hair in an updo

He’d also definitely use his electric shocks to burn you enough to leave a mark on you

He’d claim that he hadn’t meant to go that far, but he’s lying through his digital teeth

He’d leave handprint marks on your wrists or shoulders because of him letting himself electrocute you enough to burn you so you could have very present burn marks on you

He can’t help that the ever present marks are a reminder to you that your owned and you need to behave and can also be a way to channel his possessive desires

Tag list so far :)

@lilyalone @repostingmyfavs @corvid007 @the-faceless-bride @buttercupfangirl

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin vaggie #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin adam #yandere vox x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #yandere valentino #valentino x reader #yandere velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x you #yandere alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #charlie morningstar #Charlie Morningstar x reader

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Four

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, cuss words, and… angst

Notes: I fell asleep after I decided to add a Jasper dialogue last night… I’m sorry it’s later than normal lol remember, I told yall Jasper has to make up for his being gone😌🫣

Word Count: 2373

Series Masterlist

• March 20th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

The weekend passed by in a blur, I spent it wishing I got more time with Jasper, but he desperately needed to hunt. So that left me with Quil, if he noticed my far-away mind, he didn’t comment, the new video game he picked up Friday occupied most of his attention.

Friday. I jumped off a cliff with Bella, was rescued by Quil’s ex-best friend, and then the object of my every waking thought showed up at my doorstep.

Friday was a long day, to say the least.

Which brings us to today - Monday. I have to go to school as if it were a normal fucking day, like my weekend hadn’t changed the trajectory of my life. Like my other best friend isn’t in Italy right now fighting to save the man she loves.

Slamming the door shut to my locker, I turn towards the direction of second period when a hulking mass at the other end of the hallway stops me short.

The blonde next to him grins, gracefully walking in my direction as if no more than the weekend had passed since I last saw them.

“Life has been rather dull without you.” Rosalie brings me into a delicate hug, the smile on her face growing.

“I missed you too.” The words aren’t much more than a whisper and my heart twists in my chest, they’re really back.

My eyes haven’t left his and they’re so full of sadness. The hallway empties out, but neither of us has managed to move an inch or look away.

Rose nudges me, “Go.”

A simple word, but the command moves my feet. It started off as one step and then two, but then I’m halfway down the hallway in a full sprint. Emmett takes one large step and then another before I fling myself into his arms, wrapping my own tightly around his neck.

“I hate you.” The words aren’t true, but this ache in my chest can’t be described any other way.

“I know.” His words are muffled as he lifts me.

“I missed you every day.” Tears well in my eyes, making it hard to see the grin splitting Rosalie’s face.

“I missed you more.” He argues back.

Safety, that’s Emmett McCarty Cullen. He’s strength and power and softness that only a man his size with his heart could exude. He is the definition of protector - someone that would go to any lengths to safeguard those closest to him. And just his hugs alone could cure anything, the hug of a brother who cares immensely.

“You left me.” The tremble in my voice gives my hurting heart away.

He clears his throat, “And I put him through hell every day for it.”

“He really has.” Rose confirms, full on smiling at me.

Emmett sets me back down on my own two feet, holding my shoulders in his massive hands, “Never again, I can promise you that.”

“Emmett-” I start, but he isn’t having it.

“Nope, we’re already late for class and I have some catching up to do.” Winking, he offers me one arm and his mate the other, leading us in the direction of next period.

• March 21st, 2006 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, you got a sec?” Knocking on the door frame to my mother’s bedroom, I watch as she turns off her tv.

“For you? Always honey, c’mere.” She pats the bed in front of her, her full attention making me a little nervous.

I sit and work up the courage for a few beats. “He’s back.”

“I know, I saw Doctor Cullen at work yesterday.” Her calm answer surprises me.

“I’m not sure what to do, momma.” I pull at her old bed spread, hoping for some words of wisdom.

“Well, you have options.” Her warm hands cover mine and encourage me to meet her eyes. “You can kick him to the curb since he dropped off the face of the earth for six months.”

“Or?” I ask, provoking her to complete her unfinished advice.

“Or, you can give him another chance.” A beat of silence while I weighed her answer. “You don’t have to do it right away either, you can ask for space to think about it. You can make him talk it out too.”

I process the possibility of cutting him out of my life for all of half a second before my heart tells me it’s impossible.

“Talk to him, I know you need to.” My mother has always been able to read me like a book, it’s why it’s so easy to get along with her.

“Why give me options? Why not forbid me to see him?”

Her knowing smile grows, “Because you’ll do what you want anyways. And no matter how much I want to protect my baby,” she lovingly strokes my cheek, “you have to navigate this in a way that heals that pretty heart of yours. I’d be failing you as a parent to not allow you to figure this out.”

“Mom-” tears threaten the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t think that means I’ll cut him some slack.” She jokes, but her tone includes some seriousness. “He hurt my baby.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“Always sweet pea, I love you too.” She delivers a sloppy kiss to my cheek before reclining back to her previous tv-watching position.

Rising from her bed with a lighter heart in my chest, she stops me at her doorway, “I got your back kid, whatever you decide.”

I turn and give her a genuine smile, “I know, thanks mom.”

• March 22nd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Setting my tray down at the dubbed “Cullen table” I make direct eye contact with Edward as I stand before the siblings.

Don’t fucking do that again.

His face splits with a grin. “To which are you referring?”

Leaving her, leaving your family, going to Volterre with a death wish, you fucking idiot.

He actually laughs at my angry directive thoughts, the bastard.

You have people that care about you, you know. My eyes soften as his meet mine seriously. Including me. I’m glad you’re safe. And home.

He nods, unable to meet my eyes now.

“I’d hug you if you weren’t so adverse to physical affection.” Before I finish my statement, he rises from his chair to round the table towards me.

Shock roots me to the spot as his arms envelop lightly around my frame, my arms hesitantly wrapping around the tall Cullen after a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s whispered low enough for just me to hear and he’s returning to his seat.

Emmett’s jaw practically hits the floor, “You’ve never given me a hug-”

“Because your hugs are rather violent in their intensity.” Edward notates.

“But-” Emmett whines.

“No ‘buts’, I’m his favorite.” Sticking out my tongue at Emmett as I take my seat next to Jasper, the jealous vampire launches into a deep explanation of why he must be the family favorite.

“Thank you for starting something I will never hear the end of.” Jasper leans over to whisper in my ear as I grin at Edward who rolls his eyes.

“Glad to be of service.”

Reader

That afternoon I rode with Alice to the Cullen’s after school, something about an intervention with Bella and their family. And naturally, the curious part of me agreed to tag along.

The moment her car comes to a stop in their driveway, Jasper is opening my door and offering me a steadying hand.

“Do you know what this is about?” I ask, watching as Alice skips ahead of us.

“Not a clue, sweet girl.” He answers, leading me inside his family home.

His cool hand enveloping mine sends a pang through my chest, it’s like none of this is real - I’m just in some heavy dream. I’ve wished and hoped for their return with every fucking cell in my body, but now that they’re back? It’s surreal and I’m on edge - I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Standing loosely in a circle in the living room, our attention turns to Bella on the stairs, Edward looming behind her.

“You all know what I want. And I know how much I’m asking for. The only thing I can think of, for it to be fair, is to just vote.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Shut up.” Bella shushes Edward from his grumbling.

Bella is asking them to vote on her becoming a vampire? A slight tremble begins in my hands, this isn’t exactly a debate I’d wished to be a part of. I mean, what would this mean for me? Would we eventually have one of these for me?

“Alice?” Bella asks, opting for starting with the one securely in her corner.

“I already consider you my sister.” She surges forward to wrap her in a hug. “Yes.”

One vote yes.

“Thank you.”

“I vote yes.” The rumble of Jasper’s chest under the hand I have placed there stops my breathing. “It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time.”

It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time. The words ring in my ears and burn my chest, repeating.

Two votes yes.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to both of you for how I’ve acted. And I’m really grateful that you were brave enough to go and save my brother.” Rosalie’s next sentence a quiet confession within her answer, “But this isn’t a life I would’ve chosen for myself. And I wish there had been someone there to vote no for me. So, no.”

A breath, one vote no.

“I vote hell yeah.” Em spins her around in his excitement, “We can pick a fight with these Volturi some other day.”

Three votes yes, one vote no.

“I already consider you a part of the family, yes.” Esme happily gives her blessing as Carlisle steps forward to look at Edward.

Four votes yes, it’s almost unanimous.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He asks his adoptive father. “You know what this means.”

“You’ve chosen not to live without her, which leaves me no choice. I won’t lose my son.”

Carlisle’s answer is like a gavel being slammed down, sealing her fate, confirming what she wants.

Bella meets my eyes, even I can tell relief floods them as I’m sure anxiety fills mine. She’s going to turn into one of them - a vampire.

Jasper

After a few heavy minutes following the votes of my family, I turn to Y/n.

“Would you like to go home? It’s getting late.” I ask her, but her eyes are distant.

Immediately I gently probe at her emotions, but I can feel her trying to suppress them. I furrow my brow as I look down at her, why is she hiding from me?

I tilt her chin back and she removes herself entirely. Ice, I know as a vampire my core temperature is already low from the absence of blood in my system, but with her physical departure - it feels as though every ounce of warmth has been zapped from my very soul.

“I need time.” Her request is hardly a whisper and her eyes still refuse to meet mine.

Shock roots me to the floor, time? She’s asking for time from me. Not with, from. Away. Without.

And I must grant it to her. I’d give her anything in this world she would ask for.

I remove myself a step back from her even though my chest wishes to tug me forward.

“Emmett?” I ask aloud, not taking my eyes from her, he immediately answers by way of flashing to my side. “Take her home?”

“Of course, but-?” Curiosity tinged with sadness finishes what he fails to ask.

“Just get her home safe, please.” I step aside, forcing my eyes to my shoes as I clear the path to the front door for them.

Emmett escorts her outside and I swear, every bit of strength leaves and threatens to buckle me. I watch as the Jeep’s tail lights disappear down the driveway from the front windows.

“It’s the right thing to do.” Esme lays a hand on my shoulder as she watches with me, I hate the truth in her words. “She needs to process everything, we haven’t given her the chance and now this with Isabella, it’s a lot.”

“I know.”

Love. “Come here.”

I turn into her waiting arms, the overwhelming urge to cry hits me like a fucking freight train when her arms pull me close.

“She will be back, just be patient with her.”

“What if she realizes-”

“Nonsense, she’s hopelessly in love with you.”

I pull back to inspect her face, “What?”

She smiles at me in only the way a mother really can, “My son, trust me. Give her a few days, but she needs to know that love is returned.”

“How do you-”

“I’ve known since the day you first brought her home. I knew then she was yours before you ever figured out she was your singer, I’m a mom like that.” Winking at me, she pats my shoulder. “She makes you happier, lighter. It makes me happy to finally see that in you.”

Venomous tears make my vision swim, more often than not I take the fact that Esme mothers us in ways unique to every single one of us for granted.

Glancing down, I clear my throat like a typical male trying to avoid being emotional, “Thank you, Esme.”

“Dear, you never have to thank me, I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too.” I kiss her on the cheek, our talk having smoothed out my frayed nerves.

Time. I can give her time to think, to process everything that’s happened in the last week. But then she’s mine - she has to know how I feel about her. And if she wants nothing to do with me after that?

Well, I guess I’d give her that too.

But not until after I fight for her, because fighting for her is in my bones. Fighting is all I’ve ever known and it’s time I put it to good use.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #redamancy series #bless-my-demons #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #jasper hale #female reader insert

[erosmutt]

☆ thinkin' bout . . .

. . . just arguing with husband!anakin.

𖦹 cheating, make up/hate sex, anal, doggy, asshole anakin, anakin refers to reader as 'bitch' once, specifically season 7 clone wars anakin (i won't be taking questions)

𖦹 accompanied by All I Need ⋆ Lloyd

"here we go," anakin mutters. you two had been at each other's throats for who knows how long, yelling like you'd lost your damn minds.

you glare at him from across the room, arms crossed over your chest. "yeah here we go anakin," you begin pacing again. "you aren't even listening to a goddamned word i'm saying, anyway!"

anakin, also with his arms crossed, shifts his weight from foot to foot, eyes narrowed. "you're acting out for no reason and you know it. you always want something to fucking complain about. always mouthing off. i could barely get in the house before you were bitching at me." well, that was true. you were waiting, itching to see him come through that door so you could lay into him.

about what? his infidelity. you knew while he was 'at war', he was fucking girls left and right. the smell of perfume you most definitely didn't own would cling to the fabric of his robes when he got home, and his bitchass didn't even try and hide it. he had no reason to, because he knew even if you did stand up for yourself and stop taking his shit, you'd come crawling back. because no one could fuck you like he can.

"am i wrong, anakin?! am i wrong for wanting to confront my husband about his little wartime adventures?" you yell, making him roll his eyes. "you're delusional, you know that? delusional!" when he says that, you immediately get in his face. "delusional, anakin? so i'm just imagining the stench of another woman's tacky perfume on you?" he chuckles and shrugs. he puts his hands on his hips. "might be. you're always cooped up in the house, probably starting to hear things."

"oh fuck you," you turn away. "those girls can have you. see if they put up with your shit like i do." he just smirks as he watches you, head tilted as his gaze fixes onto your hips and ass. "they don't," he begins in a murmur. "i don't stay long enough to give them a chance to."

he was so fucking cocky it made you want to bash your head into a wall. or his.

"is that your poor attempt at reassuring me?" you scoff. "spare me. just go away." anakin walks up to you and puts a hand on your shoulder. "come on baby, don't be like that." he caresses your shoulder, moving his hand down your bicep, to your elbow, pulling your arm back. "i'll stop, i promise." you knew better than to believe him, but he had a way of reeling you back in. no matter what you did, no matter how far away you went, you always ended up back on his dick.

he uses his gloved hand to move your hair out of the way and leans down, his soft lips pressing against the nape of your neck. "anakin, i know you-" he exhales softly. "you don't wanna give me a chance baby?" you feel him smile against your skin. you place your hands flat on the counter in front of you, voice wavering, "anakin,"

"ah-ah," he chuckles, a low vibration that draws a shudder from you that most definitely isn't lost on anakin. "i don't wanna hear anything from you." his hands end up at your hips, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your pants. "don't you think you've done enough talking?"

getting the hint, you go quiet, but still try to resist. after all, he did just come home after bending over who knows how many girls. with a heavy sigh, he pulls away from you. "so you're really gonna play it like this, huh?" anakin laughs quietly to himself. "you're such a bitch, no wonder i'm the only man who'll put up with your stubborn ass. i do so much for you, and you can't even give me the time of day?" he scoffs. "seems like every goddamned time i come home," he once again hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants, and snatches them down. "always giving me a problem," he mutters under his breath.

"maybe if you didn't give me any reason to, i wouldn't have to sleep around." was he really pinning this on you?! "you act like you don't run me away. it's like i have no other choice but to find comfort in another woman." he was removing his glove, discarding it on the counter along with his belt. his mechanical hand was cold as always as he grabbed your asscheek, artificial fingers digging into your flesh.

"anakin," you try again, but he doesn't let you get a word in. "yeah, anakin anakin anakin, you don't know what else to do with yourself besides bitch and whine." he spits down onto his flesh hand, then lubes up his cock. he smacks it onto your lower back, then spreads your ass to see your puckered asshole. "never letting me get a word in."

as his tip prods at your tiny hole, you gasp. "anakin, 's not gonna- aughh..." your words get caught in your throat as he tries to push in, and he can't help but smirk as he's met with resistance. "maybe you're right, but that's nothing a little force can't help. is it?" you swallow down a moan, and shake your head. "no, no, it can't," you let out a strangled moan as anakin pushes his round tip into you. you felt like you were already stretched to the brim, but his tip wasn't anywhere near the thickest part of his cock.

he leans over you and smiles, then presses a soft kiss just below your earlobe. "now let's try that again."

ᝰ.ᐟ @102hannah

#₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ bnuuy's drabbles! #૮( ꩜ ㅅ ꩜)ა bnuuy loves anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker #anakin #sw anakin #anakin fanfiction #star wars anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #star wars #star wars smut #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #tcw #sw tcw #star wars tcw #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #clone wars #the clone wars anakin #the clone wars season 7

[coldfanbou]

Mail Order Maid

Now this is a pop-up I would want. Here is the other fic I decided on for the week. I really got airhead vibes from Momo because of this picture.

Length 2K

Momo x Mreader

Browsing the internet with nothing to do, you flick through web pages and switch between apps until a notification pops up and covers your screen. "Congratulations! You've won a prize of your choice. Please make your selection." You had yet to click on anything to warrant a pop-up, but there it was. The ad was there to stay, too, as you tried to find the button to close it. A little annoyed that you can't find it after a few minutes, you restart your phone. It doesn't help; the ad reappears as soon as you unlock it. You sigh, scroll down to the bottom of the page, and click on the prize selection button. You see a bunch of small items that were pretty useless to you. You click on the mystery object, and the ad goes away on its own. You think how weird that was before putting it out of your mind. 

A few days later, a knock on the door sends you running toward it, expecting to have your new laptop waiting for you. At the front door, the delivery hands you a paper to sign; without a thought, you sign it and hand it back. He wishes you good luck before walking away with a dolly. You look outside to see a giant box. Turning in the delivery man's direction, he's out of sight, and you're left with the giant box. The box is heavy and impossible for you to move by yourself. "The least he could've done would be to leave it inside," you think to yourself. You try to pull it forward with your hands on either side of the box. You do this a few more times before the front of the box completely breaks off. As you look inside the box, you're surprised to see a woman sitting inside. She waves to you with a smile on her face. "Who are you? Why are you in a box? How long have you been in there?" You ask as you pepper the woman with questions.

"I'm Momo! It's nice to finally meet you, Master." The woman climbs out of the box, and you get your first good look at her. She has what looks to be a bandana wrapped around her head, and as your eyes move downward, they're immediately attracted to her ample bust. A shoulderless crop top squeezes her breasts together while the rest of her outfit consists of overalls. 

"Master? What are you talking about?"

"You're my master, aren't you?" Momo looks toward your door and reads the address. Pulling out a piece of paper from between her breasts, she unfolds it before showing you. "No, this is definitely the right place. You're my Master." You read the paper, which has your name and address written on it. You think it's a prank at first, but a partial receipt shows you someone paid a considerable amount to ship Momo to you. It only gave you enough information to figure that out and nothing else."What do you want to do first, Master?" 

Momo's question gets your attention, and you look back at her. She smiles at you, looking into her eyes; there's not a thought behind them. "I…get inside, please."

"Okay!" Momo says as she walks into your home. She looks around the place before sitting down on your couch. You close the front door and stare at Momo. She looks back at you and blushes. "Don't look at me like that, Master…but if you really want to… we can do it."

"What? No. How did you get here?"

"In the box?" Momo responds, trying to understand why you would ask. "Master, you need to relax. I can give you a massage if you'd like." She says as she stands up and walks to you.

"No, I don't need a massage." You try to slap away Momo's hands, but she pushes through. Once her hands reach your shoulders, you feel your stress melt away instantly and can't argue with her. Momo gets around behind you, massaging your shoulders and pressing her tits against your back. 

"It’s okay, Master." Momo calmly states. Her massage relaxes you, and you forget to ask her any questions. It was as if Momo had some special power. You tilt your head back, glancing at Momo only to see her smile. "Let's go to the shower. I can give you a better massage there." You nod your head, and Momo leads you to the bathroom. She strips you of your clothes and asks you to sit on the chair in the shower. You do as instructed and watch as Momo strips out of her clothes. She pulls off her bandana, letting her hair fall down. After that, she unlatches the button holding her overalls and lets the piece of clothing fall to the floor. Your eyes move up her legs until you see she isn't wearing underwear. Her pink pussy was out for you to see; her thighs were getting wet from her nectar. You get hard and unconsciously stroke your cock. As your eyes move upward, you catch Momo lifting her crop top, her breasts bouncing as her shirt pops above them. Once Momo's eyes reach you, they wander down and notice you're stroking yourself. "Master, let me."

 She steps into the shower and kneels before you. Her hand replaces yours; her soft, delicate fingers wrap around your shaft before she starts stroking your cock. "You're so hard, Master. Don't worry; I'll take good care of you." You start groaning, each stroke pushing you closer to your orgasm. Once precum starts to leak from your cock Momo takes a tiny lick at the tip of your cock. A jolt of pleasure rushes down your spine, and you moan loudly. Momo uses her other hand to start the shower, causing water to rain down on both of you. Following that, it finds its place by playing with your balls, squeezing them gently. "Master, you have a lot here. I'll make sure to drain you." Momo takes another lick at the head of your cock. She pauses momentarily, leaning down to kiss it before pushing your cock inside. Your new servant keeps her lips wrapped tightly around your cock, and uses her tongue to flick the head.

"Oh fuck. You're so good at this, Momo," you moan. You push on the back of her head gently, and Momo takes in more of your cock without a problem. Her hand plays with your balls as she starts to bob her head. When you look down, you see her eyes looking back at you, pleading for you to release your stress. You hold on a little longer, your cock twitches in her mouth, and seeing you weren't going to let yourself cum, Momo pushes your cock into the back of her throat. As you hit the back of her throat, you let go and spurt rope after rope of cum. Momo's mouth fills up quickly; her cheeks puff out as they fill with cum. The salty liquid leaks from the corners of her mouth before she can drink it all. The falling water clears away your cum before Momo has a chance to collect it all. 

She moves on. However, Momo stands and starts riding your thigh as she presses her breasts against you. Grabbing some soap, Momo lathers her breasts and uses them to massage your body. You feel her grind her lower body on your thigh and hear her soft moans. "I'll take good care of you, Master." Her hard nipples drag along your chest, and you start to get hard again. She feels your cock poke her legs and smiles at you. "My Master has so much energy," Momo says as she moves forward and straddles you. Your cock is trapped between your stomach and her cunt as Momo grinds against you. Your hands start to wander around Momo's body, moving down her sides before you squeeze her ass. Momo jumps a little but giggles. "Master's so naughty." Momo's breaths become labored as you continue to play with her ass. Small moans start to leave her as she rubs her cunt against you. 

"Momo, ride me." You say, commanding her.

"Yes, Master," Momo replies as she lifts herself. You rub your cock against her entrance before pulling Momo onto it. Momo's back arches as you push more of your cock in. Her warm walls are wrapped snugly around your cock; it feels as if Momo was made for you. Momo moans loudly as she finally takes your entire cock inside. She wraps her arms around you and rests her head on your shoulder as you begin thrusting. "Ahh, Master, you're so big." 

"Do you like your Master's cock?"

"I-I love it. It's the only one for me." Momo replies as she presses her chest against you.

"Good, you'll be getting a lot more of it." You moan as you start to thrust faster. You're holding onto Momo's waist, pushing her down as you buck your hips. With every thrust, you're slamming against her cervix, making Momo a quivering mess. Her walls tighten around your cock as she begins to cry out from the pleasure. You're pushing ever closer to your orgasm when you decide to kiss Momo. Her eyes shoot open, but as you hold the kiss, she begins to accept it. You begin to explore her mouth as your tongues rub against each other. 

"Mmm, Master. I'm going to cum." She says in muffled tones. You spank Momo suddenly, causing her to yelp in pain.

"We're going to cum together; hold it." 

"Yes, Master." She moans as you give her another hard strike. You stand up and press Momo against the shower wall, her legs wrap around you, and she places her hands on your shoulder. Being pinned between the wall and you leaves Momo as a fuck doll for you. You start ramming your cock deep within Momo, your thrusts going wild. Momo starts to dig her nails into your skin. "Master, please cum. I-I can't hold it much longer."

"Hold on a little bit longer." 

"I-I can't!" Momo cries as her legs tighten around you, and she orgasms. Her walls squeeze your cock, coaxing you. You give a few more thrusts before you follow Momo's lead and climax. You bury your cock in Momo, painting her walls white as you spew hot cum into her. Capturing her lips once more, Momo weakly returns it, her chest heaving and her legs dangling as she recovers. You move back and sit down, keeping Momo attached to you. You enjoy the feeling of her cunt trying to milk you for more. Some minutes pass before you lift Momo off you. After you shut off the water, you take your cock and point it toward Momo. 

"Please clean me, Momo." Momo nods along. She takes your cock in hand and drags her tongue along your shaft. Before letting go and letting your cock slap her face. She smiles to herself before taking your cock in hand again and cleaning you up. Her tongue swirls around your cock as Momo bobs her head. Once clean, she kisses your tip and tries to stand up. She nearly tumbles, but you steady her. Cum drips out from her cunt and runs along her leg. "Take a shower if you'd like, Momo." You say as you place her on the seat you used earlier.

"Thank you, Master." You leave the shower and dry yourself off. As you wait for Momo to come out, you think about the situation again. Whatever the reason for Momo to show up, you wouldn't fight it. You had a maid now that would take care of your needs. Momo soon emerges from the shower, and you order her onto your lap.

"Momo, I'm your master, right?"

"Yes,"

"Good. Then you're not allowed to wear clothes here. I want to have access to your body whenever I want."

Momo blushes, "If that's my master's order. I have to follow it." She stands up and drops her towel to the floor. You were going to enjoy your new life with your servant.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #twice smut #momo smut

[solarmorrigan]

hallo! I saw the angsty prompt list thing, and the “don’t trust me.” One kind of stood out to me. You don’t have to write it, but you’re one of my favorite writers on here so I thought it might be cool :)

Hullo! So I did fill this prompt once already, but I'd had a bunch of ideas for it and I was in the mood for something a little softer, so I did another! Thanks for giving me the opening to write it (and for the compliment, you're so kind?? 😭)

[General warning for mention of Steve's shitty parents and their generally shitty parenting technique]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“Why am I the one doing this?” Steve grouses, straining slightly as he struggles with the full box on the top shelf. “Instead of, y’know, you?”

“You’re stronger than me,” Eddie replies readily.

“Bullshit, I’ve seen you lugging amps and shit around during your shows,” Steve shoots back, grumbling as he works the box free from the high shelf.

“You got me.” Eddie grins, though Steve’s back is turned to him. “I just like watching you work, sweetheart.”

From the depths of the storage closet, Steve gives an audible snort of laughter, but he also stops arguing. Then, with a little noise of triumph, Steve finally manages to tug the box free, holding it aloft long enough to back out of the closet and then heaving it down onto the floor, where it lands in a clatter of plastic and jingling bells.

“Excellent.” Eddie falls upon the box, rubbing his hands together in anticipation before tugging at the tucked flaps. “There’s one more box, would you mind? It’s on the floor; long rectangle.”

“You said there was one box,” Steve says, eyes narrowed.

“Whoops, miscounted,” Eddie says breezily, smiling up at Steve with as much innocence as he can muster. “You know how bad I am at all that academic shit.”

“Says the guy who plays a math game for fun,” Steve drawls.

For the sake of time, Eddie leaves the bait where it is, instead batting his eyelashes up at Steve. “Pretty please, pretty boy? It’s definitely the last one.”

Steve holds out for exactly five more seconds before retreating into the closet with a roll of his eyes. “If you suddenly remember one more after this, I’m suddenly gonna remember something I have to do back at my house and leave you to do all the decorating on your own,” he calls back, muffled from behind the coats Eddie can hear him shoving aside to find the last box.

Eddie’s at least eighty percent sure he’s bluffing, but it’s no matter – he hadn’t been lying. Most of what he needs is in the box in front of him: strands of garland, wrapped tangles of lights, and the same ugly pinecone wreath with the world’s most annoying string of jingle bells attached that Wayne’s been hanging since Eddie was a kid. Everything else—the ornaments, more lights, and, of course, the tree—is in the hefty, rectangular box Steve is currently hauling out into the entryway.

Normally, Wayne would be there to help, but his and Eddie’s work schedules have fallen out of sync in the hectic holiday rush of extra shifts; if one has the day off, the other is too tired by the time they get home to entertain anything as energy-consuming as getting up on a ladder to hang lights. Eddie and Steve, however (somehow; miraculously), share at least one day off a week, which has seen Steve recruited as Eddie’s backup decorating partner.

“That it?” Steve breathes as releases the box and stands straight, tugging his sweater down from where it’s ridden up (Eddie can’t believe he’s dating someone who unironically wears ugly Christmas sweaters. He can’t believe Steve makes them look good).

“That’s it,” Eddie promises. He plucks two balled-up strings of lights from the box in front of him and stands up, one under each arm. “So here’s what I’m thinking: I’ll get started on the outside, while you,” Eddie puts a boot to the tree box and shoves it towards Steve with a grunt; even across the laminate flooring it doesn’t slide easy, practically cocooned in layers of packing tape from so many years of opening and resealing, “get the tree going.”

Already halfway wrapped up in how he’s going to string the lights (he’d always loved decorating the outside of the trailer, and now he gets to figure out a new configuration for the tiny porch on his and Wayne’s equally tiny new house; it ain’t much, as they say, but it’s home – or, at least, it’s starting to feel like it), Eddie nearly misses the look of confusion that crosses Steve’s face.

“Uh… how do you want it set up?” Steve asks.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “Stand goes on the floor, pointy end goes up. I have faith in you, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes again, but with his frown in place he looks like he might actually be irritated. “I mean, you have to tell me how you want it, like, decorated and shit. Where it’s supposed to go, that sort of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve decorated a tree before, man,” Eddie says. “I know I saw one at your house last time I was there.”

“Yeah, but that’s my house. This is yours. You have to tell me how you want it,” Steve says.

Once again for the sake of time, Eddie leaves the obvious opening for a joke where it lies. “Steve, it’s – y’know, lights, garland, ornaments, it’s not rocket science. I trust you to do a good job.”

“No, don’t trust me, just tell me how you want it decorated,” Steve insists. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to do it wrong.”

“It’s… a Christmas tree, sweetheart,” Eddie says slowly. “You can’t do it wrong.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can,” Steve says with a laugh. “Seriously, like – people are super particular about how their trees are set up, I think. My mom always has been. I remember when I was, like, ten, she and my dad had been away for a while, and we were coming up on Christmas pretty fast, and none of the decorations were up, so I figured I’d at least put the tree up. Surprise them when they got home, right? Except my mom lost her shit when they got home and saw it.”

“Noooot in a good way, I take it,” Eddie hazards.

“Nah, I did it all wrong. The tinsel wasn’t spread out right, and there’s only supposed to be a certain number of ornaments on each branch, and she wanted the angel on top, not the star, so she made me take the whole thing down.” Steve shrugs. “So, seriously, even if you don’t think you have a certain way you want it done, I’ll probably manage to find the exact way you don’t want it, so you should just tell me.”

“Steve, I promise, that tree is, like, older than I am; you can’t make it worse. As long as you don’t set it on fire, I’ll be happy with it,” Eddie says.

“That’s not–” Steve cuts himself off, running one hand through his hair with a strained little laugh. “I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me how you want it done.”

Eddie shakes his head, dropping the bundles of lights back into their box; he hates when this happens – hates when he stumbles over some mundane thing that Steve’s parents have fucked up for him that Eddie only manages to poke like a kid with a sharp stick at a beehive because he didn’t even realize it could be an issue. Who the fuck gives their kid a complex over how the Christmas tree is decorated? Who does that?

(Then again, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about more than just their expectations for the tree.)

“Okay, I need you to listen to me,” Eddie says, voice firm but hands gentle as he reaches for Steve’s own. “I swear I’m not trying to set you up for failure. I’m really not. The tree isn’t supposed to look perfect. It’s supposed to be kinda crooked and covered in dumb ornaments you can’t even remember the stories behind and only have, like, half a string of popcorn around it because you ate most of it when your uncle wasn’t looking and didn’t leave enough for the tree.”

Steve stares at him, brows furrowed, like he’s trying to piece what Eddie’s telling him into what he already knows about the world, like he needs both things to be true, even though they don’t fit together.

“Actually…” Eddie says slowly, deciding that it may be best to change tack, “come to think of it, there’s one thing about decorating the tree that I should’ve told you. Most important thing, really. Can’t believe I forgot.”

“What?” Steve asks, halfway between wary and eager for the instruction.

“You’re supposed to do it together. That’s what makes it good.” Eddie lets go of one of Steve’s hands to smack the heel of his own to the side of his forehead. “Duh. Silly me.”

Steve shakes his head, letting it hang forward with a little huff of a laugh as some of the tension leeches from his shoulders. “You’re such a dork, do you know that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, grabbing Steve by the front of that stupid, ugly sweater (it has reindeer on it, how does it not look awful on him?) and pulling him up for a quick kiss. “So how about you help me do the outside lights, and then we’ll come back inside and do the tree together?”

One last flicker of uncertainty crosses Steve’s face. “What about Wayne?”

A flutter of fondness rolls through Eddie’s chest, the same as it always does when Steve doesn’t just consider Eddie, but the things and people important to him. “His favorite part is stringing the popcorn. We can do that when he gets home.”

“Oh.” Steve nods, as though he is considering this very seriously, then smirks at Eddie. “Should we make some to eat before he gets back, so you leave enough for the tree?”

Eddie smacks him on the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “Alright, Harrington, just for that, you’re the one untangling the lights.”

“What, like it’s a punishment?” Steve asks. “I’m great at untangling Christmas lights.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie presses a hand to his heart and pretends to swoon over the box of decorations, “when you say things like that, it makes me want to keep you forever.”

And Steve’s answering grin at that is far brighter than anything they’re going to decorate with today, Eddie is certain.

#finntheehumaneater #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #I also wanted to write something a little holiday-related! #so I'll be honest this is a little schmoopy but like. that happens sometimes yanno? #solar wrote #answers from solar

[firegirl888101]

how would the harbingers react to a reader who's good at drawing? like, they like to draw the harbingers or other things

Good at drawing?

I'm shit at drawing so I'm not really sure what to say, that's why I didn't reply to this for awhile. But, I eventually got a couple things when my friend was sketching some stuff in front of me.

Sorry that the current Insatiable Madness chapter is taking so long, I've been studying a lot these past couple of days.

I also got another ask where it asked about Halloween. I don't really celebrate Halloween, because I never grew up with it. I've always been too shy to trick-or-treat and I didn't have many friends (and still don't) who'd want to go with me. Quite sad actually, but it's alright. I don't think I missed out on much.

Is anyone expecting me to make a Halloween special? I don't mind doing it, but I'll need inspiration as I wouldn't know where to start 💀

Actually, the more I think about it, I do have one fun idea. (Harbingers going trick-or-treating??? Halloween party if that even exists? Idk, I'll have to do some research.)

|You can take this with Yandere and without - some will probably lean towards yan though.|

So, to begin with:

Pierro wouldn't be too bothered. I feel if Y/N had a skill they were confident in, and wanted to show it, he'd let his curiousity get the better of him and check it out. But, if it's something like drawing he'll probably leave a comment then leave. Whether it's positive or negative, you be the judge. This man is like a slate slab. No personality I'm sorry 😭😭 (When I see more of his character, maybe I'll like him more?)

If you were to draw this man, he'd be humbled. A Grandpa who received his very first present from his grandchild. Would definitely frame the damn thing in his office (which originally was your parent's) he'd put it on the desk. It's his office now, don't argue for it back.

Capitano would show interest. Not too much since he's the main captain of the Fatui, but still interested. If he's bored, or deems the 'fort' (the house) safe, he'll sit down with you and watch what you're doing. Occasionally asking you if he could doodle with you - but I think that would be very rare. His main objective in his mind is guarding you when your own is low whilst you're having fun, doodling or drawing something.

Would 100% deny the picture of him at first. He'd think, that looks like me, but it can't be. Yes, it's him, you'd reassure. Eventually he does take it and folds it in his coat. After that, he'd probably leave the room in embarrassment. Since then on, he'd definitely keep all drawings you've made of him in his pocket. There's too many? Let's put it in the second pocket. That's full too? Looks like he's buying a new coat. Oh? There's room in his military coat he hasn't worn in two years? That'll do just nicely.

Dottore would be intrigued if he saw you practice anatomy - or if you drew more of a gorey scene. I think he'd be even more interested if you liked to draw the human body with extra things (such as arms, legs, eyes or even got rid of a few), and question you on your design choices and if it already exists somewhere. (He's not fooling you, he's obviously taking inspirations for a new experiment). If he didn't know, or wasn't good, he'd probably ask for tips on how to sketch ideas like yours. He reassures you it's not for any experimentation but once again, he's not fooling you at all.

If you were to draw him he'd treat it like glass. Nobody has ever given him a sketch before - bonus points if you draw him injured whilst you're angry with him. He'd treat it as if you drew him with love, and not as if you'd stab him in the heart if you ever got the chance. What do you mean he shouldn't like it this much? It's a work of art! He'd be very quick to correct the drawing if you got anything wrong. Who knows what this man has in his body at this point.

Columbina would join you in your drawing activities. Maybe add some glitter if you have any. The second you complain about cleaning up, however, she has somehow disappeared and has become very forgetful about the events upstairs. 'How curious!~' She would hum to herself with her usual smile. Is definitely the type to ask if you could draw her. Who are you to refuse? Especially when she gives you that look of daunt hope and kindness which makes you drop your pen in fear. Before you can give her an answer, you've already picked up your pencil and began to sketch her beautiful headpiece.

When Columbina receives her multiple sketches, she's overjoyed. Oh, look how you drew this part! How you drew her clothes! She's quick to kiss you on the cheek as a thank you and runs off somewhere. Huh, you feel like you've just been used.

Arlecchino will roll her eyes at first. She's seen many children in the hearth draw for her. Her initial thoughts were vague, she didn't really see much of your hobby. That was until she actually saw what you were drawing. She would stare as you worked, your pencil delicately brushing against the paper you most likely bought the other day. It soon will become a habit to watch you work, becoming a therapeutic source for her. She sometimes questions why you're drawing... certain things, but she wouldn't actually stop your creative mind from working.

Handing Arlecchino the drawing you drew of her would make her blood rise to her cheeks slightly. Sure, she's received a lot of gifts in this sense before. But from you? What an honour! She'll accept it with a soft smile she'd usually show the kids, and pat your head treating you like one. Little do you know she's trying so hard to control her cute agression response by not tearing the paper.

Pulcinella would react very similarly to Pierro. However, he'd have more experience with complimenting and encouraging 'a child' in a hobby they're having fun with. If he saw your skill, he'd probably compliment it whole-heartedly with a chuffed smile. Massaging his mustache like some aristocrat, in the 1940s... Anyway, he'd be very pleased when he watches you draw more and more. He's happy that you're spending your time doing something you like under the tense situation his coworkers (and him, but he doesn't like to admit it) have brought upon you.

I do not see you drawing this man at all. He's a short, dobby, old, looking as man. I don't see him as the type to ask either, at all. He's minding his own business in your house and plans to keep it that way until the situation is resolved.

Scaramouche really doesn't care. We've all got our own likes and dislikes, but he's not bothered about yours. Will most likely purposefully pass by you working on a piece and insult it just to get attention. He'd never actually mean it though - he just never tells you that important fact. As time progresses he'll sneak into your room just to look at more sketches or finished drawings you've done, and assess your progress from each year if you've been practicing for a long time-period.

Now, here's where things get interesting. If you were to draw him and never show it to him, said puppet finding it for himself in one of your drawers, he'd first feel angry. Why wouldn't you show him this? It's of him! ...But then he'd quickly realise it's because of the way he treated you when you were working (oops). If you actually handed it to him and let him keep it, he'd be delighted. You actually drew him? He didn't even have to manipu-- he means 'ask' you to draw him? This is a good step forward to where he wants to be in your heart.

Sandrone would be delighted to know that she's finally found a use for you in her head. She never thought that purposefully walking past you one evening would lead to her shuffling through all the sketches and designs you've done with awe. Where did you get this idea from? How can she recreate it? Would you be happier and more devoted to her if she were to make your dreams true? She digresses. Watching your creative little mind draw your ideas to life inspires her also, and makes her want to recruit you as a special exception to the 'no non-artificial beings' allowed in her workshop. Thinking of all the monstrosities you could design with her help sends pleasurable shivers up her spine.

Drawing her, however? This was rather unprecedented. Out of all the things-- no, people you could have drawn... and you decide on her? And ooh! You even drew her slave she likes to travel around on, how thoughtful, you're already expressing your adoration for her works! Trust me, don't draw her. You'll give her daydreams that will never happen.

Signora, like most of the harbingers, wouldn't care at first. She hates your house and hates your world, why in Teyvat's name would she be interested in what you're doing? That's what she used to think, until her arrogant slick eyes caught sight of what exactly you were drawing. In my opinion, there's only a couple things that would interest Signora. Drawing dresses, if you were interested in fashion designing, would definitely be the main one. Viewing your designs after you finished them would soon become a small hobby for her, and soon, she'd eventually ask you to draw her in one of your designs.

You'd say yes, of course. An excuse to draw a drop-dead gorgeous woman in one of your designs for free? No way you were going to pass this opportunity! For her hard work in modeling, you'd definitely pay back twice and give her a drawing of her in her harbinger uniform too - which I think would flatter her a bit too much.

Pantalone wouldn't care, and would never become interested. He's a very rich and successful banker, not any ordinary man. As soon as he sees you drawing somewhere in the house, he'll shrug and go the opposite way. He knows what it's like to be interrupted through a thoughtful process, and he doesn't feel like getting an earful from you if he interrupts it. What he does think about, however, is if you're making money from it. Maybe an online business. He asks, and receives a very disappointing answer. No? What do you mean no? These are good, he'd pay for a portrait! Well, if Mora was a usable currency here. Ugh, the thought of being a poor man in this world makes him disgusted.

Drawing him would result in lots of praise. He'd be very happy you used your own time to draw him. He didn't even have to pay for it, it was gift! You even said so yourself. Immediately taken from your hands and framed somewhere. You can't seem to find the drawing though... Pantalone insists it's still in the house, but no matter where you look you just can't find it! Oh well, it's probably better you didn't know where it went. (You would have never been able to find it, he hid the location so well after all.) Pantalone told you he'd give something back to you as a thank you, but you're not holding him to his word.

Tartaglia would be interested the second he sees you doing something he hasn't seen you do before. That looks interesting, let him give drawing a try! He'd boast how his siblings love his drawings he creates, but you knew he was lying to set a cheery mood. Your understanding was backed when you actually saw his 'Amazing Drawing'... It was embarrassing to say the least. He would heed all your little tips and eventually get good at drawing from your guidance! I can see him as the type to use these skills later for his siblings, and as the type to continue drawing even if you begin to get bored of it... He's skilled with his fingers after all-- okay I'm sorry I'm done.

Drawing him can go one in two ways. I see him as someone who will whine about being drawn. He'll say: 'Have you drawn me yet?' in one of the most annoying voices he cna muster. He knows and understands you find it annoying when he asks you to draw him, so he's found a loophole. Just keep asking questions related to it until you get the hint! ...You got the hint weeks ago, but you're refusing to do it. Well, you're refusing to show him your drawings you've already finished and hid out of sight. Showing him these drawings would make him really happy! Would fold his favourite and carry it around with him everywhere like some of the other harbingers. His next commission he's planned to ask you is of a drawing of Capitano. You eagerly declined, not wishing to impose on the Captain's privacy.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #fatui harbingers #yandere harbingers #genshin #pierro #capitano #il dottore #columbina #arlecchino #pulcinella #scaramouche #sandrone #la signora #pantalone #tartaglia #childe #fatui #genshin fatui

[steddio]

Steve is used to pushing through pain. Sure, the adrenaline of a life or death moment is one thing but when that fades and all that’s left is stinging cuts and tender swelling and a full-body bone-deep ache there’s no excuse for letting weakness show. Or letting others see the lingering migraines, achey joints, and night terrors that continue to wound his body and psyche even once everything is “back to normal.” Ingrained in him since an unforgiving childhood, Steve’s grit-your-teeth-and-bear-it philosophy has served him perfectly well and he sees nothing wrong with it, thank you very much.

Until he meets Eddie. Eddie who curses, shouts, screams and cries his pain, broadcasting it to those around him with his typical dramatic flair. Eddie whose eyes betray every feeling and emotion, amplified tenfold by the flailing of too-long limbs and gesturing of ring-bedecked fingers. Eddie who sees right through Steve’s facade to the core of his pain.

It starts with Eddie giving Steve an obvious once-over each time he sees him, checking for visible injury, the lasting echo of shared trauma. Steve knows how to navigate this, having faked his way through countless minor sports injuries in order to stay off the bench and in the game. What Steve doesn’t know how to navigate is what comes after. Unlike Steve’s coaches, who accepted his apparent well-being without question, Eddie has an unnerving tendency to locate the exact source of Steve’s discomfort.

“Harrington, are you limping? Cut the shit and sit down over there, I told you not to overwork your bad knee.”

“Ok big boy, pull over. I’m driving and that’s final. Don’t argue with me, you can’t even see straight. Driving with a migraine is definitely worse than my driving, dude.”

“You look like shit, go home, I’ll help Robin close. Yes, yes, I got it, how hard can it be?”

Eventually, and even worse, Eddie moves beyond snarky well-meaning comments to saying nothing but doing everything. Like shooing the younger kids out of Steve’s house when he’s starting to squint against the bright lights and loud conversation. Or grabbing heavy bags from Steve’s hands before he’s even halfway from the car to the door. Or wordlessly turning up the stereo when Steve needs something, anything to drown out the ringing and echoing screaming in his ears.

At first, being seen hurts more than the actual pain. Stripped raw by the casual tenderness, the sheer humanity zinging at newly exposed nerves. Steve doesn’t know how to handle this breakdown of his primary defense mechanism. He tries to keep shrugging Eddie’s concern away, but Eddie is relentless. Eddie “willing to repeat senior year three times rather than drop out” Munson is entirely undeterred by Steve’s patented nonchalance. Despite it all, he keeps caring. And Steve has no choice but to accept the tidal wave that is Eddie’s concern.

It takes a while, for Steve to recalibrate his self-perception. So used to shoving it aside, he has to learn again how to really feel pain. How to acknowledge it, respond to it. How to attend to his own discomfort the way he attends to Robin’s, or Dustin’s, or Max’s.

The first time he cancels plans with the gang because of a migraine he’s overcome by guilt. He’s five seconds away from calling back to say just kidding he is totally fine and would love to drive everyone to the movies when he hears a knock at the door. Before he can even fully open the door, Eddie barges in.

“Harrington! Where are your towels, I brought you drugs, the legal ones don’t worry, go lay down, what are you doing standing there gawking, here swallow this and put this over your head.”

Before he can fully process what’s happening, Steve is manhandled onto his own couch, a cool damp towel over his eyes and forehead, and Eddie is back out the front door shouting that he’ll check in on Steve after the movie ends.

The second time he cancels plans, his bad knee too achey to make the trek out to Dustin’s radio to celebrate his and Suzie’s anniversary, Steve is still guilty, but almost unsurprised when Eddie turns up at his door, rented movie in hand, shouting at Steve to ice and elevate his damn knee already.

After a while, the guilt goes away, replaced by a bone deep security that’s brand new to Steve, a quiet reassurance that it’s okay to put himself first, it doesn’t make him selfish or bad or pathetic or weak or any of the things his dad used to shout at him before he learned to mask himself. Replaced by an overwhelming fondness for Eddie and his exuberant care, the way he wears his feelings like his tattoos, on his bare skin.

After a while, Steve realizes that not all of Eddie’s once overs are checking for pain, sometimes they’re simply for checking him out. And this, this he knows how to handle.

The tenth time Steve cancels plans, he’s waiting at the door for Eddie to arrive. Eddie is all blurred motion and Bambi-eyed concern, looking for Steve’s source of pain. Steve points to his cheek.

“One too many direct hits and my whole face gets achey when the weather changes.”

Eddie turns, no doubt intending to rummage through Steve’s kitchen until he can find ibuprofen, or ice, or anything. Before he can get far, Steve catches his arm and turns Eddie to face him.

“Maybe you can kiss it better?”

#steddie #stranger things #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #this is... the first ficlet / drabble i've ever posted #A writes

[lightsoutletsgo]

if you're still doing the previews thing then can I please ask about 6? thank you sm! love your charles series ❤️

yes I am!! tysm for sending in a request, I hope you enjoy this little sneak peak. I actually love this fic sm!

enchanted — ls.2 x reader (■■■□□ 60%) based on “enchanted” by taylor swift. you meet logan at a party and are swept off of your feet

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

Logan cleared his throat to get your attention, “Look, I know we only just met but would you maybe… wanna get out of here?” You raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed, “N-not for anything like that, I just get the sense you don’t wanna be here and neither do I really… I know a good place for milkshakes, i-if you wanna come that is?” You smiled, he was suddenly so shy, “I’d love to!” Standing up, he offered his hand to you, you gladly took it as he pushed his way back into the kitchen and through the hallway, emerging on the other side of the house to exit through the front door. Just as you reached the front door you remembered Mae. “Hold on, I need to find my fri- Hi!” You turned as Mae draped herself over your shoulders, not quite drunk yet but buzzed from the atmosphere, “Hey babe, you heading out?” Her eyes locked onto Logan, before dropping to where your hands were still linked together, “Oh?” She whispered loudly, “Good choice! Make sure you put a sock on the door.” You shrugged her off, feeling embarrassed at her insinuation. “Mae! We’re just gonna hang out, you have your phone right?” She nodded, “Mhmm, but I’m probably gonna be going home with that guy from my chemistry class.” “What happened to bio guy?” You noticed Logan watching the two of you with an amused look. Mae waved her hand, “Oh, he was totally not worth it. Cute, but he thought Taylor Swift was overrated.” “Definitely not worth it.” You sent Logan an amused look of your own, as if to apologise for the delay, “Okay, love you!” Mae pulled you into a hug “Use protection!” She whispered loudly before cackling and stumbling back into the crowd of people starting to spill out into the hallway. You turned to Logan, “Let’s go!” 

Following him out you looked up and down for a nearby Uber or taxi but Logan pulled his keys out of his pocket, “I was designated driver tonight anyway so I haven’t drunk anything!” You paused, “Don’t you need to be here to you know… drive your friends home?” Logan shook his head, “They’ve told me they’re going to Uber home so, we’re free to go!” Hearing a car door unlock you looked down the road to where a flashy looking car was sitting. “That’s your car?!” Logan nodded, “Why do I get the feeling you’re not just a regular driver?” Logan laughed, “You’re right I’m not.” “You’re totally like Ansel Elgort in ‘Baby Driver’, right?” Logan snorted as he opened your door for you, hand coming up to rest against the door frame so you didn’t hit your head. You couldn’t even argue with the butterflies that you felt then. He was doing these things seemingly without even thinking. Once he was sure you were safely belted in, he closed your door before jogging round to the other side of the car, sliding in and securing his own seatbelt before he turned the ignition and the engine rumbled on with a smooth purr. “Are you still cold?” He asked, fiddling with a setting on the centre console, “A little– oh!” You felt your body relax into the seat even further as it began to heat up, “Let me know if you get too warm.” You smiled to yourself before you had to stop your mouth dropping open. He set the car into reverse and turned to look over his shoulder, the hand not on the wheel resting on your headrest. From this angle his jawline looked even sharper and you found yourself daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss it, ‘there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing…’ you thought to yourself as he finished reversing and settled back into his seat, smoothly changing gear and pulling away from the party.

#mimi.writes #mimi.wips #mimi.answers #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 oneshot #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant fluff #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x you

[starogeorgina]

Children of the dragon

Warnings: Incest, violence

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen × Targ oc

1.09

Beads of sweat drip down your back as you try to push the cries of a mother mourning her babe that plagued your dreams into the back of your mind. Two days have passed since you arrived at Dragonstone—two long days without hearing anything from Aegon, leaving you mentally exhausted while the strain of your due date creeping up on you was physically draining, although you would never complain out loud given the circumstances.

After holding a funeral for her stillborn daughter Visenya, Rhaenyra was crowned queen with the same crown that belonged to your late father.

Guilt bubbles in your chest as you cradle your bump, feeling the smooth velvet material beneath your fingers. The dark purple dress was a gift for Rhaenyra, made to fit her during the last term of pregnancy, but as she would no longer need it and you came without any clothes, she insisted you wear it along with her other gowns made to fit a swollen stomach.

You hold your head high while stepping up to the carved table in the shape of Westeros, engraved with its major cities, castles, and landmarks. The painted table was surrounded by the black council, consisting of your uncle Daemon, Corlys Velaryon and his wife Princess Rhaenys, Rhaenyra’s two oldest sons, Ser Erryk Cargyll and Ser Lorent Marbrand. Even with smaller numbers during this meeting as the other lords and bannermen weren’t in attendance, you found it intimidating to talk in front of them; you felt judged for who your lover, husband, mother, and grandsire were. While some tried to think of a way to prevent your brother from being crowned, it was suggested by Jacaerys to focus on the aftermath instead. As it was unlikely there would be any way to stop the inevitable.

Your mouth runs dry as you step forward to counter what Daemon had just said: during his assessment of the biggest risks, he had put your mother's sworn protector far too low down on the list. “Ser Criston Cole is no fool uncle, and he will have no boundaries. He will not hesitate to shed blood first, and because of this, I don’t believe it will take long for him to become my brother's hand.”

“And you’re sure of this?” Lord Corlys asks, “Aemond will make Ser Criston the hand of the king if he is crowned?”

“My guess is Aemond will keep my grandsire as hand of the king for a week at the longest to please our mother, but he will grow frustrated with his strategizing and replace him with Cole. Both hands will be a threat equally, but attack differently.”

“In what way?” The fierceness in Rhaenyra’s voice was almost scary.

“My grandsire will find alliance in any enemy you have ever made, while Cole will look for another approach, a deadlier one.” You glance at your nephews, not wanting to continue in front of them. What you wanted to say next would most definitely scare them, and that was not your intention.

“Luke go check on your brothers, Rhaena, and Baela. They should be in the nursery and attending their lessons,” Rhaenyra says softly.

When your nephew is out of earshot, you say, “The main difference is the target.” Daemon slams his fists against the table, giving you a fright. Gulping, you nervously continue. “My grandsire will aim to take out the biggest threat first, which is our queen, Rhaenyra. He won’t feed into Aemond’s desire for revenge, but Cole will. Their goal will be to tear the blacks apart; I believe the first act of war will be on the children.”

A roar of outrage fills the room as Rhaenys and Corlys both argue against such a horrid suggestion. You understood; they had both lost their children and desperately wanted to keep their grandchildren safe. Rhaenyra stares ahead blankly, looking lost in thought; it probably never occurred to her that her former best friend's children would try to kill her own. Surprisingly, it’s Daemon who steps in to defend you, “the princess has some insight on which we do not; perhaps we best let her speak freely.”

You give him a curt nod, thanking him without actually saying the words. “There is a fishing village below the Dragonmont, with men coming and going at all hours. All it takes is one man to slip undetected for blood to start spilling.”

“Who do you think Aemond and Ser Criston will target first?” Jacaerys asks.

“My daughters, Alyssa and Alina, then Prince Lucery. Aemond still believes he is owed a debt for losing his eye.” The room falls silent as fear sets in. Hoping to lighten the mood slightly, you change the subject. “As of now, the Greens only have one dragon, Vhagar. Truthfully, I’m unsure where my brother Daeron’s loyalties will be, but both he and his dragon Tessarion are currently in Oldtown. Dreamfyre is no threat, as my sweet sister Helena would never-” You stop talking when the slight pain in your back and lower abdomen begins to intensify. Rhaenyra immediately rushes to your side, but you try to dismiss her as she calls for the maester. “I am a fine sister, truly.”

“You need to rest.”

“I will do no such thing; I cannot rest while you plan a war that I’m partly to blame for.”

“Leave us,” Rhaenyra says, addressing everyone in the room. When the room is empty, she takes your hand in hers and says, “I know how lonely life in the keep can be. I understand why you turned to Aegon for comfort.”

“It’s more than that, Rhaenyra. I feel as if the gods themselves are looking down on us and giving us their blessing when I’m with him. I’ve always loved him; Aegon is the other half of me.”

Rhaenyra wipes away the tears rolling down your cheeks. Softly, she says, “Then it couldn’t possibly be wrong, dear girl.”

“I just never thought the consequences of our actions would be so dire.”

“You are not to blame for this war,” Rhaenyra says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You feel a sense of motherly love coming from her that you never felt was given from your own. “The greens would have usurped me regardless; the only ones to blame are Otto and Alicent. I swear to you now that no harm will come to you, Aegon, or Helena. And I will protect your children as if they were my own.”

“Thank you,” you sniff. It had already been discussed many times what should happen when Aegon eventually arrives on Dragonstone, as he did steal his own sister's crown. However, Rhaenyra understood the difficult position he was forced into, and as long as he bent the knee to her, he would be welcome among the blacks.

“Perhaps it won’t come to war.”

The hopefulness in her voice made you smile slightly. “Aemond is just as spiteful as he is proud. He’s going to stop at nothing to try and sit on the iron throne, but luckily for the people of Westeros, that’s not going to happen. We already have our queen.”

—

Frustrated, you rub at your eyes, trying to fully wake yourself up. On Rhaenyra’s orders, you were to rest for the remainder of the day, which you grudgingly agreed to.

A handmaiden filled you a bath with the finest-smelling oils, leaving your hair and body feeling extremely soft to the touch. It was supposed to help expecting mothers relax. Afterwards, you tried to sleep but kept tossing and turning. Something was nagging at you, but you couldn’t place the feeling. Sighing, you fluff your pillow before resting your head against it, trying to sleep.

“Do you ever have other dreams?”

“Yes, I had a vision of our nephew Jace dying.”

“I definitely don't want Aeron interacting with bastards.”

“Your fight with the Velaryon boys is not mine, and it's definitely not my children's.”

Letting out a gasp, you leap forward when you suddenly feel as if you’re falling from a great height. Your eyes are fixated on the sky above, and you observe clouds gathering in the distance through the small window. I'm in the sky, surrounded by clouds. The sun is shining down on me, and then it disappears. Your own words echo in your mind, and then the realization dawns on you. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. You had it wrong all along; it was never Jace you saw in your dreams; it was Luke.

You grab the gray long coat that was hanging over the back of a chair, using it to keep yourself decent since you didn’t have time to change from the thin nightdress you wore. Swinging the door open so suddenly, the knight who was posted outside it asked, “Where is Prince Lucery?”

“He’s gone to Storm's End as an envoy for the queen.”

“On dragon's back?”

The knight looks slightly concerned by your questioning but nods.

You start to run down the hallway as fast as your heavy body will allow, ignoring the knight calling after you. “Let my sister know I had to leave at once and that the children are in danger!”

“Princess! Princess!”

—

Somehow you managed to make it to Dallax without being detected; the last thing you needed was someone stopping you from leaving. If you had tried to explain your dream to your sister and uncle, they would have thought of you as mad. You didn’t know if they believed that some Targaryens saw visions in their dreams or not, and you didn’t have time to find out.

You searched the sky, hoping to spot your nephew before he reached Storm's End, but you feared you might have been too late. You weren’t sure what your dream meant other than that you needed to find him quickly. As if the gods were answering your silent prayer, you hear wings flapping in the distance. Dallax flies in the direction of the noise, and you spot Arrax below.

As you descend towards Lucerys, he looks up and screams, “He’s coming!”

You’re confused by what he means until a dark shadow clouds over you. Vhagar. Aemond shouts a slur of commands and insults in High Valyrian, but with the wind ringing in your ears, it was hard to fully understand. He was chasing the young prince on a dragon that was three times larger than Arrax, which was just a baby dragon in comparison. It was sickening. Aemond only turns his attention away from the young boy when he notices you. Vhagar swiftly changes direction and comes straight for you, jaws still open.

���May the mother have mercy on us all.”

A loud roar rips through the air as Sunfyre swipes at the older and much larger dragon. You catch a glimpse of Aegon with Aeron strapped to his chest, and panic sets in. Your precious son was caught up in this, and you couldn’t bear to lose him.

You were so caught up staring at Aegon and your son that you almost didn’t notice Aemond charging at Luke through the air again.

“Aemond no!” You scream as you watch Vhagar’s jaws about to close around Arrax, “Dracarys!” Dallax breathes fire in the direction of Aemond, your brother… your husband. There's no going back now. You could not undo what had been done. “Lucerys, go!”

Before Vhagar has a chance to attack you in return, Sunfyre claws at her face, causing the dragon to let out a roar that was so loud you were sure the people in King's Landing would have heard it. You watch helplessly as the two dragons claw and bite at each other. “Aemond stop!” You beg, knowing which dragon would win if this continued, “Please just stop-ahh!”

You scream as shooting pains travel between your lower back and pelvis. Through tear-hazed eyes, you watch as a third dragon joins the fighting. Lucerys never left. Despite both riders' best efforts, neither of them were a match for Aemond and Vhagar, whose full attention was now on you.

“Dracarys!”

You’re unsure of what happens next as it happens so fast, but you cry out in anguish as Dallax crashes into the sea, while above, Vhagar bites down on Arrax before turning her attention to Sunfyre.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x you #Aegon ii Targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #children of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #Aegon Targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen/oc #Aegon ii Targaryen x fem oc #Aegon ii x oc #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x fem oc #Aegon Targaryen/oc #aegon targaryen x oc

[papercorgiworld]

A fine husband

Sebastian Sallow and you are professors at Hogwarts.

A little silly drama with a smutty ending! So beware!

Though Sebastian no longer uses dark spells he’s still very interested in the dark arts. His latest obsession was with a book written by one of Salazar Slytherin’s students. He had heard you talk about it to one of the other professors. He had asked you about it, but you immediately changed the subject.

“If you would simply share your knowledge. I wouldn’t have to do this.” He muttered to himself as he stood in front of your office door. “Alohomora.” He said and your door unlocked. He headed directly to the shelves filled with books and started scanning through them. Completely lost in all his curiosity he didn’t notice you walking in. You stared at the scene in front of you for a moment. Unbelievable. You knew exactly why he was here. He definitely was something.

You addressed him like you would a student. “Professor Sallow! What do you think you’re doing?” Your stern voice startled Sebastian. He quickly pretended to look like he was casually hanging around. He looked like a lost boy for a moment, but quickly returned to his smug self. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Sebastian.” You frowned rather annoyed. “Looking for something?” You asked as you walked past him and over to your desk. You laid a bundle of essays on your desk that you planned on grading, before you encountered Sebastian burgling. He watched you intently weighing his options.

As a student he would have lied his way out of this, but as a professor it was best to be honest. “I’m looking for the book you and Sharp were talking about yesterday.” You smiled. Suspicion confirmed, you thought. “I don’t have it.” You lied and Sebastian knew by the way you avoided eye contact. He got a little closer to your desk and smiled. “Are you sure?” He said rather suggestively and he waited for you to make eye contact with him. “Because I thought maybe we could trade.” You let out a laugh. “What could you possibly offer me?” You sounded rather arrogant, but you had more books and artifacts than any other professor. In addition to books and artifacts, you had also collected some of the most valuable plants and materials and whatever you didn’t have you could simply buy. Your Gringotts vault was well stocked.

“I heard you’re in need of a fine husband.” Sebastian blurred out. He had overheard in the three broomsticks that your last date failed. The people around you knew that you really wanted to get married and start a family. Everyone else your age already had a family of their own and here you were still buried in books like a student with no man in sight. However true, your mouth still dropped at what Sebastian had just said. Sebastian was a bit shocked by himself, but he couldn’t back down now. “I also heard you would like a child. I could… arrange that.” Sebastian’s face heated up a bit by the suggestion he had just made, but your face went full tomato.

“You are unbelievable! You are a child, Sallow! But definitely not the kind I’m looking for!” You grabbed a book that lay nearby and went over to him to violently smack him with it. Your yelling and your aggressiveness made Sebastian quickly back up towards the door. Before he could say anything else you slammed the door closed.

Sebastian looked around to see some students observing the scene with wide eyes. Two professors arguing that would be good gossip. Sebastian put on his professor's face and the students quickly made their way to class.

***

That evening in the great hall Sebastian couldn’t help but stare. Why did he suggest himself. Was he willing to trade himself for a book? No, that wasn’t it. You caught him staring and he quickly looked at his plate. His cheeks heated up like he was a love struck teenager. It was then that he realized that he had wanted to ask you out for quite some time. Never actually doing it might very well be the reason he did something as desperate and stupid as today. The things he had said surely ruined the possibility of you ever going out with him.

After dinner Sebastian had spent an hour pacing in his room. He had to apologize. What he had said was highly inappropriate. “She’s never going to forgive me.” He muttered to himself. “What have I done?” He sighed and let himself fall down in his armchair. “She’ll never forgive me.” He dropped his head back in desperation. His mind dwelled on all the nights he had spent thinking about being with you gently and intimately. “A child. I could… arrange that.” He again was talking to himself as he reached for a bottle of firewhiskey. He laughed at his own stupidity, playing the scene again and again, as he brought the glass to his lips. Before he took a sip a wise thought formed in his mind. I should apologize before I get drunk. With that thought he headed down the hall to your chambers.

You were intently staring at the book that lay at the cause of today’s incident. You replayed Sebastian’s words in your head. You were so angry with him. How could he joke about something so serious as your wish for love. Definitely since ‘he’ was the main reason you hadn’t found anyone. It was his fault you had fallen in love with him and his charming attitude. You huffed in anger at the hours you wasted thinking about him. Arrange me a child, you thought to yourself, what was he gonna do: steal a kid and hand it over to you? You continued sulking in your chair until there was a nock on the door.

You opened it and to your surprise there he stood with an awkward smile on his face. “Come trade yourself for that book?” You mocked him. You didn’t even give him a chance to answer as you simply turned to grab the book. “Here you go.” You huffed, avoiding all eye contact as you extended the book to him. You were harsher than he had expected. “I don’t want it.” Now you looked even more frustrated than before, but you did look at him. “Take it. I know you want it badly. Why else would you offer to be my ‘fine husband’?” You said annoyed and again avoided all eye contact as you gestured the book again. Now Sebastian was getting frustrated with you. Sure what he said was stupid, but you had to at least give him a chance to apologize. “I’m not here for the book. I’m here to apologize.” Your jaw clenched as you stared down your furniture. “It’s fine, Sallow. Just take the book.” You tried to sound stern, but your voice came out all shaky. Why always the last name, Sebastian’s frustration grew. “Sebastian.” He said and tried to search for your eyes. He sighed when you continued to avoid his gaze. At this you did look up, maybe you were overreacting. Your face relaxed and you forced a smile. “Please, just take it.”

You wanted him out of your room. You couldn’t even look at him. You didn’t want his stupid apologies. You wanted him to come true to his words and be your fine husband. The moment you saw him standing there with that apologizing smile and puppy eyes you had made your mind up: if you couldn’t have him then he couldn’t be anywhere near you.

Sebastian slightly opened his mouth. He was probably going to say something, but suddenly your lips were on his. He was shocked, but that didn’t stop him from softly kissing back. When you ended the kiss and saw his eyes open, you panicked. Immediately you reached for your wand laying nearby you. “Obli-“ Sebastian firmly wrapped his hand around yours, keeping you from waving your wand and casting obliviate. You were consumed by embarrassment and started to stutter. “You-you need to forget this. This. This never happened. I shouldn’t…” You fell quiet and slightly looked at Sebastian. Your eyes met his and they were filled with softness. He gently cupped your cheek, while still firmly holding onto your hand and wand. As he came closer you stumbled against a wall. Embarrassed and now also cornered as Sebastian leaned over you, you looked at him. His lips parted as he gently pressed his against yours. Never had you expected something so soft to come from Sebastian.

When you both parted Sebastian barely moved away from your face. His breath warming your already heated face. His eyes never leaving yours. “Please, don’t make me forget.” He begged with an endearing whisper. His hand slowly letting go of yours as he reached for your wand. You let him take it and he placed it on the table near you. He tossed the book you gave him onto a chair. Bringing all his focus to you. If it wasn’t for the wall that was supporting you, you would surely have lost balance under his gaze.

His arm next to you supported him while his other hand slowly made his way to your side. You looked at his messy hair and gentle face as he stared you down. When his hand gently rested on your hip he leaned in. As soon as your lips touched all rationality left the room. Your hand slipped to the back of his neck and he wrapped his arm around your lower back, pulling you against him. “y/n?” He wanted to ask something, but your name came out like a moan. “Yes. Sallow.” You said teasingly as you smiled against his lips. “I’m not a man of empty words.” He finally managed to say between kisses. “I would make a fine husband.” You pushed his chest to create some space between you two. He stared at you, adoring you, as you smiled your most beautiful smile while a giggle escaped your mouth.

“Prove it, Sallow.” You said as you moved slightly to close the door and then push Sebastian on your bed. His eyes never left yours as he loosened his tie, while his other hand was placed on your hip. You both roamed each other hungrily as you settled, seated onto his lap. Sebastian’s fingers dug deep in your skin as he held you as close as possible, but it still wasn’t enough. He reached for his wand in his back pocket, whispering a spell so soft you didn’t realize what it was until the buttons of your chemise loosed gently. Like nothing happened he reached for your breast. He looked at you pleased with what he had done. You quickly disregarded your shirt, allowing him to get rid of the last piece of clothing covering your breasts. Sebastian was hungry for you and was already moving his mouth towards your chest, when you stopped him gesturing that it was his turn to take off clothing. Annoyed by the interruption he tore a button and simply pulled his shirt over his head. Without looking where his clothing had landed he grabbed your breast again, while his mouth took in the other.

Your only response to what he was making you feel, was grinding against him with every move he made. With your skirt driven all the way up, your panties were the only thing covering pussy as you pushed yourself onto Sebastian’s hardening dick still tucked in his pants. You damned Sebastian as he took his sweet time with you. Your hand slowly moved from his chest to his abdomen to undo his pants, earning you a soft moan from Sebastian. Now it was your turn to take your sweet time with him. Gently stroking the head and using his precum to pump the little Sallow in his pants. His kisses became more sloppy and his breathing heaving as you entertained his dick in your hands. His arms around you pulled close and he kissed one of your breasts passionately.

“I want you.” His husky voice managed between groans and moans. “I need you.” He added with more hunger in his tone as his hands grabbed a hold of your ass. You let out a little squeak at his rough touch. You teased him with a slow kiss and no direct answer to his desire. Not a game Sebastian wanted to play as he reached for his wand once more. Suddenly, all the last bits of clothing were somewhere else in the room. You looked at him a little annoyed, an undressing spell, really cheap Sallow. Not that Sebastian would notice your annoyance as he was staring at your glinstering cunt with an amused smile. His thumb gently stroked your pussy and instinctively you moved to give him all the access he needed. As much as you enjoyed the circles he was drawing around your sensitive spot, you wanted more of him than just his fingers. “Sebastian, I’m wet. I’m ready for you.” Sebastian smirked, finally his first name rolled off your tongue. Not waiting for him, you reached for his cock letting it gently roam your entrance, teasing both yourself and Sebastian. “Y/n.” He breathed and he pushed his hips up to show his eagerness.

Giving in you lowered yourself, feeling how he filled you up. The feeling of him fully inside you made your stomach turn and twist. You placed your hand on his body to steady yourself. Sebastian reached for your hips to support you. His eyes observing your face to make sure you were alright. One hand reaching up towards your face putting a few strands of hair behind your ear. You gently started to move, but quickly adjusted and wanted more. As caring as Sebastian wanted to be, he couldn’t help falling back on the bed and taking in every sensation. You pleased yourself with riding him exactly like you wanted. When you came close to your orgasm you called for Sebastian in your moans. He immediately lifted himself from the bed and grabbed your hips, helping you keep a steady pace while you were losing all control over your body. You grabbed Sebastian’s biceps to steady yourself while your orgasm flooded you and he continued now mercilessly using you for his pleasure. Moments after, he spilled all of him inside of you. He allowed himself to fall on your bed once again, he embraced you as you fell with him.

You both lay on your bed, heartbeats racing and breathing heavily. Sebastian was the one to break the silence. “You called me Sebastian.” You laughed at how unbelievable this man was. “You would make a fine husband.” You said and smiled against his chest. Sebastian stroked your hair. “Yeah, I would… and as a matter of factly, I think you would be a most wonderful wife.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagine #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow imagine #papercorgiworldwritings

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (3/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 (let me know if I've missed you! otherwise, comment or DM me to be added) Uhm, before you start, peep this gorgeous GIF set below by @alicent-targaryen. Please just browse the entire #sam-heughan tag like I did for the past hour lol. A/N: Also, I don't think the most thorough editing job. I'll go over it again and fix hiccups.

CHAPTER 3: After an unplanned first 'date', having Charlie over for dinner sounds more scrumptious than any perfectly-done filet mignon. However, you should've known that involving him would involve more people than you would've liked. (3.7k words)

CHAPTER 3: IN TOO DEEP

It was the same dreadful feeling of getting in trouble when you were a child. A premonition that a scolding was coming.

That was what you felt as you followed your father down the hallway. But you weren’t going to be asked why Draco was crying after you pushed him (see: age three) or why you scored so poorly in an third-year elective over Christmas break (see: age thirteen). No, twenty-three was going to bring on a different slew of problems.

When you and Lucius were situated in a dark corridor and shielded from the view of the other patrons, you braced yourself. Deep in the shadows, you definitely looked like your father. You never quite got his platinum blonde hair or pale blue eyes; your colouring was always a touch darker. But here, you were the mirror image of him, displeased expressions and aversions to losing and all. 

You clenched your jaw shut as did Lucius until he finally gritted out: “What are you doing here? And in this get-up?”

“Why does it matter what I wear?” you snapped back. Lucius was draped in some of the fanciest emerald robes he’d owned, so whatever meeting he had was definitely important. 

“I don’t particularly care for what you’re wearing, but rather, who it belongs to,” Lucius clarified. “And for you to be here with that Weasley—”

“His name’s Charlie, father.”

“They’re all the same, a stain on our reputation, and speaking of such things,” Lucius continued, his voice gaining volume as he spoke. “We Malfoys have one to upkeep. Either bring some acceptable friends of yours or—”

Lucius quickly glanced around him to make sure there was no one important passing by. When he saw a woman exit the powder room, he waited pleasantly for her to pass before resuming his speech. One that you’d heard a million times. 

“Don’t present yourself here with him.”

“Oh, what does it matter?”

“You will leave this instance,” he commanded. “With the Weasley child.”

“He is not a child, and you can’t tell me what to do,” you countered, your voice rising too. “I can be here with whoever I please. In fact, we’ll have Jacques seat us so we can stay longer. He always has a spot in the restaurant for the Malfoys.”

“You will not,” he hissed. “I have more associates joining me and I won’t be—”

When an elderly couple turned the corner down the hall, you and Lucius both shut up immediately. At the same time, you choked out smiles at each other to give the guise of a pleasant conversation, not the whisper-shouting match that was actually going on. It was in that moment of much-needed silence that you realized something important: Lucius falsely assumed you and Charlie were together. Not in the form of a fling, but he falsely assumed Charlie was the boyfriend you were parading around yesterday. 

“I’m going back to Charlie. Good luck with your meeting.”

You spun away on your heels. As you ditched Lucius, you walked thunderously back to the front. Arguing with your father always put you in the worst of tempers. First, he threatened to have Goyle over because you were unpaired, and now, he was upset with your choice of partner? It was like arguing with a wall.

Up front, Charlie was waiting for you, two drinks in hand and a pastry bag in between his fingers. In the time you were gone, his order had been served. He handed a drink to you.

Trying to suppress your frustration, you asked Charlie in a whisper: “Can you follow my lead?”

“What was that?” he asked, leaning downwards. “You’re too quiet. Or too short for me to hear you.”

“Lean closer, then,” you instructed.

“Okay.” Charlie complied immediately, arching down even further until his lips were a touch too close to your ear. From the view of a bystander, it gave the appearance of him kissing your cheek, maybe his lips grazing your earlobe… You repressed a shudder, having to remind yourself that he just was fooling around like his younger brothers often did.

“Walk out with me,” you whispered. 

You extended your right hand, motioning for him to take it. And without a second of hesitation, he did. Those long, callused fingers wrapped around your smaller ones for the second time today. His grip was firm and protective. You turned your head slightly to see Lucius was looking, and sure enough, he was. Luckily from him, Mr. Lemieux was turned away from the spectacle. 

You imagined he was wearing his teeth down with how hard his jaw was clenched. Worn dentition was soon going to be the least of his problems if he kept pissing you off. 

“Let’s get out of here,” you said. 

“Tell me about it.”

You led him out back through the double glass doors. Your brisk walk turned into a jog down the street. You were trying not to trip on cobblestones or spill your drink again. When you’d reached a safe distance from Cauco, you burst out laughing. And so did Charlie.

“What was that?” he asked. “Actually, what is this?” He raised both your hands that were still tangled to each other. “A change of heart for me?”

“No, this is pure subterfuge,” you responded through fits of laughter. 

“What possessed you to take my hand?”

“My father told me to get out, so I did. I couldn’t leave you.”

“I didn’t know you had a flair for dramatics.”

“You don’t know me well enough!” you laughed. 

“Charlie?” a voice rang suddenly from the corner. “Is that you?”

Both of you whipped around.

It was Molly Weasley. Oh, you know, no other than Charlie’s mum.

Molly nearly dropped her woven baskets full of groceries at the sight of well, firstly, her son who was back home once a year if she was lucky. And secondly, you imagined at the shock of the two of you holding hands. 

You quickly removed your hand from Charlie’s. Now your expression really read like you’d been caught in this imaginary romp in the sheets. 

“What are you doing back in England?” Molly asked, bringing her son in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She cupped his face and gave it two firm pats, trying to ascertain that Charlie was real and not some apparition.

“Apparently, you can’t bank vacation for ten years straight,” he said. A blotch of red was forming on his cheeks from Molly’s hand. “Pretty ridiculous, I reckon—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” Molly then demanded. “I could’ve prepared properly for you. A proper room, a proper meal.”

Charlie jolted. “I didn’t know until two days ago, I promise, mum. I’ve been on a train for the past day. I’ve barely slept all of last night.”

“Well, you’re just in time for a big lunch.” Molly looked at you. “(Y/N), dear,” she said, her voice much sweeter with you. “So lovely to see you, too.” 

“Likewise, Mrs. Weasley,” you responded.

“(Y/N), won’t you join us for lunch as well?” Molly hummed. Then she turned back to Charlie. “Charlie, you’ll be elated to know that Bill is home, too.”

You could never refuse Molly. You also weren’t in a rush to get home, knowing your father may be there, ready to have an argument about the scene you caused at Cauco. And the guilt was starting to settle in, so you shook it off with a nod towards Molly.

As the three of you walked up the grassy hill that led up to the Burrow, Charlie pestered Molly over the validity of her statement about Bill’s being home. “Is he really? You’re joking me, surely.”

“Why would I ever joke about that?” Molly asked. “You know I’ve always asked you to come home more often.”

Charlie groaned as he opened the door to his childhood home. “I should’ve brought home more Romanian parchment for him.”

“Why Romanian parchment?” you asked.

“It’s lighter and less resistant to tearing and burning. Easier for him to carry during expeditions and less to worry about goblins burning them.”

“I’m sure that’s the last thing on his mind right now,” Molly hummed. “But I shouldn’t spoil what your brother is going to tell you, no, I shouldn’t...” She seemed to be fighting with her own morals as she entered the house. 

“Good,” Charlie said as he let out a sigh of relief. “But now I should’ve bugged him for more Egyptian hide.” He pulled the hem of your jacket. “If I was wearing that instead of this jacket, my pocket would’ve lived to see the tale.”

“Is that yours, Charlie?” Molly asked. “I should’ve known, seeing as it’s so tattered up. But nothing I can’t fix.”

“You’ll have to fix (Y/N) up, too. I spilled coffee on her,” Charlie admitted sheepishly.

“Of course, I’ll tend to you, dear, in just a moment…” Molly unloaded her baskets on the counter, eyeing her assortment of meats, cheeses, vegetables, and breads. “Let me get the stew going first. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.”

As Molly worked, you peered around the house. You’d been here many times throughout your school years and knew every nook and cranny. Though, you were always cooking things up with Fred and George in their room upstairs. You’d met Percy, Ron, and Ginny but never overlapped much with Charlie or Bill. Regardless, you’d always appreciated how inviting it was compared to your abode located upstate. Every bit of you felt warm from the sun seeping through the windows. In the house, things were stuffed to the brim until it was precariously close to exploding: books on the bookshelf, mugs in the cabinet, non-perishables in the pantry, spare blankets in the closet. And even though the Burrow was enclosed by farmland, Molly and Arthur were very friendly with the neighbours. You barely knew yours.

You were about to ask Molly if you could offer any assistance when you were interrupted by footsteps.

“Bill!” Charlie recognized his brother immediately. 

“Charlie?” Bill said. No sooner, he’d jumped down the last two steps and enveloped his younger brother in a hug that almost toppled him over. “What are you doing back in England?”

“It’s a long story,” Charlie said. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Bill started, trying to conceal a grin. He reached out for Fleur’s hand as she came down the steps behind him. “Fleur is expecting. We’re due in the next month or so.”

“What?” Charlie exclaimed. “Already?”

“What do you mean ‘already’?” Molly scolded suddenly from behind him. “It’s about time you settled down as well, Charles Weasley. You should consider staying put for once. I pray you won’t jostle your wife around like you do yourself—”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Charlie whispered to you before getting dragged off by Molly. Bill followed him into the kitchen.

“Hello, (Y/N),” Fleur said as she came down the last step. Despite being heavily pregnant, she was more than graceful.

“Hello, Fleur,” you responded. “Congratulations on the pregnancy. You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said, a proud smile on her face.

You waited awkwardly in the living room alone for a couple moments. You really wished Fred or George or both of them were here to give you someone to talk to. When Molly finished up giving orders to Bill and Charlie, you felt it appropriate to tiptoe into the kitchen. 

“Hello (Y/N),” Bill was the first to notice you creeping in. “Long time no see.”

Bill, as you faintly remembered, was indeed the tallest of the bunch. He was fit but not as muscular as Charlie, if what you saw this morning was anything to go by. He was more laid-back as well, and less prone to making remarks that would receive a scolding from Molly. 

“Indeed!” you responded, feeling more at ease. “And congratulations on the baby.”

“Thank you.” A smile broke out on Bill’s face. He was radiant, his blue eyes crinkling from his smile. His face wasn’t as angular and defined as Charlie’s but he was very handsome in a more boyish way. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here, you’re usually with Fred and George,” Bill said as if reading your mind. “Do you have some news of your own you want to share with me?”

You gave him a puzzled look.

“Mum told me she saw you and Charlie holding hands this morning, after your date,” Bill whispered, glancing slyly at Charlie. “I didn’t know that you were together. Charlie writes to me about everything. Apparently he left out an important chunk.”

Oh. Your date. “Oh, I’m not sure I—”

“That’s okay, I won’t press you. I’ll just ask Charlie,” Bill said, letting you off the hook. You breathed an internal sigh of relief. “He’s a tough read is all I’ll say. He dilly-dallys around a lot, especially around women.”

“Does he?” you said with a laugh. You thought of Charlie’s words to you earlier in the day.

 “One day, he’s saying he’s met this girl. Next week, he’s in love. Then, he wants to propose, and before I know it, I’m standing at the altar.”

Right, Bill wasted no time. Conversely, Charlie denied he was the same. 

Bill smiled. “I reckon so. But it’s no doubt you were able to read through him. You’ve always been smart.”

Your words caught at Bill’s sudden compliment. “Thank you, Bill. But I’m really not.”

“Come on, it was one class almost ten years ago,” Bill said with a teasing grin. “Nothing to beat yourself up over.”

“How do you know?” you asked, your cheeks heated. You’d never overlapped schooling with Bill and yet he knew about—

“Fred told everyone about the cursed elective the three of you took.”

You groaned. You were going to give Fred a piece of your mind next time you saw him.

“Bill, could you be a dear and call Fred and George over for lunch?” Molly called from the windowsill. She barely looked up at the stew she was seasoning. “I’m sure they can afford an hour for lunch now that their busy season is over.”

“Sure thing,” Bill acquiesced, throwing down the dishcloth. “I’ll talk to you later, (Y/N)." 

Molly replaced Bill’s spot in front of you and took you by the arm. “Now, follow me upstairs and let’s get you fixed up. I told Charlie he’s going to have to be more careful around you.”

In an hour, lunch rolled around and so did Fred and George who got a scolding for apparating right into the home. You learned that Fred’s imitation of Molly wasn’t far off. 

“What are you still doing here?” Fred asked with a genuine look of surprise on his face. 

“I’m not sure, Molly asked if I wanted to come for lunch.”

“How did this chance occurrence happen?”

“We bumped into her at Diagon Alley.”

Fred wiggled his eyebrows. “We?” 

You shrugged. 

Thankfully, you were ushered to the table before Fred could pester you anymore. Bill sat with Fleur, Fred with George, you and Charlie, and Molly at the end. The bread basket perched in the centre was bigger than your head.

“So, Charlie, dear,” Molly started. “What brings you back home?”

“Well,” Charlie responded. “As I was saying earlier—”

“Charlie’s going to meet (Y/N)’s parents next Saturday,” Fred added suddenly. 

“You’re going to the Malfoy’s?” Bill asked, directing a look of surprise at Charlie. Molly followed suit. 

You nearly sputtered into your stew. You hadn’t really discussed that nor had Charlie consented to it, at least not seriously. You figured he was just kidding about having dinner, and now that his appetite had been satiated, so was his curiosity. 

“Sure am,” Charlie responded after a long swig of water. He didn’t skip a beat. 

“You’ll have to find something suitable to wear,” Molly commented, looking Charlie up and down. Her inquisitive brown eyes narrowed at his dishevelled long hair and outfit that looked like he was going to bed rather than dinner. “I’m sure we can find something of your father’s or grandfather’s in the attic.”

“There goes the rest of my afternoon,” Charlie groaned loudly, much to Molly’s chagrin. Then, he leaned into you. “I hope you didn’t have plans for us, (Y/N).”

You shook your head. “I shouldn’t think about taking you away from something so important.”

The rest of lunch was filled with questions about Bill and Fleur’s impending baby and Fred and George’s business. Luckily, no questions were thrown towards you and Charlie. You wouldn’t even know what to say. When lunch was over, Charlie was the first to excuse himself. 

“That was a lovely lunch as always, mum,” Charlie said, getting up. “I’m going to unpack and maybe take a nap. It was a long journey from Romania.”

As he began to head up the stairs, Molly piped up: “Be sure to use Ginny’s room.”

Charlie descended a step back. “What about mine?”

“It’s under renovation.”

“You remodelled my room?” Charlie cried.

“As a temporary nursery. You can obviously still stay in the guest room the duration of time you’re here,” Molly clarified. 

“I won’t even fit into Ginny’s room, let alone the bed. And are the walls still pink?”

“Well, a fair warning that you’d be coming back would’ve been sufficient,” Molly said. “Bill was first to tell me that he and Fleur wanted to move back in for the duration of her pregnancy.”

“But why mine? Why not remodel Ginny’s room as the nursery?”

“Because yours is closest to Bill’s room,” Molly explained. “It provides easier access to the baby.”

“You can always stay with us, Charles darling,” Fred suggested, a grin dancing on his face. “We have a spare room in our flat that’s gone unused for some reason.”

“I’ll consider it as my dead last option,” Charlie said with a shudder. He jumped back on the first floor and ran past Fred, but not before commenting: “There are a million people I’d rather live with before I’d live with you.”

After Charlie left to unpack, Fred and George followed suit to reopen the shop. You lingered around the house for a while longer, offering to help with the dishes which was promptly refused. Instead, Molly gave you a tour of the new nursery, her eyes brimming with pride at her handiwork. And it really was a lovely room with white, flowy curtains billowing in the wind, a vintage wooden cot, and tons of hand sewn blankets and plush toys. You were glad she was so preoccupied with the baby and showing you around that she wasn’t asking about Charlie. 

“It’s beautiful, Mrs. Weasley,” you said, admiring the stitching on the curtains. “Bill and Fleur are lucky to have you alongside them.”

Molly placed a hand on her hip. “You know, dear, I would do it for any child of mine and their partner.”

You eked out a smile in response. You sure hoped she wasn’t insinuating anything about you. 

When you went downstairs, you decided it was proper for you to excuse yourself and head home. It was nearing three in the afternoon and you couldn’t believe how the hours just flew by. Before you left, you went to Ginny’s old room and knocked on the ajar door. 

“Come in,” Charlie said.

You stepped in slowly. Charlie was unfolding his clothes on Ginny’s old bed. He towered over the frame, and he’d be lucky if he could stretch out his legs tonight. Luckily for him, the walls were now a muted pink, not the bright shade they were years ago. 

“I’m about to leave,” you said. “I just wanted to apologise for today before I go. I’m sorry you got caught up in things.”

Charlie cocked an eyebrow. “What’s there to apologise for?” 

“The whole debacle with my father,” you clarified. “I never meant to get you involved. I don’t think well at the crux of an argument.”

“Why shouldn’t I be involved?”

Did Charlie sound offended?

“You want to be?”

“(Y/N),” Charlie said with a chuckle. “I’m always hungry. I’ll be there for the meal if not for the entertainment, or world-class Malfoy hospitality.”

“Are you serious?” you asked. “Because you understand what the deal was right? We’d have to be…” You bit your lip. You didn’t want to finish the sentence. 

“Like we’re dating? Was that so hard to get out now?” Charlie laughed, leaning in closer to you until he was a few inches from you. “I mean, you’re meeting my mum.”

“I’ve already met her, many times over,” you huffed. “And on that topic, don’t you think it’s wrong to lead her on like that?”

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t lecture me about ethics. You’re the one who just tried to swindle your father in public.”

You turned red. “My prospects were looking terrible.”

“Hey, I’m just kidding,” Charlie said. “I’d do the same thing if I were in your shoes.”

“Alright”—you eyed him suspiciously—“Well, if you’re sure, I’ll send you an owl.”

“You know exactly where I’ll be,” Charlie confirmed.

Before you turned away to leave, a sudden thought came to mind. “Charlie, wait. You never told me. Why are you back in England?”

“I really was banking up too much vacation,” he confessed, airing out a rolled t-shirt. “I was strong-armed into taking it, so I chose the off-season.”

“What are you going to do at home?”

He hummed. “I was cordially invited to be a guest professor at Hogwarts two days a week, depending on how often they need me.”

“That is splendid for you,” you said, eyes brightening. “Which classes will be taking over?”

“Just Care of Magical Creatures for now”—he turned fully to you—“I reckon I could sneak in a few dragons for the kids.”

“You wouldn’t,” you warned. “You were Head Boy, you knew the rules.”

“Try me, Headmaster Malfoy.”

He held your gaze, intense blue eyes locking with yours and a smirk rising on his face. For the briefest of moments, you felt a shudder course through your body. He wasn’t being suggestive, you had to remind yourself. Charlie was just more intense and smouldering than his brothers—

Wait, did you just use the word smouldering to describe Charlie? The Charlie Weasley you’d really just met six hours ago? You scolded yourself. You had to focus on the issue at hand. 

“I’ll try to wrangle a way out of dinner regardless,” you affirmed. “I have to free you up for your duties as a professor.”

He broke his gaze. “Let me know if you’re successful,” Charlie said with a laugh. “Catch you later, (Y/N).”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

&lt;;< CHAPTER DIRECTORY

#charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley fic #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x oc

[pix3lplays]

Hi! Could you do a part 3 for the one where jing yuan and his wife fighting over jing yuan being tough on yanqing?

It’s time for them to make up isn’t it? Part 1 Part 2

-Jing Yuan and wife!reader argue over him being too harsh on Yanqing-

Jing Yuan really did hate it when you fought. And you had been fighting over Yanqing for a little too long now…it was time to make it up to you. “Y/n…” he says to you that night in the bedroom. “I’ve been thinking…it’s been a while since the two of us have gone on a date. I think it’s time we changed that, don’t you?” You eye him suspiciously, still upset about the way he’s been treating Yanqing. “Alright…” you say cautiously. “But I don’t want us to fight about-” “I know…I know…that’s why we need to go on this date, talk things out, I think it will be good for both of us.” “Okay…” you say, still hesitant. But he was right. It would be wise to talk it out, and it had been a while since the two of you had gone on a proper date…it might be…fun. “Let’s go on a date tomorrow,” you conclude with a hesitant smile. “Yes, let’s,” and he smiles, big and genuine, and he looks so handsome and lovely you almost forget that you’ve been arguing for a few weeks now. … Jing Yuan had always cut a fine figure, for as long as you had known him, but he looked especially good today, in his casual date clothes, his hair still tied back elegantly. Despite your hesitance you had to admit you were a bit excited to be going on a date with your husband, even though you knew the conversation was definitely going to be about Yanqing. He offers you his arm at the front door, and you gladly accept, wrapping an arm around his as he leads you through the door and out to an awaiting Starskiff. … “I’ve been thinking about it,” he says at the dinner table. “And…you’re right, I have been a little harsh on Yanqing, but I want you to know something…” “Yes?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow. This had better be good and not just another excuse. “I genuinely care for the boy, as if he were my own son, and I need you to know that I would never do anything that I thought would hurt him or put him in harm’s way. He’s like my own child, y/n…and I mean that genuinely.” To hear your husband confess such a thing makes your heart flutter a bit. He saw Yanqing as a son, truly. “I’m tough on him because I care about him. Do you get it now? I’m not trying to be mean, I truly care about him, more than most things, and I’d never purposefully hurt him…I just…I just need you to understand that, y/n…” “I understand…”you say, expecting him to say more. And he does. “But you’re right,” he adds. “I’ve been too hard on him…I’m going to loosen up a bit, be a little bit easier on him. Thank you, for helping me realize this is the path I should walk,” he smiles genuinely at you. “Oh…”you say. “Oh, that’s wonderful to hear, that’s all I can ask of you,” you exclaim, “thank you, for listening to me.” “I can’t in good conscience ignore the opinion of my wife,” he smiles. “I’m sorry it took me so long to conclude this, I know I can be a stubborn old fool sometimes, so thank you. For putting up with me.” Now it’s your turn to genuinely smile at him. “You’re welcome,” you grin. “Thank you for finally listening to me.” “Of course…” The rest of dinner goes well, the two of you chatting about other things that make you happy, about how Yanqing has been doing lately, about what you’re going to do when you get home for the evening. That night, for the first time in a while, is actually comfortable. You let your husband wrap his arms around you in bed, and you snuggle comfortably against one another. He’s a little bit lighter on Yanqing in the future. Not by a lot, but enough for you to notice. And you’re thankful for that. Your husband had finally listened to you. And Yanqing certainly wasn’t complaining.

@starxao

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #my writing #Jing Yuan #Jing Yuan x reader #hsr Jing Yuan x reader #honkai star rail Jing Yuan x reader

[yandere-sins]

im in my captain price phase😣 do you have any headcannons for him? i loveee your work !! 🩵⭐

Y'all are not alone in this it seems, lol! Thanks for requesting ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ John never hesitates to simply relocate you where he wants you to be. You're trying to sulk in a corner? He takes out the big soldier muscles to grip you by the waistband of your trousers or belt, and picks you up to drag you to where he needs to go. Price might not have the height advantage of other members, but you'd be best advised not to underestimate him. He will throw you over his shoulder or put his hands between your legs, cupping your crotch and spin you around or out of the way if needed. Shameless, efficient, and oftentimes amused by your squeals and complaints. He'll make sure you can't get away from him for too long, and if he says it's bedtime/sit-on-his-lap-time/dinner/time to go over the plan for the next mission and you have to stand between him and the table, his body pressed up to yours to the point the table hurts you, then there's no wiggling or arguing out of it. Try to defy him when this man has a plan of where he needs to be, and you need to be with him at all times. Try him.

♡ You don't even realize the service Price is doing you by making you his darling. You're so careless, especially when you're eating, you don't see the hungry eyes of the soldiers that would love to have a taste of what isn't theirs. Price is single-handedly keeping everyone in check by forcing you on his lap despite your protests, having his arm around you and the other hand on his gun while he demands asks you to feed him. You're very vulnerable when walking to the showers, so he stalks after you like a guard dog, always keeping his smile on his lips but death threats in his eyes. You may hate on him for keeping you in his room, locked and occasionally chained, but it's for your own well-being. Because if he let you out of the safety of his room, you'd be mauled for sure. If he keeps you close and forces his touches and demands on you, John can be sure you'll be okay and unharmed. He's protecting you—at least, that's what he thinks he's doing—regardless of your opinion. The only time he'll be 'careless' is when he's punishing you—and even then, he's standing in the shadows, watching over you, smoking, and making sure no one puts their hands on what belongs to him while also teaching you the valuable lesson that you really do need his protection, other soldiers ready to pounce at such a delicious treat.

♡ Before making you his darling officially, he's definitely not ashamed to use his authority. As I mentioned before, he uses it to steal touches and keep you close to him, but he also likes to police your life as much as he can. What do you mean your company-issued shirts don't fit and are smelly? Price went out of his way to share his clothes with you; you better wear them before he orders you to. Not liking having to share tents with your Captain on missions? Tough luck, Rookie. Who are you going to complain to? You think Price is overstepping by checking on you countless times a day and calling you to him for no apparent reason, just to keep him company? That's normal, you're overreacting. Don't be rude to your Captain, alright? You think you caught him caressing you at night while you sleep? Damn, your imagination has no bounds. All John is doing is non-negotiable. He's just doing his job.

♡ As much as he hates having others' attention on you, he loves, loves, loves how cute you are when you feel embarrassed by him in front of others. You just hate having no autonomy, and Price loves it. He loves giving your rear a good smack when you try to argue with him, cutting you off and embarrassing you in front of anyone you tried to talk to. You hate his lap, and he loves forcing your hips to grind against him as you squirm until you gasp and force yourself to still. He'll lick food off the corner of your mouth in front of everyone else and grin even when you yell at him to stop. Sometimes he makes you wear his shirts improperly so his nametag is showing on the outside for everyone to read. It's his way of marking you, by showing everyone else what they'll never have. His hickies are legendary, and he has ruined some of the shirts he gave you by ripping off the collars or cutting off the arms so he could present his bruises and bites to everyone, letting them know how brutally sweetly you made love to each other last night. No worries, though! John actively shows off his scratches and bites that he got from you even though no one is asking, giving way too much information to everyone.

#john price #price cod #price #yandere price #yandere!price #cod #call of duty #yandere cod #yandere call of duty #yandere!cod #yandere!call of duty #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[yu-huuuu]

𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘬𝘰𝘮𝘪-𝘴𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮— 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 1

[ 🌸 ] ...

characters: cassandra cain my girl nedds more love, okey 😭?;; some character mentions  

genre: bad comedy-

warnings: fem!reader, strong social anxiety disorder and many communication problems.

- - -

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑜.

- - -

Lmao let's say you're in the same classroom as Cass. 

You arrive at your classroom, you are new and you feel the gaze of the people who see you go by. 

Your legs shake with anxiety but you try to hide it as best you can. When you finally get to your desk is when you inwardly let out a sigh of relief.

And suddenly this unknown girl comes in, with beautiful Asian features, she just sits next to you without saying a word, which gives you incredible peace... until you feel her gaze on you. That's when you recognize her.

‘The locker girl’, you had seen her when you were leaving various things in your locker when you first arrived. She was putting some notebooks in her own locker when she looked at you, both of you had made eye contact, but you had gotten so anxious that you had just walked away as fast as your legs would carry you while still looking elegant.

You expected her to just ignore you and go about her business, you actually wanted to disappear, but you couldn't do that. Due to your good grades you had accidentally gotten your parents to decide to send you to the prestigious Gotham High which meant moving to another city, you really didn't want to go, but your parents argued that this would be a great opportunity for you to study in such a unique place. 

The quiet moment of recess was interrupted when people from your classroom crowded around your desk to buy you a meal. And It was a pity that due to your difficulty in communicating you could not say that you wanted to eat with these people. It seemed like reaching your goal of making 100 friends this year was going to be difficult.

 Seeing that you were alone, you asked yourself: “why can't I talk to people?” It was an innocent question, it really was. And you definitely didn't notice that the girl sitting next to you was standing right at the entrance of the classroom.

You almost passed out, luckily it didn't happen. So you ran to the other door that was in the corner.

 “Do you have trouble communicating with people?” It was the first thing out of her mouth, which in turn stopped you from your swift escape. 

You timidly turned to her, and tried to speak, but only incoherent and anxious sounds came out of your mouth. 

 "Y/N" spoke in a calm voice, stopping the soft sounds abruptly. She remembered your name, well, you wrote it in front of everyone when your teacher asked you to introduce yourself, even though it was actually still written… 

 It seemed that Cassandra was thinking of a way to communicate with you. 

Despite only spending a few classes together, Cassandra seemed as quiet as you, but the only difference was that she spoke when she needed to. She could communicate her desires, her thoughts… 

And then, you could barely think of what you wanted without a mental breakdown. 

 Oh- it seems that she already came up with something... Pointing with one of her delicate fingers, she spoke: "board" 

 you got the message 

 Grabbing the chalk, you began to write everything you felt. 

What came to torment you, how difficult primary school was, how difficult it was to communicate with people.

When you finished writing, Cassandra picked up the other piece of chalk. She had also started to write, but instead of writing something like what you wrote on the board, she wrote: "I would like to meet you"

The little Joy you felt in your chest was overwhelming. The first thing you wrote was that you liked cats, to which she replied that she liked ballet.

Little by little, the big board was filled with your conversation, with her likes and dislikes. You learned that Cassandra has seven siblings, that she loves her “grandpa's” cookies and loves the movies she watches with her sisters.

When you both got to the subject of the dreams that you two wanted to fulfill; Cassandra wrote that she wasn't so sure she had a definite dream, you on the other hand wrote that your dream was to have a hundred friends.

For a moment you thought she was going to make fun of it, after all it was a childish dream, such a childish wish. but she didn't, instead she wrote something that made your heart skip: "I'll help you with that."

No one.

No one told you that before, but looking into her eyes. Seeing her determination in her eyes.

You knew she was serious.

. - . - . - . - . - .

Cassandra was waiting for you by your locker when you arrived. When you finished grabbing some books that you needed, you both walked towards your classroom. 

 30 minutes were left before classes began. So you still had time.

You were going up the empty stairs when Cassandra stopped you.

“Yesterday, I was looking for ways how you could ask someone to be your friend…” Oh, so she looked for ways to help you. "You could start by saying, 'Do you want to be my friend?'. Do you want to try saying it?"

Talk. 

She was asking you to talk…-oK Ok ok calm down, calm down, you just have to say it.

Taking a soft breath, you began, “D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D—“  No, You can not.

Your body did not stop shaking, and your mind did not stop tormenting itself with many insecurities.

"uhhh- Y/N are you alright?"

Ah, it happened again. Your nerves could against you.

“Well then, I know someone who is very good at talking. Come on, we still have time." Taking the notebook and pencil, you wrote; "Okey"

. - . - . - . - . - .

Now you both were in front of Class 1-B. 

 Cass spoke as she opened the classroom door a little more, "The person I was talking about is my sister, her name is Stephanie– she has a great ability to talk to people. Although my big brother Dick is good at it too."

The few students that were inside didn't pay attention to you, they were too focused on talking among themselves. 

 The pretty long blonde hair of a girl who had her back turned was the first thing that caught your eye when you looked closely at the classroom.

.

..

...

#batfam #batfam x reader #cassandra cain #cassandra cain x reader #stephanie brown #batboys x reader #batsiblings #richard dick grayson #batman #komi san can't communicate #batfam x batsis #batsis!reader #batboys x batsis #damian wayne x batsis

[berriweb]

Hi! Could you write hc’s for any of the spider team of your choice whose s/o is in color guard/marching band (high school)? Like would they come to all games and competitions and stuff to watch? Maybe help practice outside of it? Thank you!

╰┈➤ ❝ color guard / marching band ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. miles morales, gwen stacy x gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ synopsis. miles with an s/o who’s in color guard and marching band

: ̗̀➛ a/n. i felt like these two suited your request best i just felt it in my BONES!!! me having friends in marching band is definitely contributing to everything I know about band

— MILES MORALES

#1 Supportive Boyfriend™

Miles would absolutely LOVE seeing you in marching band, he’s already proud of any and everything you do in general but that added talent only makes him love you even more

Expect to catch a glimpse of him in the crowd at every game you’re playing in, and expect him in the front row at any and every competition

Assuming like his normal life there’d be events he’d miss due to having to leave for Spider-Man business, he’ll promise to make it up to you, even if you insist that he doesn’t need to and he’s technically not required to come

He made the mistake of trying to show up at the last minute as Spider-Man after a battle that lasted way longer than expected, only to get spotted (because of course he’d be spotted) and get bombarded with fans and citizens wondering why he’d show up at a high school band competition of all places. There was so much commotion that the competition was nearly forgotten as he took most if not all of the attention away from it

Yeah, never again.

But he always tries his best to show up and watch everything you’re involved in

Loves it when he comes over and the two of you hang out while you practice for no reason other than watching you play

And best believe if you’re in color guard he’d want to mess with the flag

Don’t let him, he’ll find a way to break it. It happened the first time you let him try.

This also applies to him wanting to try out your instrument if you play.

If you ever asked for his help while practicing he’d be overjoyed, but seeing as he’d have no idea what he was doing you stick to giving him easy tasks to avoid him screwing it up

He’ll give offhand comments about how good you sound even if you end up messing up a note he can’t hear, it’s a struggle trying to convince Miles you’re doing or have ever done anything wrong, he’s like the embodiment of that one SpongeBob scene

“All those wrong notes you played made it sound more original!”

“Hard practice?”

Pushing himself up and off of the wired fence Miles had been leaning against while mindlessly scrolling away at his phone, he speaks up to catch your attention as you finally exit the school building. He holds out his hands and gestures to the instrument case you lugged in one hand and the backpack shrugged on the opposite shoulder.

“You have no idea.”

You hand both over without bothering to argue you can carry your own weight, you’ve gotten used to Miles insisting he has to be a gentleman, any argument started over you assuring him you don’t need his help always ends in you caving.

As he shrugs your backpack over his shoulder Miles gives you a once over, clearly noticing your exhausted state, which was to be expected when having to practice on a hot summer day.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

You narrow your eyes at him, and he gives a half apologetic smile.

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

— GWEN STACY

LOVES that you’re in band

I feel like at one point (aside from the band she’d tried in ATSV) Gwen would’ve tried out marching band, probably in percussion, but overall didn’t like the environment and didn’t think it was suited for her so she quit

She’ll still fully support you being in it, however, and proves to be a big help considering she can actually play and would’ve had experience

Gwen would be against going to any games in general but puts up with them and stays only long enough to see you play

On those days where you end up staying after school for hours on end due to games and leave late into the night, she’ll be waiting to greet you as soon as you leave the building

She’ll go on and on about how awesome you were out there afterwards and how lucky she is to have such a talented s/o

Can actually give good advice when listening to you practice too, which often results in the two of you playing together for hours and you abandoning your practice all together

She’ll even make jokes about how you could do so much better than band and the two of you should create your own

Thinks you’re way out of her league and claims that you’re way more talented at any music than her regardless of how good you actually are

If you’re in color guard she’ll practically beg for you to come to her place to practice just so she can watch or constantly tries to stop by your practice just to see you

“You can’t stay just a little longer?”

As you shove the rest of whatever necessities you’d left scattered around Gwen’s room you try to act like you don’t notice the pleading look she sends you as she sits slumped over in her chair.

“You know I can’t, this is exactly why I warned you earlier that I had practice Gwen,” you reminded her with a slightly scolding tone, turning around to meet her eyes as you saunter over to retrieve your instrument she twisted around in her hands.

Gwen gives a defiant look, holding it up with a look daring you to try and take it back, but when you give her a stern look and hold out your hand to demand it back she loses the silent argument and reluctantly hands it over for you to put back in its case. “Missing one practice won’t hurt-” she insists as she goes back to sulking across the room, grabbing her drumsticks to tap together and keep her hands busy.

“Yes it will, you know that too.”

“I can practice with you! You know I’m, like, 10 times better than all of your band mates.” Gwen uses a stick to hit the symbol on the drum set she sat next to in order to emphasis her statement, but you dismiss it as you gather your things and lean down to give her a quick peck on the cheek. She accepts it, but it doesn’t make a difference in her sour mood over your time together being cut short.

“Stop being dramatic, I’ll only be gone for a few hours.”

Gwen blows hair away from the side of her way and slumps further into her seat as you head for the door.

“Those few hours will be torture, for me.”

“Love you too, Gwen.”

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #atsv fanfiction #spider man #atsv x reader #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #spidergwen x reader #spider gwen x reader #spiderman x reader