#Silver Black Velvet Brushes

[trashlie]

I PAINTED SOMETHING I REALLY LIKE AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

#ashlie.jpeg #i keep trying loose landscapes but i need to actually use a tutorial #so cute illustrations it is!!!!!!! #i finally bought myself a silver black velvet brush and BOY she handles well!!!!! #you can get a real good fine tip out of her too!!!!!

[historiaxvanserra]

These Violent Delights | An Eris Vanserra story

Summary: At a ball in Hewn City, you meet your match in Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (brief mentions of Azriel x reader)

Word Count: 7.6k

Previously called If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power. I changed the name to adapt if from a one shot into a series.

You had been born on a night like this, you think. The storm-streaked clouds line the heavens like flowering hydrangeas as they dissolve into a black abyss and the moonlight shines like pearls on the water where the horizon meets the Sidra. 

Storm-streaked they had called you. 

When you were a little girl, your father had told you that you had come into this world in the same way as the old Gods had. Born from the merciless depths of some unknowable blue-darkness; cruel and beautiful, and fearless. 

Now fear is all you know. 

The crack of forked white lightening against the darkening horizon pushes you further into introspective thought. The visions come with the quiet; flashes of silver and gold and the icy embrace of the water. That infernal cauldron and what it had taken from. It haunts you, even in dreaming.  

Of late, the days seem to pass in a state of perpetual purgatory, marred by memories and the water– an unforgiving tempest that tears through you. 

The water cleanses but it also devastates. 

Your father had once called you water; the salt and the sea. 

You had always wondered what that meant. 

But here you stand-- a storm incarnate; volatile, half-wild and isolating. And who can become the water without inheriting its violence, or its loneliness?

The feeling of harsh violet eyes on you is enough to drag you gaze from your spot near the balcony and the storm as it rages outside. 

“Are you ready, Nesta?” Rhysand’s voice is velvet night as it reverberates around the small waiting room. 

A chill runs down your spine when you catch his eyes, glinting and violet in the dim light. You regard Nesta cooly as she tilts her chin upwards. 

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Nesta’s eyes are lined with kohl and looking at her is like looking into the eye of a storm.

She always had an austere kind of beauty that left you speechless. 

Rhysand only nods simply before taking Feyre’s arm and approaching the large doorway. Nesta and Elain fall into rank behind them with practiced ease. It is you who hovers awkwardly in the background for a moment before taking your place in the middle of the formation. A solitary figure amongst them. 

You swallow thickly and you catch the lingering scent of a night chilled mist as you bristle. A whisper of night wraps itself around you like a cold comfort. These days his scent seems to follow you like a shadow; though, you suppose when you’ve spent every night this week wrapped around him, trying to drown out your own thoughts, there is bound to be a trace of him that lingers there.

At last, the towering doors to the throne room yawned open. 

The throne room is lined with black candles and evergreen wreaths frame the doorway, and moonflowers climb up the high, onyx pillars like ivy. And on each side of the aisles there were two magnificent banquet tables, piled high with food enough to feed a city. Though it was not to be touched without express permission from the High Lord.

A ripple of dark power reverberates through the mountain as The High Lord and Lady enter the throne room. You swear you feel the mountain wail in their presence. It is a powerful thing and you feel something within yourself begin to stir with it. 

A cold rage as it makes a home in your chest. 

The courtiers pale as they approach, parting like the tide as their High Lord and High Lady brush through them, crowned in silver crystals and garbed in midnight black robes. 

Rhysand looks beautiful you think as your eyes find him in the procession-- he stands tall against you all, his hair perfectly quaffed and the rich scent of mandarin and night-blooming jasmine seems to follow him.

All that pales in comparison to Feyre; the dress she wears is like tangible shadow. Gossamer thin silk and tulle that glitters with flecks of silver starlight, all gathered about her waist with a thin belt that accentuates the swell of her stomach. 

The room beholds her with baited breath; a sense of awe and ire. 

She looks like the visage of some ancient Goddess of the moon; pale and beautiful in the silvery light. 

You sense a shift in the air as they approach the dias and Rhysand’s shoulders tense; he is a picture of male pride. There is a dangerous quality to it that chills you to the bone. A cold violence that feels almost kindred to you. Feyre’s full red lips part and she smiles until it seems to dampen Rhys’s anger as he reaches for her as they climb the steps of the onyx dias. 

Keir’s face is twisted in a half-grimace, somewhere between astonishment and anguish. Behind him the Eris Vanserra remains fixed in place, his face set in a painfully neutral expression as he regards the High Lord and Lady. 

Motion from behind you beckons you to move as Nesta and Elain fall into step with you and begin to pace the length of the aisle and approach the dias. 

All three of you are dressed in Night Court black. A symbol of your place amongst the royal family. A warning of the dark power which you all possessed. Stolen and gifted from that cauldron. A reminder of your value. It is a carefully rehearsed routine as Nesta takes her place between you both, the flare of her skirts bushing against the marble floor with each long stride. You and Elain flank her sides like two wraiths. 

Elain looks sallow in black, you think as you catch her eyes. A poor initiation of the coldness you wear so well etched onto her beautiful face and steely determination in her dark, rich eyes. 

Nesta outshines you all tonight-- her golden hair braided into a crown atop her head and a delicate crown glints in the lantern light, slender spikes jutting forward in a dark corona. Her wicked eyes glinted like cobalt in the light. She’s dressed all in black. The gown itself is skin tight and embroidered with intricate silver brocade, twisting vines and moonflowers adorn the velvet bodice, tracing the curve of her breasts and sinking low, to her navel where the silver thread gathers about a sapphire that matches the crystals on her crown. 

Nesta is a cruel beauty; enough to bring a God to his knees. 

And Cassian looks about ready to sink to his knees before her as you regard him on the dias. 

Nestas moves with a feline grace, expressive and smirking as she takes her place between Cassian and Elain on the platform. 

Feyre and Rhysand sink into their thrones with a measured grace and from your stop between Elain and Azriel you can see all the eyes in the room as they flit from one member of the Inner Circle to the next. 

But it is the strange amber gaze of Eris Vanserra that you meet in the gathering crowd. He offers you a courteous nod and the ghost of a smirk graces his full lips and you send a scathing look in his direction in return.

You hope he feels the bitter sting of your coldness as your eyes try to find anything else in the throne room to focus on. 

Azriel rolls on the balls of his feet as the silence settles in the room and he inches so close to you that you feel the scarred pads of his fingers brush the exposed skin of your back. 

“You look good in black,” his voice is impossibly quiet, almost inaudible as he dips low enough that he is speaking into the shell of your ear. 

A cold chill runs up the length of your spine.

“Thank you, Shadowsinger,” You say simply, a feral smile on your lips as you bare your teeth to him. 

A laugh sharp and cruel rings through you and Azriel’s hand tangles in the lengths of your hair tugging sharply. 

“You are most welcome,” Azriel agrees, his voice is like shadow and wind as it graces your ears “most welcome indeed.”

Azriel steps back into line as Rhysand stands to address the crowd. 

Your own spine straightens as though it is muscle memory by now. Obedience. To bend and break as the High Lord and Lady saw fit. 

Rhysand looks like Night Triumphant as he regards his uncle with a strange union of cruelty and cordiality. Recently Rhys and Feyre had softened slightly with the people of Hewn City. Keir in particular. They can’t afford to isolate him from court politics-- in case the need arises for his Darkbringers to fight again. Hence the fact Rhysand even abides his presence at all. Rhysand’s cruel gaze lingers just a touch too long though. A careful reminder of the fate he’ll earn if he ever decided to go against Rhys. 

It’s been months since you’ve been to Hewn City, longer since you involved yourself in court politics. Longer still, since any whispers of the Trove or Briallyn reached you. Though you aren’t naive enough to believe it is over. 

None of the Inner Circle are. 

That is why you find yourself in Hewn City tonight. Swathed in the sallow light, and painted like a pretty whore; all red lips and dark eyes, with trembling hands, wanting nothing more than to be back in that little cabin with your sisters by your side-- as you were when you were girls. 

Feyre rises to her feet to join Rhys and she addresses the crowd, “May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you.” 

The crowd seems to hum in acknowledgement and then they bow in a show of deference. 

Or blind obedience. 

Your eyes meet the strange amber gaze of Eris Vanserra once more, and it is you he looks at when he kneels. 

Keir slinks forward, offering your sister a low bow, “Allow me to extend my congratulations, High Lady.” His voice drips with false flattery as he dips his chin in a show of esteem. 

Eris Vanserra moves like a predator as he stalks forward, offering your sister a devastating, cultivated smile that feels almost authentic. “And allow me to extend my sincerest wishes, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.”

Rhysand’s mouth curls into a wicked half smile, his eyes darken to an amethyst color as she speaks “I’m sure your father will be most pleased for us.”

The implication that hands in the air is a dangerous one and you can feel the color drain from you at the terse exchange. A few more beast of silence and--

“Music,” The High Lord calls out and the orchestra from behind the mezzanine begins to play lightly, the sounds of lyres and harps ring through the air. 

Feyre once again addresses the crown, every inch the High Lady, “Go--eat--enjoy.” The crowd of silent courtiers disperse throughout the room as they aim to take their places at the tables. 

Each banquet table is piled high with an obscene amount of food and you find yourself feeling ashamed of the blatant opulence before you. When once you had nothing. Now you live without wanting. It makes you feel ashamed. How your old self would resent this wasteful indulgence. 

Turning away from the feasting courtiers you turn inwards towards the thrones on the dias. 

Now only Eris and Keir remain standing before the High Lord and Lady. You notice how neither of the men has deigned to acknowledge Morrigan’s presence behind the thrones. She looks ethereal and savage as she smirks down at them, her lips look as though they are stained wine red. 

Blood red, you think. 

The Illyrain’s at either side of you and your sisters look more like beasts carved into the dark stone of the mountain than anything else. Azriel and Cassian are clad in black armor, each adorned in ruby and sapphire to match their siphons that glow faintly in the low light. The brothers look as though they are the visage of some Gods of old; statuesque and hard-faced as they regard the Autumn Prince.

Cassian in particular looks like he might invoke some of that ancient power to stop Eris from dancing with Nesta tonight. He had not objected but, how could he? Rhys was his brother and his High Lord. Obedience is easier than the alternative. 

And the fate of The Night Court-- his home-- could rest on Eris’ alliance. So he will bite his tongue in the knowledge that what Eris offers is a chance at defeating Briallyn and Koschei. 

From your spot you watch the Autumn Prince with piqued curiosity. He will not stop looking at you and it is infuriating. 

It brings a cold anger bubbling to the skin's surface; all biting fury and icy violence. 

The conversation between Keir and Rhys seems to come to a natural end and the lull in the conversation has the whole room falling into silence, waiting for their next order. Like puppets.

And your sister the puppet master, pulling the strings as she commands, her voice like thunder at midnight, “Dance--”.

The courtiers like a midnight sea part and pair off in swathes of dark silk and velvet. Even Keir retreats into the crowd and pairs off with a dark haired female. 

Eris turns on his heels, the wrap of his riding boots against the floor echo through your head. 

“Before you join in the merriment, Eris,” Rhy’s voice is a velvet drawl as he presents a long black box, “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”

You swallow hard and step forward. Procuring the box from Rhysand you press forward, one long stride that brings you face to face with the Autumn Prince and for the first time you truly look at him. 

A night-kissed wind envelops the pair of you, enough to wrap behind Eris blocking the dias from view of the dancing courtiers. 

Eris Vanserra is devastating; he has a cruel sort of beauty, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones that look sharp enough to cut into you, but his eyes are soft and unwavering. He is a strange juxtaposition.

Eris arches a brow at Rhysand and you flip open the carved lid of the box. Eris stiffens, his voice low and dangerous. 

“What is this?” he asks, somewhere between disbelief and wariness. 

“A present,” Rhysand clarifies and you catch a glimpse of ruby and gold on the hilt of the dagger. 

You refrain from grimacing at the truth you are confronted with. Rhysand and your sister want to sell off Nesta like a broodmare and her Made weapons with her. 

A truly beautiful piece. And dangerous too. 

Like Eris, something in you calls.

Eris’ hand hovers over the open box and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“You sense its power, then?” Feyre asks voice dripping with a sense of smugness that does not suit her in the slightest. 

Eris nods carefully, his eyes flicking to the High Lord and Lady before finding yours again. 

“There’s flame in it,” he says, hand still hovering over the weapon. As if something in him senses its true power. He closes the lid abruptly. “Why give it to me?”

Feyre smiles lightly and shrugs, “You’re our ally.”

Feyre rests a protective hand over the swell of her stomach, “You face enemies that exist outside of the usual rules of magic. It’s only fair to grant you a weapon that operates outside of those rules too.”

You stand transfixed by the twitch of his jaw and the bob of his throat as he considers her words. 

“It is truly made then?” He asks, carefully. His eyes never leave yours and it is your voice that answers his question. 

“It is, My Lord.” your voice comes out all cold and gravelly, unlike yourself. 

Rhysand speaks again though the beating of your heart renders him almost mute, “From my personal collection. An heirloom of sorts.” 

“All this time,” Eris’ voice is dark and thoughtful, “ all these years you possessed a Made weapon and you kept it hidden.”

“Even during the war,” Eris says more to himself than anyone else. 

There is a dangerous sense of anger and skepticism in the air as Eris examines the weapon again, his hand once more runs over the length of the dagger, his fingers barely ghosting the cool metal. 

“Don’t take our generosity for granted,” Feyre offers in warning, her voice quiet and threatening. 

Eris stills and nods in acknowledgement. He extends a smile that looks courteous enough to be genuine and once more allows his finger to run over the smooth length of the blade. “Thank you,” 

“Might I leave it in your safekeeping while I dance, My Lady?” Eris’s voice seems distant and far away and it takes a moment for you to realize that he is speaking directly to you. 

You look at him coldly, unable to muster the warmth of genuine affection when he is looking at you like that. It is infuriating. That someone so cruel might also be so insufferably handsome. 

“Yes, My Lord.”

Feyre nods to Rhys and Eris in acknowledgement and against your better judgment you let your eyes linger over the graceful curve of his calves and up over the contours of his muscled thighs, all the way up over the broad expanse of his chest and finally becoming entangled in the unbound curls of copper hair as he sweeps it over his shoulder. 

Devilishly and devastatingly handsome. Sun-blood handsome. 

Feyre’s soft lilt brings you back to reality as she says “Use it well, Lord.” 

Your sister's smile curves into a soft smile at Eris and extends a hand to him, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me quite unwell.” Feyre makes a show of looking between the two sisters who stand in line with Cassian and Azriel. 

Elain, at least, has the good grace to give the impression of seeming interested. Nesta though looks bored. As though she is only half listening. As though they hadn’t just given away the dagger she’d Made. 

Perhaps it was the way that Nesta’s grey eyes had drifted away from the dancing sea of courtiers, or the forlorn look on Cassian’s face as he stood on the dias, but either way it made you realize something. That maybe the Illyrian General meant more to Nesta than she would ever let on. More than that dagger-- more than magic or power or court politics.  

Feyre notes the direction of Nesta’s stare and then looks between you and Eris. The corners of her lips twitch in nervous anticipation as her eyes settle on you. 

“My lovely sister shall take my place.” Feyre nods to you and for a moment you let the icy wrath in your stare settle over her before dipping your head to her. 

Eris’ throat bobs as you assess him with that same cold gaze. A slender hand takes the Made dagger from you and you hold out a hand to him. 

He extends a sculpted arm out to you, his large hand wrapping around you as you yield to him. His long, deft fingers brush against yours; his skin is warm to the touch and even in the pallid light it is clear and pale, with golden hues that compliment the warm depths of his eyes. Your chest grows taut and you feel emotion course through you with the force of a raging tempest. 

You loose a breathy gasp and for a moment you exist somewhere outside of yourself. You hear Eris’ voice, a warm, low timbre as he utters your name. He offers you his arm as you descend from your spot on the onyx dias. The sound of your slippers echo in the silent chamber. Eris’s face is set in a painfully neutral expression and you try your hardest to mirror it. Hoping he will not see the storm raging inside of you. You think of Nesta and the way she moves with such thoughtful grace and so you copy it; your chin tilted high and each step becomes a glide as you reach the edge of the marble dance floor. 

The eyes of the courtiers fall onto you. 

You feel the heat of Eris stare as it burns into the side of your face-- you feel a pair of violet eyes on you too. A cold chill spreads through you when his talons scrape dangerously and then you see him in your mind's eye. What a dangerous turn of events. 

Dangerous? You had never considered yourself as something dangerous. 

Nesta might have seduced Eris, but you will bring him to his knees. Rhysand’s cold tenor rattles around your mind and for a moment you see him standing at the precipice of a cliff as the storm rolls in, and the jagged rocks below look like the opening of a Helmouth. 

There is no doubt that Nesta is more beautiful. With a feline sort of beauty; long legs and a graceful neck, all angular and steely eyed. Nesta had inherited the aristocratic sort of beauty that your mother possessed. You had always been half-wild, unapproachable and--

Well, it is your mother’s voice that resounds in your head, of two sisters one is always the dancer and one the watcher. 

Tonight the roles reverse as you take your place in the middle of the dance floor. You will bring him to his knees. 

You catch Azriel’s eye as the instrumental music fades into momentary silence. From his spot on the dias he looks like a dark God; and he looks like he might just tear Eris to blood ribbons when his hand wraps around your waist. 

Eris brings you so close to him that you're pressed against him and as the harp begins to play, high and sweet, he smiles softly at you. As if the notes of music wrap around you, you raise your palm to his flat and open, an invitation if he has even seen one. 

The low stringed instruments usher in the music like a coming storm, a summons to the dance in a rushing of music, like water. You remind yourself to smile wickedly at Eris as he slides a broad hand over the curves and divots of your waist and hips. You lift your head high and, looking up into his perfect face you bare your teeth to him. All ruby red lips and pearls and he smiles so wickedly that you’re not sure who is supposed to be seducing who. 

Those strange amber eyes-- so haunting in the faelight. 

The harps and lyres sing so beautifully in the air and when the violins begin to play, it feels like a siren song in the air. A beckoning. As your body moves with the ebb and flow of the dancing tide. 

Eris leads you into the waltz, he moves with practiced ease. He knows every note, every trough and swell of the music, each nuance and note. 

Nesta would outdance you everytime. This you know. She moves like the music becomes her. And in so many ways it does. Her body bends to the will of the orchestral sound, and it bends to her too. 

So you will have to play it differently. 

The music sweeps you up in it’s tide, and as the music swells you decide to surrender yourself to the water. Let it wash all over you. Your body, once rigid and taut, goes pliant in Eris’ arms. You let the orchestral sound drown out your doubts and give yourself over to it. To him. His fingers ghost the line of your spine and he pushes you further still, against him. So close that you feel your heartbeat in tandem and your body bends to his will. 

It is easier to bend than to break. 

Better to relinquish control than have it taken from you. 

Eris’ eyes widen and soften then-- as if he feels it too-- you feel his hands loosen before tightening again around you. Somehow different now. Somehow, strangely, comforting. 

He moves with such grace and skill, his body reacts to every fluttering note and pause in the music. And the whole time his eyes are on you. And you can’t look away. The dark, warm depths of his eyes like a slow-burning fire that consumes all in its wake. 

You find the faces of your family in the crowd and you see that their normally composed demeanor seems to have shifted, their eyes wide and jaws slack as you move with the tide. 

Tonight you are the storm and the fire will bend to you. 

You will bring him to his knees, you think. As the music washes over you. 

Has there ever been such a haunting and mournful sound in all the world? Your name falling from Eris’mouth perhaps.

The snippets of the music Nesta had described to you, from her memory of the Veritas, paled in comparison. It flows and swims around you, filling you like water, and if you let it, it could be enough to drown you. To sink into the depths of the high-arching song. 

Eris smiles again when you fall into step with him so effortlessly, like you are an extension of him. 

One soul in two bodies.

His broad hand tightens over the flare of your hip, his fingers flexing before digging into the malleable flesh. The smile you give him feels much too vulnerable and genuine to bring you any sort of comfort. 

Eris' amber eyes shine with feral delight and you see yourself reflected in his eyes; you look like sin personified. The dark material of your dress gathers about your waist, held in place only by velvet ribbon and a few embroidered onyx crystals. The deep cut of the dress is so low that it bares the ample curve of your breasts and your strain to catch your breath because of how tight the dress has been laced. 

The person you see in Eris’eyes looks like the incarnation of some ancient deity; dark and cold, and cruel. And beautiful. 

Eris’ broad hand spreads across the middle of your back, pressed firm between your shoulder blades and you burn beneath him. As the music lulls and flutters his gaze locks onto yours and flame simmers in those dark topaz eyes and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. Cat-like and feral as he dips you low, supporting your weight in his arms. His face comes to hover over yours and you’re transfixed by his unyielding stare. 

Beautiful and haunting eyes.

One hand is wrapped around his neck and the other you bring to touch his cheek with the tenderness of someone who has never truly been touched. His face falters and something akin to raw vulnerability flashes in his eyes. 

Bring him to his knees.

In one swift movement Eris sweeps you so that you are standing upright, pressed so close to his chest that you feel each groove and divot of his sculpted chest. You place that same hand over his blazing heart and as the music filters into stunned silence, Eris eyes you with feral delight. 

For a moment, as the heaving in your chest subsides you allow yourself to remain in his tender grasp. His fingers ghosting the curve of you hip and the small of your back, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the skin there. 

The faces of the courtiers turn upon you. 

You, this once-human female, barely out of girlhood, who had been thrust into this world of dark power and politics. 

Who stood before them now, coloured in the murky green hues of Hewn City. 

Storm-streaked girl. 

It is like being born again and the mountain trembles in your wake. 

The eyes of your High Lord and Lady land on you and Eris at the foot of the dias. Rhysand rises in his seat and his violet eyes meet yours and something wicked and enchanting flashes in them. Feyre regards you with a wild smile and she laughs before tipping her head to you in acknowledgement. 

And in a show of secret defiance you plunge into the deepest curtsey you can manage; your chest still rising and falling with a dramatic flare, and your skirts pool around you like inky shadows as you sink low onto the marble. You dip your chin ever so slightly, never quite breaking eye contact with the cruel violet gaze that assesses you with a dangerous glint. 

A laugh of dark joy bursts from Eris beside you who in turn, offers his own small bow before capturing you again in his firm hold as the orchestra begins to play again. 

Your mother had always wanted a Prince for Nesta, and yet, here you were-- beautiful, cruel and merciless, with the Autumn Prince sinking into the cold depths of your eyes. 

Everyone who has ever loved you has underestimated you. But looking into Eris’ eyes you see something kindred to you. 

You will bring them all to their knees. 

Eris' amber eyes gleam with want as he takes you in again and you loose a shaky breath as he leads you into the next dance. 

The music is soft and light, the strings sing a song so aching and mournful that you feel once again overcome with it. All of your violent coldness, all that biting fury, rendered a useless ruse as the music becomes you. 

Eris might be the monster they all say he is, but looking at him now, in the soft light, you see something else. 

“Trust Rhysand to keep such a beautiful creature to himself.” Eris’ amber eyes study you carefully. 

You school your face to remain neutral, with just a touch of scorn as you bite back. 

“If beauty is all you can see, My Lord” You say, your voice dark and taunting, “I fear you have missed the point entirely.” 

“Intelligent too,” Eris chuckles darkly and wraps a wisp of your unbound hair around his forefinger, “and dangerous.”

You don’t deign to reply though Eris continues his assessment of you, his eyes trailing over you, afire with dark promise. 

“I’ve seen you before though,” Eris asks as he steps into the next part of the song, “haven’t I?”

His eyes narrow on you and you think back to the last time you saw Eris Vanserra. 

“At the High Lords meeting,” You say quietly, your voice thick with shame as you recall the meeting some months back. 

You had been little more than a wraith then, when the dreams of drowning in that cauldron plagued you nightly, a girl gulping on a woman’s grief. Now those dreams only come with the coming of a storm. A warning or some ill-fated omen.

“The time since the way has changed you.” It is not a question but a statement. 

You don’t smile at him like you should. Instead you meet Eris’ burning stare with a measured look of your own, “For the better, I hope?”

Eris thinks for a moment, as if looking for the right words to express his meaning. 

“You are a Goddess.” he says slyly gesturing to the dress as the skirts brush against him, baring the slit in the thigh to him. 

“Then kneel to me.” You say, not missing a beat as Eris laughs wickedly and brings his mouth to hover over the shell of your ear. 

“It seems you came to play the game tonight, afterall.” Eris says, his voice a low murmur in your ear. 

He spins you again, quick and violent before you crash back into him again, “don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.” 

“But I should believe you?” You ask, arching a brow to the cruel prince. 

“You shouldn’t believe anyone here, Little fox.” Eris tips his head towards the dias where Mor watches the pair of you from her spot besides the High Lord and Lady. 

“The Morrigan knows the truth,” Eris insists, “though she has never revealed it.” 

“Why?” You ask curiously. 

“Because she is afraid of it.” Eris’ voice is tempered and quiet and he casts the Inner Circle a look of his own, “they all are.” 

Your mouth twitches with the ghost of a smirk as you press yourself further into him, “You don’t do yourself any favors with this mask you wear.”

“Don’t I? I’ve managed to ally myself to this court, under constant threat of being discovered by my father-- do you have any idea what he’d do to me if he found out, Little fox?” Eris asks, the fire within him lighting and flickering in his amber eyes. “I ally myself with this court, I offer aid when I can, I placate Rhysand with ceremonies and shows of deference. Why do you think that is?”

Eris dips you again and the fan on his unbound hair brushes against your bare shoulders. 

“Because there’s something in it for you.” It isn’t a matter of question. You know it to be true and you see it in the way that Eris regards you with a mixture of fondness and caution. 

“Because there is something in it for me,” Eris confirms, “and tell me, what is in it for me?”

“What is it that you want, My Lord?” You ask, fluttering dark lashes at him and the music swells. 

“What is Rhysand offering?” Eris counters and leads you further into the center of the floor. 

“Nothing that I have the power to grant you.”

Eris laughs, the sound like silk on your skin and you shiver as he brings his lips to graze your ear, “I very much doubt that, Little fox?”

You swallow thickly and a surge of dark power pricks at your skin. You let him see it; all that cold rage, and the violence of the sea. 

Eris' face twists but not from fear and a strange look of reverence shines in his eyes. 

The waltz comes to a close and as the music fades into the chatter of the courtiers he whispers into your ear once more. 

“They say your sister Elain is the beauty, but you are something else entirely.” His breath is hot and sacred on your neck, and a broad hand strokes the bare skin of your back and you find yourself arching into him. 

Eris takes a step back from you, holding your hand above your head and turning you slowly as his eyes roam the curves and contours of your body, “You are wasted in the Night Court,” 

“Truly wasted.” His voice is a low whistle as you stop in front of him now. 

“And where might I be used more effectively, My Lord?” 

Eris chuckles again but before he can answer--

“Get your hands off her, Eris.” Azriel’s voice is like cold death that cuts through the spell that Eris has you under. His wrath comes off him in waves that crash against you, halting your movements. 

The dancing sea around you seems to cease to move as Eris and Azriel lock eyes. 

Eris straightens his back and he closes his hand over yours-- gently, almost protectively-- and he locks his eyes onto Azriel. 

Hazel and amber meet and shadow and light seem to dance in the air. The courtiers wait with baited breath. 

“I don’t take orders from the likes of you, Shadowsinger.” 

You stifle a snarl as you look at Azriel. Who does he think he is? He has no claim over you. He had made that much clear when you started this thing. A means to an end. A placeholder for another sister. 

“Am I to understand that you’d like to dance, Azriel?” You ask cooly, trying not to let your violet rage show in the darkness of your eyes. 

“Yes.” His voice is insistent and thick with jealousy and the promise of violence. 

Before you can pull yourself from Eris’ protective grip, Azriel is tugging on your wrist and bringing you into his side. 

Eris bares his teeth to Azriel and fire dances in those strange amber eyes. “Go sit at your master’s feet, dog.” 

Azriel laughs darkly and his shadows become a violent wisp of dark that wraps itself around you in a possessive manner. 

You swallow down the shame that you feel when Eris looks at you -- like all the power you had just moments ago has been ripped away from you, and now you are just another piece on the board to be bought and sold as your High Lord saw fit. 

A pretty whore, painted like some dark Goddess.

You band an arm across Azriel’s chest as he lunges forward in a flurry of movement. 

“It’s alright,” you offer Eris an apologetic smile, “I’ve taken too much of your time already.” You say diplomatically, taking Azriel’s hand in your own and pulling away from Eris.

Feyre and Rhysand had given up one of Nesta’s Made daggers in the name of Eris’ continued alliance, surely, one interrupted dance will not jeopardize it. 

Eris offers you a taut smile and he bows his head to you, “Very well then, we’ll play later, Little Fox.” 

Eris doesn’t so much as acknowledge Azriel as he ventures towards the dias again. 

Azriel holds you in place, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and he searches you as if looking for signs of injury. His touch is cold and biting. 

“Happy now?” you roll your eyes at him. 

Azriel stares coldly at you, his face set like stone, as if carved into the dark stone of the mountain, “not in the slightest.” 

You glance hesitantly over his shoulder and see Rhysand and Feyre each sharing a look of subtle fury. Azriel will no doubt be on the receiving end of a mental lashing. If Azriel has cost them this alliance it comes down on you too-

“He touched you and I-,” Azriel’s voice is weighted and serious at the same time you speak out. 

“Whatever has passed between us,” you say gesturing between you and him, “it has to end, Azriel.”

If Azriel felt anything at all but cold indifference his face does not show it. 

“Because of Eris?” Azriel asks incredulously, his tone full of venom.

“No, of course not,” You say truthfully, “because we are fools to think this will ever be enough.” 

A beat of silence lingers in the air between you.

“For either of us.” 

Azriel takes a moment to think about it and you see the recognition flash in his darkening hazel eyes, he looks over his shoulder in Elain’s direction. Carefully, measured, he looks at you again. 

“You want Elain.” You say matter of factly, even with a hint of sadness, “don’t deny it-- and I…” your voice trails into nothing. An errant whisper of power. 

“And what do you want?” Azriel asks, his voice once dark and cruel is something akin to familial. 

“I’m not sure yet.” you say thoughtfully, looking back to the dias where everyone regards you and Azriel warily. 

Azriel softens and he lets go of your arms and hides his scarred fingertips in the pockets of his dark colored tunic. He runs a hand over his face in regret and looses a shaky breath before laughing again. 

“Rhys is going to fucking slaughter me.” Azriel says and you laugh quietly, muttering in agreement as you link arms with his and lead him through the dancing sea of courtiers to the wine table. 

Azriel takes a goblet in each hand and offers one to you. The wine is dark and red and stains your lips like blood. The taste is woody and spiced, it tastes a little like Autumn. Azriel leans into the onyx pillar and angles himself away from the prying eyes of the courtiers as they dance. 

You’re at his side and move so that his body obstructs the view of Rhysand and Feyre, shunning their ire. 

“How pissed do you think they’ll be?” You ask grimly. 

“With you?” Azriel asks, cocking a brow in confusion. You only nod and wait for him to continue. Azriel swallows a large mouthful of wine, wiping his mouth with the back of a scarred hand “not at all, you did them a favor-- practically had Eris on his knees.” 

“Good.” You meet his eyes and for the first time tonight you feel as though you might just have something to offer. 

“Be careful with Eris,” Azriel says gently, his hand on your arm, “not everything he says is to be trusted.” 

“But I can trust you?” You ask, thinking back to what Eris had said earlier in the evening.

“Always.” Azriel says.

The orchestral music comes to a dramatic close and you see Nesta and Cassian dancing happily in the crowds. Elain remains on the dias and you catch her eyes as she watches you and Azriel with careful, wide eyes. 

“Come on, Shadowsinger,” You say defiantly, pushing yourself from the onyx pillar, “time to face the High Lord.” 

Azreil huffs indignantly and pushes away from the pillar, abandoning his goblet and stalking his way to Elain’s side on the dias. She smiles softly at him and you see some of the tension in Azriel’s shoulders dissolve into nothing but a contented ease. 

You approach the dias with a quiet reproach and as you meet Feyre’s eyes she croons at you, her smile is once of a brilliant radiant light that spills from her. A stark contrast to the cold darkness that you carry so well. 

Eris' voice is dark and serious as you approach The High Lord, his jaw tightens when Rhysand regards him with a cool violet gaze. 

“I have my reasons.” 

You’re not entirely sure what they’re talking about and when you take your place next to Feyre she places a hand on your arm in comfort. Though it does nothing to settle the acid churning in your stomach nor the storm that is raging inside of you. 

“Care to share those reasons with us?” Rhysand asks, picking at an errant thread on his beautiful dark tunic. 

For a moment his eyes glaze over, muted violet as he speaks mind to mind with the Autumn Prince.

Rhysand’s lips twitch lightly and you can see that whatever words passed between him and Eris has pleased him greatly-- at least given him the upper hand so that he doesn’t feel threatened but Eris’ commanding presence. 

Eris steps forwards again and adds, “Bestides, it is a bonus of course, that in doing so, I would be getting what has been owed to me even since my betrothal to Morrigan.” 

Rhysand studies Eris and then casts a fleeting glance along the line to you, standing dutifully at Feyre’s side. 

Like the docile, and obedient sister he wants you to be. 

A conduit of his dark power. A piece to be played in this game of power and politics. 

“Anything I want-- anything at all, whether it be armies from the Autumn Court or your firstborn, you would grant me it all in exchange for the Archeron girl as your wife?”

Azriel, still somewhat territorial, lets loose a low growl that rumbles like thunder through the air. 

Eris doesn’t deign to even look in his direction-- instead those haunting amber eyes linger on you. His eyes are soft and dark, burning into yours, and you find yourself caught in the unyielding, all consuming fire that is Eris Vanserra. 

Eris turns back to Rhysand. “Not as far as my heir, but yes, Rhysand. You want armies against the human queen? You’ll have them, and anything else you might ask of me.” 

“Just for her?” Azriel’s voice is cutting and suspicious as he hones in on Eris Vanserra. 

“The girl, and, when the time comes, you’ll aid me in seizing the Autumn Throne from my father.” Eris adds, his eyes shine with that slow-burning fire, “and then you’ll have all the armies you desire.”

Rhysand and Feyre share a look of pure delight, irreverent to anyone else but you see it for what it is. Feral delight at their victory. 

“I couldn’t very well let my wife’s sister go into battle unaided, could I?” 

I said bring him to his knees, darling. What dark magic is this? What have you done to him? Rhysand’s voice is like night-kissed air in your mind. 

Feyre’s laugh rings through you like birdsong and you can’t help the satisfied smirk that curls onto your lips.

You’re about to speak when you catch Eris’ eyes; those strange amber eyes. And then you feel it. 

A bond that grows taut and reverberates through the hall, like a ripple of power and a golden thread bridges the distance between your body and his. 

“Mate?” Eris’ voice strains with the weight of it, and you feel like light goes all through you, as though you are little more than a shadow or a memory as you allow yourself to sink into the dark waters that live within your mind's eye. “My mate.”

Your name breaks apart in his mouth and in a flash of violet and murky blue you’re greeted by the storm as it breaks over Velaris. On the horizon, dark and ominous as it approaches. You reach the balcony and wade out into the violent night, waiting for the storm to stake its claim to you. 

You were born on a night like this, you tell yourself. Like the Gods of old; born from the storms and the seas, to withstand the hardships of this world. To be cruel and merciless and beautiful. 

You whisper it, until you feel that bond in your chest grow taut, strained with the distance between you. And as Eris’ emotions run like water into you, for the first time in a long time you allow yourself to feel. 

To yield to the storm as it breaks against you with all the force of a great tempest.

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fic #eris headcanons #pro eris vanserra #eris vandaddy #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #azriel x you #azriel x reader

[little-lynx]

EVERLARK OUTFITS: THE VICTORY TOUR

This part of “Catching Fire” is done (finally) so I put it all together;) DISTRICT 11, THE SQUARE

I go to my compartment and let the prep team do my hair and makeup. Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. <…> As the train is pulling into the District 11 station, Cinna puts the finishing touches on my outfit, switching my orange hairband for one of metallic gold and securing the mockingjay pin I wore in the arena to my dress. <…> I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. // Catching Fire, ch. 4

I think this dress should be a little semi-official so I choose cape sleeve sheath midi dress. It’s perfect for autumn (and they have early autumn weather there in 11th). The hair is just plain + gold hairband = girlish innocent look like the one after the games (this tactics they choose for the Tour). Plus I wanted to draw Katniss with her natural straight hair because i draw her with her braid usually ;) And again nothing about Peeta’s outfit. You know I feel like Portia 😅 because I have to choose how to dress Peeta. I’m not complaining through. So it is black suit with golden buttons (matching Katniss’s hairband and pin), thin soft orange sweater and black leather shoes.

DISTRICT 11, THE DINNER

A pale pink strapless dress brushes my shoes. My hair is pinned back from my face and falling down my back in a shower of ringlets. Cinna comes up behind me and arranges a shimmering silver wrap around my shoulders. He catches my eye in the mirror. “Like it?”  “It's beautiful. As always,” I say. “Let's see how it looks with a smile,” he says gently. // Catching Fire, ch.5

DISTRICT 7

Jackson has devised a game called «Real or Not Real» to help Peeta. He mentions something he thinks happened, and they tell him if it’s true or imagined, usually followed by a brief explanation. <...> But since Peeta’s greatest confusion centers around me—and not everything can be explained simply—our exchanges are painful and loaded, even though we touch on only the most superficial of details. The color of my dress in 7. My preference for cheese buns. The name of our math teacher when we were little. Reconstructing his memory of me is excruciating. Perhaps it isn’t even possible after what Snow did to him. But it does feel right to help him try. // Mockingjay, ch. 19

So we have only one sentence in “Mockingjay” about this outfit. And still I decided to draw it because I have a theory (head canon?) about it. I think Peeta remembers the color of her dress because it was special night for him (a lot of kisses and attempts to sneak away from everyone and maybe it felt very real at times) and also because she had two braids and the dress was red. RED is the color ❤️. / Peeta has dark red + black + a little bit gold which is also sexy color combination.

DISTRICT 5 I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs. All of the wedding gowns he designed for me went back to the Capitol, but there are some dresses I wore on the Victory Tour.  <…> Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta’s suits that they altered— the clothes are striking. <…>  As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie’s gown were done by Cinna’s hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta’s.  // Mockingjay, ch. 16

Katniss: green silk dress + wavy sleeves + sea waves embroidery / Peeta: ivory dress shirt + knitted green waistcoat with sea waves embroidery + tweed suit

DISTRICT 2

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head. “I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna. // Catching Fire, Chapter 15

This description gave me strong “Anastasia” feels 😅. So I loosely based Katniss dress on Anastasia’s ballet evening gown. For Peeta I chose tuxedo jacket similar to Salvatore Ferragamo design for FF 12/13.  Neo classic, purple velvet, shiny shoes. Also I decided to include a cane, both to help Peeta to have some rest during all this Tour activities and as an accessory.

DISTRICT 12

When we reach the mayor's house, I only have time to give Madge a quick hug before Effie hustles me off to the third floor to get ready. After I'm prepped and dressed in a full-length silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill before the dinner, so I slip off to find her. <…> She [Madge] saw my reflection behind her and smiled. “Look at you. Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.” // Catching Fire, ch.6

When I started drawing this one I just felt that I need to make it look very “Capitol”. So I added some feathers. A LOT of sparkling feathers, haha. Also there are some “moon and stars” accessories in Katniss’ hair because this silver gown gives me moonlight vibes. For Peeta I came up with classic suit but made him wear it casually.

#yes I redraw some of them #old ones looked bad #ugh #the hunger games #hunger games fanart #everlark #everlark fanart #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #thg fanart #lynx hunger games #lynx thg outfits #victory tour #catching fire #catching fire fanart

[onlinestationery]

The Easiest Way to Paint Fine Art Winter Landscape

This is the final artwork of the Winter Landscape that I’ve made using the wet-on-wet technique which you will be learning in this blog step by step.

First of all, let’s discuss more on the wet-on-wet technique that I have used extensively for this artwork. This technique will help us in achieving a more natural and softer look and it is less time-consuming.

Wet-on-Wet technique is a process of applying layers of wet paint before the older layer of wet paint dries on the surface/paper which is already wet. We wet our surface using clean water before we start painting to give more natural flow and to create effects. It helps in blending colours softly with less harsh strokes and blurring out details to give a more natural yet abstract scene to the painting. One can also use the wet-on-wet technique along with the wet-on-dry technique (The process of applying wet paint on the dry surface or the dried paint). But we’ll stick to using the wet-on-wet technique for this.

Materials that I have used for this artwork (however, you can start with whatever you have right now):

A Brustro Artists’ Natural Hair MOP brush, a Princeton Neptune Series flat brush, and a Brustro miniature brush.

You can use watercolours, acrylic, gouache or oil paints but I’ve used watercolours of pigments Blue (Cobalt blue/ Prussian blue), Orange, Red, Black, Dark Green, and Winsor & Newton Designers white Gouache (if available or you can use white acrylic paint as an alternative).

Also, Winsor & Newton Masking Fluid Masking Fluid is used as a protective film to separate the paints getting mixed.

Brustro Watercolour Paper of 300 GSM or above.

Quick Tips:

Premix the shades that will be needed.

Tape down the sides of your canvas on a piece of cardboard or a pad to paint with more comfort.

Always keep clean water in small jars.

Use a watercolor paper that has more absorbency (300 GSM or above).

Also, never forget tissues to clean your brushes before you move on to the next shade.

Now grab a paper and brush and let's get it started!

1. First we start with sketching the rough figure of cabins and pine trees and mark out the details for the doors and windows of the cabins and the cabin fence. Take reference from the below image.

2. Next, we will apply desired Winsor & Newton Art Masking Fluid only to the cabins and trees. This will help us to separate the area for painting the sky later. And the paints will not mess with our cabins and trees. (This step is very important it’ll help to ensure that our colours are not messing with each other)

3. Then we will apply some clean water uniformly on the top side of the paper where we are going to paint the sky using any Princeton Neptune Series flat brush. Make sure that you apply a thin layer of water, if you see puddles that means you've applied too much of the water needed. The next layer would be using the Blue paint but we need to make sure that we use more water than the paint to maintain the transparency.

Next, we will start with swiping and dabbing the blue shade (while it is still wet) moderately in curves with any round brush as you can see in the image below.

As we move forward, we will add more blue shade and less water to give a little more opaqueness to our sky.

4. Next we add the shades of orange and red in the same process of swiping and dabbing our brush in curve stokes as we did in step 3 and then blend and try to merge it little by little with the Blue above so it gives an impression of a setting sun before our base dries out.

We can use the Bloom effect here, and to get this, we first spread a thin layer of the paint water (again make sure that you use more water and less paint) so that our pigment can spread blurring into the wet area, drop a splotch of paint in the wet area and we let it spread into its own, this method gives the bloom effect as it merges with colours on its own. As astonishing as it sounds it is more fun to watch in itself.

Make sure that you have built the depths of the colours slowly as you go with layers and layers, first with more water and then with more paint.

5. Now we take Winsor & Newton Designers white Gouache and blend it with a little bit of grey shade and brush right through the paper below where the cabin fence ends and a few strokes on the lower side of our paper to form the sheet of snow as shown. Blend the harsh edges with a clean brush to give it a softer texture.

6. Remove the masking fluid we had applied earlier to the cabins and pine trees (use a piece of clothing to slowly scrape off the fluid). And start by applying black shade to the cabins with a miniature brush, this time we will go from dark to light so our brush should have more paint and less water. Then move on to painting the pine trees, we will add pine trees near the cabins. Use dark green shade in a zig-zag motion again with a miniature brush to paint pine trees. Build on the colour slowly adding the details to it.

7. In this painting, we are depicting the scene after a snowfall so we’ll have to add the details of fallen snow using white gouache or white acrylic paint to the cabin rooftops and pine trees. Make fences around the cabin using black colour and add some white strokes to highlight the windows and doors of the cabins. Paint heaps of snow around the cabins and cabin fences by mixing a dark shade with the white gouache while emphasizing the details to get the final result.

Finally, mesmerize the art you’ve created!

I hope you guys enjoy the process of painting this beautiful Winter Landscape as I had enjoyed it when I first created it.

#online stationery #brustro colour pencil #gouache color #silver brush black velvet #Princeton Neptune Series #da vinci 5898 Series

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do Part 25

WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence

“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.

“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.

Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”

He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.

“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”

“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”

“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”

“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”

“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”

“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.

Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.

Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.

“Jason…”

“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”

Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.

“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”

“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.

“I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”

“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”

The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.

Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.

“People are going to have questions.”

“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.

“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.

“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”

“I know, it’s part of your charm.”

“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”

“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”

“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.

“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.

“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).

“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.

“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”

“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”

“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.

Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”

-

“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”

“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.

Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”

“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.

“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”

“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.

“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.

“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”

“But you can get away with Barbie?”

“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”

Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he’d get to see her soon.

“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”

“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”

Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”

“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.

“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.

Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.

“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”

“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”

“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.

“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”

“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.

“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.

“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”

Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”

“Yeah. So you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.

“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”

“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”

“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.

Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.

Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”

“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”

“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”

Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”

“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”

“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”

“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”

“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”

“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”

“So you must solder a lot then?”

“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”

“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”

“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”

“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”

“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.

“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”

“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”

He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?

Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”

“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.

The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.

Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.

-

“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.

“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”

“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”

“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”

“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”

Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.

“Jason—”

The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”

Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.

It was one of the waiters.

Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.

He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.

Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.

“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”

Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”

Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.

“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”

The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.

The bomb started ticking down.

“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”

Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”

Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.

Danny was on the screen.

He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.

“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”

He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”

Two Face snapped his fingers.

Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.

“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—

Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”

“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”

Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”

He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”

“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.

He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.

But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

The camera cut out.

---

AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~

I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.

It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (5)

V. Fire & Ice

MASTERLIST

Summary: You are settling in your throne 

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, smut! finally, I’m calling dub-con, because its their first time and we are nervous, loss of virginity, a bit of blood, and all that comes with it… nothing too extreme

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4.3 k 

Notes: uffff things are getting heated

“I want my hair loose”, you said faintly, as the maids nodded with shy smiles, as they brushes your silver strands 

Your dress was magnificent

A black background with red and golden intricate designs, open sleeves from your shoulders that had a beautiful drop, a low neckline.

The jewelry was exquisite, your neck was decorated with a golden dragon that curled around you, your wrists and fingers with gold as well, in your heart finger, you had a ring that belonged to your mother. 

“Your grace”, called in Ser Erryk, “the Lord hand and Lord Celtigar, both want to see you”, you barely nodded.

Both men entered the room and you watched them through the mirror, as they saw you they stopped in their tracks, their mouths open, but they regained their composure quickly

“In this day your grace, we have something for you”, said Lord Celtigar, who had brought a beautifully decorated box with him. You turned around in your chair, to be presented with said gift.

Cregan stood behind him, giving him space, as Celtigar theatrically bowed, and opened the box and showed you the insides

You gasped when you saw it, tears threatening to fall as you covered your mouth

“How? Where did you find it?”, you asked, your throat in a knot

“A low-life was trying to sell it in the docks of Claw Island”, he said softly

Your mother’s… and well… Jahaerys’ crown

When your mother rebels and traitors swarmed the capital and threatened the life of your mother, she had to flee and hide all over the Crownlands… and to be able to return to Dragonstone, she had to sell the crown

A sad tale… but in the end…

They had brought it back to you

“You will be crowned with the crown of the conciliator”, said Cregan, “with your mother’s crown, and King Viserys and King Jahaerys before her”

“Thank you”, you murmured, a single tear scaping you

“You look gorgeous, your grace”, said Reysen

“Thank you”

“I’ll give the crown to the master of ceremonies”, muttered Cregan, and you only nodded

They left once more, and the maids kept brushing your hair 

“More reason to have my hair loose”, you said softly and they nodded with wide smile on their faces

You were nervous, to say the least, it had been a long, nerve-wrecking week, in which you had met so many people you barely remember their faces, they had asked much things from you

And now you were getting crowned 

Once you were ready, you asked the maids to leave, and they did

You watched yourself in the mirror, as tears started pouring down your cheeks

“Gods!”, you cried, falling to your arms folded over the dresser

You would give all of this in a heartbeat to have them back… at least one of them… only one… luke…. or Jace… or your mama

The door opened but you didn’t want to see who it was, you waiting for whoever it was to leave, but that didn’t happen

You felt two strong hands grab you and turn you, and in a second your face was against a soft velvet vest, a hand in your hair

“Shhh, everything is alright”, you whined when you heard it was cregan, hugging you tightly, “it’s all alright, I’m right here, with you…”

“I wish they were here”, you whined like a little girl

“I know, I know”, he whispered against the top of your hair

“I would give everything”, you insisted, like he was the god of death capable of doing such exchange 

“I know”, he repeated softly, “they are ready for you, my sweet queen, it’s time… to make everyone proud up there, to shout to all corners of the seven kingdoms, that you, the last dragon, are still here, in honor of your mother, and your older brother”, you barely nodded, finally raising your head to look at him

“To tell all those sons of bitches that the blacks won. and you are alive and well, and they lost…”, you smiled as you wiped your tears. “I’m going to be there, by your side, or behind you, wherever you need me, i’m here…”

You needed him, Cregan realized, and not only to help you rule the kingdom, no, you needed him in a more intimate way… you were only a young woman, who lost everything, he had agreed to marry you, appealing to the power both of you held, but he could tell, that was not enough, in the intimacy you were both going to have, you were going to need more

So he leaned in, and kissed you

Just a peck, on the lips, as he held you softly by the face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, you leaned in gently, softly, and when you parted, he could see it in your eyes

In your still innocent eyes

You needed more from him…

You needed a husband, and a protector, a defender, a champion, a knight in shining armor…

And he was going to pick up that mantel

When Cregan stood up and give his back to you to open the door and start the procession, you touched your lips that were still warm, and smiled gently

Your first kiss… your first real kiss…

Cregan turned back to you and offered you his hand, you took it without thinking.

He had proved once again you could lean on him with ease, he was not going to turn on you, or judge you, or tell anyone… from this day forwards, he was in this with you, by your side… as your partner, as your King consort and Hand, as your husband in a few weeks, as your everything

The very thought frightened and excited you at the same time

He released you as soon as you came into the hallway, but you walked side by side, in complete silence, towards the throne room

The great doors were closed, and he looked at you intently

“I will take place by the throne, you will enter alone”, you barely nodded, “are you alright?”

“Yes”, you said shortly, he only nodded in turn, and he left you to enter the ceremony through one of the side passageways.

You just looked at the detail of the large wooden doors, playing with your fingers ahead of you

You were getting crowned, you were getting married soon, you were ruling a country because you were already of age… It was so many things… and you were alone at the top, with no senior to guide you, nobody you completely trusted… no… father or mother figure 

Only Cregan

You took a long breath

You weren’t even nervous… you were longing to get this over with, your hands were sweaty and your feet already hurt for the shoes even though beautiful 

Soon the music started, and the doors opened slowly, to reveal you to the room, people gasped and cheered for you, as you started walking slowly towards the end… towards…

The Iron throne

It was there, surrounded by spikes, melted swords of the enemies oft he house of the dragon

The cause of such bloodshed 

The cause of the annihilation of your family.

All those plots… from the greens, all that coin and gold, armies, and at the end

You smiled widely

The blacks had won, you had won, your mother’s blood will sit on the iron Throne

Screw them

If you could, you would dance over his graves… if only there were enough remains of them to bury…

You climbed both steps of stone before the throne, as discussed, and you turned to the people, a golden cape moving behind you

“Our new Queen!”, chanted Erryk

Your small council was there, the Grand maester brought, in a red velvet cushion, the golden crown of Jaehaerys The Old King

“With the crown of the conciliator, we crown you”, chanted the master of ceremonies, he took the crown, raised it for everyone to see, and then he turned to you and he placed it gently atop your head. It felt… good… the weight rather than bother you, it felt like it grounded you 

“Queen (Y/N) of house Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, the last dragon, the unkillable, and like your ancestor before you… the conciliator”, he said firmly 

People applauded, cheered for you, as Cregan Stark moved forwards and took your hand softly, helping you up the treacherous steps until you sat on the Iron throne 

The throne was cold and uncomfortable under you, but you sat straight, holding onto the arm rests softly 

“Long live the Queen!”, he demanded of everyone, and again, they cheered and chanted your name for long minutes you thought were never going to end

After that was done, they paraded you to greet the people of Kinglanding that were gathered at the gates, with chants of your name, and everyone wanted to reach out to you…

There were so many people there, in the throne room, lords from houses you haven’t even heard of before, and the streets were packed, so packed, so many people screaming, reaching for you.

It came out of nowhere, you lost your footing, but before you could collapse, Creganw as there to grab you from your waist.

“The Queen, and future King consort of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Cregan Stark!”, presented Eryk and then the people really lost it, screaming in delight, as the lords gasped behind you inside the walls of the Red Keep

Soon the doors to the exterior closed, and you were again inside the safety of the castle, With Cregan by your side, grabbing you by the waist.

“The marriage will take place in a week”, said Cregan to the new founded court, and everyone clapped once again, some of themes haring looks of concern amongst one another

Then he looked at you

You haven't discussed this, not at all

He had made that decision for you 

You didn’t know what to think or feel 

“So soon?”, you asked when you had him by your side, in the banquet for the celebration of your coronation

“Yes, everyone is here”, he said gently, “there had been rumors… of me… of us, gathering at late hours, I think is better to do it as soon as possible”, he said gently, you barely nodded

You had barely turn ten and eight a few moons ago, alone, trapped in your room

You took a shaky breath

Yes, you needed to get married, but you never thought it was going to be this soon! You talked about it, you understand the need, and that night when you summoned Cregan to your rooms, you knew it was happening

But one week?

You only stole looks at Cregan and you nodded, you then turn to your left, to your baby brother, who smiled softly at you, but the smile, just like yours, didn’t quite reach his eyes

He had seen so much

You too

Aegon didn’t even let you cover his eyes when he had his dragon eat your mother alive before your very eyes, and his eyes

Your brother was traumatized for life and there was nothing you could do to help him

One time, a few days ago, you tried to take him flying with you…

You had to hide the claw marks he left in your arms. He had scratch you to release him, in the midst of screeches and cries as soon as he saw your dragon in the distance

He was terrified of them now

“What’s on your mind?”, you heard Cregan ask beside you, you barely looked at him

“My baby brother”, you confessed, there was no point in lying 

You looked around the room and you found all of the great houses dining and feasting, all of them but two

The Hightowers and the Velaryons

You took a long breath

Corlys as Baela had requested audiences with you, and you had denied them

You didn’t hate Baela, nor Rhaena, she had a dragon egg now… but…

It was bitter

You had lived with them since you were about ten, when your mother married Daemon, they were, for some time, your step-sisters, and even that, they were… your aunts? you didn’t even know… 

But seeing them got you a bittersweet sentiment, perhaps because they were the survivors of all this madness, alongside with you… but the truth you would admit to yourself late at night… is that you would have traded them for your brothers anyday

You were resentful, that they were the ones to survive and not your siblings…

They had a life ahead of them, a grandfather that literally killed a King for them, to guide them and protect them

A man that betrayed your mother

She had grown resentful and paranoid, yes, but he turned his back on her when she needed him the most

You didn’t believe you could forgive him.

You were not a Velaryon, not by blood, and now, that you become Queen, not by name either… he never treated you as one, so that was it

You wanted to keep him at arm’s length 

But you didn’t even realized… that there was another house absent front he festivities

You were glad to see the capital boasting with life, like the days of old, like when you wee young and you were living in the good days of your grandfather King Viserys

A tourney had been organized, as competitions and festivities, and even though you found it dreadful, there you were… granting so many favoors you had your ladies and even servants braiding new ones each hour….

Perhaps all the knights in there, at least, most of them, asked for your crown of red roses and dark green leaves and golden feathers.

At the end, you were crowned the Lady of Love and Beauty by the winner, a Knight from the Vale. You watched your small council closely, and they all seemed pleased

Telling constantly how much the people were taking to you, how much they loved you even

Their new, young, beautiful Queen

The bards were singing songs about your beauty and your strength, no doubt they had been paid handsomely to do so

You felt… powerful

You sat in the most dangerous yet important seat of the realm, you had the last grown dragon on earth. 

You felt good, in control… until…

Until the day of your wedding.

Cregan had not accepted a marriage in the Sept, he did not follow the faith of the seven, and neither did you, so you accepted to be married in the godswood, by the heartree

It was going to create controversy, the small council said

But fuck the faith, the seven pointed star, and the heraldry that replaced all the dragons in the capital thanks to Alicent fucking HIghtower, and that you had already commanded to replace back to the likeness of your own dragon, and the three headed dragon of your house 

You were waiting for one word, one revolt, one bad new from the citadel to burn it to a crisp… luckily, it had been none

You thought they knew it as well, that you were looking for an excuse to do the same thing Maegor the cruel did

So the day of your wedding came quickly.

And as the maids braided your hair in a Northerner style, then, you felt nervous. Truly, nerve wrecking nervousness makes your hands shake.

You were about to be married… to Cregan Stark

A rough, authoritative man,a handsome and strong man, a man who was going to go back and forth and leave you for months at a time, perhaps years, but…

“Everything is going to be alright”, murmured the sweet maid, one that had served you since you were a child, manage to survive the Greens, she smiled at you through the mirror

“Thank you”, you whispered

“He is a kind man, and I have no doubt he will care for you”, she said with a complacent smile, and you only smiled widely 

“I know he will”

“If you’d allow me, your grace… your mother would have been proud”, she said then, and that brought tears to your eyes

“Thank you”, you cried with a smile on your face

You had married an entire continent last week, promising to give your life in service to the crown and the countries that were under your reign, and now… you were going to give your body… to another

To a man

Septas had taught you what you needed to know -according to them- about marriage, of how a woman must serve her husband, about you had to lay on your shared bed and let him do what he needed to do, bed you, breed you, how it was a woman’s job to have his husband’s children and heirs…

Of course you were nine at the time, your mother when she found out dismissed the Septa, fought hard with Alicent, saying that over her dead body she was going to allow the Old Queen to take charge of your education ever again

That was fun to watch, scary, but fun, to see your mother so protective and angry

And then you discovered “how babies were made”, by not by your mother in a nice chat or anything really, you discovered it the funny way, with your brothers and stepsisters, sneaking off the Castle in Dragonstone and going to the town, following soldiers to pleasure houses, then you were thirteen 

And then stealing racy books from the library 

But this was no time to think about that

You stood up, already dressed, your hair done, no much jewelry, only a nice beautiful white dress, yes it was the wedding of the Queen, but you had been celebrating your coronation for a week now, the Kingdoms had just been through a gruesome war, it was not fair, for them, for you to spend so much

Your wedding, a banquet afterwards, and baskets filled with food that were to be distributed through the streets of King’s Landing

And Cregan… well

He was nervous as well, more like, getting it over with already…

The sooner you settled in, with the throne and in your marriage, the better 

He fixed the silver velvet vest on him, and the large gold chain they had made him wear, it was a warm day, and his pants, he felt them too tight, as he was waiting for you in the Godswood. Was he doing the right thing?

He was going to be in the depths of one of the things he hated the most…

Politics

When he gathered his army and marched south in search of “justice”, this was not what he expected, to the the second most powerful person in all the realms

It was a constant thought, he never, in a million years, would hope he was going to end up here, waiting for…

He raised his head when they announced you

There you were

All his doubts disappeared

You looked… breathtakingly beautiful, positively godly

Not intimidating, like an empress of an old dynasty on the day of your coronation, now… you looked like the embodiment of a god of the waters or snow itself, made flesh… Dressed in a beautiful white dress, no much finery but only you, your hair arranged in a 

Northerner way that made him smile. Now his pants were truly tight

Tyland Lannister was escorting you

As soon as he had you within grasp, he grabbed your hands and accommodated you by his side, facing his commander of his army, an old man from house Mormont. 

“Who comes before the old Gods on this day?”, asked the tall man

“(Y/N), of House Targaryen”, presented Tyland, with his deep voice, summoning complete silence from everyone present. “She comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and noble. She comes to beg for the blessing of the Gods, who is here to claim her?”, he asked almost defiantly, looking at Cregan, who took a step forward

“I Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I come here this day before the gods, to claim this lady, who gives her away?”, he asked

“I, Tyland Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, and Warden of the West”, he said firmly, releasing you right next to Cregan, you both looked at him and smiled, and then turned to the man presiding the ceremony

“My lady, (Y/N) of House Targaryen, do you take this man?”, he asked

“Yes”, you answered, it came more gently than you expected, “I take this man”, you said loudly and almost enthusiastically, and you felt people chuckling, and bit your lip, embarrassed. But the man presiding the ceremony smiled at you, and your now husband, grabbed your hand in his big one

“So Cregan Stark, take your wife, Lady (Y/N) now, of House Stark”, he said, and Cregan was on you in a second, he cradled your face in one of his hands, you looked up at him and your eyes met his, just for a second before you closed them since he leaned in and trapped your lips into his. You tried to relax into the kiss, your second kiss ever, with now your husband

Those closest, members of courts and Lords and Ladies from the noblest houses applauded, the gardens filled with all of them, you separated from Cregan and greeted them 

“My beautiful lady wife”, he whispered in your ear, making you smile at him

Gods he was handsome, especially with hat devilish smile

And you were married to him

Despite your secret wishes, the day went incredibly fast, and before you knew it, you were being led to your chambers… not the King’s… meaning yours, but others… Cregan’s… tonight, you were not a Queen, but a lady wife, the way it was supposed to be

The small council, and others Lords and Ladies followed you closely, but as soon as you were inside the room, Cregan stood up, shielding you from them 

“Out”, he demanded, surprising you

“But my lord… the bedding ceremony…”, stammered Tyland

“I don’t care”, he said, and you then stepped out…

“No bedding ceremony”, you said firmly, and that was enough for them to leave you alone

Alone with your husband…

You looked at him nervously, he turned softly, to look at you.

You looked around in turn, recognizing these rooms immediately, these were the rooms Cregan was using now, but before they belonged to…

He moved slowly, his eyes on you, you looked back at him

“If this marriage is going to work, I need to make something very clear”, he said seriously, he came at you quickly, and grabbed you, his hand was so big against you that with only one he placed it at the side of your neck and face, he grabbed you softly but decisively, and make you look at him, “out there, you are the Queen, but here? inside this room? as soon as you step inside, you are mine”, he growled, and he smirked when he saw your pupils enlarged, “you are my dutiful lady wife, mine to command, mine to guide, mine to bed, mine to breed, am I clear?”, he asked with an authoritative voice that made your legs shake, you nodded, your eyes not leaving his, but they betrayed you. You were a bit scared of his words. He caressed your cheek, “mine”, he said, this time more softly, “mine to cherish, mine to care for, mine to love, mine to make love to…”, your eyes shined with excitement then and you smiled brightly at him 

“Love?”, you asked as you were a little girl

“Would you like all those things?” He asked, his playfulness and rough eyes returning to him as he made you tilt your head back slightly. You managed to nod

 “Your words, my love”

“Yes Cregan”, you whispered 

“Inside this room, I’m your Lord husband”, he commanded severely

“Yes my lord husband”, you corrected quickly 

“Good girl”, he leaned on and trapped your lips on his on a fervent kiss, you were barely able to catch up, the third time you had kissed Cregan… this time was different, this time, there was nothing to prevent you from… escalating the kiss

“Do you want to consummate the marriage now?”, he asked, and you barely nodded, “your words wife”

“yes husband”, you barely said, looking into his eyes, he only smile, but didn’t kiss you again, his lips instead, traveled south 

You moaned softly, feeling his lips suck on a very tender spot in your neck

“In this room, we are husband and wife only, only us, two people, joined for life”

“Only us”, you whispered, with expert hands, he undoed your dress, letting it fall to the floor, he even undressed himself, as you didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t push you, he did all the work, as you were so nervous, terribly nervous.

He laid you on the bed covering you with his large body.

He kissed everywhere he could reach, he caressed your skin, making you shiver, moan, and spread your legs even further for him… You didn’t even know someone else could make you feel like this…

You tried to caress him in turn, his upper arms, his shoulders, his side, his mouth returned to yours, as his fingers worked you open for him…

The voice of the septa wouldn’t stop resounding in your head… you laid there, let him do his things, you wouldn’t know what to do anyways… and in turn… he made you feel the most exquisite pleasure… that you had never felt before…

When he entered you, you dropped a few tears from the sudden and sharp pain, but then, after he soothed you and gave you time to adjust to his size… he fucked you slowly, delicately, gently, holding you in his arms, and kissing all over your face and neck

You could tell he was holding up… from doing more things to you… but if only that night, he was exactly what you needed.

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd

@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos @brakingboundaries

#misguidedhour #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x oc #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #house targaryen #house stark #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader

[lemoncakz]

LIST OF ALL SANSA OUTFITS MENTIONED IN ASOIAF BOOKS

THIS WILL ONLY INCLUDE OUTFITS SHE ACTUALLY WORN (not ones she had dreams of or ones she saw but never worn).

AGOT—

outfit one:

“She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone, and picked her nicest blue silks.” - sansa i

“His eldest daughter stepped forward hesitantly. She was dressed in blue velvets trimmed with white, a silver chain around her neck. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone. She” - ned iii

outfit two:

“Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling.” - sansa ii

outfit three:

“Sansa had put on a lovely pale green damask gown and a look of remorse—“ - sansa iii

outfit four:

“It was running down her nose and stinging her eyes. Sansa wiped it away with a napkin. When she saw what the fruit in her lap had done to her beautiful ivory silk dress, she shrieked again—“ - sansa iii

“She called me a liar and threw an orange at me and spoiled my dress, the ivory silk, the one Queen Cersei gave me when I was betrothed to Prince Joffrey.” - sansa iii

outfit five:

“She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful. Her gown was the ivory silk that the queen had given her, the one Arya had ruined, but she'd had them dye it black and you couldn't see the stain at all. She had fretted over her jewelry for hours and finally decided upon the elegant simplicity of a plain silver chain.” - sansa v

outfit six:

“She chose a simple dress of dark grey wool, plainly cut but richly embroidered around the collar and sleeves. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy as she struggled with the silver fastenings without the benefit of servants.” - sansa iv

outfit seven:

“And there in their midst was Sansa, dressed in sky-blue silk, with her long auburn hair washed and curled and silver bracelets on her wrists. Arya scowled, wondering what her sister was doing here, why she looked so happy.” - arya v

ACOK—

outfit eight:

“She wore a gown of pale purple silk and a moonstone hair net that had been a gift from Joffrey. The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey's gifts as well.” - sansa i

outfit nine:

“One of the women went away and came back with a green wool shift that was almost her size. "It's not as pretty as your own things, but it will serve," she announced when she'd pulled it down over Sansa's head. "Your shoes weren't burned, so at least you won't need to go barefoot to the queen." - sansa iv

ASOS—

outfit ten:

“Cersei herself arrived with the seamstress, and watched as they dressed Sansa in her new clothes. The smallclothes were all silk, but the gown itself was ivory samite and cloth-of-silver, and lined with silvery satin. The points of the long dagged sleeves almost touched the ground when she lowered her arms. And it was a woman's gown, not a little girl's, there was no doubt of that. The bodice was slashed in front almost to her belly, the deep vee covered over with a panel of ornate Myrish lace in dove-grey. The skirts were long and full, the waist so tight that Sansa had to hold her breath as they laced her into it. They brought her new shoes as well, slippers of soft grey doeskin that hugged her feet like lovers. "You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed. am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must . . . he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does. Queen Cersei studied her critically. "A few gems, I think. The moonstones Joffrey gave her." - sansa iii

outfit eleven:

“She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes.” - sansa v

outfit twelve:

“You said I must wear the hair net. The silver net with . . . what sort of stones are those?" — "Amethysts. Black amethysts from Asshai, my lady." - sansa v

Shae was helping Sansa with her hair when they entered the bedchamber. Joy and grief, he thought when he beheld them there together. Laughter and tears. Sansa wore a gown of silvery satin trimmed in vair, with dagged sleeves that almost touched the floor, lined in soft purple felt. Shae had arranged her hair artfully in a delicate silver net winking with dark purple gemstones. Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. "Lady Sansa," he told her, "you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight." - tyrion viii

AFOC—

outfit thirteen:

“This morning her eye was caught by a parti-colored gown of Tully red and blue, lined with vair. Gretchel helped her slide her arms into the belled sleeves and laced her back, then brushed and pinned her hair. Alayne had darkened it again last night before she went to bed.” - alayne

“Alayne looked down at her dress, the deep blue and rich dark red of Riverrun. "Is it too—“ - alayne i

outfit fourteen:

“The dress she picked was lambswool, dark brown and simply cut, with leaves and vines embroidered around the bodice, sleeves, and hem in golden thread. It was modest and becoming, though scarce richer than something a serving girl might wear. Petyr had given her all of Lady Lysa's jewels as well, and she tried on several necklaces, but they all seemed ostentatious. In the end she chose a simple velvet ribbon in autumn gold.” - alayne i

outfit fifteen:

“Alayne was already wearing woolen hose beneath her skirts, over a double layer of smallclothes. Now she donned a lambswool overtunic and a hooded fur cloak, fastening it with an enameled mockingbird that had been a gift from Petyr. There was a scarf as well, and a pair of leather gloves lined with fur to match her riding boots.” - alayne ii

outfit sixteen:

“It would be cold, she knew, though the Eyrie's towers encircled the garden and protected it from the worst of the mountain winds. She donned silken smallclothes and a linen shift, and over that a warm dress of blue lambswool. Two pairs of hose for her legs, boots that laced up to her knees, heavy leather gloves, and finally a hooded cloak of soft white fox fur.” - alayne vii

divider by @iwonbin

#my post #asoiaf #sansa stark #a song of ice and fire #fashion #asoiafwomensource #thenorthsource

[pityroadart]

eye practice from yesterday, using my beloved A. Gallo watercolours + Silver Black Velvet brush in the Saunders Waterford Canson sketchbook I'm slowly making a dent in

supplies don't make the artist, but these are definitely some of my favourites currently!

eyes are (of course) Charles & Carlos, and yes I'm planning on doing some more F1 eyes soon 👁

#f1 fanart #formula 1 art #Charles Leclerc #carlos Sainz #watercolour #my art #my f1 art

[verbenaa]

opus 4 (nothing compares to the sighs that fall from your lips)

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:

“Have I mentioned how absolutely divine you look, darling?”

“Well, you did make the gown.” Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him closer as you arch into him. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking at the skin bared to him above the low neckline.

“It’s quite easy when you have such a lovely muse.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, 18+

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6.9k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: exhibitionism, frottage/thigh riding, clothed sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vampire bites, blood, soft dom astarion, tailor astarion strikes again

𝑎/𝑛: if larian can't give us a masquerade, then i will! welcome to my current fixation which has been this masquerade ball fic. idk there is no rhyme or reason to this, its just fun and indulgent and glittery. i hope you enjoy and please like/comment/reblog etc ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The chandeliers twinkle brightly from the cavernous ceiling above as you float across the polished ballroom floor, slippered feet moving swiftly as your dance partner twirls you around, an arm wrapped tight around your waist while the other grasps your hand as he leads you through the elegant steps of a waltz. 

Wine burns through your veins as it sings a siren’s song, the sanguine liquid slipping down your throat with ease this evening, the vintage aged to perfection. Melted wax drips from the tapers decorating the room, their flames no more than whirls of shining light as you spin around and around, gown fluttering with every elegant movement.

It wasn’t often you attended these sorts of events, despite the amount of invitations you’ve received over the years. Being the most recent hero of Baldur’s Gate had its occasional perks it would seem, and this ball was certainly one of them. 

It was the same routine every time. You would open the frequently ostentation envelopes, perfect calligraphy written with expensive pots of colored ink on the front and oversized wax seals in golds and reds and blues on the back. Inevitably, after a passing glance at whatever solicitation lay inside you would feed it to your hearth, letting the fire gobble it up as it burns to black.

This particular invitation, however, had caught your eye. The envelope itself was nothing of particular elegance, though the black of the envelope and silver lettering did stand out among the others in your post box that day. The matching silver wax seal on the back opened easily with a quick flick of your letter opener, and a singular word on the thick vellum piqued your interest in a way that few ever did on these inane things.

Masquerade.

You can easily recall the way the word made your heart jump, mind moving to the imagined scenarios of your younger years, the adventures of storybook heroines always featuring stories of flowing gowns and glittering masks.

Your own gown flows around your form as you dance the steps, soft fabric laying perfectly against your curves as braided straps of silk rest over your shoulders. The skirt flows down around a high slit up the thigh, velvet the color of the deepest ivy brushing against the marbled floors with every movement. 

The metallic threads glow in the candlelight, embroidered designs of liquid silver cascade in small clusters down the bodice and onto the skirt like little groups of stars falling from the sky. The low back of the dress leaves you uncharacteristically bare, almost everything above the line of your waist exposed, though the air is warm against your skin with all the bodies present this evening.

Your dance partner cuts a dashing figure, a vision of velvet and quicksilver in his own right. He looked made for the part—like some dark hero from a storybook come to life in front of your eyes.

Gods, he looked so handsome. 

Your cheeks flush as you watch him, following his lead as his hands tighten around you, that familiar knowing smirk decorating his elegant features even with the dark mask he wears obscuring the top half of his features, claret eyes framed with black and silver.

You pull yourself closer to Astarion, filling your senses with his familiar and comforting scent as he continues to lead you through the steps with sleek perfection, footsteps confident and head held high under his disguise.

The dance ends, orchestra moving on from the dreamy waltz you had just turned about to on the floor, a lilting concerto taking its place after a brief respite. Astarion leads you to the side of the dance floor, a hand poised on your waist as you walk to the fringes of the room. 

You touch his velvet-covered shoulder, the intricately embroidered doublet matching the color of your own gown to perfection, down the same argent threads. The two of you were certainly coordinated this evening, if nothing else.

It had taken little to convince Astarion to agree to join you, his own love for overdramatic and lavish debauchery too much to deny something like a masquerade ball. He had certainly wasted no time designing outfits for the two of you, spending extra moments throughout his evenings constructing and embroidering them until every detail was as perfect as he had envisioned.

“Astarion!” You whisper into a delicately pointed ear, an emerald earring glinting in the candlelight as you rest your hand on his bicep, leaning your weight into him. “Go get us more wine!”

“You absolute lush.” His smile is fond as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, careful not to disturb the delicate lace mask resting over your eyes, satiny ribbon tied behind your head in a pretty, perfect bow.

It was hard to deny his comment, especially when there was that delightful fuzziness that occupied your every sense, clouding everything in a wonderfully warm haze. You had easily lost track of the number of glasses you had imbibed over the evening, though you are fairly certain you simply misplaced some still half full goblets on the random trays of servers who wandered through the space.

Your thoughts swirl as he walks away from you in search of more spirits, his retreating figure a vision. He really was too handsome, dressed in his finery like this. Maybe you were wrong all these years to give your regrets to so many an occasion, if seeing Astarion dressed in the rich velvets and silks he deserved to wear was to be your prize.

A hand on your shoulder draws your attention, and you turn a moment later, reactions slowed by the alcohol still dancing in your veins. Behind you is a man, handsome enough—if only in a rather ordinary way—his warm brown eyes looking out at you from behind a mask of bright crimson as he gives you a friendly smile.

“I must ask how such a lovely gem such as yourself is simply wandering around alone on a night like this?” The words are meant to be suave and charming, though you ignore them, as uninterested in the man now standing before as you are in his words or the meaning behind them. Your eyes draw instead to a overflowing vase of flowers on a table behind him, a downright gaudy display of cultivated blooms bursting from an equally ostentatious vase.

“Do you happen to know what type of flowers those are behind you?” You point at them, not addressing the man’s prior words to you. He turns to look behind him with befuddlement, taking in the large arrangement with barely a blink of his eyes before he turns back, scanning up and down your velvet-clad figure.

“I’m afraid flowers aren’t my specialty.” His answer is short and no-nonsense, he was clearly a man uninspired and uncreative if that was the best he could come up with, the roll of your eyes mostly obscured by the lace covering your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, may I ask your name?” He sidles ever a bit closer, and you take a measured step back in response as you cross your arms casually in front of you, head tilting to the side as you observe him.

“How could you know? We are masked, after all.”

“It would be my honor, my dear mysterious Lady, to have your next dance?” His words are polite, even with such blunt forwardness. 

You are saved from having to answer by an arm wrapping around your waist from behind, that wonderfully delicious scent of bergamot and brandy filling your senses with his presence.

The man across from you looks affronted at Astarion’s arrival, eyes falling to the arm wrapped tightly around your body and the angular face pressing against the crown of your head.

“Darling, won’t you introduce me to your new friend?”

“Oh! My love, you’ve returned!” Your smile is beatific as you turn towards him, eyes meeting his own you look for your promised goblet of wine.

“You never mentioned you were…partnered.” The man—what was his name again?—says before you two, a frown etched onto his features. 

“Well, you never asked. This is my—” Astarion cuts you off before you can finish.

“Husband.” There’s a prideful possessiveness to his words that strike your interest, though you fight the urge to roll your eyes all the same. You and Astarion may be life partners, but married you were not.

“Here you are, my sweet.” He holds the full goblet towards you as it dangles between his elegant fingers, wine threatening to spill from its silvered edges. “Now, let us continue our fête elsewhere, hm?”

You give the man a bored look before turning away, downing your wine quickly before moving to place the empty silver on the table behind him, the overlarge bouquet towering over you. Without a second glance, Astarion takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back before stepping away with you into the crowd beyond.

He leads you to a secluded corner, the area obscured by the shadows of the lofty space. Astarion’s footsteps finally slow as you near the wall and he notices your raised brow, an expectant expression on your face.

“Married, Astarion? When exactly was our wedding day, just so I don’t forget the anniversary.” You speak wryly, an amused smile on your lips. “I’d hate to not get you a gift.” 

“Well, we may as well be married. Don’t you agree?” 

“I certainly don’t see a ring on my finger.” You make to look at your hand, a playful smile old your lips as you tease him. Astarion’s frown deepens, a look of childish petulance crosses his features, obvious even with the mask hiding his expressive eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous that another man was simply talking to me?”

“Darling, I think he would have done more than simply talk to you if you’d let him,” He rolls his eyes, exhaling a huff as his hands come to rest above the swell of your hips, bracketing your waist with those talented, nimble fingers.

“Besides, he wasn’t talking, he was flirting with you.” You could swear he was pouting, amusement building with every passing minute as you bite your lip to hide your growing smile.

“I hadn’t noticed, honestly.” Your shrug is a touch too put on, the casualness of the action at odds with the finery you wear as the smile you try to hide escapes, painting your features with a certain cunning that Astarion knows all too well.

“Oh, I think you knew exactly what you were doing, darling, letting that man flirt with you.” Astarion’s hands on your velvet covered waist tighten as he walks you backward, not stopping until your back meets the intricately wainscoted wall, the two of you partially obscured by the heavy drapery of a nearby balcony.

“You’re far too smart, my sweet, to be so unaware.” The rest of ball swirls on obliviously around you both, dizzying in its opulence as music from the orchestra begins its climb to a rousing crescendo.

A coy smirk is the only answer you give him, the incline of your head daring him to continue as the lace covering your eyes only adds to your mystique tonight. The wine running through your veins turns your body hot, your confidence brimming with the help of the alcohol.

“And so what if I did, Astarion?” His ornate mask does little to hide the spark flaring to life in his crimson irises, thumbs tracing circles dangerously high on your ribcage as he steps closer into your space, the flowing skirt of your gown brushing against his own finery as he pushes close.

“Then I suppose you leave me no choice but to give you a little lesson, dearest.” 

One of the hands at your waist skates up, passing over your breast before brushing up the column of your neck, hand wrapping lightly around your throat as you lean your head up to look at him. His fingers brush over leftover scars from feedings past, and the sudden pressure on your throat has your body on high alert, heat licking at the bottom of your belly as you inhale a shaky breath.

Astarion’s mouth crashes down onto yours, stealing your breath as he kisses you with abandon. You answer his kiss with your own hunger, opening your lips to welcome his tongue. Your free hand comes up to brush against his chest, fingers tightening in the fabric to pull his body closer as your lips and tongue move against his own.

Your back is pressed hard against the wall behind you, the molded wood cool as Astarion crowds you, his chest pushed tight against your breasts. You widen your legs slightly and he quickly fills the space, a covered thigh coming to rest in between the slight spread of your own.

Astarion’s lips move to your jaw, your head tilting for him as the hand on your neck gives one last squeeze before brushing down your side until it finds your hip. The thigh between your legs presses in harder, and you thank the Gods that Astarion had the wherewithal to design a gown with such a high slit as you feel the fabric of his pants against your bare skin of your upper thigh.

The hand on your hip pushes you slightly forward and your covered center makes contact, the hard muscles of his leg rubbing deliciously against your core. You choke on a moan, and you can feel his smirk against your skin as his lips caress that spot behind your ear you love so much. 

“Do you think you can do it? Ride my thigh with all these people milling about?” His words are spoken low into your ear as your eyes fall shut at the tone of his voice, the devious lust that permeates every word sending a shiver through your body.

You bite your lip as you tug him closer, burying your face into his neck. You move your hips, starting with a slow movement, barely enough to provide any relief. But you feel it, all the same, cheeks flaming as you focus on Astarion and his leg, the alcohol drowning out the noise of the rest of the ball around you. 

What must you look like, you wonder, to anyone who happens to look on? You hope that the image of you together is only that of a pair of lovers embracing closely, too lost in their own world to care about anything else.

You can feel your wetness growing with every pass over his thigh as your hips undulate in soft motions, Astarion’s body pressed as close as possible to your own, shielding you with his form as much as he can from your place in the shadows. 

The feeling is wonderful, enticing in such a public arena, but it is far from enough. Your arousal grows, the dampness seeping through your underwear and onto the dark velvet of his pants as his cock twitches against you, his length hard as it strains against the fabric.

You feel his hand come down from your waist to brush against the slit where it falls against your thigh, his fingers tracing up and down your skin in teasing passes.

Those fingers slide inside the skirt of your gown, grazing the outside of your thigh as they make their way towards your ass. Your skin is hot where his cool fingers touch, a blazing line of heat marking every movement they make as he caresses the flesh barely hidden by your underwear.

“How wet are you, darling?” His words are sinful as he whispers them in your ear, hand easing under the line of your panties to rub against your bottom, his fingers creeping ever closer to the place where your aching cunt connects with his leg. 

“Astarion,” You whine in his ear, hand gripping the collar of his doublet. “Please.”

You don’t even know what you are begging for, but as Astarion’s fingers finally find your wetness you are unable to conceal the moan that falls from your lips. His fingers move, just enough to gather evidence of your arousal on his fingertips. 

“Oh, you sweet thing. You like this, don’t you?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hand trails away from the center of you, brushing back past your underwear and out of your gown. He brings the fingertips up to press against his lips, tongue sneaking out to lick at the slight sheen that coats them. 

Your mouth goes dry at the sight, your breathing hard as your eyes trace his features.

Astarion’s hand covers your own where it grips at his collar as his other adjusts himself in his pants, hiding his erection as best he can from sight. He pulls away from you, helping you adjust your dress with quick fingers. Your eyes catch upon the sight of your arousal on his pants, catching the light as he turns. You cheeks burn at the sight, your swallow audible.

“Follow me, love.” You don’t question him on where he is heading as he makes a line for the closest set of ballroom doors, pace quick as he weaves the both of you through the sea of bodies that make up the cities’ finest members of society. 

“Are we going home?” You whisper quietly as you follow, unsure if you were ready to commit the incandescent aura of the evening to memory alone quite yet.

It had taken hours to get ready, time spent bathing together before pampering each other—applying scented oils on skin and through hair, Astarion helping you pin your hair into its complicated updo this evening taking almost an hour alone, his fingers applying the rouge to your cheeks and lips with care as he admired your features with the utmost affection. No, you certainly weren’t ready to leave quite yet.

“It would be a shame to end the evening so early, don’t you think?” Relief and joy spills through you in equal measure at his words, eager to continue tonight’s festivities, whatever they may be.

You walk through the main hall, hand in hand with Astarion, the wine still buzzing in your head as he draws you up the large, elegant staircase of swirling marble. Your presence goes unnoticed as you pass others dressed in their own finery, shimmers of glitters and gems, silks and tulles flowing past as you climb step after step.

You make it up the rise of the large staircase, skirt twirling as you spin around momentarily to take in the scene of the party now beneath you. Its a world of luster that takes your breath away, everything filtered with the heady glow from the candelabras and wine flowing aplenty. 

With a tug on your hand, Astarion leads you away from the center of the room, breaking off to go down a smaller corridor to the side before cutting aside on one or two more until you are isolated, the noise of the orchestra below now faraway and faint.

The hallway feels hushed and hidden away, safe from the prying eyes of society as the candlelight sconces adorning the walls flicker, dancing fragment of light illuminating the narrow corridor. Astarion walks you back with hands on your waist until you feel the half-paneled wall against your uncovered back, the wallpaper ornate with scrolling vines and berries, vibrant reds and greens contrasting against the darkness of your gown. 

Astarion’s head bends to your chest, pressing a tender kiss onto the swell of your breast, over the place your heart beats in three-quarter time.

“Have I mentioned how absolutely divine you look, darling?” 

“Well, you did make the gown.” Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him closer to your breasts as you arch into him. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking at the skin bared to him above the low neckline.

“It’s quite easy when you have such a lovely muse.” His nose nuzzles at the flesh of your breast, breathing in your scent as he groans against you, pressing his hips against your own so you can feel the evidence of his prominent erection.

Astarion bites down into the flesh of your breast that rises above your gown without warning, fangs piercing the tender skin that heaves with your breath as he drinks in the sweetness of your blood. It flows thick in brightly colored streams, a surprised moan ripping from your lips at the sudden action.

He sucks from the swell above your gown, blood dripping to stain the bodice as he licks and tastes the rich claret of you made all the sweeter from the wine, his hand drawing down your belly before dipping lower. 

He finds that slit on your thigh, hand working its way underneath before moving to cup around your wetness as you cover your mouth with your hand, hiding your moans behind a palm as your eyes flutter shut.

Astarion moans at the dampness he finds there, fingers quick to push aside the gusset of your underwear to run his fingers through your slick folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, spreading your wetness up and down the expanse of your center. You can feel his erection pressing against you, still hidden by his pants as he relishes your body’s reaction to his actions, lips still licking and sucking at the skin of your breast.

The fingers at your core move to rub your clit, the light pressure a relief as you bite your bottom lip to keep quiet, eyes glancing to the side quickly before closing once more to indulge in the feeling, his mouth not letting up as he savors your lifeblood.

“Astarion, what if someone sees us?” Nerves make their way into your soft voice, barely a whisper as your body tenses slightly with unease at the prospect of being seen by another. Astarion’s head lifts away from your breast, fangs leaving twin pinpricks on your chest, blood pulsing from the wounds in time with your heart as his eyes draw up to your own.

“No one will recognize us, my dear.” A finger circles your entrance, and your knees threaten to buckle under the pleasure. “Though we can stop if you want to.”

You hesitate and Astarion’s fingers pause to give you time to think, his mouth still drinking from the blood leaking from your breast, tongue licking at any stray drops.

“No,” You shake your head, needing little time to ruminate on the decision. “Please, don’t stop.” You let the desperation you feel run into your hushed voice as you give him your consent to continue, your hands in his hair brushing through the strands as you buck your hips into his hand.

“Thank the Gods.” His finger pushes in, working its way into you with sinfully slow movements, your head hitting the wall behind you as you let out a hiss at the feeling. You can hear your wetness as his finger dives deep, the sound of it obscene in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Gods, you’re so wet,” He kisses against your collar bone, nuzzling into the skin there as he breathes in your scent. “Who knew you were such an exhibitionist? Absolutely filthy of you, sweetheart.”

You whine at his words, Astarion coaxing more quiet moans from your lips as his finger pumps deep inside you. His free hand trails up to your shoulder, pushing off the delicate strap of your gown before moving down to pull at your bodice. 

Taking care not to rip the velvet, Astarion succeeds in freeing the breast he had fed on, hand coming up to weigh it in a palm as his mouth licks at the exposed nipple. 

He sucks on the hardened peak as his finger pulls out of you only to be joined by a second a moment later, the stretch barely noticeable with your wetness aiding his smooth thrusts in and out of your cunt.

His fingers curl against your walls as his tongue licks at your nipple, laving the peak as he finds that special place, deep inside your body and presses into it.

He’s relentless as his mouth works your breast and his beautiful fingers fuck you, his other hand squeezing the breast still covered, fingers working underneath the fabric to brush at the nipple.

It would be so easy to come like this, a fact Astarion does not miss as he can feel your body’s reaction, the telltale tension building inside you. Slowly his fingers leave your heat, brushing up against your clit with slippery motions as you whimper at the loss of them. He presses one last kiss to the tip of your breast, still wet with his lingering saliva, before he lowers to his knees in front of you.

“Astarion, what are you doing?” Your words are breathless as your hands run through his hair, the mask on his face slightly askew.

“I still seem to be a bit peckish still, though for a slightly different taste.” Warmth rushes to your cheeks as they flush, the alcohol still floating through your body painting everything in that same warm haze that has surrounded you through the night.

Astarion’s hands glide up your legs, brushing over soft thighs as he grabs at either side of the underwear where it rests low across your hips. His eyes flick up to yours as he pulls it down, guiding the thin, lacy fabric down your legs. He’s unhurried, clearly not worried about being caught or seen as he takes his time while his eyes never leave yours. He steadies you as you step out of the panties, pocketing the damp lace with a roguish smirk and raise of his brows.

His hand wraps around your thigh, pushing it up and pinning it against the wallpaper as he holds you open to his gaze. Your pussy is absolutely dripping for him, the sight of his otherworldly beauty as he stares at the center of you, open for him, takes the breath from your lungs.

There would be no mistaking what was happening if someone were to come upon you now—Astarion kneeling before you, supplicant, as he bares you to himself—unmistakable to anyone gifted with eyesight.

Astarion leans in to press a kiss to the thigh he has pinned, lips moving across the smooth skin with the lightest of touches before skipping over your weeping core to kiss the opposite thigh. You whine at the blatant misdirection of his mouth, hips bucking in indignation with as much motion as you can manage.

“Oh, I’m sorry—did you want something, darling?” He moves his face away from your body to shoot a look upwards, his features smug as he sees the abject desire in your gaze tempering the glare you shoot down at him.

“I thought you were still hungry, dearest.” You keep your words sweet, not letting the aching want you feel bleed into your voice as your eyes narrow. 

“Patience, sweet thing. I’m sure I’ve taught you about it once or twice before, have I not?” His head dips forward once more, breathing in the scent of your essence with a performative sigh. “Now, ask nicely. And do use your words and tell me what you want.”

“Astarion!” You start, exasperation building as you contemplate the words to say to appease him. He could be so demanding at times like this, a trait you found yourself caught between loving and hating in equal measure, though ‘loving’ did usually win out in the end.

You briefly debate making him wait for your words, watching his own impatience grow as you play coy, but this certainly isn’t the time or place for what could be a long, drawn out battle of wills on who would break first.

“Fine. Pretty please, Astarion, will you do me the honor of licking my cunt until I come? Preferably before we get caught?” Your frustration mounts as you say the words though you find the strength to keep your tone as breezy and unaffected as his own, despite the slight embarrassment beginning to creep in as the elusive power of the wine fades ever so slowly with every minute that passes.

Astarion grants you your wish with a wide, feline smile, licking a stripe up the center of you, his tongue running through your folds before brushing lightly against your clit as he savors the taste of you.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

His tongue laps at your folds, taking his time to move up and down in languid strokes, never focusing on any one place. It’s a maddening feeling, a whine slipping from your throat as your hips roll, asking for more.

His tongue dips into your entrance, whorling around the opening as he tastes you, his moan against your cunt matching the one that leaves your mouth. Your hands tighten in his hair, hips writhing as his tongue thrusts inside you.

Astarion is eager to taste your essence, tongue flicking deep in your waiting wetness as hushed cries fall from your lips with every brush against your walls. You could sob from the feeling of the lightning hot pleasure that works through your body in time with every push of his tongue. He eats you out like a man starved, his mouth moving against your entrance as he works to plunge you closer towards ecstasy.

His motions are fast-paced, quicker than normal as he works to bring you to your peak, and you whine once more when he tongue leaves to lave at your folds instead. Two fingers are quick to replace his tongue inside you as he circles your clit instead, flicking the pearl simultaneously with perfectly timed thrusts of his fingers, curling up into that special spot.

“You really are so good when you set your mind to it, love.”

Your pleasure ratchets higher, a tremor running through your body as the leg supporting you grows weak with your impending orgasm, muscles in your thigh shaking slightly.

“Astarion, please don’t stop,” Your begging only serves to spur him on, tongue moving faster and his fingers curling faster with a repetitive motion that has your body tightening around him.

“That’s it, darling, come for me.” Astarion’s words are reverent, and you embrace them as you hurtle over the edge, euphoria rushing through your body, the feeling enhanced by the leftover wine as your fingers grip tight in his hair.

You come on his fingers and tongue, Astarion working you through the waves of your completion as they flow through your body, your cunt spasming tight as his tongue doesn’t stop licking at your clit. You bite the flesh of your lip, the delicate skin splitting under your teeth as you keep the sounds of your orgasm at bay, tiny dots of red spilling over your lips.

You uncurl your fingers from his hair, smoothing out the curls as your breathing evens out and your orgasm leaves you in a sense of pleasant euphoria. Astarion presses soft kisses against the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers finally slow inside of you before pulling out. He places one last kiss to your entrance, licking up the remnants of your come before he leans back and places your leg back down onto the ground.

He rises from the floor with a graceful motion, hands skating up your curves as his mouth crashes against your own. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he kisses you, the flavor of your own blood and come dizzying. 

Astarion licks at the blood on your lip, sucking on the mark as it bleeds. You open your mouth to him, his tongue tangling with your own as he deepens the kiss. Your hands work in a frenzy with his own to loosen his pants, the button finally coming free in your rush to free his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Astarion pulls his hardness from his underwear and you pump him, the velvety feel of his shaft warmer than normal as your blood courses through his veins. He moans into your mouth, hips pressing closer to you as you work his cock up and down, his precome shining in the light of the sconces as you spread the fluid on the heat of him.

His hands move down from your hips, brushing over your bottom as he grasps under the curve of your rear, squeezing.

“Up.” You are quick to obey, eager to feel him inside you as you jump up, Astarion catching you as his hips pin you in place against the wall, his hands supporting your weight in a tight hold against your ass. 

The half paneling of the wall presses into your back as you push your dress out of the way, the skirt easily parting around the slit as you guide his cock to your waiting cunt, still wet with your come. Astarion stares at your mouth as you lick at the precome that coats your fingers, pupils blown wide as you take a finger into your mouth and suck.

“Like the taste, darling?” Astarion’s erection finds your entrance, your wetness coating the crown of his cock as he bucks in shallowly, the head barely pressing inside you.

“Always. I think I’d like to have a little more.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you roll your hips against his cock, taking him slightly deeper inside your waiting warmth as you lick at his lips.

Astarion lets out a low growl as he pushes inside you in a single thrust, gliding home as hips meet your own. You both moan at the feeling of him inside you, the satisfaction of Astarion finally filling you euphoric as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Did you design this dress thinking about how you would fuck me in it?” Astarion sets a steady pace as he moves his hips, your own meeting his thrusts as best as you can with such a limited range of motion.

“Of course I did,” He licks at the blood drying on your lip. “I thought about how beautiful you would look coming on my cock wearing it, too.” 

He pumps his cock harder, hips rutting against your own as your arms around his neck tighten, bringing him ever closer to you. Your lips meet once more, pressing against one another’s to silence the noises of pleasure breaking from your throats with every thrust. 

“No one can make you come like I can, can they?.” His words come on an quiet exhale of exertion, tinged with the smallest bit os what sounds like possession, his lips brushing against your own with each syllable that leaves his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re still jealous, Astarion?” You can still feel the leftover fog from your orgasm, hands playing the hair at the nape of his neck, the strands soft against your fingers as you try catch your breath in vain, every thrust of his cock making it harder and harder to breathe.

“I want to hear you to say it.” The hands on your ass squeeze, cock hammering harder into your center. “Say: ‘No one can fuck me like you’.”

There’s a familiarity to the veiled desperation in voice, though its been years since you’ve heard it. You would know the sound of it anywhere, the cadence of his longing to be wanted and loved and cared for burned into your mind for eternity, settling there like a haze over your vision.

Your heart grows tender at his words, and you hold onto him tighter, pressing a kiss to his lips before giving him the words you know he needs to hear from your rouged lips.

“No one can make me come like you,” A kiss to the tip of his nose where his face rests close to your own. 

“No one can fuck me like you,” A kiss to one cheek, then the other. 

“There is no one for me but you, Astarion. Only you.” Finally, his lips—your love and passion pouring out onto him with the simple press of your lips against his, a hand coming to brush his cheek.

“Gods, I love you.” His thrusts grow sloppy as he grips your hips harder, mouth falling open against your own as his pleasure builds.

“I love you too.” You lips part with the tilt of your head backwards as Astarion hits a particularly deep place inside you, fingers curling hard into the fabric covering his shoulders. He thrusts faster, making sure to hit against the same spot on every push forward.

Astarion’s hand sneaks from behind you to press against your clit, rubbing quick circles as his thrusts grow frenzied, losing their rhythm as he chases his impending high, intent to bring you with him over the edge.

“Will you come inside me? I want to feel you.” You press a kiss onto the shell of his ears as you whisper the words, your tongue darting out to tease at the sensitive skin of the elegant point.

“Is that what you want, darling? My come?” His hips stutter at your words spoken so intimately as you clutch at him, the warmth of your cunt drawing him closer and closer to his peak.

“Gods, yes. Please!” You aren’t afraid to beg as his fingers strum fast on your clit as his thrusts hit deep, your vision clouding over as another orgasm nears.

“Then take it, love.” Astarion buries his face into your neck as he comes, hot spurts of his spend spilling deep inside your body as you ride him through his completion. The feeling of him coming is exhilarating, and his fingers don’t stop until you crest over with him, the contractions of your cunt drawing him in tight as you take all you can of him as he hides his moans into your skin.

You roll your hips on his still hard cock as you work yourself through your orgasm, Astarion still pumping his own shallowly inside you as he comes down, breath hot against your neck. 

Slowly, the world settles back down, both you coming back to yourselves from where you stand against the wall, breathing slowing. 

Astarion’s cock is soft as he pulls from you, his come sliding out with it to make a mess onto your thighs. Astarion watches as his come collects at your entrance, the fingers on your clit moving downwards to push it back inside you with a gentle motion.

“Waste not, want not, my love.” Astarion’s finger curls one last time to press against your walls as you squirm, your body overly sensitive in the aftermath of your orgasm.

He presses a kiss to your forehead before removing his finger, moving his hands to help you stand back on the floor with steady feet. 

He pulls your panties out of his pocket, bending down onto a knee as he helps you back into them, gently lifting one ankle after the other as you still catch your breath, before he raises the ruined lace back up your legs.

He adjusts the skirt of your gown, making sure the velvet falls perfectly before he presses a soft kiss to your covered stomach. He rises, fingers tracing your form as he does, dragging the long forgotten silk shoulder strap back where it belongs as you work your breast back into the bodice.

“Astarion.” You touch at his cheek, capturing his attention as he looks back at you. His gaze is clear as his eyes meet your own, the beautiful crimson red of them soft as he searches your face.

“You really are the only one, Astarion. You are the only one I will ever love, until my dying breath. There will never be anyone else.” You watch as your words settle over him like a balm, the love you feel radiating into him as he accepts them into his own heart.

His features soften even as he scoffs at your words, his hand coming up to cover your own on his face despite himself.

“Oh, I know. Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.” You let him lie, willing to let him keep this facade in tact.

“I’ll say it as many times as you wish.” Astarion’s hand takes your own where it rests on his face, pressing a kiss into the palm before lowering your joined hands.

“I’ll be sure to let you know, darling.” Astarion adjusts his own finery, settling the velvet back to rights as his eyes draw to the bodice of your ruined gown.

“Did you account for potential bloodshed when you designed the dress too?” You remark as you eyes follow his own line of sight, looking down at the blood staining the velvet dark with wet, sticky blotches. 

“Let’s just be thankful that blood and wine look similar.” 

“Nothing we can do about that bite mark though.” You sigh as you attempt to pull up the neckline slightly higher to no avail.

“Everyone will simply have to be left to wonder, then, won’t they?” Astarion bends down to press a fluttering kiss over the marks decorating your chest, squeezing your hand.

“Think you have another dance in you?” You squeeze at his hand back in response.

“I suppose we still have a few more hours before sunrise to wile away.” Astarion walks, gently pulling you after him as the pair of you make your way back to the glittering ballroom below. “Let’s go have some more fun.”

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #my writing #love u all thanks for reading kisses

[junkdrawerfics]

Hi, first of all, I am obsessed with your Jasper fics they make me feel all warm and fuzzy.

If you are taking requests, can I please request Jasper gifting the reader an old heirloom from his human family? Thank you and have a nice day :)

Unexpected Gifts

Hi! Thank you for this really cute request! I hope I did it justice, I literally spent so many hours just staring at the screen, struggling with it. I don't know how I feel about it but I hope you guys enjoy it!

Jasper Whitlock X Reader

Warnings: None, maybe like a tiny bit sad at parts?

Word Count: 1319

---

“I have somethin’ for you, darlin’.”

You glance up from your book to watch Jasper lean over to swipe a wooden box from the nightstand. He holds it tenderly, as if it might break, the box looking so small in his hands. The dark wood appears almost black against his pale skin, the dainty gold latch on the front matching his eyes.

“What is it?” You ask, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Jasper grins, your warmth spreading over him as you lean into his side, peering at the jewelry box with wide, owlish eyes. And they only go wider when he opens the box.

Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, is a necklace. It’s a little, silver locket, the front engraved with a simple bouquet of flowers. It looks worn, but in a deeply loved kind of way, where the metal is polished from years and years of touch. The chain is dainty, glimmering when Jasper lifts it out of the box. You can’t help but hold your breath when he settles it in your palm.

“Jazz,” you whisper, running a finger gingerly over the faint grooves in the metal, “it’s beautiful.”

He tilts his chin in a silent request for you to turn around, “May I?”

You bite back a smile, shuffling excitedly to face the wall. He moves slowly, methodically fastening the locket around your neck, fingers tracing over your shoulder as he pulls your hair loose. His touch leaves behind a trail of goosebumps, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. Then he suddenly pulls you back into his chest, strong arms winding around your waist, and you feel his lips at the base of your neck.

“Jasper!” You squeak, stiffening, face flushing a million shades of red. 

The blond chuckles, the sound rich and deep. It vibrates through his whole body, making your heart leap into your throat as he leans further into you. Stupid, charming vampire. When did he get so cheeky?

“You’re getting too confident for your own good,” you grumble, looking down at the necklace to hide your flushed face, as if he can’t hear your heart racing.

“I know how you really feel, darlin’,” Jasper teases against your neck, lips still brushing your skin. It makes your knees go weak, a shaky hum rattling from your chest as you hold the locket tighter.

That’s when you feel a small engraving on the back. You flip it over gently, eyes tracing over the delicate, looping letters.

‘L.W.’

Initials? Not yours. Not Jasper’s. Your curiosity comes flooding back again. Jasper must feel the shift because he turns more serious, propping his chin on your shoulder to see what’s caught your eye. Before you can even ask the question, he answers it.

“Laura Whitlock.”

His voice is soft, barely a whisper. You glance at him, chest constricting at the new look in his eyes. His composure slips, a mixture of pain and grief swirling with deep affection shining through. They look distant, lost in old memories.

Gently, you lift a hand to his face, and Jasper shutters, eyelashes fluttering as he takes in a sharp breath. Those gold eyes lock on yours again, back in the present, back with you. Your concern washes over him like a summer shower, softening him.

“Don’t worry about me, sugar,” he hums, covering the hand on his cheek with his own. He turns his head, lips pressing to your palm with a smile.

But your frown doesn’t ease. Not with how his voice plays over and over in your mind. Laura Whitlock. You can guess who it is, and the thought makes your whole heart ache.

“It was your mom’s?”

Jasper nods, watching on expectantly. You bite your lip, vision suddenly going blurry as you look back down at the locket. His mother’s. His mother’s necklace. The weight of the realization settles on you like a blanket of snow.

“I don’t know if I can accept this, Jasper,” you breathe out shakily, reaching to take it off.

He doesn’t let you though. The vampire catches your hands, fingers gentle but firm around your wrists, trapping them to your chest. 

“It belongs to you now, darlin’.”

“But-”

“She would of wanted you to have it.”

A lump forms in your throat. 

You wish you could meet her. Tell her how wonderful her son is. How he is the gentlest, most considerate man you’ve ever met. How every breathing moment, you feel so choked with love for him, so overwhelmed with fondness you can never catch your breath. And everything he does just makes you want to know him more, until you know him better than yourself.

“Will you tell me about her?” You relent, keeping your eyes glued to your hands, wiggling your fingers until he interlaces them with his.

Jasper doesn’t hesitate to share this part of his past with you. His voice practically glows with affection as he recounts stories of his mother. Sweet ones, like when he was a child and she would take him to a field and read him stories until the sun set. Sad ones, like when they lost the family dog, and she held him the entire night. You can picture them all, a small Jasper with big, brown eyes, and an even bigger smile, right next to a young woman with sweeping gold curls, just like his, and a gentle face brimming with love.

“We weren’t the richest family, but she never made us feel that way. My father spent months savin’ up to buy this for her birthday.” He taps the locket softly, a low laugh passing his lips. “Nearly lost it the day of. He had us tear the house up lookin’ for it.”

“But you found it.”

“Yes we did,” Jasper assures with a nod, “She never took it off after that night.”

You can understand why. It must have meant so much to her. And to you. It’s more than a necklace. It’s a sign of trust. A sign of devotion. 

“I don’t think I will either,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze, “Somebody would have to kill me to get this necklace. Like, fully dead, never come back kind of kill.”

Jasper snorts, the sound somehow still refined coming from him. You both know it won’t happen, not if either of you had anything to say about it. This might as well be a ring, because in this moment, all you can think about is the rest of forever you get to spend with this man.

All of your nerves and doubts fizzle into the background as you lean into Jasper. You feel lighter, a smile perching on your lips when the blond leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“Thank you, Jasper,” you whisper, “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’ll do my best to earn it.”

“You already have,” he replies, and the seriousness in his voice makes your heart flutter all over again. “I trust you with my life, darlin’.“

Just as you do with him. But he knows that. He can feel it as you snuggle into him, eyes fluttering shut with a content hum. Jasper holds you a little closer, a little tighter, soaking in the warmth of all your emotions. You stay like that for hours, or at least what feels like hours, before you have to go home.

The moment you get there, you go to the mirror on your dresser and look at yourself. Well, yourself with the necklace. Tracing the chain tenderly, you can’t help but envision the picture you can put inside. You and Jasper, maybe on your wedding day, or the day you finally join them for eternity.

Either way, you’ll never take it off. Not when you can simply look down and be reminded of every single reason you love Jasper Whitlock. 

And of how much he loves you.

---

I have a lot more story ideas for 'X Jasper' fics, so keep an eye out! Thank you for reading, your comments and love really push me to keep writing.

Feel free to send in requests!

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #jasper hale x reader #family heirloom #I had horrible writers block with this one

[kingofthe-egirls]

ARCTIC: LAW x Y/N

brothel au

(cw: sw, brothel, reader is a new prostitute, sex, fingering, stripping, daddy kink, princess pet name)

(a/n: i've never written anything for law! sooo i'm curious to see how this one will turn out lol)

Songs: "Glances" by Fırat Durak

words: 1.9k

"So, are you new here?" The snow leopard of a man sits across from you, idly stirring his tea. Long fingers decorated with black-ink tattoos hold the silver spoon delicately. You nod your head.

"Just s-started," you admit, knotting your hands in your lap. You two are seated inside one of the brothel's VIP booths: lined with silver wallpaper that glitters with pink-rose lamps. There's a low, lacquered table in between you and the captain of the Heart Pirates.

You smooth the kimono's silk fabric over your lap, adjusting in your seat. The long sleeves get in your way, sort of, as you reach forward to pour yourself a cup of tea. The china teapot rattles a little, in your hands. Trafalgar Law raises an eyebrow. His eyes are so chilling.

"Show me what you can do," he suggests, leaning forward with a leering grin. His grey eyes sparkle, just slightly, but you've yet to be warmed by them. You twist your lips.

"I-I can play the shamisen," you start, stirring cream into your own porcelain teacup. Flowers decorate the inner rim. "I've also learned fan dances, literature, poetry readings, if you'd like," you list your skills off on your fingers. He watches you, his lithe body still. He's draped over his seat, long arms extending across the back of the plush, velvet banquette. You perk up, "Oh! I also do flower arrangements," you smile. The warlord tilts his head.

"Is that it?"

Your cheeks flush, your bottom lip burning a little on the too-hot tea. Steam fills your senses, and you cough. He laughs, and you hurriedly set the teacup down. "N-no, that's not all! I've been trained like any geisha," you flick your hair over your shoulder, the locks brushing against embroidered silk. "In all manner of entertainment," you lift your chin haughtily. You drum your fingers against the side of the teacup, waiting for it to cool down. Law leans forward, hands steepled with his elbows resting on pointed knees.

"Is that so?"

****

Now, you brush aside the warlord's dark hair from his face. You're sitting on his lap, now, still enclosed in the private booth. A heavy velvet curtains hides you from the rest of the brothel: dampening the sounds of music and dancing from outside. His hat is next to him on the seat. You wonder if it's soft to touch.

He scratches his jaw against your face. "What would you like me to call you, ah?" He smiles a bit, crooked and devilish. Although, now that your legs are straddling his thighs, and the denim presses up sharp and scratchy into your heat, he's starting to look a little bit warmer now. A faint blush tinges his cheeks as you spread your hands across his chest. His button down shirt is open halfway to his navel, and you slide your fingertips along the muscles planes of his chest. You trace the tattoo with your index finger. His blush deepens.

"Y/N."

He twitches an eyebrow, "Very pretty, Y/N. Mind if I call you princess, too?" His hand wraps slowly around your hip, oh so slightly bringing you closer to him. You feel warmth pool between your legs. You hope he can feel it, as you grin. You lace your hands around the back of his neck, greedily drinking in the lustful haze you see forming in his slate grey eyes. They flutter shut as you scratch through the soft hairs at the base of his neck, long lashes brushing his cheeks. You lean down to place a gentle kiss on one, and then the other. He lets out a shaky sigh, and you giggle (you can't help it, temptress that you are).

"Princess works for me, Doctor."

He gleams bright red at that, and you laugh outright. He shifts, sliding his gaze away as his hands tighten around your waist. You soften the glow of embarrassment, leaning in to trace soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck. His facial hair scritches against your skin, and you nuzzle into him a bit. "I can kiss ya for free, y'know."

He huffs at your teasing, and fishes into his back pocket for his wallet. You squeal a little, getting shifted on his lap as he adjusts to holding you with one, lithe arm. You lean into the strength of him, letting your weight relax against his hold. His long hands curl into the fabric knotted at your waist. He tugs a little, at the strings.

"Can I take this off?" His breath is warm, and fuzzy on your cheeks. You graze your lips against his, feeling his breath flutter beneath you. Quietly, you nod. You nip at his earlobe, naming your prices for the services you offer. He hums, nodding along.

After he pays you, you stand up. You sit back on the coffee table in front of him, just barely far away enough for him to get a look at all of you. You tease him, playing with the collar of your kimono. Slowly, you strip for him. He gazes at you silently, assessing your form with clinical accuracy as you undress. His hand goes to palm his cock through his jeans. You smirk, kicking a foot as you lean back to play with your tits. You roll a nipple between your finger and thumb, and Law groans. He crooks two fingers at you, rasping the command: "Come."

You slide over to straddle him again, retaking your rightful place on the throne. "Gladly," you whisper, kissing his neck. He traces his steady fingers up the expanse of your back, now fully bare for him.

"You're gorgeous," he moans, rocking his hips up into you, gently. You smile, blush dusting your own cheeks, now. He swipes a thumb across your bottom lip. He presses into your mouth, and you gladly take him. You suck his thumb, twirling the tip of your tongue around his finger pad. He groans, appreciatively. "Good girl."

"Hah," you shudder, pressing down into his hardness faster. He's rocking you back and forth on his clothed cock, both hands gripping the fat of your hips. You bite your lip. "I like that, Doctor."

He grins.

"Good girl," he repeats, "Now take this cock for me, hm?" He raises an eyebrow at you, and you nod. He reaches between you to unzip his jeans, and you pull back far enough to let him get undressed. His toned, tanned figure is revealed to you in its fullness: lit up with ambers and pinks beneath the banquette's lights.

You marvel at the tattoos snaking around his muscled forearms, stretching around languid hands as he leans back. He loosely fists his cock: something hard and strong and unbelievably breathtaking. You lower yourself back onto his lap, letting his tip poke at your entrance.

"Mm," you whine, sensitive, "S'big."

Law groans, and sinks you down further onto his aching cock. He bucks up once, twice. You whimper, stretched out, and try to take it best you can. "S-Slower," you whine, fluttering your hands around his neck. He coos, shushing you softly.

"Sorry, love," he licks his own fingers, before reaching down to spiral softly at your clit. You moan, furrow between your eyebrows disappearing at the pleasure. "How's that? All better now?"

You nod, eyes squeezed shut. He lets you take the rest of him at your own pace, muttering encouragements and praises while he fingers your clit. Butterflies have started to trail down your spine by now, and heat is shaking your upper thighs. "Mmph, feels good, daddy."

He chuckles at the nickname, and strokes his fingers down your back lovingly. He lets his hands rest warm on your lower back, sinking down in his seat so he can help you fuck yourself down onto his cock. He meets your rolling hips with steady, shallow thrusts of his own.

"Say my name, princess," he shushes you as you whimper and whine on his throbbing cock. (His length is...well. You've never felt this stretched out before.)

"Law," you whisper fondly, making eye contact as you cup his cheek in your palm. You thumb at his bottom lip, before leaning in to claim it in another kiss. Your lips brush softly, as he starts to speed up. Your breath hitches in your throat, and mumbled praises start to fall out, all "good, daddy, fuck darling, it feels so good, Law--," and on and on as he fucks you.

He shoots sparks straight into your abdomen, and you curse. "Shit, Law--," you bite your bottom lip, hands raking through his hair wildly, "M'gonna cum--,"

And your back bows forward, forehead pressed to his shoulder as he rocks you through an orgasm. It shimmers down your spine and through your toes, and you gasp in a lungful of air. He smells like sea salt and spearmint. You mouth at his jawline. "Please don't stop," you beg. He grunts in response, face heated and sweaty as you press kisses into his hairline. His mouth goes straight to your tits, licking and sucking all around your sensitive nipples. His hands are gripping you tightly, now wound around your back as he pummels into your from below. His jaw clenches tight, and he groans.

"Fucking shit, princess," he moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he ruts and ruts endlessly into your core. Another orgasm builds behind your navel, and you squirm. He feels you clench around him, and something wicked flashes behind his eyes. "Cum for me, slut," he gives you a harsh grin, squeezing at your nipple. He rolls it between finger and thumb, and you gasp. "Daddy wants to feel you cum."

"Fuck!" You squeal, rushing forward to wrap both arms around his neck. You bury your face in his hair, and breathe in. He smells like pine. "Harder, just like that, yeah--!"

Your eyes squeeze shut as your mouth opens in an "O" with the silent weight of your release. Law grunts, speeding his hips to a jackhammer pace, and follows you into bliss seconds after.

"Shit, princess," he groans, emptying himself so deliciously inside you. His spend and your slick slide down between you, leaking onto his lap and the couch beneath you. Oh well, you think, I'll clean that up later.

Law strokes your hair, letting your head rest on his chest. You hum, eyes closed as you enjoy the afterglow. He had been a sweet lover, surprisingly. Not so frozen after all, you think, smiling to yourself.

"All good?" He asks, leaning down to catch your eyes. You stare up at him, hazy, and nod. He takes your face in one hand, leading you back up to kiss his swollen lips. You make a happy, sing-song noise in the back of your throat. He twitches a smile against your lips.

"All good," you affirm, pulling yourself off him for now. He groans at the loss of contact, and you grin. You turn to the coffee table behind you, slowly bending down to pick up your kimono. You shrug it over your shoulders loosely, letting it fall open around you. You eye him, with a grin. You pick up his forgotten teacup, and hand it to him.

"Seconds, Doctor Law?"

His fingers brush over yours as he takes the teacup from your hand. He arches an eyebrow as he takes a long, loud sip.

"If you insist."

****

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #law fanfic #law smut #law x y/n #brothel au #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law smut #one piece smut

[concussed-to-pieces]

Wolves At The Door; Epilogue

Fandom: Resident Evil [Village]

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: It was a little comforting to have a nightly ritual once more, however. Before it had been you and Karl discussing anything that struck him after dinner, and the silence continued to yawn around you at mealtimes. 

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our final installment! I'd like to thank you all for reading, and for having faith in me to see this through safe and sound. Never fear, you will always have your happy ending 💚 Enjoy!

Tag List:  @cookiethewriter @amneris21 @topgirl17 @vodkafolie @a-smol-witch @clockworkmidnight @calwitch @silver-quinn01 @velvet-paradox @hijackser @mrs-wolfwood @nonstop-haikyuu @mic-sunderland @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fullofmoonsandstars @stargazerofgoldenwords @imthegreenfairy86 @karlskitten @nitrogennightmare @chunnies @thirstworldproblemss @highly-unknown @tartimaar-bloggeth @thesmartbiscuit @spoopyredacted @crowtrobotx @kotall-ohh @doggydale @jackie-loves-yalls-writing @simplysolo @teeheemax

x. Prelude

1. Indebted

2. Blood On Your Hands

3. Brush With Death

4. Come To Bed

5. Smells Like Snow

6. Hot Iron

7. Turnover

8. Backslide

9. Tender Gray Light

10. Hubris’ Weight

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains mentions of blood, canon-typical violence, graphic depictions of mental and physical duress and sexual acts between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

You hadn't been counting, but if you had, it would have been sixty-seven days. Sixty-seven days since Karl had vanished, sixty-seven days since you had heard another human's voice or even seen another person. 

Sixty-seven days. You weren't counting. 

Spring was fully upon the forest, buds erupting on the trees and the river swollen with runoff from the melting snow. It was one of your busiest times of the year between scavenging fallen trees, resetting the snares and sorting through your seeds to plant. You were extremely busy and you didn't think about it at all.

Not even when the Duke made his first appearance of the season.

…

“It brings me joy to see you once more, my dear! This winter was long and harsh.” The large man exclaimed, mopping his sweaty face with a handkerchief. “I'm wondering if you might assist me with a small problem. It seems someone may have suffered a bit of an incident, a turn of bad luck.” 

Despite this being the thing he always said when he had found an animal for you to nurse, your heart still gave a traitorous little jump in your chest. That is, of course, until a small doe limped around the rear of the cart. 

“What's wrong, my dear?�� The Duke queried, and when you glanced at him his expression was strangely stoic. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, I…” You hesitated. “I guess not. What's happened to this little girl?”

“She claims that she got her fore left leg caught in the fork of a tree. The woods have been so peaceful as of late though that, aside from the pain, she wasn't scared,” the Duke mused thoughtfully, a swollen hand resting gently on the animal's head. “Apparently her leg would have been broken had she panicked. She had to remain still for several hours to get free.”

You were always entertained by the way the merchant acted like he could understand the woodland creatures he brought to you, but if nothing else he clearly had a way with them. The black horse that drew his cart, for instance, had never balked or shied away in all the times that the Duke had rattled his wares around behind the creature's head. 

You squinted upwards at the Duke. “So I'm salving and wrapping her leg?”

“Indeed, a simple fix.” He bent down, giving you a look so intent it made you a little uncomfortable. “And I'll give something to you as a token of my appreciation.”

“Huh?”

He simply winked, then gestured at the doe. 

You were burning with curiosity. What could he be granting you? And for free, no less! Ablaze with possibilities you didn't dare hope for, you nonetheless dutifully tended to the small scrape on the deer's thin leg.

“A familiar task for you, I'd wager.” The Duke finally spoke again, cigar smoke wafting around his head like a cloud. You gave him a confused look, quirking your brow, yet his face remained amicably bland. 

You eventually settled back onto your haunches, wiping a few beads of sweat from your brow. While the weather had yet to truly warm up, the sunlight was beaming through the still-leafless trees. 

The doe staggered to her feet, bleating at you loud enough to make you jump. The Duke laughed as if in reply, that large hand landing on the animal's head once more. “Off you get now, little hind. You know the way home.” He murmured, giving her another pat before she departed. “She said thank you, by the by.” The large man informed you almost absently, already searching through his pockets for another cigar.

“Oh of course,” was your dry response, making him chuckle. “What's with all this cryptic stuff, though?”

“Ah, to business.” The Duke rubbed his hands together, his rings jangling discordantly as he did. “A favorite subject. Regrettably my gift is nothing really physical, it is instead a message.” His keen eyes felt suddenly sharp, as though he was seeing through your soul itself. “That iron horse does not forget its master so easily, especially one so gracious as you, my dear.”

You stared up at him blankly. Horse? What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

The Duke seemed entertained by your bewilderment, the man grinning and leaning back on the bench of his cart. “Perhaps it would be more apt to dub him the feral mutt you've brought to heel. After all, kindness and a warm meal are lures potent enough to drag in even the most stoic of men.”

“That's not funny.” You said in a curt tone, hating that you could feel your lower lip quivering slightly. “I…that's not funny, Mr. Duke.”

He was abruptly serious. “I don't jest lightly, my dear.”

“Then why would you say that?!” You snapped, getting to your feet and dusting off the knees of your pants. “I didn't help out just so you could sit up there and make fun of me-”

“My dear I assure you, I'm as sincere as the day is long.” The Duke insisted, knocking some ash from the end of his cigar. “Call it a…perhaps a merchant's intuition. After all, it's important to have a certain level of foresight, to be able to read the ebbs and flows of the market and adjust to demand ahead of schedule. How else would I keep my clientele?” 

“You're not making any sense.” You growled, now frustrated with your corpulent visitor.

He tipped his head back, expelling another waft of smoke upwards. “Have a little faith, will you? Creature of habit that you are, have faith in the unseen, the unknown.” The Duke jabbed his cigar at you. “Or continue to wallow in your discontent, counting the days that you claim mean nothing.”

You recoiled physically as if he had struck you, taking in a deep breath to deny his words. But instead all that came out was a soft, pitiful, “I miss him.”

The Duke nodded, oddly sympathetic all of a sudden. “Have faith, my dear.” He clasped your hand between his own enormous paws, eyes sincere. “The spring is upon us, and new life grows eternal in these woods. Keep your lanterns lit.”

…

Damn, it's quiet. 

It echoed in his ears, a looping nothingness like static. Abruptly his heartbeat interrupted it, thudding deafeningly in his skull. What the hell had the good-for-nothing organ been doing before that?!

The beat was slow, much slower than it ought to be. His thoughts were barely there, sluggish and disjointed. 

Rain hammering what was once his face, the boom of thunder and the grinding shriek of metal–

No, no, he had dealt with that already. Where was he? It was so frustrating not being able to think, to string along a process to its conclusion. 

He flexed his right hand, confused by how numb it was. Pins and needles lurched down the limb in a wave, making him shudder and grunt. That shudder dislodged…something, a huge, sharp something that, from what he could struggle to put together, was what had pinned him to the wall he was currently pressed against. 

It didn't seem to matter if he opened his eyes or kept them closed, either way he was effectively sightless and plagued with vertigo. Had he gone blind?

A groan rattled dryly out of his throat. The skin on his lips cracked with the exhale, and he felt liquid begin to dampen them. His tongue flicked out on reflex, the man tasting rust and dirt. Unbidden came a warm flash as if from a dream, cinnamon and brown sugar, plum spice cake.

Standing was a challenge. More of a slow, creaking shift into what could be vaguely considered an upright position. Fingers scratching at the mud around him, the man levered himself off the ground with the help of what was left of his enormous hammer. The handle of it felt more brittle than he had expected, the scent of rust filling the air when his fingers gripped down. 

How long has it been? 

And then, a new thought occurred, one that seemed to fully shock him to life. Have I just been dreaming this entire time?

Had you just been some vivid hallucination? Had the Duke even scraped him off the ground and brought him to safety, or had he just crawled back into his burrow to die once the saga of he and Winters’ fracas had played out? 

Was any of it real?

The ground squelched wetly beneath whatever was left of his boots as he staggered forward, but it also crunched in a grim manner. He didn't want to think too hard on that, instead focusing on sending out pulses of his power. He couldn't truly see, but at least he knew where metallic objects were in proximity to him and he could use that knowledge to keep from toppling over. 

He wasn't certain how long he meandered through the sunless wreckage. Was it hours, or weeks? Slowly, painfully, one shuffling foot in front of the other, he continued on aimlessly. He wondered to himself if this was how earthworms felt, wriggling through the cold earth in search of sustenance and never deigning to see the sunlight.

He barely even noticed when it started to become brighter around him, reasoning that he must simply be imagining it when faintly from far, far above came a distant dawn chorus of birdsong. The man paused, straining his eyes to see in the dim light, and he could only just make out a faint glow in the distance. His legs, all but atrophied from disuse, protested mightily when he tried to up his pace, so he was forced to maintain the speed of a snail moving through cold molasses.

It was a long, hard trek. The rubble-laden floor angled slightly upwards to the…hole? cave in?, leaving the man to simply flounder and scrape his shins on the detritus he was too weary to lift his legs over. 

As the light strengthened, he came to the sudden realization that he was all but naked. What was left of his clothing was in ribbons, caked with ichor, old blood and mold. His boots seemed to be coming apart at the seams, blooming white patches of mold eating into the remnants of the leather. He then shivered as the first bracing breeze of the outside world graced his lungs, and the coughing spasm it startled out of him seemed to dislodge more than it should have. 

When he finally was able to straighten back up, his spine settled into place, releasing an earsplitting pop! as it did. Relief flooded his body, the pain dulling to a manageable throb. He took a few more tentative breaths, noting as he did how much brighter his surroundings had become. Had he been walking through the night, and just reached the entrance at dawn?

It doesn't really matter, he decided, squaring his shoulders. The only thing that matters is…

“I have to go back.” He grimaced at the rasp of his own voice, swallowing and trying again. “I have to…make sure it wasn't all in my head.”

I have to see them. And when I do, I…

His heart lurched painfully in his chest. What if it had all just been a dream? Some wild wish-fulfillment of a gentler, kinder existence while his body slowly repaired itself after his glorious defeat at the hands of Ethan Winters? 

His empty stomach felt like it was caving in, fear and resignation warring in his gut, but after a moment of hesitation he shook the hair out of his eyes and stepped out into the cool yellow light of a spring morning.

The first thing he noticed was no humanoid footprints, to his absolute delight. No wolf prints, no footprints, nothing. At least he hadn't failed in that regard. Unless he had imagined it and those fucks who put up the fence had also been the ones to eradicate the lycans and their pets. 

Gods, his head hurt. The sun, just barely over the horizon now, seemed like it was burning his retinas clean out of his skull. He shaded his eyes with his palm, grimacing in pain. He would go check the bulkhead he had entered through, he decided. Check the bulkhead, see if it even existed, then check for fresh tracks there. And then…and then…

He slumped against the rubble of the caved-in factory wall, running a hand over his face. His facial hair was extremely unruly and matted with grime, and he doubted the rest of him looked any better. Once he departed the village, put some distance between himself and this…malodorous valley, he would have to clean himself up. If you were real, if he hadn't imagined you in a fit of self-indulgent madness, he doubted you would be overly impressed with him showing up half-dead, reeking of stale sweat, mold and wet dog.

To say nothing of the fact that his clothing was in tatters.

It was a slow, zig-zagging walk back to where he had descended into the factory previously.  At least he knew for certain that the bulkhead existed, the man reasoned with himself while he scrutinized the ground around the bulkhead that hadn't caved in. Again, nothing. No fresh marks, no scrapes, no scuffs. Not so much as a sparrow's tiny claw marks graced the ground. Seemingly the local wildlife gave the valley a wide berth, which made sense. Between Miranda's crow forms and the various nightmarish denizens of this place, it was only logical for normal creatures to avoid it.

He straightened up, squinting against the sunlight once more. He could only just make out that ridiculous fence way off by the outskirts of the valley, and if he remembered the fence…

The man gripped the remains of the haft of his hammer and began walking. It had only taken him a few hours of running to get here before, but after his…rest, it would seem that running wasn't in the cards for today. Or ever again, if the screaming in his calves was anything to go by. So walking it was, doing his best to ignore the tremor in his legs as he went. 

He mainly left his attention on the ground, familiar enough with the valley that he could afford to do so. Back around the swamp he went, nearly losing the sole of one of his boots to the sucking mud that surrounded the area.

He had to get to you. He had to know whether you were real. The fear and hope cycled in his head, back and forth, round and round, and he wondered hazily if he had snapped (or snapped more). 

Climbing the rise felt like an impossible task and yet eventually he stood at the top, sweating and panting but there. 

Without an ounce of finesse, Karl Heisenberg gracelessly tore open a section of the fence and made his escape out into the forest, never once looking back at the village that had been his home for so many years. No, all that his thoughts could stay latched onto was the memory of plum spice cake and the way you had looked at him that night.

He had to get to you. He had to make sure that you were real. And…

He had to apologize.

He had to make this right.

If you hated him, that was fine! It was your right. He would hate him. What he had done was stupid. You made him feel something that he didn't understand, and for someone as self-assured as Karl, that was terrifying. 

Cut them off at the source. More like run from a problem he didn't think he could handle, like some cowardly bitch. The man snarled at himself in discontent, his pace picking up to some sort of lumbering jog. Deer fled before him, nimble bodies flitting through the undergrowth as he did his best to retrace his steps. At least he had the river to follow, if nothing else.

Speaking of which.

Karl knelt beside the rushing water, grateful that he couldn't see his reflection. He had a decent imagination, he didn't need to confirm it. 

It was cold as ice, the chill of it taking his breath away. Karl took another breath and shoved his head underwater, closing his eyes to keep…whatever was in his hair out of them. The man then flipped the soggy hair back over his head, finger-combing it away from his face.

Karl proceeded to drink greedily from the river, the frigid water a shock and blessing all in one. He hadn't realized just how thirsty he was, the man finally sloppily wiping his mouth and beard and then getting to his feet once more. The handle of his hammer remained on the ground beside the river, forgotten, as Heisenberg continued onward along the bank.

He felt like he was actually awake now, like he'd emerged from some kind of dream (or nightmare) into these woods. His footing grew more sure, atrophy fading as his muscles warmed up both from use and from the strengthening sunlight streaming through the trees.

He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry. The day was so young, the sky overhead a vibrant blue and the moss beneath his boots a lush, fluffy green. It was honestly beautiful and Karl had no idea how he had never seen it before. Had he been wandering through life with his eyes shut until now?

No, he thought firmly, he had only begun to open them when he met you. You had done that. You had been worth it, had been worth him taking actual notice of the world around him. 

You had to be real. You must be. None of the other phantoms he had encountered in his life had any substance to them, but you…

Heisenberg clenched his fists, urging his body to move faster.

…

Keep your lanterns lit.

And so you did. The Duke had left you with a physical gift despite his claims to the contrary; a sturdy metal lantern with a large cutout shaped like a horse. Every night as the sun was setting, you went out to where it hung on your front gate and lit the candle inside it, which, curiously, never seemed to get any shorter. You, admittedly, didn't have much faith, you just assumed the Duke had been trying to comfort you with some platitude. 

It was a little comforting to have a nightly ritual once more, however. Before it had been you and Karl discussing anything that struck him after dinner, and the silence continued to yawn around you at mealtimes. You would take what you could get. You often lingered out by the fence for a while, telling yourself you weren't really listening as you strained your ears to hear anything, anything at all. You knew it was futile and you weren't actually expecting anything to come of it, yet still you persisted in wasting time by the front gate.

With the lengthening days you were occasionally out past dusk, cutting wood or finishing house repairs. On one such day, a floorboard on the porch that had begun creaking in the winter finally annoyed you enough that you decided to attempt to fix it. 

You spent most of the day carefully foraging drips of pine pitch from nearby trees, intending to make a batch of pine tar in the evening. Board couldn't creak if it couldn't move, right? 

You set up your highly-technical ‘refining station’, which definitely wasn't just an old beans can nestled down into the dirt beneath your fire pit, a slightly-larger tomato can with holes poked into the bottom of it resting on top. Then, after dropping all your resin in the upper can, you carefully built the fire up, placing a rock over the top of the can to act as a lid. The melting process could take a few hours, depending on the fire, so it was after sundown when you began to cautiously sift through the charcoal. You would need a few good, clean pieces to mix in with the now-filtered resin, in order to ensure some pliability remained.

You had interrupted the task at sunset, moving in an automatic way from the firepit to the fence to light the lantern. You could see the glow of it now out of the corner of your eye, even while you pored over the char. 

Maybe it does nothing but make me feel a little less alone. 

You stared down at your gloved hands full of blackened wood, blinking furiously when tears began to blur your vision. You continued, albeit a bit more clumsily, to separate out the cleanest chunks of charcoal, doing your best to make a neat little pile. 

A boot abruptly landed squarely in the middle of the pile and you couldn't help the terrified noise that left your mouth, scrambling to try and get to your feet. Before you could, though, the person dropped to their knees and wrapped their arms around you, trapping you in place. Wiry unkempt facial hair scuffed your cheek while you just sat there, frozen stiff with fear.

“Sugar.” 

Karl. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt his entire body shudder. “I couldn't remember if you were real.” His voice cracked. “I followed the light, but I couldn't–I'm…I'm so sorry, sugar. I'm so, so sorry, I don't know if I can ever make it up to you, I-I just-”

You silently returned his hug, sure that you were leaving charcoal stains on his clothes but not able to find it in you to care all that much. Karl stopped trying to speak after a few moments, the man sagging against you with his forehead resting on your shoulder. “Tell me in the morning, okay?” You whispered, relieved when he nodded. “Let's just get you inside.”

It wasn't much of a struggle to get him indoors, and he bedded down on his old cot without so much as a peep of complaint. He was filthy, but now wasn't the time for your hygiene regiment. He was clearly stripped for energy and worn out. Better to let this particular sleeping dog lie, at least for now.

…

Karl woke suddenly, whatever dream he had been having rapidly fading from his mind. He stared up at the ceiling, momentarily perplexed. Pine truss beams running lengthwise, the pattern of knots and wood grain achingly familiar. 

Sugar. 

He shoved himself into a sitting position, body still heavy from sleep, and saw you. 

You weren't really doing anything all that impressive. The stove door was ajar and you were busily tending the fire. But at that moment, Karl was certain he had never seen a more beautiful sight. “Sugar,” he rasped, voice gruff and drowsy. 

You turned to look at him, your eyes softening upon meeting his own. “Hey, Karl.”

Oh, he could fucking cry. Heisenberg huffed out a breath, feeling his heart twist in his chest. You lugged over the basin of water that had been sitting next to the stove (maybe to keep it warm?), toting a washcloth and the bar of soap as well. “Talk with me once you've sponged off.” You said, not unkindly. “You kinda’ smell like BO and dead animal.”

“I doubt it's a kind of level of smell.” Karl admitted wryly, making you snicker and nod. “Sorry about all this. You tend to smell like death if you're dead for a little while, after all.”

“I don't know if I would call two months and some change a ‘little while’. Also, dead?” You raised an eyebrow. 

Karl stared at you. Two months. Over two months. Gods almighty. 

You, seeming to register that the news was a shock to him, patted his knee. “Y'know what, worry about it later. Focus on the first thing and we can go from there. I'll make us some lunch.”

“Lunch?” 

You nodded, turning your wrist so he could see your watch. It was indeed a little after one in the afternoon. “Get washed up,” you reiterated softly. 

So Karl attempted to do so, flushing a little once he'd stripped and realized just how dirty he actually was. “Sugar?” He called, using the remains of his clothes to cover his groin just in case you turned around. Sure, sure you had seen him entirely naked before, but…

From the kitchen you replied, “yeah?” He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that you didn't look at him.

“I'm just going to throw myself in the river. I don't think this glorified bucket is going to cut it.” He reasoned. 

“Okay, you know where the towels are. Just make sure you go downstream a ways.”

The freezing water in the river was a far cry from the lukewarm comfort that the basin had held, but Karl was a little more certain in his cleanliness once he emerged, teeth chattering and body pink from scrubbing, from the pool that swirled and eddied alongside your far fenceline. Spreading out the worn towel once he had mostly dried himself off, Heisenberg took a moment to lay back on the riverbank and examine the new scars.

The cadou had healed him, of course, but now he was riddled with scars. He'd prided himself previously on his ability to guard quickly, to be able to adjust during a fight and use his powers to shield himself. But that many lycans, vârcolaci, in essentially total darkness…

He knew he was lucky to be alive at all, and that he shouldn't be so unsettled by a few new marks. He still couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach. He had never worried about his looks, it had never crossed his mind. His confidence in his abilities was so all-encompassing he hadn't considered the possibility, but what if you had only been attracted to his looks? You had vocalized interest in his appearance, after all.

Karl frowned, rubbing a hand over his face and noting even more unfamiliar raised areas. Maybe he would feel better once he got his facial hair under control. Once he looked like himself again, or some sort of approximation of it. First things first though, he would need to beg some clothes off of you.

…

You tore into a thick slice of bread, slathered with a little of the precious squirrel fat you had left and a healthy sprinkle of salt. Karl had vanished into your bedroom with the haircare kit, stating that he “felt more human, but could use a shape-up”.

He looked much too good for someone you had convinced yourself to be mad at. Truthfully your confusion and anger at being…well, abandoned, in your own terms, had ebbed substantially upon his arrival. He had seemed–breakable wasn't quite the right word. Maybe fragile? He had clearly been through hell, if nothing else. At that moment, you had decided to be merciful. You would hear him out. If you didn't like his answer, you could always show him the door.

Another bite was crammed into your mouth, and you focused on chewing furiously before your thoughts could wander any further. Cool it, hotshot, you scolded yourself mentally. Try to be normal about this.

Once Karl emerged from your room he gingerly settled into the seat across from you at the table. Wearing some borrowed, slightly ill-fitting clothes and sporting some uneven edges to his facial hair, the man didn't exactly cut an imposing figure. 

God, you had missed him so much.

To your surprise he entirely ignored the food in front of him, instead reaching across the table and clasping your free hand between his own. The look he leveled at you made you want to break eye contact, but stubbornly, you refused. He owed you this much, you reminded yourself with more than a touch of irritation.

“I'm sorry.” His voice was still raspy, but it seemed to be from disuse. “I…sugar I fucked up. I own that. I was scared.”

You gaped at him, thrown entirely off balance. The man who had faced down a horde of lycans, the man who could control metal with a look, a gesture–

Scared?

He wasn't done clearly, his grip on your hand tensing as he leaned in with an earnest expression. “You deserved better than what I did. You were–gods, you were so kind to me. Opened your home to me when I didn't know who I was. Opened yourself to me.” 

Were you blushing?! Dammit! 

“I know we didn't mean fuckall to one another, I get that it was…I guess a convenience, using each other for mutual benefit. But I-” Heisenberg paused, leaving you reeling. It was true though, wasn't it? Convenience. No emotions involved in it. “-I don't know what the hell happened.” He finally admitted, his voice soft. “I don't know when it changed for me. Whether it even changed at all, or if it was always like that and I was just ignoring it. I'm, uh, not exactly experienced here, and I guess I can blame it on that.”

“‘Experienced’ how?” You managed to ask, a hysterical giggle escaping you when he stuttered and fell silent. “Seriously?”

“This isn't how I-look, sugar, I figured me dying, me wiping out all those lycan freaks and probably dying in the process–I mean it wasn't great, but I thought I could at least be useful. I'm not…good.” His voice faded to an awkward mumble. “Good, like how you are.”

One thing at a time. You could process that later. “All the lycans?” The woods had been peaceful the last few months. You hadn't really thought…damn. 

Karl nodded, his jaw set in a grim line.

“You…You really thought you were gonna’ die?” You felt a little nauseous when he nodded again. “How? You're so tough!”

“I'd never fought the horde on their turf. They holed up in my factory after-” he gestured at himself. “-everything.” The man sighed heavily, rotating his shoulder. “Brought the house down on top of them and me. Not sure how long I fought them before then.”

“You've got to be shitting me.” You planted your palms on the table, shoving your chair out behind you from the force as you stood. “You went back there and nearly got yourself killed-”

“Yes.” Heisenberg cut you off. “I did, sugar, and I'd do it again.”

“Why though?” You exclaimed, incredulous.

“You really don't know?” He asked, sounding just as incredulous. “You try coming to a realization like I did when you're fucking–balls deep in someone!” His eyes widened, the man dropping his head to thud against the table after a moment of stunned silence. “Dammit,” he snarled, his voice muffled.

“W-what realization?” You knew you should probably leave it alone. It was an invasive question and, despite the intimacy the two of you had shared, an apology was already on your lips when it was cut off by a loud groan from Karl.

“That I–that you–” the man floundered, then suddenly jerked his head up to fix you with an appropriately-intense look. “I think I love you.”

What.

What?!

Your shoulders dropped, hands slack on the tabletop. You stared at Karl, but all he did was stare back at you, his gaze one of weary resignation.

I think I love you. 

“S-So–” Gods, when had your mouth become so dry?! “So you don't know?” You half-squeaked, half-choked on the words.

“I've never felt this way before,” was his blunt reply. “I can only infer from the evidence.” He didn't seem thrilled about the circumstances, but maybe that could also be chalked up to his lack of experience.

“Is it…are you okay with it?”

Karl's brow furrowed, and then he offered you a slow, firm nod. “...yeah. Had a lot of time to think during my walk back. Even if you…I mean, if you think I'm gross-looking now, that's okay. I'd understand.”

You blinked, entirely baffled. Gross? Sure, he had a few new scars on his face. They only stood out to you because the tissue was still pink, unlike the silvery lines that had littered his visage before. But that wasn't gross, not to you anyway. 

Karl was still talking however, and it seemed that he was picking up speed. “Sugar, I showed up, an unknown, a starving wolf at your door and yet you showed me kindness, even if it was just a favor for that fat bastard at first. You fed me from your own damn plate, let me take comfort in you.” His words hitched momentarily when he continued, “I was just so–so twisted and broken, I didn't understand that you could offer with open hands. I didn't understand what you had given me and then I realized as I was throwing myself at the lycan hive that…I was an idiot. It wasn't that I wanted to die, I wanted to live! I'd never wanted to live so much in my damn life, so I could get back to you, so I could apologize, so I could–” Heisenberg's fists clenched, the man soldiering on doggedly, “so I could tell you how I…felt. How I think I feel.”

“So you could tell me that you love me.” You were reeling. 

“Yes.” His broad shoulders caved a little, the man shrinking into himself. “And now you know. Now I know. But I don't know what to do. I've never…this hasn't happened before.”

You picked up your glass of water and drained it in one long gulp, attempting to buy time while your brain ran through a million possibilities at once. Your main takeaway, however, was simple. He loves me. A warm sensation flooded your body, tingling down to your fingertips. He loves me. “Want me to offer some input?” You asked, your steps light as you rounded the table. 

Heisenberg nodded dully, his eyes fixed on the bowl of stew in front of him. You gently brought your hands up to cup his chin, tilting his face so you could meet his gaze. You found no regret in that stare, only apprehension, which was immensely heartening.

“Next time you have a realization like that, talk to me.” You said in a sweet tone, the ‘loving’ pat you gave him on the cheek not quite a smack. “Don't pull something like that again…and I'll let you stay with me.”

“You…what, seriously?” Karl demanded, his eyes widening. “You'll let me stay here? Even after-”

“Don't push your luck,” you warned, blowing a raspberry at him when he began to laugh incredulously. “This isn't a vacation, after all! You'll need to fix holes in the roof, help me with the supplies every year, check the traps-”

Karl swept you up in a hungry kiss, effectively cutting off your eternal to-do list. “That all sounds wonderful, sugar.” He murmured against your lips. “Let me finish lunch and I'll get right on it.”

Thoroughly flustered, you stammered out in protest, “i-i-it's not going to be easy, Karl! Don't agree to this unless you understand the burden of responsibility you're taking on.”

“I do.” He insisted around his first mouthful of bread. “I pr’mise.”

…

He wasn't certain where your underwear had gone, but he was immensely grateful for its absence. You leaned forward, taking his dick out of your mouth for a second to catch your breath and Karl forced your knees to slide out on either side of him with his forearms so he could draw his tongue along your cunt. His thumbs spread you open, the man rumbling when he felt your breath hitch. Then, Karl delved his tongue into you, making you moan and whimper around his dick while he slowly, slowly ate you out.

Karl could feel his heartbeat in his neck when your thighs suddenly snapped shut around his head, hips rocking back and forth as you ground yourself against his mouth. Finally, someone who could be as greedy as he was.

His own hips bucked upwards, driving his cock into your throat mercilessly while you continued to attempt to crush his skull. Your thighs were trembling, body undulating helplessly. All Karl could do was urge you onward and that's exactly what he did, his voice a low burr against your cunt as he demanded that you come for him. It didn't matter that you'd already come before, it didn't matter that you were still sloppy and fucked-out from his previous, extremely enthusiastic efforts. Karl wanted more and he knew you did too.

Your pelvis lurched abruptly, breath coming in sharp little gasps as you began to climax. The former Lord growled in satisfaction, clasping his hands up over your thighs to pin you where you were as you rode out your orgasm. 

“Mmm, told you that you had one more in you,” he hummed, grinning when you whined your annoyance at him. “Shh, no complaining sugar, or I'll wring another one out of you for fun.” As if to prove his point Karl slid a finger into you, using it to massage your still-trembling walls. You whimpered but made no attempt to wriggle away from him, so Heisenberg simply carried on gently stroking his finger in and out of your entrance. “One more, sugar, c'mon, match me.” The man teased, his eyes half-lidding when you took his dick in hand once more.

“You're ridiculous-” You panted. He could hear the laughter in your words despite your evident breathlessness. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sugar.” Karl patted your leg, guiding you to turn around and slide back down to straddle his thighs. He then sat up slightly, meeting you halfway in a hungry kiss. “I love you,” he sighed, finding his eyes still searching your own for reassurance. 

But then you smiled at him, knocking your forehead gently against his own. “And I love you, Karl.”

I love you. 

“‘Course you do,” Karl breathed, half to himself. You rolled your eyes at him and your wry chuckle was music to his ears, as was your singsong reply.

“Of course I do.”

#karl heisenberg #lord karl heisenberg #eventual romance #fix it fic #au #resident evil #re 8 #re 8 village #resident evil village #resident evil karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine #re 8 karl heisenberg #slow burn #epilogue

[himegureisu]

bestie think abt this

Long haired snape

I'm talking like lucius malfoy style!!! Maybe he ties his hair with a little ribbon!

In my head Tobias used to insist keeping his hair short but he grew it out after lily died bcs he just didn't have the energy to do anything for awhile much less take care of his hair so he grew it out?

Does he braid it?? Who taught him how to braid? His mom? Lily? Did he teach himself?

Anyway he usually keeps it out of the way when he's alone but maybe he forgot to untie his hair before teaching or something and since then there are students who want braid his hair (imagine like the kids braiding rapunzel hair in tangled vibes 😭)

Hair

Summary: Severus Snape. Long Hair. In Braids. Wearing Glasses. You [Female]. I hope you like it. Teehee💓

——————————— 🪄———————————

His long hair brought a sense of warmth to the cold that often went through the air.

In the past, the energy required to keep appearances was exhausting but must be done. His father threatened to shave his head, should he not cut his hair the appropriate length. His death and his mother’s neglect brought on the freedom to grow it long.

On the first winter of his long hair, at the Three Broomsticks, you couldn’t help but notice that he frequently attempted to tuck his hair behind his ear but remained futile.

His attention on a book of advanced potions when you approached, a friendly smile on your face, and a simple black scrunchie at hand.

“Would you like a tie for your hair?” you asked, his scowl disappeared, lips forming a thin line instead, “I noticed you were having trouble with it. Do you want me to tie it for you?”

Most people didn’t bother but you did. You even offered to tie and teach him. That’s how your relationship began.

It’s been eight years since then, five years married, three years dating.

In front of a mirror, you styled his dark locks, a braided half ponytail, on a silver velvet ribbon. Your cheeks flush at the sight of his serious face, round reading glasses on, as he read a book.

His hair was often in a half ponytail that would suffice until you could fix it. His fingers weren’t as nimble, arms not flexible, or long enough, as yours to do complicated braids. In time, he didn’t mind. Your hair braids becoming an intimate ritual between the two of you and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your bubbles were popped by the bell, echoing throughout the castle signifying the last five minutes before first period.

“Severus,” you remember, “Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to first period?”

“Oh bloody hell,” he grumbled, standing to kiss your cheek, “Thank you, darling, I must go,”

It was a Friday. His third years has Potions for first period.

To say his snakes and the lions were surprised was an understatement, his entrance followed by the scent of sandalwood, fresh parchment, billowing robes, long braided hair, and round glasses left them speechless.

Who knew he could look so hot?

There were some of his students infatuated from then on. Their gazes clouded, cheeks pink, and giggles soft lest they raise his ire but the desire was there.

“Did you know you made hearts swoon today, Professor?” you teased, at the Great Hall, during dinner, “Several students came to me complimenting your looks,”

“You deserve the praise, you braided it,” he simply answered, the goblet of water on his lips, “Are you jealous?”

“No, is there any reason to be?” you asked, he shakes his head, “Then that’s that. Besides…”

Your left hand makes its’ way underneath the table, gently brushing over his shaft, and taking his left up above to your sight. His wedding ring, usually charmed to be invisible, shines at top of yours in the soft orange hues of the room.

Your engagement and wedding rings were known to the students but his wasn’t though you doubt they noticed it.

“It’s not the only thing you’d forgotten,” you smile, he groaned in realization, “It’s okay. It was bound to happen at some point,”

“Unbelievable,” he sighed.

His younger snakes started to approach and give gifts for him to put on his hair. At first, he declined but couldn’t bear the face when the little one nearly cried at the denial.

Since then, he would put them on and anyone who made a comment on it found themselves deducted of five house points. They tried to convince him to let them braid his hair but he was unyielding.

Only you would braid his hair. That’s sacred between the two of you.

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #hp #harry potter #severus snape fanfiction #snape #professor snape #hogwarts #fanfiction #snape x you #severus snape x you

[isaut]

𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆— f!reader x chrollo lucilfer. 2.7k, refurbished. original: ao3

click the ao3 link to read the first two parts <3 love you

The first thing you notice when you get home is that Kuroro is not indoors. He’s not in the kitchen, he’s not sprawled out on the couch, he’s not in the bathroom shaving away barely-noticeable stubble. Instead, he’s sitting out on the patio, dressed in sweatpants and a chunky sweater, a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other. 

When you push open the door, he looks up from his book and over his shoulder at you. The gentle breeze messes with his hair, brushing it against his forehead. 

“What are you doing out here?” You ask, though the answer is obvious. 

“Reading,” Kuroro says, waiting for the door to shut behind you before taking a drag of the cigarette. 

You cross the tile to greet him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to tilt his head back and look up at you. Not that he wasn’t going to do that already. 

“Why’re you smoking?” You ask. Your thumb rubs over his tattoo, flattening the creases there. 

“Just got off a work call,” Kuroro says, brushing off the concern in your voice. “How was your appointment?” 

You press another kiss to his forehead, then to his lips. Taking a seat beside Kuroro, you hold your hands out to him. He sets his book– Nietzsche– face down over his thigh, taking your hand in his own. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles. 

Your nails are neat and freshly manicured. Your traditional cherry red has been forgone, in favor of long French nails with tips that seem to be dipped in a cream colored velvet, instead of a traditional white. The little jolts of silver chrome felt too young for you, but your nail tech had insisted it would complete the look. And they do look remarkable: the chill of winter is still present but spring is gladly anticipated. 

Kuroro brings your fingers to his lips, leaving a soft kiss against them. 

“They look beautiful,” Kuroro says. “As do you.” 

“You’re a flatterer.” He is— there’s not a drop of makeup on your face and you’re dressed in a sweater and jeans. Not even your hair is done. You’re going out to dinner tonight, saving your good looks for the evening. A nice, expensive place called Emerald that you’ve wanted to try for ages. They boast filling dinners and wine pairings, and a reservation list miles long. 

The frequency of fancy date nights landing on the same day as your nail appointments had increased significantly over the past few months. You don’t dare let yourself wonder— don’t dare lead yourself on— that there might be a proposal in the works. That’s territory that you don’t think your heart would ever recover from. 

After all, you had initially been the reluctant one. IT wasn’t that Kuroro had worn you down, no, it was that you wore yourself down. Tired of lying every night, every day to yourself. And now, with you subconscious whispering about a desire you’ve never felt… You stomp it out. 

(Even if you do let your subconscious dream about it.)

For a few moments, your dress feels too simple. Boring, almost. Silky with an open neck. Kuroro had gifted you the earrings you wear a long time ago: the dripping pearls had been one of his first ‘just because’ gifts. You futz with your hair, which is swooped off your neck. 

You take a deep breath. Decide which perfume to wear– Settling for one with a red label that Kuroro loves. He likes to play a guessing game with your new perfumes, taking deep inhales against your wrist and behind your ear to try and guess the notes when he lets himself get a little tipsy.

“Ready to go?” Kuroro asks, coming into the bathroom door. He’s dressed to match: in a black turtleneck with a blazer to match. In his hand are your heels, toe box hanging from his fingers. He pauses, blinking once. “You look ethereal.” 

Your face warms. “Thank you. You look very handsome.” You wish he’d slick his hair back more often– Instead it’s down to cover his tattoo. 

“Please,” Kuroro says, with a smile on his face and in his voice. He rests a hand on your hip and presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m simply a shadow in your presence.” 

You let yourself rest back against him. His hand slides to sit securely over your stomach, kisses descending down your face and neck. 

“I don’t want to rush you,” Kuroro murmurs against your skin, “But traffic is getting bad.” 

“I just need to finish here,” You say, holding up the perfume bottle, “And then I’ll be ready to leave.” 

Kuroro’s eyes glimmer. “Want some help?” 

Gladly, you pass the task off to Kuroro. He sets your shoes down, exchanging them for the bottle. There’s a careful spritz to your wrists, your neck, even one to your hair. He descends, moving the slit on the back of your dress to reveal the backs of your knees, and offers a spritz to each, then a kiss and a grab to your ass. 

You can’t help but giggle at the attention. Kuroro rises with a boyish grin on his face, capping the perfume and putting it amongst all your others. 

“Let me take you to dinner,” Kuroro says. 

“Does my makeup look alright?” 

Kuroro takes a moment to regard you. There’s only one answer to the question– you take his breath away no matter how you look– But he’ll gladly take a reason to gaze at the beauty laid before him. 

“Ravishing.” He wants to kiss the little mole on your cheekbone, the one you’ve highlighted with a touch of makeup, but refrains. He can kiss it later. 

Smiling, you stand on your toes to kiss him softly on the lips. “I love you,” You murmur. 

“To the moon and back,” Kuroro replies. Your heart skips a beat. 

Deep, jeweled green line every velvet surface, accented by dark oak woods. Kuroro takes the host’s job and pulls out your chair for you, pressing a kiss to your temple once you are settled. He sits beside you, adjacent at the corner of the small, square table. 

You pull your gaze away from the decor to face Kuroro. Reaching over, you lace your fingers with his, giving his hand a little squeeze. 

“Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“Who else would I bring?” Kuroro asks, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss against your knuckles. 

“I don’t know. I’m just being grateful.” 

Kuroro knows exactly how you feel. Not only does his heart have a mouthful of love, of longing, of lust, he is filled to the brim with memories of your diary entries. A small, black book that you have multiples of, spanning for almost a decade tucked away in a vintage suitcase in the back of the closet. I didn’t know I could ever be loved like this accompanies the I didn’t know I could ever love like this in multiple entries. 

Feeding you well is the least he can do to show that he agrees with your sentiments. At first, he’d been appalled that you were so unused to being taken out by romantic partners, past bars and nightclubs and drunken shawarma runs. Taking you out is the least he can do to prove that you should be loved like all the romance books you fill your mind with. 

Kuroro rests his hand on your thigh when you clink your wine glasses together, in a little celebration of your relationship. His hand passes up and down the expanse of fabric. You rest your hand over his, fingertips to his knuckles. 

Your conversation lingers over vast topics. First, the appetizers. Then, the wine pairings. It’s all quite normal, in fact. Much like any other date you’ve been on. Soon, your conversation will veer towards novels. You’re positive Kuroro will want to discuss what he was reading earlier. Philosophy isn’t your strong suit. (And, years ago, you would have drowned yourself for being so eager, so willing, to listen to a man explain anything to you.) 

Except. Kuroro’s normally steady gaze wavers. It flits around the room, brown and gray intermingling and looking almost anywhere but you. 

Furrowing your brow, you reach over to rest your hand on Kuroro’s thigh. He swallows. 

“You okay, angel?” You ask, voice gentle. You try and smother the irritated part of you, that cries in your chest about how nice you look tonight, how much you crave his attention. 

Most days, most nights, he looks ready to sink his teeth into you at any moment. You suppose he already did that, long ago. 

Kuroro nods, and takes a sip of his wine. It sloshes down the guilt in his throat. “Yes. I just– I should be here, mentally.” He takes your hand from his thigh to hold in his hand, bringing it to his lips. “You deserve my full attention, after all.” 

It’s easy to recognize the apology, despite Kuroro’s penchant to avoid apologies at all odds. “If something’s bothering you, you can talk about it.” You run your thumb over what you can reach of his fingers. 

Kuroro sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “I can’t. It’s work.” 

You pout slightly, a sound of pity coming from the back of your throat. Kuroro agrees. He is pitiful. 

It’s a common phrase that leaves your lips next. One you’ve said a thousand times to the man beside you. “You know I just want to do anything I can to help.” 

“I know,” Kuroro says. “And I appreciate it. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.” 

You pull slightly on his hand. “Can I have a kiss?” 

“To show my appreciation?” Kuroro’s already leaning in. 

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You roll your eyes in a teasing, flirty manner. “Yes, to show your appreciation. Or maybe just to give me a kiss.”  

The world was already just your table. Kuroro’s lips press against yours, and the world closes in, like a blanket being pulled tight around you in a cold room. You hope he’s always the man beside you– The feeling over takes you, pulls your breath away. The phantom feeling of Kuroro’s lips lingers on your own as you pull away from each other, fingers still intertwined. 

Your mouth falls into a little ‘o.’ 

“Take your breath away?” Kuroro teases. 

“No, I mean, yes, but you also took some of my lipstick with you.” You motion to the spot on your own lips. Mirrored on Kuroro’s face, there was a little, glossy splotch on his lips. 

Kuroro brings his napkin up, attention on your lips as he tries to remove the gloss. “It’s spicy.” Truly, it’s nothing more than a little tingle, but he can’t tell if he’s supposed to have a more adverse reaction to it. 

“It’s plumping,” You smile. “I don’t think it works that well over this lipstick though.” 

Kuroro’s lips turn to a pout– a little more expressive since you can’t quite see his brows. “I think you look very kissable.” 

“You always think I look kissable.” 

“Ah, you caught me.” There’s a little twinkle in his eye as he sits back, making room for the entrees to be set on the table. 

Food is delivered as if servers were waiting for an opportune moment. A moment that wouldn’t be interrupting. And the food is good, you eat happily. Kuroro listening as you speak praises of the food, talk about the flavors and the hints. His brown eyes are soft. As is the fond expression on his face. 

“Here, try this,” Kuroro offers, cutting a scallop in half. He holds his fork out to you, and you lean in to take the bite from it. 

The ice around Kuroro’s heart softens. It doesn’t cross your mind how vulnerable the position is. 

“Do you like it?” Kuroro asks. 

You nod, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. “It’s really good.” 

“Swap with me,” Kuroro says, nodding to the salmon before you. 

“Do you not like it?” 

“I do, but you’ll like it more.” 

He reaches over and effortlessly swaps both plates. Your core throbs at the motion, at the waft of cologne you get. You close your eyes to take a breath. When you look over at Kuroro, it’s through lidded eyes. 

“You’re so attractive,” You swoon. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 

Kuroro grins. “My partner has before. Perhaps you’ve met her. Beautiful eyes, great smile, better taste. Her name’s Ophelia.” 

You match his grin. “She sounds wonderful.” You reach and place your hand on his arm, pouting in a fake, over exaggerated manner. “It’s a shame you’re taken. I think we would make such a good couple.” 

“What makes you say that?” Kuroro asks, taking a bite of the salmon that rested before him. 

“Oh, you know,” You also take a bite, thinking it over. “We both like the same books. You like indulging me in dancing.” 

“I enjoy dancing with you,” Kuroro gently corrects you. “I’m also indulging myself.” 

That pleases you. “What else are you indulging in?” 

“Your company,” Kuroro replies without a second thought. 

Your face warms. 

“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Kuroro says, though his stomach sinks when he speaks. He doesn’t let it show, putting on his soft eyes. “In fact, I have something for you.” 

Your stomach swirls. “You have something for me?” 

“I’ll give it to you when we’re done eating.” 

“What is it?” You press. 

“It’s a secret.” 

It’s presented to you between dinner and dessert. You don’t know if you should be happy or disappointed that the jewelry box is set on the table before you. It’s too long to be a ring. Taking a deep breath, you open it at Kuroro’s gentle nudging. 

Laid upon blue velvet is a bracelet that matches your earrings. Pearls drip from the chain, circling around it. You glance from it to Kuroro, who regards you with such soft eyes. It causes guilt to well up in your throat that you were being so selfish and going against your better judgment, wishing for more than you deserved. 

“Do you like it?” Kuroro asks. 

Ah. Your reaction. You nod. “It’s gorgeous, angel.” Removing it from the velvet, you let it drag through your fingers, feeling its weight. “Here, put it on me?” 

Kuroro takes the bracelet and your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before clasping the bracelet around your wrist. It’s a perfect fit. Of course it is. Kuroro has never given you an ill fitting gift. In fact, he’s never given you a bad gift. It’s just… You wish this gift was something a little different. 

And that tugs on your heart. On the part of it that is thankful everyday for Kuroro, and the ways that he cares for you: the acts of service and the words of affirmation. The way he’s nestled inside your incorrectly labeled ‘frozen heart.’

Kuroro’s gaze lingers on you. Sweeps up and down your figure. Hovers over your eyes. 

Fuck him. He’s too good at this, too good at knowing you. 

“What happened?” Kuroro asks, voice gentle. 

You swallow. Your throat feels tight with guilt, with disappointment. With guilt again. “I just got hit with a wave of grief, I’m sorry.” 

Now that you’ve used it for fodder, the wave of grief crashes over you. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Kuroro says. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing another kiss to it. “Would you like to talk about it?” 

“No,” You say. “I don’t want to cry here.” 

Taking a deep breath, you squeeze Kuroro’s hand. “Thank you. I love it. I love you.”

Kuroro’s eyes are still analytical over your face. However, he doesn’t press for more information. “I’m with you to the moon and back.” 

You inhale quickly through your nose. “Tell me about Nietzsche. That’s what you were reading earlier, wasn’t it?” 

Kuroro doesn’t correct your pronunciation as he’s prone to. Instead, he smiles slightly and nods, indulging you in philosophy over dessert. Your tiramisu is paired with sweet wine and the Four Great Errors. 

#chrollo x reader #library #kuroro x reader #kuroro #by ophelia

[mari-writes]

❤️

For Bokuto and Akaashi's first Valentine’s Day together, it’s surprisingly Akaashi who goes all-out with the stereotypical gifts and traditions. 

He buys Bokuto a large bouquet of red roses, makes a homemade greeting card complete with an original love poem that he wrote, and even attempts to bake a batch of homemade chocolates (those are the least successful, but Bokuto will probably eat them anyway).

They meet up at the train station near Bokuto’s university. The older boy’s face splits into a delighted grin when he sees the flowers.

“Wow! Thanks!” Their fingers brush as he accepts the bouquet. “I didn’t think you’d like any of this super romantic sort of stuff!”

Akaashi blushes hotly. “Well, I don’t,” he admits. “But I know that you do, so…”

Bokuto brings him in for a close hug and a peck on the cheek. “And I barely did anything because I know that you don’t!” He laughs. “What a pair we are. Eh, Akaashi?”

Akaashi chuckles. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

They walk slowly back to Bokuto’s dorm, where Akaashi quickly presents his boyfriend with his other gifts.

“You’re really showing me up here!” Bokuto says, mouth already full of candy. His eyes shimmer with something like wonder as he reads his personalized valentine card for the umpteenth time.

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “It’s not a competition, Bokuto-san.”

“I know that!” Bokuto leans across the couch to retrieve something from his gym bag. “But I mean… compared to all of this, my present really isn’t much…”

Akaashi spots the gift and his heart immediately starts racing.

It’s a box. A small, black, velvet box with silver hinges. It’s the type of box that can only hold one very specific thing.

Akaashi feels his jaw drop. He and Bokuto have only been together for six months! They’re still so young! It couldn’t be—

It’s a ring. A simple, silver ring with a wavy golden design carved through the middle. Akaashi notices the color is a very similar shade to his boyfriend’s eyes. “Bo-Bokuto-san, I…”

“It’s just a promise ring!” Bokuto exclaims, waving his arms around frantically. “I’m not—I’m not asking you to marry me or anything! I mean, not yet… I know that’ll come eventually, but…”

Akaashi chokes on nothing as Bokuto just keeps rambling.

“… it’s just a symbol! Yeah, like, a symbol of our… umm, love?” He raises his right hand swiftly to show off a matching ring. This one has a blue-green design—Akaashi’s eyes.

“Bokuto-san, y-you definitely got me the most romantic gift.” Akaashi is embarrassed at how fast he’s tearing up. “And you said it was ‘barely anything?’ R-ridiculous!” He hurriedly takes out the ring and slips it on.

Bokuto chuckles and grabs his hand. Their fingers intertwine, the two silver bands touching briefly. Akaashi takes a deep breath, momentarily overwhelmed, and Bokuto patiently waits for him to recover.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Keiji,” Bokuto says, and Akaashi feels like he’s floating.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Koutarou.”

// This story was first written in 2021. The original was riddled with errors, so I decided to repost. I wanted to expand it and upload it to A03… but I ran out of steam. It’s been a really rough week. Still, I hope you enjoyed this little thing. Please comment and share if you did! 

#bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #akaboku #bkak #my writing #drabble #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfiction #happy valentine's day

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

G- Goofy

A/N- i was very excited to write this one! i’ve been dying to learn how to play dnd and though i don’t have a very good understanding of it i’m glad i could do a little research and try my best to incorporate something like this in a bedroom sense. cause let’s be honest, this is 100% something that Eddie would do. please bear with me, this is the first time i’ve written something kinky and also the first time i’ve written anything about dnd and i’m not the most well versed when it comes to things like that 😅 i also want to apologize for how long it’s taken me to finish this, it’s my longest fic to date! to be honest i’m quite proud of it so i hope you all enjoy it too 🥰🫶 and for those of you who aren’t aware, this is a fic for my series based on my NSFW alphabet 🖤

Genre- Fluff, Smut

Warnings- reader has female anatomy, p in v sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), body worship, use of handcuffs and blindfold, overstimulation, use of ice cubes, nipple play (i think that’s it 😅)

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian @heydreamchild

Words- 7.2k

You giggled as you sat on your end of Eddie’s bed as he placed a small wooden tray down onto the blankets between you two. On it was a small velvet bag, a little notebook, and a few other romantic touches like flower petals and a few pieces of chocolate.

Tonight was the night you and Eddie had been planning for a while, or at least he’d been planning it for a while. He had been hinting all week at having something special planned, even getting you little gifts to prepare for it. On Monday it was a new little bottle of perfume that you knew he picked out with himself in mind, considering the smell of rose and strawberry mixed in with your natural pheromones was a major turn on for him.

Tuesday was a new pair of black fishnet stockings, complete with a black lace garter belt to keep them held up, which was perfect considering he had destroyed your last pair.

Wednesday was some new makeup that you said you’d been dying to try out. A deep red lipstick, new eyeliner and mascara, and Eddie added one of his own personal touches by getting you a new set of makeup brushes with little bats all over them that he had to have been waiting to give you since Halloween.

Thursday night was a new pajama set, though it was more like lingerie than pajamas. A silk blood red negligee with black lace trim, with a long robe to match it. It was comfortable, it was sexy, and it was what Eddie loved to see you in. Though he would prefer to see you in nothing, this was a pretty good compromise.

Friday night was your favorite gift. A silver chain with a little ‘E’ pendant that hung so prettily around your neck, and you could tell from the way that Eddie placed it so delicately around your neck that he had been planning on giving it to you for a while, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to mark you as his for everyone to see.

Finally, Saturday night came, and Eddie had all of your little presents laid out on his bed for you to change into as soon as you got back home.

He hadn’t told you what your surprise had been, but when he walked into your bedroom with a big smile on his face, wearing only his black boxers and carrying that tray in you knew it had to be good.

You glanced over and saw that he had a few things out on his nightstand as well, things that he wouldn’t normally bring out during sex. There was his handcuffs obviously, but you also saw a small bowl filled with ice cubes, a blindfold, his bandana that he loved to use as a gag, and a lit candle that you seem to remember seeing hidden away in one of his nightstand drawers.

“What’s all this for?” You asked him with a giggle.

Eddie smiled and clapped his hands together, looking at the tray he had set up before him,

“Sweetheart, i have something very special planned for us…” He reached out for the little black bag and untied the top strings, pouring out the contents of it onto the tray and your eyes widened seeing all the different dice fall out.

“Are those new? Oh god, what do you have planned?” You said between giggles.

Eddie tossed the small bag onto his nightstand and reached his hand out to your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss.

“They are princess, and i got them just for us to use. You know i’ve been giving you all those presents this week, but i never told you what i had planned for tonight…” He picked up the little book and flipped through a few of the pages, “I know you said you wanted to try and learn some more stuff about Dungeons and Dragons, and you wanted to try out some new stuff in the bedroom, so i made us our own little kinky roleplay session to do together.”

Your heart was racing, your face bright pink from your blush and Eddie could tell you we’re excited from your smile.

“Really?! Aww, Eddie that sounds like fun! How do we do it?”

“Alright sweetheart, here’s how it’s going to work,” Eddie cleared off the board in front of him, opening the small book to the first page, “I’m going to tell you something that i want to do to you, but instead of just doing it you’re going to roll a specific die and that’ll decide what we’ll do. So, for example, i want to kiss you and i’m sure you want to kiss me too, but you’re going to roll the D20 to see who initiates it.”

Eddie handed you the D20 and you rolled it onto the board in front of you as you bit your lip, watching as it landed and Eddie leaned over with a smile,

“Looks like you rolled a 12 sweetheart,” Eddie leaned himself over the bed and placed his hand behind your neck, bringing you closely into him, “Even means i initiate, odd means you do.”

Your hands went to gently hold onto the sides of his neck as he pressed his lips to yours with a smile, gently suckling your bottom lip as he pulled away.

Though this was just the start of the night Eddie had planned for you, seeing how much thought he put into it was so sweet, and even more of a turn on for him to bring his nerdy things into the bedroom.

“Good girl, you’re catching on quick.” He moved himself back and you were sat on your legs, eager to see what would happen when you rolled the others. He picked up two more of the dies and held them out for you to take,

“These are the D10 and the D8. Normally, you’d use two D10’s but to be completely honest with you i felt like using one would just be easier for us.” You giggled and looked at them in your hand, quickly figuring out which one was which.

“So what do i use these for?”

“The D10 is going to decide what kind of foreplay we’re doing, and the D8 decides how long we’re doing it for. And you can roll as many times as you want sweetheart, i’m feeling generous tonight.”

“Oh, is that right?” You said with another giggle before rolling the D10, “Or do you just want to see how long we can keep all your nerdy stuff in the bedroom?”

“Maybe a bit of both.” He said with a smile before looking at what you rolled, checking the little black book still in his hand, “You rolled a 1, so that means we’re just making out for…” He said as he waited for you to roll the D8, watching it closely, “Damn, only two minutes.”

“That’s ok! I plan on rolling it a couple of times tonight.” You said with a smile, biting your bottom lip,

“Do you want to roll the D20 to see who initiates it?”

“Absolutely! You’re catching on pretty quick.” Eddie eagerly reached out and rolled the D20, the both of you watching it carefully to see what it landed on,

“7. You initiate sweetheart.”

You nearly jumped into Eddie’s lap from your place on the bed, straddling his waist as your hands went behind his neck to pull you in close. His hands immediately went to your body, one grabbing hold of your waist while the other held the back of your thigh, kneading the soft flesh of your ass in his hand as his lips met yours.

Your make out session was quick, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hot and heavy. You were grinding your hips into his lap as your tongue gently pushed your way past his lips, and he tasted of sweet cherry, almost like he was hoping you would pounce on him as soon as you got the chance to taste his lips on yours.

As you pulled away, you gently bit his bottom lip and giggled as he held you in his lap for a few moments,

“Fuck, princess, you can’t be doing shit like that to me on a night like this… You’re gonna make me want to take you right here and now and say ‘fuck it’ to this whole night i had planned out for us, you wouldn’t want that would you?”

You giggled and pressed your forehead to his, gently kissing the tip of his nose,

“I don’t know… Maybe i do, and maybe i want to see what happens with the next roll…”

Eddie smiled and slid the board next to you to keep you in his lap.

You reached for the D10 once again and you both watched with anticipation waiting for it to finally land, and Eddie smiled as he saw the 6 land upright on the board.

“On your stomach baby girl,” He lifted you out of his lap and you did as he said, quickly removing the robe from your shoulders and gently placing it onto the floor next to his bed, “rolling a 6 means you get a nice relaxing massage, and i’m going to be doing it for…” He picked up the D8 and rolled it on the board, “4 minutes! I’ll make sure to go nice and slow just how you like it.”

You smiled and your body relaxed into his bed as Eddie moved himself over you, straddling the back of your legs as his hands slowly moved up and down the sides of your back before placing a soft kiss to the space between your shoulder blades.

His hands moved slowly and gently, but still firm and loving as they kneaded the soft flesh of your back, making sure to leave a few kisses here and there as he admired your body beneath him.

You closed your eyes and let out a moan as he placed a kiss onto your back before he lifted up the back of your negligee and moved onto your lower back. His fingers delicately traced over your spine and he gripped your waist as he leaned down over you, pressing his chest into your back to whisper into your ear,

“Feels good baby girl?”

You smiled to him and nodded as your head was still relaxed into the pillow. He hovers his lips over your neck before leaving a trail of kisses down to your shoulder,

“My turn to roll princess…” He reached over for the D10 and smiled as he waited for it to land, his lips curling into a smile as it landed on a 2,

“It’s a 2! And that’s a very special roll too,” He moved himself off of you and laid next to you on the bed, his back propped up against the pillows as he moved his hand down and slowly rubbed over his cock that was still covered by the black fabric of his boxers, “If we roll a 2 or a 3 that means that either i’m going to eat you out or you’re going to suck me off… The D20 decides who goes first. Why don’t you roll the D8 for me baby?”

You smiled and sat yourself up onto your knees as you pulled off the negligee that was already halfway off thanks to Eddie being so eager during your back rub and leaned over to kiss him quickly before rolling the D8 on the board,

“Only 5 minutes handsome, but i think i’ve been able to make you cum in less than that before.” You said with a giggle as Eddie leaned over to grab the D20, making sure he was able to get a handful of your ass and squeeze as he did.

He rolled and you both watched it with anticipation, waiting for it to land until Eddie laid back into his place with a smile, sliding his boxers down his thighs,

“4 means i get to go first baby,” He got himself comfortable in his place as his cock sprung free, and though you’d obviously seen it plenty of times before, each time Eddie was fully exposed to you in his state of desire it always made you blush, “come over here and let me hold your pretty hair back. I wanna see your face when you gag.”

With a smile you eagerly moved yourself between Eddie’s legs, his hands moving through your scalp to collect your hair and hold it back out of your face as you leaned down and gently licked the head, already dripping with precum.

You looked up to Eddie as you placed open mouthed kisses all over his length and he watched with a smile, leaning his head back as you took the tip into your mouth and gently suckled on it before swirling your tongue around it.

Eddie was always very vocal whenever there was oral involved, wether it was you or him receiving he always let you know that he was enjoying it and this time was no exception.

As you slowly leaned your head down onto his cock, a few gravely moans escaped his throat as you slid your lips further and further down his length, pulling back as you reached halfway only to sink back onto it.

He hated it when you teased him but god you always made it feel so good. As dominant as he liked to be, when your mouth was on him he was like putty in your hands, entirely under your control. He watched your head bob up and down on him, and as you looked up you could see the glazed over look of lust in his eyes.

His head leaned back and Eddie let out another moan as his fingers gripped your hair, your lips now giving their full attention to his sensitive tip and as he started gently thrusting his hips upward you could tell he was getting closer.

“Stop!” He yelled out between moans.

You took your mouth off of him and looked up to him with concern in your eyes,

“What? Is everything ok?”

“Everything’s fine baby…” He had taken a few deep breaths to compose himself before bringing you close to him for a kiss, “It’s your turn, and i want to make sure i don’t cum until i’m inside you baby girl.”

You giggled and bit your lip as you swapped places with Eddie, laying back against his pillows as he positioned himself between your legs.

His hands slowly moved up and down your thighs before taking off the fishnets and garter, kissing down your legs as he pulled them off and tossed them away before moving to your panties.

His fingers hooked into the sides and placed a kiss to your clothed core before he slid them down your thighs, laying himself down on the bed as he tossed them with your stockings.

You giggled and moved your hands to the sides of his hair, moving it back from his face,

“Now it’s my turn to hold your pretty hair back handsome.”

Eddie smiled and looked up to you, placing a few more gentle kisses over your thighs before licking a long wet stripe through your folds,

“I love it when you talk sweet to me pretty girl.”

Whenever Eddie had his head between your thighs he loved to show you how much he really loved you, and wether he had all the time in the world or only the 5 minutes you were given from the roll of the D8, he wanted you to know how much he adored you.

His eyes stayed on you the entire time, watching as your head tilted back and your back arched as his tongue made sure to reach all the right places. With every whimper and moan that escaped your lips he was only encouraged to keep going for as long as you wanted him to.

One of his hands moved yours away from his hair to interlock your fingers together.

If he couldn’t hold you while he was making you feel this good, he wanted you to know that he was there to give you all the love and affection that he could. It only meant that when the time came for him to be in full control of your body, you knew that everything he did to you was out of pure love and respect for you.

Your legs wrapped themselves around his back, your plump thighs gently squeezing the sides of his head as your toes curled, getting closer and closer to cumming with every whine that left your lips.

With one last lick to your folds, he caught his breath and carefully unwrapped your legs from around him, climbing up and laying over you with his hands on either side of your head.

He brought one hand up and guided you up to his lips for a sweet, soft kiss, giggling as you pulled away,

“I can taste myself on you…”

Eddie giggled with you and pulled you in for a few more kisses before laying himself down over you, his hard cock resting between your legs as you held each other close.

He slowly pulled away from you, glancing over to his nightstand to all the little toys he had set up for him to use on you,

“Want to try the D6 angel? I think you’re going to like what we do with it.” He said, reaching over and handing you the D6.

You moved to lay on your stomach with Eddie moving to lay himself on top of you, placing kisses over your shoulder blades as you rolled the die onto the board.

“It’s a 2! What does that mean?”

Eddie smiled and placed another kiss onto your shoulder before getting off of the bed and grabbing his little book, flipping through the pages. He chuckled and set it back down onto the tray before leaning over to the nightstand, grabbing the blindfold and moving the tray onto the empty space,

“This die decides which little trinket i get to use on you. Rolling a 2 means that you get to be blindfolded, is that alright sweetheart?”

You nodded excitedly and sat up on the bed, moving to kneel before him on the mattress.

He smiled and carefully wrapped the black silk cloth over your eyes, making sure not to make it too tight or get it tangled into your hair as he tied it into a little bow in the back,

“How’s that?”

“It’s perfect! Not too tight but not loose enough to fall off.”

“Perfect. And you can’t see a thing can you?”

You blushed and shook your head, curious and yet nervous as to what Eddie planned on doing to you with this sense cut off.

He reached out and gently traced his fingertips down your arms, taking your hands in his and placing your palms onto his torso.

You smiled as you felt the soft skin of his abs under your fingers, moving them to his waist and bringing him in closer to you. Eddie stepped forward and you could feel his hands go to your shoulders, guiding you back into your position laid down on the pillows.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Eddie placed a trail of kisses down your neck to the valley of your breasts, “i’m going to take good care of you.”

He moved himself back up and placed a soft kiss onto your lips before reaching over and grabbing the D6,

“Here pretty girl, one more time.” He opened your palm and placed the die in your hand, moving the board over within your reach.

You giggled and rolled the die onto the board, hearing it come to a stop as it landed upright, and you heard Eddie chuckle. The weight shifted on the bed as Eddie reached over to the nightstand, and you could hear the gentle clinking of his handcuffs.

Your body shivered as you thought about being restrained once again, and though it was something Eddie loved to do often, you never got tired of it. He was always so gentle with you no matter how aggressive he liked to get, he always made sure that your comfort came before his pleasure.

A gentle gasp escaped your lips as he dragged the cold metal over your tummy.

“You rolled a 4. That means we get to use my favorite toy.” Eddie smiled as he gently took your hands, placing a kiss onto the back of each of them as he lifted them above your head, “Don’t worry sweetheart, i promise i won’t make them too tight.”

He placed one around your right wrist and lifted it all the way up to his headboard, pulling the other cuff through the metal bars and placing the other cuff around your left wrist.

“You know what to do sweetheart.”

You nodded and tugged at the cuffs, making sure that they were comfortable and secure around your wrists.

“Not too tight?” Eddie asked.

“Not too tight.” You confirmed for him with a smile.

“Good girl.” Eddie leaned over you and placed a kiss onto your forehead before reaching over to grab the die one last time,

“i’m rolling it one last time sweetheart, then i’ll play with you.”

You heard the die roll and land on the board and the weight shifted on the bed again as Eddie leaned over to the nightstand.

“We’re going to try something new tonight angel…”

“New? What do you me-“ Your sentence was cut off with a gasp, feeling a few drops of ice cold water drip onto your torso.

“It’s alright baby,” Eddie climbed up over you and grabbed your hand, tracing little patterns into the back of it with the ice cube in his hand, the cold water dripping down onto the sheets beneath you, “i rolled a 5, and that means we get to to try these ice cubes out. And i’ve been waiting so long to use them on you pretty girl.” He trailed the ice cube up your arm and slowly down your chest, your body shuddering as he circled it around your breast.

“If it gets too much you tell me, ok?”

You nodded and gasped again as he moved the ice cube to circle your nipple, the cold making it harden instantly and as Eddie heard you gasp again he moved the ice cube and wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, slowly circling his tongue around it to warm you back up before giving your other breast the same treatment.

Eddie made sure his lips followed the cool trail of water the ice left behind on your skin as he trailed it down your body. As the first ice cube melted over your skin, Eddie reached over and grabbed another one, placing it between his teeth as he tied his hair back. He kept it in place and trailed it over your body once more, this time letting the water flow down your skin, making you shiver and moan as it trailed down between your legs. The cold was almost too much but Eddie’s hot touch that followed soon after always made it feel so much better.

His lips touching your skin as he dragged the ice down your body helped keep you grounded and not get consumed by the pleasure but the ice cold water made every part of you more and more sensitive the longer he had it on your skin.

And all you could do was lay there and take it.

Of course you could always tell Eddie to stop and he’d listen but this sensation was entirely new and though it was different and difficult to keep your composure, you never wanted it to stop. You wanted him to keep using you like his plaything and try to hold on until he was finished with you.

The second ice cube finally melted and Eddie lifted his head away from your body, his hands spreading the little drips and trails of water all along your torso, watching as your skin shined under the dim light. There were little red marks all along your skin, and he couldn’t tell if someone of them were hickeys or from the ice but he loved every little mark he left behind on you. He needed you to always be marked up and claimed as his, wether other people could see it or not.

His fingers gently touched a few of the red spots along your torso and you whimpered and flinched at his touch from the ice making your skin sensitive. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t burn, but it intensified every little touch and kiss that Eddie left behind on your skin.

“Had enough baby?” Eddie asked just as he let the cold water drip from his fingertips right over your folds, making your legs twitch as the icy sensation ran all through your body.

You nodded and gently tugged at the cuffs around your wrists, begging Eddie to release you and let you touch him again.

He smiled and leaned over you, placing a few kisses along your body as he made his way up and put his arms on either side of your head. He kissed the space on your neck just below your ear before whispering,

“Need me to warm you up baby girl?”

You nodded and he carefully removed the blindfold from around your eyes, and as you blinked to let your eyes adjust to the light you saw the familiar look of lust in Eddie’s eyes.

He was smiling down at you, admiring the way that you were completely exposed and vulnerable just for him, and all he wanted to do was show you how loving he could be with you.

He reached over and moved the board towards you, grabbing his little black book and opening it up to one of the very last pages,

“Alright pretty girl, this is the last die we’re using tonight. Are you ready for it?”

You smiled and nodded, excited to see exactly what Eddie had planned for you, and even with your arms restrained all you wanted to do was wrap them around him and flip him onto his back, riding him into oblivion as your thank you for him making tonight so special and so fun for the both of you.

He picked up the last die from the board, the D4 and held it up for you to see,

“This is the D4. Usually it’s used for damage for smaller weapons, something that isn’t insanely important for gameplay, but it still has a purpose. And tonight this is going to be the most important die that we use.”

You tilted your body upwards to get a closer look at the page Eddie was smiling at in his little black book, but he softly pressed his hand to your chest and pushed you back onto the pillow,

“No peeking!” He giggled and moved the book back into his chest to keep you from looking, “I’m going to roll this one pretty girl, and I’ll tell you what it means afterwards.”

He smirked and as he rolled the die onto the board you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest.

The anticipation was killing you and as he rolled the die it felt like you were watching it in slow motion. You had no idea what he had planned for this last roll, but you knew that whatever it was, based on how your night together had gone so far, it had to be something good. Both of your eyes followed along with it and as you watched it land upright, the point at the top showing the number 1, you saw Eddie smile wide and you weren’t sure if you should smile too or be scared of what he had rolled.

He moved the board over to his nightstand along with the dice and his book, staying silent as he did so, a smirk on his lips as he set them down.

“Eddie?” You asked him nervously, still entirely unsure of what was to come.

He slowly moved himself between your legs, placing his hands onto your thighs and moving his palms along your soft skin,

“The D4 decides what position I get to fuck you in angel,” You looked up to him in awe as he kneeled above you, smiling down at you as you laid beneath him, completely vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do to you and yet he was being so caring and so gentle with you, “and I rolled a 1. That means I get to go nice and slow on top of you just how you like it.”

He settled himself between your legs, hands going to either side of your head as he peppered small kisses all along your neck, listening to the little moans escape your lips as he grinded himself along your folds. As he laid on top of you, he reached one arm over to his nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out a condom, bringing it up to his mouth and tearing it open with his teeth, moving his hand down between your bodies to slide it onto himself before placing his cock over your wetness and gliding over it.

Just the feeling of him grinding between your legs was enough to make you reach the peak of pleasure, but it was agonizing to not be able to touch him. He smiled down at you as he watched your face scrunch with each thrust,

“Baby girl, I’m not even inside you yet and you look like I’m about to make you cum.”

“Eddie…” You managed to squeak out between whimpers, “please…”

He smiled and heard you still struggling with the cuffs at your wrist, seeing how desperate you were to touch him,

“Alright baby, you get to pick one, do you want me to fuck you? Or do you want me to take those cuffs off?” He reached over and grabbed the key from his nightstand, “Because you know you can’t have both right now.”

“Cuffs. Please, i just need to touch you…” You kept tugging your arms down, hoping that they’d eventually break before Eddie was able to get the key anywhere near them.

“Cuffs it is sweetie, but you have to promise me that you’ll be good when they come off. You’re only allowed to touch me from where you’re laying.” He smirked seeing the desperation in your eyes, “You know the rules always make it more fun.”

You nodded and watched above your head as he grabbed your wrists and quickly unlocked the cuffs, tossing them onto the floor with the key still stuck in them as you brought your arms down to stretch them out. Eddie gently held your wrists and kisses over the little red indents left behind from the cuffs before he moved your arms to wrap around his neck as his hands went back to either side of your head.

“Better now?” He asked you, dipping his head down to place a few kisses onto the open spot on your neck as he continued grinding his length up and down, agonizingly slow between your legs.

You nodded and as you held him close to you, your arms wrapping around his back and your fingertips slowly tracing over his spine as you raised your legs up and carefully wrapped them around his waist just to feel him closer to you.

You could feel Eddie shift himself down between your legs and his tip searched for your entrance, your slick providing the perfect lubricant for him to slide in so easily,

“Ready pretty girl?”

You nodded eagerly and Eddie leaned his head up, pressing his lips to yours as he carefully pushed his tip to your slit, wanting to keep you silent as he heard your whimpers while he stretched you out. Your fingers were grasping at his back as you felt him push further into you.

The two of you have had sex before, it wasn’t like it was rare for him to completely lose himself with you every other night in bed, but every time he dragged out your night and extended the foreplay and his teasing it always felt like your first time together all over again. The slight pressure between your legs as he pushed himself inside you all the way to the hilt, his careful attitude making sure that you weren’t in any pain whatsoever, and his warmth and praise providing you with all the comfort you needed to take whatever it was he going to give to you.

He started out slow, keeping an even pace as you were wrapped around him, placing a small kiss onto your neck and shoulder each time he heard a little whimper leave your lips.

He loved getting to take his time with you.

Being able to feel how good he was making you feel, keeping your body pinned beneath him as he kept rhythmically pumping himself in and out of you. He loved how intimate it always felt to be so close to one another.

He could feel your fingertips dig deeper into his shoulders as your whimpers soon turned to moans, knowing that he was hitting that spot so perfectly, waiting for you to start begging him to go faster, to go harder.

“You always take me so well pretty girl…” Eddie chuckled as he felt your legs wrap tighter around his hips, bringing him in closer to you with each thrust, “You want me to go faster?”

The slow, soft, sweet pleasure was too much for words. All you could do was nod slowly as you placed gentle kisses all along his collarbone.

His grip tightened on the bedsheets beneath you as he picked up his pace, your arms wrapping tighter around him as you heard the sound of your hips clashing together between you.

You placed another kiss onto his shoulder as you heard his grunts and groans get louder and louder, knowing how hard he was trying to stay at a steady pace for you instead of holding you down and having his way with you. Thrusting into you as fast as he could as he gripped your hips and tossed one of your legs over his shoulder to hit your g spot at the perfect angle. But he wanted to be slow. He wanted to be sweet. He didn’t spend weeks planning out all your fun for him to treat it like it was any other time you had slept together.

He wanted to make tonight last as long as possible.

“Baby… I cant hold back much longer,” He pressed his lips harshly into your neck and you could feel that a few hickeys would need to be covered up the next morning before work, “I want you to roll again, just one last time, ok? And then i promise you that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow…”

He slowed his pace once more and you giggled as he leaned himself up off of you, giving you one last kiss before slowly pulling himself out of you as you unwrapped your arms and legs from around him.

You groaned as you turned your body to lay on your stomach, reaching out to grab the board from his nightstand and brought it onto the bed before you,

“Which one is it again Eds?”

Eddie laid over you, his chest to your back, and handed you the D4,

“This one my love, the D4,” You took it from him and giggled as he laid on top of you, his weight pushing your body into the mattress, “just roll it one more time for me pretty girl.”

He placed a few kisses along your shoulders and down your spine as you rolled the D4 onto the board, watching as it landed.

“It’s a two!” You said excitedly as Eddie’s lips worked their way back up your spine and you could feel him smile against your back as he laid back over you, reaching over your shoulder to place the board back onto his nightstand.

He moved onto his knees and placed his hands onto your thighs, spreading them wide as he moved himself between them, grabbing your waist and pulling your ass into him and earning another giggle from you,

“I’m guessing the two means you get to take me from behind?”

You adjusted your body, your ass and hips arched upwards as your chest was pressed into the bed, your arms in front of you to hold onto the edge of Eddie’s mattress.

“It does pretty girl, you’re so smart.” You giggled again as he grinded his hips into yours from behind, his length moving over your folds as he adjusted himself between your legs, “Do you want me to start slow like you like it sweetheart? Or am i allowed to use you?”

You arched your ass up a bit more for him,

“You can use me baby, i just want you to go in slow, ok?”

Eddie smirked and moved his hand down to spread your thighs wider, slowly inserting his tip back through your slit with his hands holding your hips to keep you steady,

“Anything for you baby girl.”

You gripped the sheets as he pushed further into you, tilting his head back and groaning as he was fully sheathed inside you, he gripped his hands tightly onto your hips as he slowly moved you back and forth as the gently thrusted into you,

“Ready sweetheart?”

You did your best to turn your head back at Eddie and nod, but he had already picked up the pace of his hips pushing into yours.

Your whimpers and moans became cries of pleasure as he slammed into you from behind, using you to his hearts content. From the angle he was at, it gave him the perfect view of your body moving beneath him, and though he couldn’t see your face your squeals were letting him know he was making you feel just as good as he felt.

His grunts and groans became a string of curses through gritted teeth and he could feel the wisps of his hair stick to his forehead as he started to sweat from the mixture of pleasure and exhaustion. He looked down at your body and smiled at what he saw beneath him.

Your beautiful body sprawled out on his mattress, your knuckles almost white from gripping his sheets between your fingers, your cries now being muffled as your face was pressed into his mattress. He reached a hand down and took a handful of your hair, gently pulling your face up from his mattress,

“No babygirl, you know how much i love to hear all those pretty noises you make,” You could just hear the way he was smiling behind his gravely voice, “and i want to hear you cry out how much you love it when i fuck you.”

You did as he said and couldn’t hold your screams back any longer.

His name left your lips each time you felt him hit your sweet spot, and you just knew that your throat would be sore when you woke up, no doubt the neighbors would be talking about being able to hear you but you didn’t care. You wanted the whole world to know how good Eddie made you feel.

He tightened his grip on your hair and moved his other hand from your hip, placing it onto your shoulder and pulling you upwards into him, his chest pressed up to your back once again as he kept thrusting up into you. He moved his arms to wrap around your body, one around your torso while the other was across your chest, his hand softly gripping the sides of your neck as you moved your hand up into his hair.

“You gonna cum for me pretty girl? Come on, i know you’re close, don’t hold back…”

He could feel you tightening around him and he knew you couldn’t last much longer with him being so deep inside you.

Eddie bucked his hips into you and as he hit your sweet spot one final time, you tilted your head back, your eyes squeezed shut and your hand gripping his hair as you cried out his name and felt a wave of pleasure wash over your body.

As he felt you start to relax around his cock, he thrusted up into you one final time before he reached his peak, holding you tightly to his body as he shot thick ropes of his cum into the condom.

You both collapsed onto his bed, your heads at his pillows, still holding on so tightly to one another. You were a mess of sweat and heavy breathing, doing your best to catch your breath and get grounded back to reality as the wave of pleasure flowing over your body started to fade.

Eddie placed a few kisses onto your shoulder, slowly pulling himself out from between your legs and pulling off the condom, tying off the end and tossing it into the trash before pulling his comforter over your bodies. He went back into his position from before, your back to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around you, enjoying the warmth of your body as he nuzzled into your shoulder,

“Did you have fun with my little game sweetheart?”

You smiled and turned your head to face him, your hand gently holding his cheek,

“I loved it. Fuck, you really know how to make things fun in the bedroom,” You said with a giggle, placing a soft kiss to his lips, “next time can we try it with a little role playing?”

“Really?” He said with a big smile on his face and you could hear how excited he was.

“Of course! Maybe i can be the princess and i give you a little reward for saving me from the evil wizard who’s been keeping me locked away? You’re good at thinking up things like that.” You giggled again as you saw his eyes light up.

“You’d really want to try that out babe? You don’t think it’s too nerdy?”

“Eddie,” You looked deep into his eyes as you held his cheek, “if i thought it was too nerdy, i wouldn’t have asked you to try it! Besides, i think it’s sexy that you bring all your nerdy stuff into the bedroom.”

“Well in that case, i’m going to have to get started on that first thing tomorrow morning. For now…” He moved your leg over his waist, hooking it around him as his hand went to your thigh to keep you held close to him, “I just want to hold my angel.”

You smiled and rested your head onto his chest, listening as his heart beat slowed to a steady pace, slowly soothing you to sleep as he kissed your forehead.

“I’d love nothing more.”

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