#all of her humanity shines through and the humanity of her position

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | four

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: blood, bad language, talking about trauma, bad familiar relationships (King of hybern father of the year)

Sitting in that chair, Nimue did nothing but absorb everything she saw around her: the paintings hanging on the walls, the rugs covering the floor, every detail placed on the shelves, the books arranged alphabetically...

It was all perfect. She had never imagined what the physical representation of the word "home" would be like, yet she felt it should be like this. In every carefully placed thing, she saw the affection behind it.

She stopped daydreaming and returned to the most pressing matter: the fact that, for some reason, she was tied to that chair.

Bound, but without seeing the ropes. It was an invisible force that pushed her against the wood of the armrests and the cushion of the backrest. She tried to suppress a laugh with little success because she knew effortlessly she could free herself from those ties. But well, if it made them feel safer, so be it.

She looked up, first to that male: Azriel, as she had heard others call him.

She still felt that sensation pulsing right in the middle of her being, making her gaze involuntarily go to him even in that room full of people.

Azriel felt like he was going to explode. He stood, leaning against the back of one of the sofas in the living room, positioned between Rhysand and Amren. With his arms crossed over his chest, he tried to control his breathing, counting to ten and releasing the air, counting again.

His wings trembled upon hearing the small laugh that escaped from the lips of that stranger. "What the hell are you laughing at? Do you find the situation funny?" he barked at the girl. She seemed surprised as her expression changed abruptly.

"No," she replied, furrowing her brow. She could feel the man's anger through that invisible thread connecting her to him. She tried to clear her mind. "It's just amusing that you have me tied up here. I can free myself at any moment, and if I don't, it's because I know you're afraid of me."

Rhysand's face must have been a sight. Afraid of her? He reinforced even more the restraints binding the girl to the chair, and with a sly smile, he took a step forward. "Dare to let yourself go, and you'll see what happens."

Was that some kind of sarcasm? Nimue didn't understand, she was just used to people speaking to her clearly, if only to avoid being in her presence more than necessary.

So she stood up, crossing the restraints of the High Lord like someone walking against a gentle breeze. Everyone jumped in their seats, reaching for their weapons or preparing to defend themselves.

But Nimue simply stood there, scanning from one to another: from the High Lord to Azriel, from the petite woman to Cassian, as she had heard Rhysand call him.

"I know you don't understand what I am or who I am right now, but it's okay. I'll explain it calmly, but you have to be willing to listen to me. You need me more than I need you."

Cassian let out a mocking laugh, "And why did you help us if you say you don't need us?"

And then silence fell.

Why had she helped them?

She had acted without thinking, that's for sure. She had never contradicted her father, and for the first time it was under such circumstances that something didn't fit deep within her conscience. She could excuse it with those memories that weren't hers: seeing those two humans in the Cauldron had awakened in her those memories from twenty years ago. But it wasn't just that.

Yes, she knew that within her, that idea of killing her father, ending him, stopping that plan he wanted to carry out and doing good had always been germinating. But in between there was always that rotten and unconditional love she felt for the King of Hybern, which was written in every cell of her being from the day she emerged.

"I needed an excuse," she said aloud. All the attention of those present was on her, and she kept talking. "I always knew my father was never the good one. I'm missing pieces of the story, I only know what he told me through filters. I know there are people in Prythian, I know there's going to be a war, I know everything revolves around the Cauldron. But I don't know much more."

My father.

When the girl uttered those words, Azriel felt a surge rising from the depths of his throat. How could a monster like the King of Hybern have sired such a beautiful creature?

Yes, beautiful. She is beautiful.

He stopped his thoughts abruptly, trying to ignore his own shadow's whispers. He was hallucinating, again.

"I also know that my father expected me to fight for him in this war, to incinerate Prythian's forces. He counted on an easy victory, however now..." Nimue's hands couldn't stop playing with the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was then that she realized the pristine white fabric of her skirt was stained with blood, the blood of the Illyrians. She took a deep breath and continued speaking, "He's not going to take it very well that I've done this. That I've... betrayed him.”

"Well, don't tell me."

Nimue looked up at Azriel. Was that irony again?

Rhysand gave the Shadowsinger a stern look, and everyone fell silent again, waiting for the girl to speak.

But she didn't know where to continue. What should she tell them about herself? Should she tell them what she was?

And in the midst of the prolonged silence, the High Lord spoke up, "No one knew of the existence of a princess of Hybern. If you claim to be so powerful, why did your father never boast about you?"

There was something that didn't add up in all of this and had Rhysand uneasy. He felt the presence of the female, a pale, pulsating white light in the middle of the room. It was a strange magic, something he couldn't quite categorize within the fae magic that flowed through his veins. His gaze shifted to Amren, hoping she could shed some light on the situation, but to his surprise, she looked just as bewildered as he did.

"My father never wanted my existence to be known. I..." Nimue bit her lip, weighing how much revealing everything to this group of strangers would be a good idea. "I've never left Hybern. In fact, I've never left the castle."

"How old are you, girl? Have you been locked up in there your whole life?" Amren asked.

"It's hard to say how old I am. In this body, I've lived twenty years of yours. Before that... my memories are clouded."

"In this body? Before that?" Azriel inquired. He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to pull his hair out and scream. What was happening? Of all the outcomes he had predicted for today, this was certainly one he wouldn't have even dreamed of. "Tell us the truth, or I swear I'll slit your throat."

Nimue smiled, a poisonous smile she had learned from her father.

"I doubt it. If I have to kick your ass again like I did out there, I will," she held Azriel's gaze. And added, "And with pleasure."

Azriel snorted, baring his teeth in an aggressive gesture and reaching for his dagger. Nimue simply smiled, holding his gaze without flinching.

With that mask she had learned to wear.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his face, trying to process everything that was happening.

They hadn't obtained the Cauldron, they had learned of Tamlin's betrayal, they had transformed his mate's sisters, and now this. It had been a very eventful day, to say the least.

"So you're trying to tell us that you've been in this world for twenty years, but before that, you were somewhere else, right? Do you remember where?"

"Yes," said Nimue. She tried to hold back another laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "In the Cauldron."

And they fell silent again.

The expressions on everyone's faces were like something out of a painting, and Nimue let out a quiet laugh.

She had never had to explain who or what she was; everyone where she came from knew. They all knew her.

"Well," she began calmly, "we all know my father, the King of Hybern. The fanatic, lunatic and power-hungry one."

"Yes, unfortunately."

"He impregnated one of his royal concubines, and in the midst of that madness, he decided to put her in the Cauldron. I don't know if it was under coercion from the Cauldron itself, if it was a demand my father made, or what. But the woman died instantly, and in exchange for her life, I came out of the Cauldron."

"So, you're telling me that the Cauldron not only has the power to turn humans into fae, as we've seen with Feyre's sisters. You're telling me," Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, "that the Cauldron granted the King a daughter in exchange for a sacrifice, no more, no less."

"Yes, but it's not something that will happen again. The Cauldron created me as its own whim, just as it has done with those two humans you mentioned. Feyre’s sisters…"

“Elain and Nesta.”

"Yes," said Nimue. "What it has done with them won't happen again. Not for a long time, at least. The Cauldron only responds to its own impulses, and I don't even understand them myself. Our fae minds aren't made to understand what the Cauldron is or how it acts. Not even the mind of that creature."

Nimue pointed at Amren, who crossed her arms with a sly smile.

"Well, on that you're right. Not even this creature," she said, pointing to herself, "is capable of understanding under what desires that pot acts."

And they all fell silent again, weighing the situation and assimilating what the girl had said.

Azriel was simply angry, furious. He couldn't feel anything else at that moment. He didn't care much about the Cauldron's affairs, nor did he lose sleep over trying to understand how it worked.

He just wanted to know why he had the misfortune of finding out that his mate, whom he had been waiting to meet since he was a child, had to be the damn daughter of the King of Hybern.

"And regarding your problem," Nimue continued, this time addressing only Azriel, "well, our problem. I never knew what a mate was, as you called it. I knew that the Cauldron forged the souls of people to be incomplete, so that if they were lucky, they would find the other half they were missing during their life. But when I saw you, when I felt it, I was able to understand. I'm sorry if it's been a disappointment, but it is what it is."

Azriel frowned, his arms crossed and the hair on his arms bristling. He felt like he was trembling with rage.

"I didn't ask for this, princess."

Nimue didn't want to admit it, but the pull of disdain she felt on the other side of the bond made her heart shrink.

"Great, neither did I."

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @donttellthecats @annblvd

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #cassian #rhysand

[thetriumphantpanda]

Baby Love | Joel Miller

A Trial & Error One Shot

Summary | It's coming to the end of lambing season, but there's one sheep left to give birth. Noticing she's struggling, you spend the night trying to soothe her, reflecting on your own experiences in her position.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Warnings | Joel & Pretty Girl are still as horny as ever for each other so this is explicit. Mentions of ranching, sheep and animals giving birth. Mentions of human childbirth and pregnancy (I have never had my own children so please go easy on me), also mentions of how dirty it is when a sheep gives birth (blood/guts ect). Explicit smut including oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV smut IN THE BARN, creampie, Joel being a menace, PRETTY GIRL ALSO BEING A MENACE. No use of Y/N, no-outbreak AU.

Authors Note | It has been such a joy to write Pretty Girl again, I've missed her something terrible, and I'm so happy that the dynamic between her and Joel is still going strong, even if I have abandoned them for a while. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if there are any aspects of this families lives that you'd like to see, feel free to request it in my ask box!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Lambing season is coming to an end - something you’re eternally grateful for. It’s been a busy few weeks - early mornings and late nights for both Joel and Tommy, leaving you with the twins, Joshua and Ellie to keep entertained. Not that you’d have it any other way - your dysfunctional little family makes you happy every day.

With Joshua at school and the twins with Joel as he took Ellie into town for an appointment, you’re out in the fields with Tommy, making sure the remaining sheep yet to give birth are doing alright. You don’t profess to being an expert, but you’d like to think that your motherly instincts can go beyond humans, knowing when certain sheep are due and when some of them are starting to struggle.

It’s been an easy lambing season this year - most of the girls are seasoned professionals by now, needing only a light touch and a refill of their water more than anything, but there’s one sheep you are worried about. She was from lambing season a few years ago and this will be her first time. When you head into the barn, she’s stood in the corner of one of the pens, moving very little but bleating every once in a while. You know it’ll happen soon, but you’re worried about her.

“Don’t worry your head, sugar,” Tommy soothes, running a hand down the back of your head when it’s time to leave, “It’s nature, she’ll know what to do.”

But, led in bed that night, there’s something that you can’t push from the back of your mind. This worry that takes over you. She’ll be on her own in there, being one of the very last to give birth, and what if she’s scared? What if something goes wrong? You remember how scared you’d been when it came to having Joshua.

So you sigh, push back the sheets, and get dressed. You leave Tommy a note in case he wakes in the night and worries about where you are. You can’t say the horses in the small stable next to the house are enthused about having a torched shined at them in the middle of the night, but thankfully yours doesn’t put up much fuss when you saddle it and make the journey through the dark fields to the barn.

Flicking on the lights, you’re immediately glad you came. The sheep in question is led on her side, breathing laboured and fast. As you walk towards her, she kicks her legs a little and lets out a pained bleat.

“I know baby,” You coo, making sure the gate is shut behind you, “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

You fall to your knees in the soft hay a little way from her, hoping not to spook her, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. She’s led down near the wall, so you crawl over a little and lean your back against it, stretching your legs out, just to be near her if she needs you.

The sheep lets out another pained bleat but she moves a little, up from her side and onto her feet. She walks closer to you, leaning down to prod your hand with her nose. You let out a little chuckle, letting your hand run down her head. The ranch dog likes when you scratch behind his ears, so you do the same here, which has her settling back down onto her side with her head on your thigh.

“It’s one of the most wonderful things,” You speak to her softly, continuing to pet at her head, “Having babies, but they always forget to mention how much it fucking hurts.”

She lets out another soft bleat, moving her body a little to get comfortable, or as comfortable as is possible when you’re in labour.

Watching her, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to your experience in her position. The first twinges of pain, low in your back that turned into pain everywhere. There wasn't a single position that was comfortable, no way to sit or lie or stand that could take the pain away. Then there was the exhaustion - after hours of waiting and more time pushing and pushing, there were moments when you didn’t think you could do it anymore, that you’d just close your eyes, drift off and wake up with a lovely, healthy baby perched in your arms.

But then, there’s that moment of relief, when the midwife had told you it’s okay honey, one more push and it’ll be done and it was and you could hear him crying and then he was on your chest and you were crying and so was Tommy. No-one ever mentions that bit either - how within seconds you could look down at a baby, your baby, and be completely and utterly in love with him. That’s what made it all worth it. That’s what made you want to do it again. It’s what makes you think you’d do it for the rest of your life if you could, just to have that one moment where that baby is in your arms for the first time.

“It’s worth it though,” You speak down to the sheep, “All this pain will be worth it in the end when we’ve got your beautiful little lamb with us.”

And it is. It’s all a bit dramatic in the end. The lamb gets stuck and you need to offer a helping hand to get it out, but almost immediately the mother sheep is doing exactly what she should, cleaning it off as you do the thing you’ve seen Joel do to help clear it’s airways, sticking a little bit of hay up one of it’s nostrils.

“Look mama,” You coo at the older sheep, a hand on her head as she works to get her little lamb clean, “Look what you did, you clever girl.”

Joel doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the barn that morning, but it certainly wasn’t to see you on your knees in the hay, rubbing a newborn lamb with straw. He can see from this angle that your clothes are filthy, covered in blood and God knows what else. Did you…? Have you….?

“Pretty girl,” He speaks softly, not sure you know he’s there, “What are you doing?”

You turn to him and it’s clear to see you’ve done exactly what he thinks you have and helped this sheep give birth, the gunk all over your clothes is also wiped across your cheek and forehead.

“She-” You trail off, “The sheep, she was struggling and I didn’t want her to be on her own.”

He opens the gate to the pen, walking in to fall beside you on his knees, “Have you been here all night?” He asks, letting his hands give the small lamb the once over.

“Pretty much,” You nod, “We had a lovely talk, didn’t we?” You ask to the mother sheep who is standing a few steps away, carefully observing Joel as he looks at her lamb.

“Did she do okay?”

“I had to get in there at the end,” You explain to him, “I think it was stuck, so I just gave her a little helping hand.”

Once he’s satisfied that the lamb is okay he shuffles back a little, watching as you do the same, letting the mother sheep have some time with her baby, “You did a good job,” He praises, letting his hand run down the back of you head, “Proud of you, pretty girl.”

He helps you to you feet, bends a little to brush as much stray hay from your jeans as he can before he steps back and really takes you in. It’s unconventional, but there’s something about the fact that you’ve got your hands dirty, spent your night here on your own to help one of his sheep, and the fact that you’re covered in dirt and hay, something about it all makes his jeans go a little tighter, something that he’s not quick enough to hide.

“Are you hard, cowboy?” He hears you tease before you’re stepping forward, “Does the sight of me covered in blood and guts turn you on?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on you, leaving the pen now he’s satisfied the sheep will be okay, but he can hear your feet following him and then your hand on his arm to get him to stop.

“You’ve not gone all shy on me, have you?” You speak softly, gently moving him so he turns a little.

“Have I ever been shy, pretty girl?”

“Then tell me,” You shrug, smirk plastered across your face, “Does this,” He watches as you drag a hand over the mess that is your clothes, “Turn you on?”

“You wanna know the truth?” He asks, voice low, “I wanna bend you over and get you to shut the hell up.”

Joel can’t help but let his own smirk show when your eyebrows raise, but it’s a fleeting later in your guise, because you’re turning around, showing him your back as you walk towards the stacked bales of hay in the corner. He can hear the clinking of your belt buckle and the telltale sound of you unzipping your jeans.

He’s stuck to the ground as he watches you pull down your jeans and your underwear, baring your backside to him. You pull them all the way down, letting them pool at your ankles as you spread your legs a little wider, bending yourself over the hay in the exact position he had in his head.

“Come on then cowboy,” You say, head turned over your shoulder to speak to him, “Come and shut me the hell up.”

It’s been an automatic response of his for years now, that when you present yourself to him, in any way, he falls to his knees like someone praying to an altar, and today is no different. He’s on his knees behind you, at just the right height to grip his palms to your ass, spread you open wide for him.

He wastes no time, he rarely does anymore, letting his mouth close over the hole of your pussy, somehow already weeping for him. He lets his tongue dip inside, lapping at your slick. It’s been years and he still doesn’t think he’ll get over how good you taste, how it lingers on his tongue for hours whilst he goes about his day.

Whilst he’s lapping up your slick, he lets one of his hands reach around, thumb searching out your clit, little circles rubbed across the little bud. He listens, feeling his cock throb in his jeans when you let out a gasp and a little moan.

“Not so talkative now, are we, pretty girl?” He mumbles, barely pulling off your pussy to speak, before he’s switching his hand and his mouth, leaning just enough so his tongue can flick against your clit, one of his fingers slipping inside you easily.

He chuckles against you when you moan at the curling of his fingers inside you - he loves when he can reduce you to a whimpering mess in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to feel the telltale signs that he’s going to make you come either. He can feel you start to fluttering around the two fingers he now has buried inside you, can feel the way you try and tighten your thighs around his face, so he carries on exactly how he is - suckling at your clit and moving his fingers in and out of your cunt until you’re coming for him, a high-pitched moan of his name from your mouth.

Joel doesn’t wait, he can’t wait. He stands, making quick work of pushing his own jeans and underwear from his body, finally freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his trousers. He spits obscenely into his palm, running a tight fist up and down his length a few times before he’s dipping his knees, rubbing the head of his cock against the slick hole of your cunt, listening as he pushes himself inside you, giving you every inch of him as slowly as he possibly can, until he’s sheathed inside your tight heat.

He leans forward, covering your body with his own, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he gets used to the feeling of you clenching and fluttering around him. He can feel you wiggling a little under him, trying to get him to move, so he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, squeezing a little, stopping your movements altogether.

“Keep still,” He warns, “You need to keep still a minute, baby.”

There’s never going to be a time where he doesn’t need to do this. The soft, wet heat of your cunt and those first movements inside you that make him feel like he’s eighteen again, ready to come with a few thrusts.

He gives himself another minute before he starts pulling his cock out of you, slowly dragging through your slick until just the tip is left inside you, then he’s slamming himself back into you, setting a bruising pace.

The sound is obscene - there’s the wet squelch he can hear whenever he pushes his cock back into you, the slapping of his skin against yours and the way you both sound when you’re moaning each others names. He’s not going to last long, he knows it. All of this combined with the fact that anyone could wander in and see you has a thrill settling across his spine.

Joel leans forward again, letting his teeth bite down gently on the skin of your neck. He can feel the way your cunt is clenching, if he can just hold on, just a little longer, he can get another one from you, he knows it.

“Tell me,” He chokes out into your ear, “Tell me how to get you there.”

You let out a loud moan, turning your face to his, kissing him, all teeth and tongue and clumsy, “Bite me again.”

So he does, he lets his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking gently, sure to leave a mark, his hand slinking underneath your belly and down to your pussy, soaked bud of nerves exposed just right for him to use his fingers to swirl across it a few times.

“Oh my God-” He can hear you moaning, “Joel, fuck, please, don’t stop, just like that.”

Within seconds, he can feel you coming on his cock - cunt pulled tight, sucking him in. He feels the gush of slick from your pussy too, cock angled just right to have you squirting for him, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. It’s the tightening of your walls around him that sets his own orgasm off - that flush of pleasure across his body that blooms even more as he empties himself inside you. He can feel everything, the way your pussy clenches every time he gives you more, sucking his spend in as deep as possible.

He pushes himself up off you a little, hands on your hips, frantically sucking in air. He groans a little as he pulls himself from your cunt, standing back to admire how his cum drips from you. He doesn’t linger long, bending down to pull your clothes back up, gentle kiss pressed to the swell of your bottom as he does. He lets you zip yourself up whilst he puts himself right.

“Well, that was a great start to the morning.” You muse, pressing up on your tiptoes, gripping at his flannel shirt.

He’s about to speak when there’s a bleating from the sheep in the pen behind you, you both laugh, “Someone else agrees.”

He dips down, kisses your mouth slowly, gently, “Go and get clean,” He speaks against your lips, turning you around and giving you a tap on your ass as he does, “You’re filthy.”

“Still turns you on though.”

“Go on, get outta here.”

#Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #Tommy miller x reader #Tommy miller x female reader #Tommy miller x f!reader #Tommy miller x you #Tommy miller fic #Tommy miller fanfic #Tommy miller fanfiction #Tommy miller smut #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #hbo the last of us #joel x reader x tommy

[pinkacademiaprincess]

“she’s like a real life elle woods…”

fictional study icons guide, part 2: elle woods

relentlessly chase your goals

similar to rory, elle set her sights on harvard law and let nothing get in her way. people doubted her, she had no background in law, and nevertheless she made it happen. having a goal and wanting something is one thing, but you have to make it happen. elle spoke with an academic counselor, created a plan for herself, and meticulously checked off all the requirements. you can’t just sit around and hope you get what you want! determine the end goal, outline all the steps that you need to take to get there, and get to it.

have faith in yourself

throughout the process of getting into and attending harvard law, elle dealt with so many people who doubted her, were mean, and underestimated her. if she listened to all those people, she never would have applied or stayed in law school. no one knows you like you know yourself, so do not let strangers’ negative opinions of you rule your life. people assumed elle was unintelligent and not fit for law school, but she knew that she could succeed and she did. no one decides what you can or can’t do but you. tune out any criticism that isn’t constructive, focus on your strengths, and seek your goals.

let your personality shine

elle always had a strong sense of self. even when she started going to law school, in a totally new environment from her previous college, she stayed true to her personality. she continued dressing in pink outfits, getting her hair & nails done, and got school supplies to match her girly aesthetic. when you go to class, let your personality show through your outfits, accessories, school supplies - find little ways to bring yourself happiness through self- expression. especially when school and classes might seem to rule your life, these small personal touches will help keep you positive.

study with others

elle used the tactic of studying with others to help stay focused & accountable. when she was studying for the lsat, she had one of her sorority sisters keep her on track & practice with her. for some, it can be helpful to “body double,” or to have someone else with you while you study/ work to keep you on task. it might also help to have a study buddy to quiz you and work through problems together. at harvard she also tries to join a study group, which shows she generally thrives when studying/ working in a group setting. if this is something that works for you, find a classmate or group of classmates willing to meet up & body double or study together!

stay active

nowadays, a lot of schooling requires you to either sit at a laptop or hunch over notes for countless hours of your day. being seated for so long with questionable posture is not good for you, humans are meant to be active! elle is shown walking on a treadmill while she studies, and combining physical activity with schoolwork can be really effective for some. engaging your body while engaging your mind might help you focus better. otherwise, try to get some daily movement to give your body a break from being stiff & seated. find physical activity that you enjoy - going for walks outdoors, taking a sports class, hitting the gym, doing a youtube workout video, playing music & dancing like a maniac - move your body and have fun with it! in the words of elle, “exercise gives you endorphins, endorphins make you happy.”

pet therapy!

elle woods is always accompanied by her beloved chihuahua bruiser. spending time with animals is a great way to boost your mood & relieve stress. if you have a pet, spending time with them, petting them, having them in your lap or nearby are all ways you can take advantage of their presence to feel happier & more relaxed.

that’s all! elle is such an inspiration to me tbh. she really embodies that being true to yourself & being kind to others are the keys to success. good luck in your studies! 🩷

#pink academia princess #it girl #becoming that girl #that girl #wonyoungism #pink academia #pink blog #girl blogger #studyblr #studyspo #study motivation #glow up #motivation #self care #self improvement #dream girl #academia barbie #girlblogging #pink pilates girl #clean girl #self love #pink pilates princess #pink aesthetic #study blog #study aesthetic #university #student life

[flamingpudding]

Reincarnation is a tricky thing

A/N: This was sort of inspired by this post from @nerdpoe and the rebblogs of it. I came across it again scrolling through tumblr and reread it during my break and couldn't help but continue thinking about DC characters being a different version or a reincarnation of people Danny knew. Blame the too many reincarnation or isekai light novels / manwhas / mangas I read if you want.

At first Danny didn't mind it. Becoming the Ghost King had its pros but its cons as he learned later on. By accepting the title he had become an interdimensional being, and thus had gotten kicked out of the reincarnation cycle. Clockwork nor Pandora thought about telling him that sooner. But in a way Danny still didn't mind it.

He still got to watch and protect his friends and family or at least their souls and reincarnations. Though there were some things with the recent one he definitely did not expect. For one, Dan wasn't part of the reincarnation cycle either, so to pass the years he took up the same position Fright Knight had. Danny suspected that it was more to spent time with his ghostly best friend than actually doing Danny a favor.

Dani on the other hand had become a part of the reincarnation cycle, he hadn't liked how her childhood had been but once the reincarnation of his father took her in things started to turn better for his once upon a time clone sister.

He laughed at the fact that his mother in this life had become a thief, well at least she wasn't ghost obsessed but he wasn't sure if cats were a better one considering a lot of the things she stole were cat themed. But at least she still had a thing for his dad.

The man was still a lovable oaf but different, more stoic and short worded but when he put on acts for the public Danny could see hints of his previous life shining through. His dad was still a genius and inventing things that added him and his goals in protecting the city. Just like he did previously, just a little less extreme and upfront.

Jazz wasn't his dads and mothers direct daughter this time around but she still got counted as a daughter in a way as he watched her becoming a crime fighter alongside his father and the kids his dad picked up before an incident made her take up more of a operator like position. And ancients did Danny cackle watching Jazz still pulling one over everyone every time she gathered information on their family.

He was sad to see how Sam's life went but at the same time he was proud of her. Undergrowth's influence had swapped over into this life for her and he watched how as a criminal at first she continued to fight for what she believed was right. He was definitely happy when he saw her fall in love and turn a new leaf.

Tucker was not as electronic affine as he was before but he had what the humans started to call Meta Powers now. It was funny, whenever Danny compared his usually brain behind the scenes best friend with the vigilante that got mentored by his father.

All in all he was definitely happy with the life's his family has gotten this turn. Even if the start of some of their lives wasn't as ideal as it was supposed to be. He still hadn't figured out where Vlad's reincarnation was and to the ancients he hoped he wasn't the crazy clown obsessed with his dad. That would be just wrong.

Still as he watched them he couldn't help but muse at the knowledge that he originally was supposed to be among them. He also knew who he was supposed to be, thanks to clockwork but that boy had gotten a brand new soul, one that hadn't been in the cycle before. He wasn't mad at that but just a tiny bit sad. He would have loved to become a vigilante alongside his father too, even if this version of him was socially awkward and instead of space had a fascination with animals and art.

He still would have loved to live among them but he had gotten kicked out of the reincarnation cycle so all he could do was watch over them. It still made him feel giddy whenever he found another soul of the ones he had known before.

That was until the cultist decided to use would-be-him as a sacrifice to summon the interdimensional being that was atactual-him and he ended up face to face with some stupid soul magic mumbo jumbo tied to the kid.

Clockwork was laughing at him, he just knew this was pure entertainment for the ancient of time. Pandora was most likely shaking her head and Dan was probably literally rolling on the ground of his throne room laughing.

"You are supposed to be me, aren't you?" The boy had whispered wide eyed and Danny huffed in annoyance as he saw a familiar fear flit across the boy's eyes. A fear he had seen with Dan as well as Dani so long ago before.

"Don't talk bullshit kid. I am an Ancient being. This is your life." He was just now stuck having Danny tied to him like a guardian angel while being the only one able to see him clearly. How was he going to explain to the kid that he was entirely his own soul and not tied to Danny at all aside from taking his place in the reincarnation cycle without mentioning that nearly half the people in the kids life where his family and friends previously?

Danny was starting to have a crisis stuck to his would-be-him in the mortal realm and all he could think was to yell at Dan and Clockwork to stop laughing!

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #crossover #damian wayne #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #selina kyle #poison ivy #duke thomas #cassandra cain #dan phantom #clockwork the ghost #pandora #reincarnation #Danny got kicked out of the reincarnation cycle #for being the ghost king #ghost king danny #his friends and family still reincarnated #except for Dan #he got to stick around #Damian was supposed to be Danny's reincarnation #he got a brand new soul of his own instead #they are now stuck together #how to explain that one is you but not you at the same time #Dan stop laughing Danny needs help

[slttygeto]

don't be so reckless, don't break my heart —MITSUYA T.

synopsis: an argument with your childhood best friend leads to sweet confessions in the middle of the night.

tags: fluff, confessions, childhood best friend! mitsuya, fem!reader, arguments (so, angst if you squint a little), mentions of the reader being in a panicked state, mentions of mitsuya having injuries and bl00d all over him.

word count: 4,2k

note: thank you to the amazing @jean-kirsteins-real-gf for commissioning me! I enjoyed writing this piece a lot :) what a way to start the year! happy 2024 <3!!

Your first meeting with Mitsuya is a memory that is always present in the forefront of your head. It isn’t something that you could easily ignore or brush off, how such a sweet boy who was about your age had a baby to his chest and a kid younger than you both holding his hand so tightly you could see their knuckles turning white. What a rare sight it was, for a boy so young to guide his sister (after you heard her address him as big brother), the gentle tone to his voice, the carefulness when holding the baby to his chest—his kind gesture seals the deal for you.

Shy and scared as a shrinking violet, your teary eyes face away from the two boys who had pushed you off the swing. Young you was never able to speak her mind so bravely, so freely—yet you watch as Mitsuya—(a total stranger at the time), come to your rescue with a baby wrapped closely to him. It is ridiculous the way he fights and scares them off so easily. At first, they mock him for his soft features, for his lavender eyes and for the tiny human being latching onto him. Yet a single kick to one of the boys’ stomach is enough to send chills down your spine. That looks painful, you think.

As you wipe your eyes, you are finally able to look away from the bullies scurrying away with their tails tucked between their legs, facing your knight in shining armor. Your savior. What do you say in such situations? What do you do? You forget to stand up and dust yourself, only realizing your position when your neck starts to hurt from craning it to look up at your hero.

“Are you okay?” he presents a warm hand which you gladly hold, and he pulls you up with so much ease as you wipe away the excess tears on your cheeks. “I’ve seen them around here, never been nice to anyone.” He continues to talk and you continue to give silent nods as a response. At one point, he questions your ability to speak and your face heats up.

“I’m just…”

“Shy?” The slight to his head, the sweet smile—the crush you developed for the boy was all too expected with how nice he was to you.

As the years pass by, the friendship the two of you have developed turned into something that none of you could quite decipher—not that you wanted to. Strangely, you enjoyed the confusion that paints his friends’ faces as you walk up to him, scold him for missing lunch, for not answering your calls—and he doesn’t blush nor does he shy away from returning your hugs, even more passionately than the way you almost tackle him to the ground. His arms have grown stronger than when you were kids, and the way he smells has become so sweet…so intoxicating—you feel dizzy when you pull away from him, unable to look him in the eye for the next 30 seconds as you listen to whatever lame joke Draken has to say about the two of you.

Unbeknownst to you, the boy remembers the day he saw you as though it was yesterday as well. Pretty girl crying on the playground, heart thrumming in his chest when he saw the tears painting your face—he wasn’t in Toman at the time, wasn’t even a thing to begin with. He lies to himself and says that his brotherly instincts kick in when he saw you, that the protectiveness stems from the fact that he would’ve done the same if it were one of his two little sisters. Nevertheless, whatever he was telling his stubborn brain would not go through. He hears you sniffle and helps you up, gives you a tissue to clean yourself and even questions your ability to speak—when you part your lips, your soft voice is what seals the deal for him at the time.

At the time, developing a crush could be from something as simple as saying hi a bit too excitedly or in Mitsuya’s case, the way you had always been nice to other kids on the playground. You weren’t that talkative, but you played with kids on the swing, built sandcastles with them—until those two boys bullied you and the lavender boy knew he had to do something about it.

Watching you grow was a privilege. In Mitsuya’s eyes, having you was perfect. Knowing you, growing with you, embracing you in his arms—you’ve become more beautiful, your eyelashes brush over your cheeks when you blink and your lips pout instead of wobbling when you get sad. Your eyes still hold the same amount of warmth in them as that summer day he met you. You smell as sweet as a jasmine, handle his little sisters as though they are your own, delicate fingers brushing their hair, fixing their bangs, prepping their meals—you treat him and his family with something that feels so special but he would hate to be falsely reading between the lines.

Empathy and kindness have always been one of your traits, you put other people first and although Mitsuya loved it when someone realized just how much of an amazing human being you were, he hated seeing you get taken advantage of. So nice, so sweet—an angel.

You are present when Toman becomes a thing, celebrate alongside the first few members of the biker gang the birth of something so small yet so significant (with a future so big, nobody could ever foresee it). However, violence was never your thing. And so a frown sits heavy on your face whenever you see small scratches on Mitsuya’s face, remind yourself to scold him later for the bruise on his jaw—how would he explain it to his sisters? They’re probably worried sick about him!

“It’s me, can you open up?” it is a rainy summer night, your favorites. You are wearing light pajama pants and a tank top as you approach the entrance door with your heart beating in your throat. At around 11:32PM, soft knocks come to your door. You don’t move from the couch at first. Maybe they’ve mistaken the property for theirs.

Until a second round of knocks come in, and you hear the muffled voice and—wait, you know that voice! As you rush to undo the locks, nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the scene awaiting you.

Mitsuya Takashi was everything yet nothing—a leader, an older brother and a best friend, but when he comes to you so late at night with bruises and cuts all over his face—purple and red knuckles, the bones almost visible, he hisses at the feeling of the alcohol against his wounds. Tears welling up in his eyes, the sniffles--you realize how utterly small and vulnerable he is, sitting on your red couch with legs that would not rest. His limbs shake and his head hurts, you doubt that he has eaten anything all day and he watches as you sigh and rearrange the first aid kit before making your way to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounds harsh, the softness to it no longer there after having yelled so much during yet another one of Toman’s fights. You give no response. You don’t need his apologies, you do not need words right now—however, starting a fight was the last thing on your mind, and clearly not what Mitsuya was able to handle in such state.

“It’s alright,” you say as you make your way back to where he was and place food in front of him. Hot and delicious, the smell alone is enough to make his mouth water and he digs in with no regard to his wounds—you hear him hiss as he pulls the chopsticks away from his lips and for the first time ever, you give a small chuckle.

Mitsuya smiles at this, a little relieved that you weren’t that mad at him. However, he sees the way you sit and face away from him, how your eyes trail longer on the uninteresting, empty road out there rather than his face. This was unlike you. You were never one to avoid eye contact with him, having openly admitted that you find solace in his lavender eyes and his gentle stare. Clearly, something was wrong.

“Are you angry with me?” It is not a surprise that the emotionally intelligent man was able to pick up on the subtle hints you’ve thrown his way about your sour mood, and you suck in your lips for a bit before finally mustering up the courage to face him. Your eyes are tired, a deep frown sitting heavy on your face and painting your features in a darker light than usual. One that has the wounded man’s heart breaking for a bit.

“Only worried,” you want to say more, Mitsuya fixing his posture to look at you encourages you to do so. “Do you have to do this?” you whisper the question so softly, so afraid that someone in the empty apartment beside Mitsuya would hear. You don’t know why you are so afraid of being heard, perhaps because you know you are overstepping into a territory that wasn’t yours—something you’ve never had the chance to experience—Toman, the community, the people in it. They all meant so much to the guy sitting next to you, wouldn’t it be insulting to ask him if he has to put his life on the line for them every time?

Upon hearing those words, a sigh leaves the guy’s lips and you feel like sinking into the couch. Conversing with Mitsuya was easy, it felt natural and smooth—why was this topic so anxiety inducing then?

“You’ve been there… you know, when it all started.” His words serve as a reminder of the day it all started, the joy on everyone’s faces when Mitsuya handed them the old Toman uniforms. You’ve seen it, how dedicated all of them were. You were understanding—but this was too much.

“I have but—Takashi, this is ridiculous,” you turn to face him and Mitsuya’s eyes flicker down to your pouty lips before staring back at your eyes. He hates seeing you so upset.

“I know, I know…” his hand slides towards your own and you feel electricity through your body when you feel his touch, the way his fingers interlace with yours and his thumb brushes over the skin of the back of your hand. “I just have to and plus, kinda needed that beating as warm up.”

“Huh?” you stare at him confused, pushing him to continue.

“Toman’s been involved in something a bit nasty,”

“But you guys are used to nasty, right?” there’s nervousness in your voice.

“Yeah but this is… This is next level,” when Mitsuya leans forward with his elbows on his knees, the serious look on his face almost sends you spiraling.

“Who?”

“Hm?”

“Who are you fighting?” You’re fighting off high levels of anxiety as he keeps you waiting for a few seconds before replying.

“Tenjiku.”

“Tenji—“ you choke on your spit, unable to finish your sentence out of pure shock. “Tenjiku! You are fighting Tenjiku? No, no no no—you’re not,” you’ve grown agitated at the mention of the name of the gang, and Mitsuya suddenly finds himself unable to calm you down as he normally can.

“Hey, it’s okay we’ve got this, we always do—“

“You always do?!” You repeat, before pointing at his state. “Look at you! You’re barely coming back in one piece, think you can fight Tenjiku?”

“Well excuse you, Toman is also very strong.” Takashi also gets up from the couch, your words having too much of an effect on the usually calm and collected man. As he watches you pace around the living room of your apartment, his hands find themselves in front of his body, reaching towards you in a futile attempt of getting you to calm or sit down. But to no avail. It seems as though the mention of such dangerously reputable biker gang sets you off, and the possibility of what might happen to the man if not careful enough sends you spiraling down faster with each short inhale you take.

“That’s—what? A thousand men against a hundred? Don’t be ridiculous Takashi.”

“How am I being ridiculous? You know Toman,” his eyebrows are furrowed and his body stops moving, indicating that your words were starting to get to him personally. “We are strong, we got this.”

“You always come back beaten up and bloody!” you half yell out exasperated. “You don’t got this if most of your body is black and blue by the time a fight is over!”

The tension in the room has grown so thick. It’s unusual given your somewhat stable friendship with the man. Slight disagreements happened here and there over things that you could easily brush off and say ‘yes, I was wrong and you were right,’ or simply ignore it and pretend it never happened. But as your voice gets louder, and you show more and more evidence of how upset you are, it’s clear as day that ‘slight’ wouldn’t describe the situation accurately. You were having a full blown argument with Mitsuya, and it still hasn’t sunk in yet.

Mitsuya can hear his heart beat in his chest, he feels his ears heating up with the amount of negative feelings he was experiencing towards this—towards you being so against Toman winning. Did you really not believe in him? Were you faking being supportive this entire time?

“You know I’m still going to go and fight alongside them, right?” The tone Takashi uses with you is so unusual that you feel your eyes brimming with tears straight away. Cold and indifferent, two things you never thought you could associate with how the man felt for you.

“Well don’t come to my place for me to clean you up. Find someone else.”

“I will.” He doesn’t wait for you to open the door for him, doesn’t say goodnight as he usually does. He doesn’t even slam the door as he leaves. He is cold and distant as he walks further and further away from you, from the argument. Reality sets in and the heavy weight of your words and reactions to his announcement come flashing back like a short movie made to embarrass you, make you feel guilty.

“Fuck.”

--

“Mitsuya! You’re distracted!” Another punch lands on the lavender hair’s jaw, sending him flying into the ground with a loud thud. Although his injuries aren’t as bad as half of Toman’s, his disorganized state is sending most of his division members into a panicked state. He was never like this.

“Ugh--!” Before he can stand up, he is being kicked repeatedly in the guts until blood spills out of his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to roll over and away from whoever’s attacking him to avoid another harsh blow to his body. He gets on one knee with an arm around his middle, protecting his injuries and he coughs out blood before letting his wobbly legs help him stand up straight.

“Shit—sorry,” his hand wipes at the blood on his lips. He gets into a fighting stance and immediately, the look in his eyes changes into something fiercer, more passionate. He hates that the argument with you is the only thing on his mind. Your words, your tone, even the way you haven’t reached out to him in a couple of days. He hates fighting with you, despises the fact that maybe you were right, and that Tenjiku are beating them up. But one glance at his division members—at Toman, it reminds him that the roars of victory when the fight ends, the tears of joy. The pain in his body could never compare to the happiness and satisfaction of being in this gang, his second family. However, he cannot wait for everything to be over, and for you two to make up.

--

The universe has a strange way of showing that two people are meant to be. As Mitsuya makes his way back to his apartment, several groans escape his lips as he drags his bloodied and beaten up body up the stairs. He preferred going to yours because there were less stairs but…It looks like it wasn’t an option now. As his hand twists the knob of his door, he is fully prepared to see a mortified baby sitter asking him what exactly had happened—but instead, he sees something else. Or rather someone.

Earlier that night, things were a bit messy for you. Feeling as though you have been punched repeatedly in the guts wasn’t an enjoyable feeling—the nausea amplified by your shallow breathing, your nostrils hurting from the harsh cold air and your throat dry as a desert as your body refuses to swallow, instead sending you into an anxious state as it forgets to let the oxygen into your lungs. You choke as you get away from the window and run to the kitchen to grab some water, you open the tap and let the cold liquid hit your wrists, calm your nerves. You lean against the sink with your elbows propped against the surface and your lips pathetically wobble as tears threaten to spill. You couldn’t handle this anymore.

You were glad that Luna and Mana had gone down to sleep easily, a short story about a princess that wandered around the forest, slipping down a mystery hole into a magical world which she ended up ruling had the girls’ eyes sparkle, yet the tiredness was visible as their under eyes darkened, eyelids heavy and before you knew it—tiny snores resonated through their shared room. You checked on them a couple of times throughout the night, and although the sight of them sleeping so soundly had you place a hand on your chest as muscle memory, your body wanting to show its relief—your brain was running a thousand miles per hour. Takashi—how was he? Would he even make it back? You feel as though you were a bit harsh with him when telling him that you wouldn’t treat his wounds—but his stubbornness, you couldn’t handle it anymore.

There is a crackling noise coming from the fireplace, and you know that the coldness of your body calls for warming up but—but not now, not when Mitsuya wasn’t back home yet, and it was already approaching three in the morning.

As strange as it may seem, the invisible thread connecting the two of you was tugging from both sides and you find yourself staring at the door knob before it starts twisting. When the door swings open and a bloody Mitsuya comes in sight, the first thing that leaves your lips is a defeated “oh” before your feet rush you to the first aid kit you had brought with you from your place.

“What…are you doing here?” Takashi is the first to break the silence as he limps towards the couch. You don’t answer, you gently place him on the cushions before cradling his face in your hands. He doesn’t like the look on your face, how your eyes are brimming with tears and your bottom lip wobbles before you look away to hide the fact that you were very close to bursting into tears.

“I was never going to come.” You admit, but it was obviously a lie. Not with the way you carefully unbutton his uniform top and hand him a bottle of water to keep him hydrated.

“I know,” his voice had gone low, almost ashamed to be in such position.

“Did you at least win?” You whisper as you open the kit and pull out cotton and some disinfectant for his wounds, a bandage for his for his arms and legs. His uniform was ripped, destroyed from being tossed to the ground repeatedly, but the proud smile on his face eases your worries a bit. You miss seeing his lips curl up like that.

“Toman never loses.”

The next few minutes go by in complete silence, with the occasional hiss and groans from the man being treated and your soft apologies. The living room is filled with something so intense, ready to snap at any given moment. When Takashi groans as you press at a certain spot between his ribs, you freeze and look up at him.

“You broke a bone?”

“I figured with how hard I was getting beaten,” he holds his side with a slight wince.

“Takashi…” said man looks down at you, and his eyes soften when he sees that the tears you once held in were finally spilling out. “You’re so reckless, I—you stress me out,” you try to wipe your tears away, but it seems useless. The more tears fall down, the less control you have over your sobs. You are on the verge of a full breakdown and the man sitting before you on the couch can’t help but reach his hands towards you to smooth your hair, push it out of your wet face.

“Hey…hey I’m fine, I’m sorry that I caused you this much stress I just—“

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you cut him off abruptly, moving your hands away from your face and letting him fully cradle your face. “I can’t imagine living without you, Taka,” before your lip could start wobbling again, Takashi’s thumb gently brushes over it and pulls it down.

“You won’t lose me,” he whispers, leaning down to your level. “Ever. I know I get beaten up very often, but I always come back in one piece, don’t I?”

“But what if something happens?” you’re finally letting your worries float to the surface openly. Rather than telling him not to fight like last time, you are now fully admitting that you were anxious about his absence, how much he means to you and how his well being affects your life. “What if—what if you lose, you die and I don’t have you in my life?”

“That wouldn’t be so horrible, hm? I do cause you a lot of stress apparently,” he tries to joke, lift up your mood but you shake your head almost harshly, hands grabbing his wrists.

“I need you with me, in my life. I need you next to me, I wanna be selfish and keep you all to myself, Taka,”

“All to yourself?” His thumb then brushes your cheek, up to your eyebrows before pushing your sweaty strands out of your face. “Sounds like you got something else to say, don’t you?”

His voice isn’t playful, but rather encouraging. His lavender eyes are filled with something so comforting yet so intense. For the first time ever, you feel nervous in his presence.

“That I love you. I’m in love with you, you don’t even know how horrible it feels when I have to treat your cuts and wounds and have to watch you be so careless about something that is so precious to me,” your hands let go of his wrists to cradle his face, mirroring his actions. He melts under your touch, nuzzling into the palm of your hands like a feline craving heat during winter.

“Lucky you, I’d love to have you all to myself too,”

“You do?”

“I do,” he nods and tilts your head up to stare at him. “I have wanted you all to myself for so long, it’s kind of ridiculous. That warm smile,” his other hand traces your lips. “Those gorgeous eyes,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your eyelids. “This pure soul,” his lips then press against your forehead, between your eyebrows. “I’ve wanted you to be all mine for so long, watched myself fall in love with you harder with every moment we spent together. My heart, my soul—they yearned for yours. For your eyes to only stare at me, for those lips to only smile at me—I love you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up with every word, every honeyed sentence leaving his lips like a sweet melody. You can’t bring yourself to say anything in return, not when looking at him seems so difficult, your eyes, chest and whole body feeling hot at the realization that he feels the same.

Takashi was in love with you.

“You made my confession seem so lame,” you break the silence with a sniffle, and your face heats up even more when he starts laughing at your embarrassed state.

“It wasn’t lame at all, my love, my heart is about to burst at your words,”

“Don’t—you’re so comfortable already!” You try to pull away from him when he uses such sweet pet names on you.

“I am the luckiest to be with my best friend, my baby,” he presses his lips against your cheeks with a grin, going in for another kiss when he feels your hot cheeks. “Of course I’d be comfortable.”

Falling for your best friend seemed like the worst possible outcome when you realized you were developing feelings for him, but when he was holding you with so much care and staring at you with such warm eyes—all those worries melted away against the palm of his hand, accepting the love he had for you with open arms and an open heart.

2024: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #tr mitsuya #tr x reader #tr x you #mitsuya tokyo revengers #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya x you #tokrev mitsuya #mitsuya x reader fluff #mitsuya x reader angst

[eds6ngel]

✮⋆｡°✩⋆˙ a christmas miracle

a 'when i kissed the teacher' spinoff.

summary: you and steve were in a weird situation. you weren't actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren't exactly being safe either. so, how will steve react when he opens his final christmas present?

warnings: dad!steve. mom!reader. fem!reader. afab!reader. 90s!au. mentions and allusions to sex. mentions of pregnancy. pet names. kissing. tons of crying. alena being too young to understand pregnancy (kinda cute tho). alena being a cutie pie as always. some worries over steve's reaction. but mostly fluff and comfort!! [1.9k].

author's note: hi everyone!! i am back!! my first semester of uni is finally over, so i can get back to fic writing a little more! i couldn't neglect my happy family like this, so i've tackled a pregnancy fic! i've never been pregnant, but i do wish to be in my life, so all of my research has been for my own benefit and utilised in this fic. if i'm inaccurate in any parts, please let me know for the benefit of the readers and myself!! ♡

It was hard not announcing the news to Steve. Having to attend your first scan without him was heartbreaking, but the look upon the nurse’s face after you told her you were going to wrap up the ultrasound photo, along with a card saying “Merry Christmas Daddy” and a pair of small, cream, woolen socks, just confirmed your decision was the right one.

You and Steve were in a sort of weird situation. You had stopped using protection, but weren’t in a position were you were actively trying to get pregnant. You agreed that any time from now was an okay time for the two of you to have a child, but also weren’t bothered if the pregnancy tests came back negative.

But, a little Christmas miracle decided to form inside of you, the test showing two lines on December 11th, 1999.

Steve and Alena had gone grocery shopping for an hour, the perfect opportunity for you to wrap Steve’s gift.

Rolling out the wrapping paper, you placed a grey, fluffy blanket in the centre, before laying on top the Christmas card which read:

Hi Daddy.

I’m six weeks old today!

I can’t wait to meet you soon! I’m planning to enter the world on August 20th, 2000.

My mom is keeping me very safe right now as I grow, but I’ll still be listening out for you from inside my home.

See you in nine months.

Love, your future child <3

And as you were about to place the ultrasound photo next to the cream baby socks you previous put underneath the card, your eyes started welling with tears once more.

Was it the hormones? Maybe. But, something in you felt this was all natural. You were growing a human life inside of you, one that has half of your DNA and the other half the love of your life’s. That was something to bask in the intense emotion of.

With everything laid out neatly, you reached over for the sellotape, folding over the edges and carefully sticking them in place.

Wrapping the gift in a pretty cream bow, matching the socks inside, and adding a label reading “To my darling Stevie,” you added it to the pile of increasing gifts in the corner of yours and Steve’s bedroom.

Now, just a week to go until he gets his surprise.

You cradle your stomach, despite the size not increasing at all yet, and whisper to your unborn child “A week and he’ll know, my love. Your beautiful existence will be known.”

“Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake up!”

You are awoken by the sound of your bouncing ten-year-old, aggressively rocking your fiancé as he groans loudly, his eyes adjusting to the light peaking through the window.

“Mornin’ pumpkin,” he murmurs, you opening up one eye as Alena’s full set of brand-new adult teeth smile right at you.

“And what are you doing up so early, missy?” you ask, the clock on the bedside table next to Steve shining a bright 6:00 in the morning, illuminating the room in a red glow.

“Mom” she drags out, rolling her eyes playfully, “You know what day it is!”

You tap your chin lightly, playing along with the joke, “Hmm… I feel as if I may need a reminder.”

“It’s Christmas Mom! And I may or may not have seen all the presents you left underneath the tree…” her vocal pitch increases, looking away in a guilty look as Steve reaches up and pulls her down into his body, the girl screaming as he ruffles her hair.

“Did someone be naughty and peak underneath the tree?” he grits through his teeth, Alena shouting in a reply, “I didn’t mean to, I promise! I saw it on the way to your room!”

You begin to tickle her sides as Steve holds her in place against his chest, making the girl scream in delight loudly, “Is someone now on Santa’s naughty list?”

“Mom…” she pouts her lips, a grumpy expression adorning her face as you sigh sadly, “I know sweet cheeks, you don’t believe in him anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

You hold out your arms as you wrap her in a warm hug, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I knew you would realise eventually. You’re getting too old!”

She gasps and looks into your eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, “I am not old! You and Dad are old.”

You start giggling in shock as Steve just opens his mouth wide, “You better watch yourself, pumpkin.”

“Yeah,” you hold up a finger in warning, before pointing it over to Steve, “Dad doesn’t like being reminded he’s in his mid-thirties.”

And now it is Steve’s turn to attack you, but instead with aggressive kisses, littering them up your neck and across your face lightly, Alena now old enough to understand the playful love between the two of you. “You’re almost thirty as well, you know.”

“Two more years to go, babe. I’m still in my prime development decade,” you smirk at him.

And it wasn’t just you who was developing.

A loud gasp can be heard along with the shredding of paper as Alena holds up her latest gift, “You actually got me it?”

For such a small gadget, the Barbie Digital Camera cost you $70, the most expensive gift yet, but maybe not the one which will cause the biggest reaction.

“Of course I did! It’s the one thing you kept pointing at in the magazine!”

She giggles with a bright smile, “Thank you! Thank you!”

She launches herself at you, the motherly instinct in you clutching onto your stomach to protect your unborn child, hoping Steve didn’t notice the movement. The surprise would be known in the next half an hour.

“And after you’ve taken your photos, we can connect it to Dad’s computer and see it come to life! How cool is that?”

“Can I take it to school?” she asks, clutching the box in her hands.

“I assume you can! But, just ask Mrs. Critchley before you take it in, okay?”

“Okay!” she smiles, plopping herself back down on the carpet to open the rest of her gifts.

Your hands began to sweat. Alena was all done opening her presents, patiently waiting for you and Steve to unwrap yours.

Steve let you attend to your gifts first. Everything from a brand-new necklace designed with a rose quartz, matching your engagement ring, to the latest Nokia phone, you were thankful for everything he had bought you, praising him with many gentle kisses and warm hugs.

Now, it was Steve’s turn. You specifically told him to leave one present until last, leading him to give you an eyebrow raise and a shrug before simply agreeing, used to your weirdness by now. You got him everything from a new cologne to a new pair of Nike shoes, the soles of his old pair wearing thin from how much he was working over the Christmas holidays.

But, after one final kiss, it was finally time.

“Can I open this now?” Steve jokes, the nerves deeply settling in your stomach. You don’t even know why you were worried, you had stopped using protection in mutual agreement, knowing kids could be a possibility from that result. There was just a voice in your head trying to convince you an awful reaction would occur.

“Uh, yeah… Yeah, you can.”

“Hey,” he puts an arm on your shoulder, “Why are you so nervous?”

You lightly chuckle, “You’ll find out once you open the gift.”

Even after all of these years, Steve still wasn’t the smartest. Verbal cues were not his strong suit, but my God could he read body language like a champ.

He gives you a confused look before unwrapping the cream-coloured bow, delicately tearing apart the paper as his eyes immediately notice the ultrasound scan.

He may be oblivious, but he isn’t that oblivious. He has one very similar in his bedside table drawer of his sweet ten-year-old daughter sat next to him.

The tears form at his eyes before he can even recognise them. Small sniffles enter the atmosphere as his hazel eyes make contact with you, “Are you serious?”

And the tears follow suit for you, nodding frantically as he leans across the floor to collect you in his arms, crying into your shoulder.

“How far along?” he mumbles into your shoulder, tears dripping onto the red fabric of your dress.

“Read the card and you’ll find out.”

Steve was too drawn into the ultrasound scan to even notice the card you had gotten him. Releasing from the hug, he keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, picking up the card and carefully opening it, reading the words you had written, the tears increasing as he noticed it was from the perspective of his baby.

“Wha— How? When did you get this done?” he stutters out, still in complete shock of the entire moment.

“Pregnancy test has been in the bathroom trash can for two weeks. I was scared you were going to notice it for a while, but then I remembered it’s you, and you don’t notice anything,” you giggle, Steve not even bothered by the joking insult, too caught up in his own emotions, “And two Thursday’s ago, I didn’t go to work. Went to the hospital and got the scan, and just hung around Starcourt until the time I would normally come home.”

“Well, you fooled me,” he chuckles, leaning in for a kiss which you gladly accept, cupping his cheeks as you smile into it.

“I love you so much, beautiful girl. And I love the baby who is growing inside of you. You’re so strong. Your body is so strong. I just— I can’t wait. I can’t wait to meet them.”

His hand had migrated down to your stomach, gently cradling the unborn child inside of you.

Alena had finally looked up from her Etch-a-Sketch, noticing the tears falling down both yours and Steve’s cheeks, your hands holding tightly onto each side of his head as your foreheads were leant against each other, kneeling on the soft carpet of the living room.

“Mom? Dad? Why are you crying?”

Steve turns around to face his daughter, you looking softly into her eyes, “Because Mom is having a baby, sweetie.”

Steve passes her the ultrasound scan, her face scrunching up in confusion as she points at it, “Why is it just a black blob?”

Steve begins laughing as his head falls onto your shoulder, sweetly rubbing up and down the sides of your waist.

“Because when a baby is first made, it starts out as a black blob and then grows into the full size baby we all know and love,” you explain gently to her.

“Hmm…” she takes in, before asking her next question, “But how did it get there?”

Your eyes widen as Steve’s hands stop on your waist, refusing to lift his head and look at his daughter.

You smile through the awkwardness, remembering that her sex education lessons would start in a matter of months, “You’ll find out soon, baby.”

thank you ever so much for reading!! do you guys want any more pregnancy related fics? i really want to do some research into post-partum for myself, so do you want me to skip straight to that, or tackle other things like morning sickness, gender reveal, baby shower, stuff like that? feel free to let me know!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic @tlclick73 @steveshairspray @superlegend216

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington series #stranger things #eds6ngel

[rae-pss]

Good afternoon rae! hope you have a nice day 😌

So about the whb self aware Au , The reader ( us ) is control the Mc ( Ra-on ) nody right? even so there will be a difference bitween reader/us and the Mc like : souls , aura right? the devil or even the angel pretty much can sense it but need some time to distinguish between both. Like when the reader control or even talk through Mc body is will show ( little / much ) the difference right? I just wonder how they will reaction about it when they start to knowlege that the mc being control by us for that moment can be? ( No need all the reaction of them , like the seraphim or the king ) 🤔🤭

masterlist

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . good afternoon to you too! damn, inspiration tends to come to me once per month or how is this even possible; yet, i'll post separately the seraphim ones (one i manage to write it down). well, whatever, once more thanks for sharing your ideas with me, sweetie. i hope you like it, dear anon (<3). ˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . lowercase intended, 448 words.

〔 SATAN 〕

—satan's the first to realize the sudden changes that the human suffered at times. the fact of being with her most of the time gives him the privilege of being able to notice those strange quirks before anyone else.

—that said, sadly, it didn't dawn on him that it could be a sign that the presence he felt at times seeing him was manifesting in ra-on. It wasn't until he found himself lost in her eyes that her pieces wanted to form the puzzle.

—loves being able to talk, being able to just be with you whenever the opportunity presents itself. this demon seems to live longer every time that, for some other reason, he manages to feel an iota of anger in you when you are in the human body.

〔 MAMMON 〕

—when he realized how his master's aura was becoming more intense, and how her behavior was consequently changing, it didn't take long for mammon to connect one point with another.

—now he understood why the others, aka the gehenna demons, seemed to not want to leave her alone with anyone else for long.

—he doesn't miss an opportunity to talk to you, that superior being who seems to control ra-on in the crazy adventure he lived there in hell. once even admitting that there was when he could touch your bottom directly.

〔 LEVIATHAN 〕

—observative and perceptive as he alone, it did not take leviathan long to realize that these changes in the human were due to the presence that seemed to be over everyone.

—firstly, as it should be, he took it in a somewhat bad way. his envy shining brightly knowing that some already knew before him. the audacity… despite that, as it should be, he had to accept that even with his internal rage.

—if the opportunity arose, he would spend it with you in her castle, preferably inside her chambers where nothing and no one could interrupt you.

〔 BEELZEBUB 〕

—of all of them, I would say that beelzebub is the last, or one of them, to realize what is happening regarding you and the position of ra-on's body. for nothing other than the reason we all know, his constant disappearances and unforeseen appearances.

—of course, he only needed to be in front of that new human aura once to decipher who he was really talking to. that characteristic side smile of his showing itself on his features.

—every time he gets the opportunity to be close to you, be sure that he will take advantage of it. however, don't get too attached, because as always, he will end up leaving before you know it.

#— thoughts. #— what in “hell” is bad? #— answered. #whb x reader #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad? #whb #what in hell is bad x reader #satan whb #satan x reader #satan what in hell is bad #whb satan #leviathan x reader #leviathan what in hell is bad #leviathan whb #whb leviathan #whb mammon #mammon x reader #mammon whb #mammon what in hell is bad #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub whb #whb beelzebub #beelzebub what in hell is bad

[nobody0805]

Hello Major

A Jasper Hale x Reader Oneshot

Someone force me to finish chapter 5 before I write more Oneshots god bless.

Warnings: a bit angsty? But also fluffy.

1334 Words

They had known each other for a long time.

He was still human when he got to know her. His eyes were still shining with his young innocence, his body was not ridden with scars.

But most importantly, his heart was still beating.

When he had to leave for the war, he felt terrible for leaving her behind.

He had promised her to write her letters whenever he can, to keep her informed on how he’s doing, if he’s alright, and most importantly to him, to let her know that he still loves her.

To prove his commitment, he had given her a ring. A ring as a promise he will return.

And once he’s back he’ll make her his wife.

And he kept that promise for two years.

His letters had mentioned how he focused his work on saving and evacuating women and children, leaving him riding across the state to make sure everyone was safe.

His letters had also told her about his progress, how he had become the youngest major in the army, even when considering how he had lied about his age to get into the army in the first place.

But it was one letter that broke her heart.

It had arrived in the evening, two weeks after his last letter.

She had been happy, until she saw the expression of the mail carrier.

The man looked sad, almost sorry for her.

And when she finally opened the letter and read through it, her world shattered. Her hand clutched the ring she wore on a necklace, the ring he gave her before he left.

He died.

At least, that’s what the letter told her.

The army expressed their condolences, telling her how sorry they were for having to tell her that Major Jasper Whitlock went missing and presumably died in the war.

Her reaction was conflicted.

She wanted to scream, cry, rip the letter apart, curse whoever was listening and caused this fate for them.

But she didn’t.

Instead she just kept clutching the ring and read the letter over and over again, hoping that this was just some sick joke. That someone just wanted to see her suffer, maybe the mail carrier, maybe someone else.

But even after two more weeks, no new letter arrived.

And she had to accept that it was true.

Jasper had died, the love of her life was dead.

And she was left alone. Unable to even visit a grave, unable to know where he went missing, what he felt, if he had been in pain before it was all over.

And it broke her.

The big unknown broke her.

And in her grief ridden state she decided that it couldn’t be true.

She was in denial, she was angry and in denial.

Her future with the man she loved was ripped away under her feet, and it made her incredibly angry.

So she decided to take her horse and ride to the last position his letters had told her he’d be.

But she couldn’t have expected what would happen to her.

Never in over a hundred years could she have seen this outcome.

——

Jasper Hale, formerly known as Jasper Whitlock, had been living with the Cullens for a few decades now.

He had gotten to know Alice, who turned out to be a great friend to him.

Thanks to her he managed to cope with the fact he never got to see her again, that she had probably died a long time ago.

And especially that he never got to keep his promise.

But it still hurt, of course it hurt.

In this immortal existence, knowing that he lost his love to time while he was stuck in this stupid army, forced to hurt people despite knowing how they felt, forced to follow the orders of the woman, the monster, who changed him and made him like her.

It all hurt so much.

And going to school over and over again, living amongst humans, pretending that he’s normal, that he’s fine and that he’s human, while having to constantly ignore just how everything hurt without her near.

His thirst was nothing compared to the constant pain of not having his love with him.

——

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since everything changed, since she was told Jasper had died and she decided to search for him.

But she knew that something was drawing her to this small town, Forks.

She had quickly learned how to cope with her new… abilities. Especially with this near-constant burning in her throat that told her she needed to feed.

She had quickly learned that she could feed on animals and avoid hurting people. And she was glad it worked.

When she arrived in Forks, she felt lost. It was a new town for her, for someone who had been wandering on their own for years.

But she felt like something important was awaiting her.

And when she wandered through the forest, trying to avoid the weird smell of dog nearby, she found a house.

She hesitated, what if whoever lived in this surprisingly big and beautiful house in the middle of the forest wasn’t happy with spontaneous visitors.

But something was still drawing her near, as if something in her mind wanted her to enter and see who or what was inside.

Only when a man who looked like he had seen centuries of history stepped outside the house and welcomed her in was when she started moving again.

Reluctantly, she stepped closer, and finally saw a short, pixie-like girl standing behind the man.

”I‘m Alice! I knew you’d come here! Come inside, there is someone you should see!“

And if her heart was still beating, she was sure it would be racing right when she saw him.

When he saw her, his eyes widened and he felt like his words were stuck in his throat.

”D-Darlin‘…?“

”Hello Major.“

As soon as he heard her voice, sensed her emotions, and saw how she looked almost exactly like he remembered, he rushed to her side and pulled her into a tight hug.

”I thought I lost you… so long ago…“ the words were barely loud enough, but she was still able to hear them. And with how he sounded she was sure he’d be crying if it was physically possible.

And she wasn’t fooling anyone, she’d also be crying if she could.

Unable to restrain himself, Jasper pulled away from the embrace just enough to cup her face and pull her in a long overdue kiss.

And it felt like they hadn’t been apart at all, like the past decades of pain just started to disappear.

And he was so happy for the first time in years.

Once they pulled away and finally got to properly look at each other, Jasper’s eyes wandered and he saw the ring he had given her all those years ago. It was attached to a necklace and sat near her heart.

When she noticed where he looked, she smiled and gently cupped his cheek with her hand.

She chose to ignore the scars littered across his neck and jawline, deciding that there were better times to speak about what happened while they were apart, especially now that they have more than enough time together.

He practically melted into her touch, leaning against her hand as if he was afraid she would vanish before his eyes, like this was just an illusion and he was being tricked.

His own hand went to hers, holding it against his scarred cheek to keep her close, to keep enjoying her touch.

”you still have the ring“ he whispered, his golden eyes finding hers.

”and you still have a promise to keep,“ she smiled, ”but I think we have a lot to speak about first, before we take any big steps.“

And he was certain he would keep his promise, but at first they both had a lot of time to make up for.

#twilight #the twilight saga #twilight renessaince #twilight renaissance #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #alice cullen #carlisle cullen #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x you #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper whitlock hale

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.5 K Warnings: None Prompt: What will happen as you walk inside the snake pit? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 43: Sympathy for the Devil

You appeared in a large hall. Their invitation turned into a paper heron, flew out of your hands and up in the air before blowing up into small little gold specks, a rather elaborate spell for an invitation, which easily showed the amount of time and money the Rosiers had put into their party. Evan’s father, Arkalis Rosier, was a relevant political figure in the British Ministry, so it made sense. 

He was basically the main aid of Harold Mitchum (the current minister) and was actively looking to secure the position in the next election. He was also an ambassador for the Ministry and had met your father during some of his trips, although he had already heard from him since he was close to Orion and your father and Orion went way back. 

Either way, if this party was part of his quest to secure his position in the 1980s election, he was definitely doing a fine job at pampering his guests with bright and colourful tricks, among luxuries. You couldn’t say much about the food, but the small snack table displayed near the far corner of the room looked mouthwatering. 

“Silas! You made it,” said a man as he approached your father. You swallowed, he looked exactly like Evan, except older, and with a thick scar across his left eye, which looked glassy instead of dark green as the other one. 

“Of course. Arkalis, we wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” your mother responded with a bright smile and extended her hand towards him. She did always tend to shine in social situations; shiny grin, elegant manners, and incredibly persuasive stance, she managed to make every single person feel at ease when she was around. You sometimes wondered if it was because of the fairy bIood, running much thicker through their veins or because she had learned, and adapted to your father’s needs. 

The fairy bIood made sense, after all, the fae were known for their lavish parties and alluring abilities to humans and wizards alike. 

Your father extended his hand and shook the man’s hand, who promptly turned to you. “This must be your daughter.” 

You extended your hand politely, channeling a similar energy to your mother’s, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rosier, I am–” 

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty of you,” he said with a smile. You swallowed. “Horace told me about the time he teamed you up with Evan on potions, he mentioned you had done a delightful job.” 

“Right,” you added as you relaxed. 

“Darling, you didn’t tell us you were friends with Evan,” your mom intervened, looking at you softly.

“I didn’t?” you asked nonchalantly. “Must have forgotten,” you shrugged it off. “You know how busy it’s been since I got to the new school, with all the classes and adapting and meeting new people, new teachers and so forth.”

“Of course, of course,” intervened Arkalis. “The young girl is right, you cannot expect her to tell you every single thing.” 

Well, at least he’s nicer than his child, you thought as you looked at Arkalis and nodded in agreement. Your father, who clearly thought you befriending Evan would be an excellent political advantage was looking at you with a rather stern face. Holding back from speaking but not quite hiding his feelings completely. You pouted in return and continued nodding along with Arkalis.

Eventually, Arkalis had to go and your father grabbed your arm, gently pulling you to him and whispering through gritted teeth, “You didn’t think it would be clever to tell us you are friends with his son?” 

“I am so far from being friends with Evan Rosier I might as well be on a different planet entirely,” you responded as you tried to shake his hand off. Even though he had grabbed onto you gently, the fact that he had done it was upsetting, especially with how much it reminded you of being manhandled by Barty and his gang. 

Your father huffed and let your arm go, you pulled it back and gave him a rather defiant look, “What? Don’t tell me I now must also make friends that are politically convenient to your career?” 

“It wouldn’t hurt if you did.” 

You looked at the ground bitterly, remembering the bruises on your neck and the scraping on your knee and the splinching you had gotten on that November moon, then turning back to him with a calm expression, “Wouldn’t it?” 

“Darling,” your mom intervened, pulling your father from you by hooking her arm with his, “It’s the Sallows, let’s greet them,” she added, your father’s gaze softened for a second, as if he could see through your brave façade, but he turned back to your mother shortly after, and walked along with her to greet the other family.  

Right, go, who gives a fuck anyway, you thought bitterly as you took off in another direction, straight to that food table that had caught your eye a few minutes ago. You picked one of the small bruschettas and took a small bite of it as you looked through the window. Smoked Salmon, you realised as you savoured it. Outside, the sun was starting to set, the gardens were vast and covered by a thick layer of snow, and there was some kind of hedge maze that appeared to be surrounding the property. Perhaps with several spells to keep the muggles away from their house. It was actually rather clever. 

There were a few crows perched on the hedges, black and contrasting with the layer of snow as they picked out something from their branches. While they gave the outside a rather ominous look, it also kind of made sense, considering the heritage of the Rosiers. Some people thought they were related to the eldest Peverell brother, in fact, you had heard rumours of Arkalis looking for the Deathly Hallows, even if most people considered them nothing more than fantasies. 

“What are you doing here?” a scolding voice asked. 

You turned around hastily to find Regulus leaning against the table with a sneaky smirk in his mouth. You sighed, “Godric, Reggie!”

His smile widened and he shrugged, “Fancy seeing you, I spotted your parents earlier, imagined you’d be here too.” 

“Well you’re as clever as sneaky, congratulations!” you said before taking another bite of your bruschetta, it was delicious. 

“You shouldn’t be here though,” he added in a more serious tone, “I overheard my parents talking about–” 

And then it happened, the two large doors at the entrance of the hall snapped open and a man walked inside, making the most dramatic entrance you had ever seen in your life –and you were dating Sirius Black. He looked about as old as Arkalis, except this man was much better looking, not to say Arkalis was ugly –then again, you might have been biased because you despised his son.

Regardless, something about the man was oddly familiar, he had dark hair arranged in a perfectly put-together hairstyle that swooped in a rather elegant way. He was wearing dark wizard robes, although vintage looking, clearly expensive since the material flowed with a cadence that only the finest fabrics could match. He had a charming smile plastered across his delicate features as he approached Arkalis, easily greeting him like an old friend. 

You watched with curiosity, the room seemed awfully silent since he walked in, there weren’t even whispers, Regulus had gone quiet too, as if they knew the man, as if they feared him. You looked at him again, at the elegant curve of his handsome nose and that’s when you knew who he was. You pictured him with a robe, darker lighting, in a blurry photo somewhere in the Daily Prophet that insisted on avoiding the subject. 

“It’s Voldemort,” you whispered as you swallowed thickly, in absolute disbelief of what was going on around you.

You’d expect someone to scream, someone to pull out their wand or at least someone to apparate the hell away, but everyone seemed perfectly fine with the fact that the self-proclaimed dark lord had just busted the party like some sort of Maleficent from the sleeping beauty. 

“Reggie, do you know who that–” 

He shook his head in response, not because he was responding to your question, but rather in a warning manner, clearly telling you to remain as silent as the rest of the people in the room. You gave him a look combined with a sigh and you saw his jaw tighten as he nodded his head. Another warning. Whatever was about to happen, couldn’t be good. You were in the middle of what could possibly a tеrrorist attack–

Except you weren’t.

“Tom, a pleasure to have you here already,” Arkalis said, approaching the taller man with a bright smile, as bright as the one he had greeted your dad with. No, brighter actually. 

It took 10 seconds of the following exchange for you to realise that you weren’t in the middle of a tеrrorist attack but rather that you were at their dinner party. 

Does my father even know? You wondered, and then you spotted him amiably talking to Orion, who seemed as relaxed as possible with the entrance of the Dark Lord into Arkalis’ party. Of course he did, you thought as you tried to hold back a scoff. 

You looked around carefully, not a single wizard seemed perturbed by the situation, not a single one had raised their wands against the man. Even Reggie looked relatively at ease as he witnessed the entire exchange, as if he had seen something similar happen before, that’s when the eerie thought crept up: He has seen this before. And of course, he had, he was the perfect child, polar opposite of Sirius. When you met him he was always scared of doing something that could enrage his parents, terrified of their reaction to him even thinking the wrong thing. 

While Sirius had rebelled against his parents, Regulus had set out to be the ideal child, following their orders to protect himself from the wrath his brother often faced. His survival mechanism was to be the perfect Black child, and if his parents were Dark Wizards then he would have to become one too, at least until he was old enough to flee. 

You looked at him with a pained expression, feeling the same way you had when you figured that he hadn’t been the one to tell on you, but rather been forced to do it, life had been unfair to him then, and was being unfair to him now. And you had no idea if you could even find a way to help him. It was in moments like that, when you realised how much he was like Sirius, both trapped, just in different ways. 

But then again, were you any different? Weren’t you also at the party talking to dark wizards like they were any other influential person in society? Weren’t you standing there, like every single other person, looking at the interaction without raising your wand? 

Of course, you didn’t stand a chance in a duel against the Dark Lord, but wouldn’t the right thing be to try? Wasn’t that what you had been training to do? No, that’s not it either. You remembered a conversation you’d had with Nightshade before you started training, she had said you were talented, but that wasn’t the end of it, your father’s contacts were a key factor here. If you managed to gather enough information tonight, perhaps then you could use that information against them in the future. 

In the end, you’d do what your father has asked you to do from the very start, play the role of the perfect little politician’s daughter, smile and nod and charm people in the same way your mother did often, all in the simple effort to get something useful out of their head’s tonight. You took a deep breath, all that occlumency you had been practising would be more necessary than it had ever been. 

“Excellent, why don’t we eat now?” Tom asked with a charming smile, “I believe you have a surprise prepared for later tonight.”

Evil doesn´t always look the part, you thought as you stared at him, he had a charisma similar to that of your mother, if a little sinister. He walked alongside Arkalis, who was quickly joined by his wife Astoria Rosier, an elegant, fair-haired woman that looked far younger than she could possibly be. Orion and your father followed next, along with a few other people whom you hadn’t identified yet. 

“Not everyone will dine with them I assume?” you said turning to Regulus. 

He shook his head in response, “Only some of us will.” 

“Of course,” you said with a nod, you too were expected to sit on the same table as them. 

You walked alongside Regulus and a few more people towards one of the doors, you saw Evan joining their parents. Barty was at the party too, you had spotted him in the distance earlier, but it seemed he wasn’t going to be part of the few selected, since he had stayed where he was, talking to a girl whom you didn’t recognize from school, but that oddly reminded you of your boyfriend. 

When you reached the table inside the private dining room, you realised the seats had been tagged for everyone. Tom, as Arkalis kept calling the most evil wizard alive, had taken the head of the table while the host, and unsurprisingly, Orion, had taken the two seats next to him. Your father was right next to Orion and there was a rather young man with pale blond hair, as long as Lily’s but completely straight. He couldn’t have been much older than you, he looked in his early twenties at most, a child. 

Your mother was close to your father, Astoria and Walburga right next to her. From there, there was a stern-looking man who you didn’t recognize and a curly-haired woman who looked about as unhinged as Barty. It was your position on the table that you found dire, you were sitting across from your mother and in between the long-haired blond, who looked displeased by having you sitting there instead of someone else and none other than Evan Rosier. When you saw his name next to yours on the small floating name tags, you had to bite your tongue to avoid the displeased sigh that was just about to escape your mouth. 

When you sat down, the small paper with your name displayed on it disappeared, and on your plate appeared a fresh-looking salad. Evan sat down beside you a couple of minutes afterwards. 

“Evan,” you greeted with a tight smile and a simple nod. Yes, you had to play a part, that didn’t mean you’d have to be best friends with Evan Rosier for the night. Why was Regulus so damn far away? You swore he was about the one other person in this entire party with whom you’d actually want to be sitting and there were about seven other people in between the two of you. You took a deep breath and turned to your salad as if it were the most interesting thing in the entire dining room, perking your ears when you heard Orion speak again. 

They mentioned something regarding the salad being fresh, which you thought was the most philistine compliment someone could ever give, and then they started going on about the weather. Apparently, it had been an abnormally cold winter in England this year. And while White Christmas’ weren’t uncommon, they were a lot more rare than they had been in the past few years. 

You heard your mother say something about global warming to Walburga, who seemed puzzled as if she had never heard the term in her life, which in hindsight she might not have since she lived in her own little pure-bIood wizard bubble and tended to stay the hell away from muggle news. Your parents always knew what was happening with the muggles, they thought it was important to stay informed to be able to maintain the relationships between the muggle world and the wizarding world as forthcoming as possible. 

You stabbed a small piece of tomato and brought it to your mouth as you thought of how stupidly prosaic the small talk of dark wizards was. Were they holding back because it was a Christmas dinner? Were they all going to pretend Voldemort wasn’t sitting at the head of the table, eating the same boring salad as the rest of you? 

How did they even manage to accomplish all their evil deeds if they were just talking about the scores of the latest quidditch championships? Okay, that was Evan talking with whoever was sitting beside him, but still.  These people were supposed to be the most dangerous wizards on the planet and yet they were–

“So tell me, how is the little errand I asked for going?” Asked Tom. 

There it is, you thought as you sat a little straighter and paid closer attention to their conversation. By now the salad had disappeared and there was a broccoli soup sitting across from you, the taste was actually pretty good, quite cheesy. Apparently, cheese was the right choice no matter how morally diverse the audience you were hosting was. Although, you weren’t sure their audience really was all that morally diverse, except for you and perhaps Regulus. 

“Excellent,” Arkalis responded as he turned to Tom, he looked awfully pleased with himself. “They’re downstairs, waiting for the show.” 

Tom took a spoon of his soup and then smiled. You saw a snake slowly creeping up his chair, and he seemed awfully comfortable around her when he noticed. The snake hissed and he said something back to her. He speaks parseltongue. 

Now, that might not be new information for Dumbledore, but it was to you. The Daily Prophet didn’t talk about all the skills the Dark Lord had honed through the years. It’s ridiculous, you thought. What if someone tried to use serpensortia against him and got killed by their own spell? Of course, someone who thought that spell was enough to go against Voldemort was going to get killed later on anyway. Regardless, it should already be common knowledge what he was good and bad at. 

“Good, I suppose we’ll be enjoying the spectacle when the dinner’s done?”

“Indeed,” Orion said this time around. “Things must be prepared for the ceremony.” 

Ceremony? What fucking ceremony? You thought as you took another spoon of your soup. You tried to keep your eyes on it, as if not to seem like you were prying. 

“Is the soup really that interesting to you?”  

Godricbedamned, not now fuckface, you thought as you turned around to Evan, “It’s really good, actually. More interesting than you and your friend gushing about your quidditch crushes for sure.” 

The blond man next to you, whom you had now learned was Lucius, snorted when he heard your reply while Evan clenched his jaw and looked at his parents nervously, as if trying to make sure he hadn’t caught your exchange. You followed his gaze and then turned back to look at him with a slight smirk. So that was a low blow then?  You thought as you recalled, he had only talked about male players with his other friend. 

Oh, it’s because Daddy doesn’t know. Better leave the subject behind. You weren’t planning to out him, no matter how much of an asshole he continued to be, even if last time he had actually gotten Severus off your back. Speaking of him, it was a delight not to have to see his long face around, looks like his family didn’t make the cut to be invited to the pit of snakes you were currently in. 

“At least I have someone that’s interested in talking to me.” 

“If I was interested in talking, I’d have already struck a conversation Evan, not all of us are eager to say every single thing that comes to mind.” 

“You wish.” 

You hmphed at that and turned your head to the other side, “Lucius, would you mind passing me the salt?” you asked politely. He turned to you a little confused at first, as if he was surprised you had talked to him and then nodded, handing over the salt to you an instant later. “Thank you. Your shoes are very elegant, by the way.” 

Lucius seemed both surprised and pleased that you had noticed his shoes. They were impeccable like he had either bought them for this event or had them cleaned and polished. He had walked with slow decision as he approached the table earlier, and when you spotted his shoes, you realised why he was being as careful with them as he had been with his hair throughout the night.  This man cared about looking good. 

“Oh, thank you,” he said with a smile. “I got them custom-made by a very elegant designer, you might have heard of him, Alistar Shoman.” 

Gotcha! 

“You’re telling me that’s a pair of Shomans? That’s incredible.” 

Lucius seemed pretty pleased with the conversation, you threw a side glance at Evan who just scoffed and turned to speak to his friend again, all the while you looked at Lucius and pretended the history of the Shoman company was the most interesting thing in the world. Perhaps it was just slightly more interesting than the broccoli soup. 

Then you heard your name drop from Orion’s mouth and you turned to him with the most polite expression you could muster. 

Fuck. You had been paying so much attention to Lucius’ stupid talk to prove Evan wrong that you had missed the one bit of relevant information they had been talking about, and now they were calling you for some reason. What a miserable spy you would make. 

“Yes, Mr. Black?” You asked. 

“We were just talking about the fact that we’ve been so busy that we haven’t been able to go watch the Quidditch Matches recently, but we’ve been told they have been outstandingly interesting.” 

You felt the tension in his voice, they probably knew you had sought against Regulus in the Slytherin vs Gryffindor Match. 

“They have been,” you said with a nod. “Quidditch is certainly something intense at Hogwarts, all of the teams are incredibly capable. It certainly has been a challenge to be able to keep up with my position.” 

Orion laughed at that, “Such modesty.” 

You swallowed, unsure how to respond to that but with a small smile. “Slughorn told me you were one of the most promising players,” added Arkalis. “Some teams are already considering you…” 

That actually caught you by surprise, you loved quidditch, but you had never actually considered making a career out of it. Lucius turned to you with newfound interest, as if now that he knew what you were capable of you had become actually interesting to him, beyond whatever fashion talk you had held earlier. It was hard to hold the urge to glare at him for it. 

“I’m sure all of the players in this table are as good as me, or even better,” you said, thinking of Regulus, and playing your role of clever guest, even if you had given Evan a compliment with it. It wasn’t a lie, Evan was a good chaser, but he was also a total asshole. 

“And yet, your team won in the last match,” Arkalis said, making sure to look down on his son as he spoke the last line. 

You didn’t turn your gaze to Evan but you could tell he had lowered his gaze from the little you saw in the corner of your eyes. No wonder the boy was like he was, his father was even worse than him. You felt a little pity towards Evan, even if you still disliked him thoroughly. 

You decided driving the conversation to a different subject would be the best thing to do before things got even more tense. “How did you meet Professor Slughorn?” you asked, managing to have a genuinely curious look on your face as you did. 

“We studied with him,” replied Tom, turning to look at you with a chill-inducing smirk, both charming and dangerous at the same time. He definitely had that cult-leader vibe going for him, no wonder so many people were so eager to follow him, it wasn’t just because he was powerful or because of their shared hate towards muggles, most of the men in the room shared those 2 characteristics. The one thing that made the difference was how much more charming this man was in comparison. “We were both in the Slug Club too, weren’t we, Arkalis?” 

Arkalis hummed in response, “Indeed, he used to say Tom was the most brilliant student he ever taught.” 

“He likes playing favourites,” you added with a smile. 

“He does indeed,” agreed Arkalis, and eyed his son again, his gaze reproachful and thunderous. “He told me you and Evan made an excellent team.” 

You remembered that day and tried not to shudder at the thought of Evan’s hand squeezing your injury, “Right we did,” you said as you placed your hand on his shoulder, making sure to dig your nails enough to make him uncomfortable. “He’s delightful to work with,” somehow you managed to make that sound honest rather than sarcastic. “He’s especially good at measuring and mixing.” 

Arkalis seemed pleased with your praising of his son, and you thought they might start talking more the more pleased he was, especially since his wine wasn’t refilling fast enough. In fact, every single person in the room seemed to be drinking moderately, as if they were trying to keep their heads clear for whatever surprise they were talking about earlier. 

“We’ve been friends ever since, haven’t we Ev?” you added with a charming smile.

“Right,” Evan added, “Best friends.” 

Arkalis seemed pleased with the response, your father still looked irritated over the fact that you hadn’t told him about your friendship with Evan, even more so since he thought you lied to him earlier when you said you and Evan were light years away from becoming friends. The rest of the table seemed to buy your lie, except for Regulus who was looking at you with a rather anxious look on his face. While he didn’t know everything Evan had done to you, he had a pretty good idea of some of the things based on things he had heard at the Slytherin table. 

You smiled shortly and then someone who you didn’t recognize said something to Arkalis and drew the conversation away from the two of you. Evan leaned over, “What the hell are you playing at?” he asked. 

“I’m playing my role as a nice guest, how about you play the one of a nice host and we pretend we don’t hate each other’s guts for the night?” you retorted. “Your father seemed pleased enough about our friendship or whatever.” 

“You shouldn’t have come tonight.” 

“As if I wanted to,” you scoffed and turned back to listening to the adult’s conversation, they were now going on about the Ministry of Magic. They mentioned something about how he was now doing exactly what he was meant to do and you felt chills run down your spine when you spotted Voldemort’s smile. 

The Ministry is on his hands, no wonder there is no news about him on the daily prophet. Just how many deatheaters are out there? All infiltrated on normal day jobs and working towards making the world a much darker place… the idea was horrifying, and yet everyone at the table seemed incredibly pleased with it. 

Eventually, you finished dinner, Tom was the first one to stand and he said something about it being time for a show. At this point, you dreaded finding out whatever the hell was his idea of entertainment, from what you’d heard, it couldn’t have been good. 

You were on your way towards the exit, trying to find Regulus again when Arkalis walked beside you and offered you his arm, “Darling, would you mind talking to me for a second?” he asked, using a charm similar, but not nearly as masterful as the one Voldemort had. 

You looked around trying to find Regulus, of course, Arkalis had asked, but the way he had said it was enough for you to know that it wasn’t actually an option to say ‘no’. Reggie was a few feet from you and he sent you another anxious glance before Orion intercepted him. 

“Sure, of course,” you replied as you felt Arkalis’ hand over your shoulder, urging you for an answer, you hooked your hand in his and followed him to a different room, completely missing the absolutely terrified look on Evan’s face. 

“How may I be of help to you, Mr. Rosier?” You asked calmly, whatever reason Arkalis had to bring you to the library, it was not intending to hurt you, at least you hoped it wasn’t. And the chances were low since it would be a very stupid decision to make considering who your father was, and how close he seemed to be to Orion, who, you had concluded, was closer to Voldemort than Arkalis, even if they had studied together. 

Whether you liked it or not, your parents’ connection to Orion Black, was the reason you were safe in this party. 

“You’re friends with Evan, correct?”

You heard a shuffling at the end of the room, turning to look but finding nothing, you narrowed your eyes in that direction only for a second before turning back to Arkalis, he didn’t look like an overly patient man, “Indeed.” 

“Excellent,” he said with a nod and then smiled, a smile so warm and kind that you might have bought his good intentions if you hadn’t been deterred by the thing that left his mouth afterwards, “You would tell me if he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing, right?” 

Like threatening to throw me off the astronomy tower, choke me and throw me off my broom along with his boyfriend? Sure, you thought. 

“Something he shouldn’t be doing?” You played dumb, that seemed to always do the trick for people like Arkalis. 

“I’ve heard some rumours about my son.” 

Rumours? You wondered. Whatever the hell is he–

“People have been saying he’s really close to a boy in school.” 

“Evan has many friends,” you responded, just now guessing what Arkalis could mean. 

“Closer than that,” he told you. “It’s a… deviation that happens to muggle men often?” 

Fucking hell, you thought when you realised what he meant. Arkalis wants to know if Evan is gay, but the way he approached the subject, using the words “deviation” and “muggle” with such derision.  You tilted your head slightly, trying not to look offended by his homophobia. 

“I’m not sure I understand, Sir, Evan has many friends.” 

“I mean, does he have a boyfriend?” Arkalis asked. 

There it is. You played surprised at that. You heard another movement on the side, “Oh, Merlin no!” you said surprised. “I would definitely know if Evan had a boyfriend,” you said, trying to sound as confident as possible. It wasn’t completely a lie, you did know. 

Then you felt Arkalis trying to prickle at your mind, looking for something, inside of it, the truth, you realised. And then you gave him what he wanted to see. You used every single ounce of mental power to conjure up one image and one image only. Evan pushing you against the railing of the Astronomy tower, hand in your throat and leaning onto you, the same way it had happened then except, there was no one else, and rather than lean over to threaten you, Evan was leaning over to kiss you. 

You tried to hold your thoughts of disgust at the image being projected on your mind as much as possible, but you knew that, at least that scene, would get Arkalis off of Evan’s back for a while. 

No, you didn’t like Evan, you’d go as far as to say that you hated his guts, but no matter how much hate you harboured for the blond, you would never out him, let alone to a clearly abusive and homophobic father like Arkalis. Take it as the good deed of the day, you thought as you used memories of kisses with Sirius to make the scene more realistic. 

Eventually, Arkalis stopped digging inside your mind and you felt relief wash over you, allowing the horrifying image of kissing Evan Rosier to dissolve. Arkalis pulled back with a pleased smile. “What a deceptive little thing,” he said as he looked at you with a smirk and grabbed onto your jaw to pull your head up slightly. You gave him an innocent look in return, as if you had no idea what he was talking about. 

Does he know I’m trying to trick him? Did he notice?, you wondered as you moved your hand towards your dress pocket to try and find your wand. 

“Pardon?” You asked meekly. 

“We all thought you were dating Orion’s eldest son,” he said Sirius’ name with scorn, and you had the urge to spit on his face, you somehow managed to hold back.  

“I am dating Sirius,” you replied with an innocent frown, voice still soft, still playing a part, Arkalis had to think you had no idea he had dug inside your mind. 

His smile just widened, “Of course, my bad,” he said with a smile and pulled his hand away from your face. “If you see Evan tell him I’m proud of him. He’s got a good eye for women.” 

You swallowed thickly but managed to give him a confused nod in response. It was meant to be a compliment, and yet it made you want to puke, you definitely did not like Arkalis better than you did Evan. You didn’t even like him better than you liked Barty. 

“Uhm… of course, Sir,” you replied, still playing dumb, his smile grew wider and he bowed his head before exiting the room. 

When he was gone you allowed yourself to sigh, shutting your eyes as you thought over everything that had happened. And then you felt a hand in your arm, gripping tightly, just like he had back in potions class. 

“What the hell was that about?” Evan asked from behind, he looked absolutely baffled. 

“Oh, Evan, you were the one eavesdropping then,” you replied with a sigh and shoved your arm to try and pry his hands off of it. So fucking handsy, you thought as you remembered his father’s stupid hands on your jaw. “Do you mind?” 

Evan seemed just as puzzled and slightly angry now too, and while he didn’t let go of you entirely, he did loosen his grip, which you were thankful for. “Why did you–? What the hell did you tell my father?” 

“You know, the right way to express what you’re feeling right now is to say thank you,” you replied annoyed, you hadn’t saved his ass for him to be a total asshole about it. 

He finally let your arm go completely and passed a hand through his hair, “What I mean to say is, you know about me and Barty, you could have told him, gotten rid of the two of us in an instant, my father would have probably sent me abroad to some other school if he found out and yet you… made him assume I like a woman?” 

You sighed, “Look, Evan. I don’t like you, okay? You’ve been an asshole to me from the fucking start and frankly, I wish I could beat the fuck out of you sometimes, but there are lines that I’m not willing to cross. No matter how much of an asshole you are, I would never out someone just because I dislike them, let alone to someone like your father.” And then you scoffed, “Muggle-deviation, fucking hell, just say gay.”  

Evan was speechless after that, he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what he should say or if he even should. Perhaps he really should thank you for covering for him, but even that would feel empty. What you had done might have been one of the nicest things anyone had done for him in his entire life, but how could an enemy be the one to do that? 

“I– I mean I–” 

You sighed again, “Just… leave it,” you said and left the room, and an incredibly confused Evan inside of it. 

Evan disliked you, he disliked you for throwing a Quaffle on Barty’s face and breaking his beautiful nose, he hated you for being a know-it-all, he hated you for being good at quidditch and he hated you for being such a self-righteous prick who considered herself better than him. He hated you for constantly teasing Barty and Mulciber and Snape, he hated you for how reckless you were and for picking up fights with people who were bigger and stronger without backing down from them. And his whole idea of you was crumbling down because he wasn’t sure he would have done the same thing in your position. If he knew how to destroy you, would he have hesitated? 

Would he have saved you too?

Evan sank to the floor and started to cry, he wasn’t sure if the thick salty drops falling from his eyes were from angry or relieved tears. He didn’t know why he was crying, he just knew he couldn’t stop. The complexity of his emotions churned within him. You had the power to vanish him, you could have told his dad and the one bit of happiness he’d found would have been gone in an instant. He wouldn’t have seen Barty ever again. 

Did you even know how much you had done for him in that 5-minute talk you’d had with Arkalis? 

Years of hiding, years of being careful, years of feeling like he was wrong, and that what he liked was poisonous, deserving of mistreatment and scorn, years of dreading his father finding something, anything that could out him. All gone in a small little chat, where you barely even fucking spoke. The smile Arkalis had made, the relief in his eyes –the acceptance– that made Evan want to cry even more. Because no matter how great he was, no matter how perfect he was, he would never, ever be truly accepted by his father. Never would he make him as happy as you had by implying to him he liked a girl. 

He was miserable, and out of all people, you had been the one to make his sorrow, even if it was just slightly, less painful, less burdensome and less suffocating. 

Yet, despite the relief, Evan couldn't shake the lingering bitterness that consumed him. He resented you for knowing his weak spot, and yet, beneath the layer of resentment and anger, there was a tiny ember of gratitude, a flicker of acknowledgement for the unexpected reprieve you had granted him. As he sat there, tears staining his cheeks, he wasn’t sure he could continue hating you anymore. 

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A/N: This might be one of my favourite chapters to write. I really like those emotionally charged scenes, but you've probably already noticed. Also, even antagonistic characters have feelings and boy, do some of them run deep... Poor Evan (I told you guys I did like the Slytherin boys, but the rivalry still exists. Even if, to their different points of view, the villain might just be, well: us. Love, Lils xx

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[morgana-ren]

On the subject of cheating…. How do you think Astarion would react to a dark urges Tav who doesn’t show any disapproval towards him for infidelity but does try to brutally murder all of his other flings

I can’t reconcile if he would be upset about them having too much agency in this situation and stop it or just into Tav being possessive of him in the way he’s possessive of them

He wakes to the pleasant and unmistakable tang of blood.

It's not uncommon for Astarion to greet the morning steeped in the sweet, saccharine scent of blood. Not at all. In fact, it's most welcome upon first waking, ranking among a deep, rich brandy and defiled silk sheets for his favorites. A metallic bouquet of a lovely, robust breakfast just begging to be supped on, just for him. If you were to ask him, there's truly nothing finer in the world.

An indulgent inhale has him sitting up, slipping a lazy hand through his hair and tongue running over his fangs as his mouth waters. The pit of hunger gnawing at his gut isn't quite so terrible as it used to be when he was but a filthy spawn, but he wouldn't ever deny himself the decadence of breakfast served up to him in bed.

The source of the delectable scent lies flopped over on the opposite side of the mattress, and he glances over with sleepy, hazy eyes to admire the sight. Her long, silky hair splays raggedly over her face, one of her arms limply hanging off the edge in what cannot be a comfortable position. The sheet haphazardly wrapped around her only scantly covers her rear, and by proxy, the sloppy mess he'd made between her thighs a few hours prior.

Clearly, he'd worn her clean out.

He chuckles; he can't help it. He's almost proud of himself-- if it wasn't so commonplace, that is. It's so terribly difficult for these weak and paltry little things to keep up with his kingly stamina, and he cannot begrudge the delicate humans that end up beneath him for losing consciousness.

Still! It's time to wake up, as he's remarkably hungry and he will not go another second without sinking his fangs into her swan-like neck.

"Darling, you sucked me dry and left me ravenous," He reaches for her, tracing a teasing claw up the dotted curve of her spine. "It would be positively unacceptable to leave me in such a state before you go."

She doesn't respond to his sentiment, and so after several seconds of testing his patience, he prods at her upper arm, eventually resorting to jostling her lightly with his hand, pinching her flesh between his clawed fingers--

--and it's only then that he realizes that her skin is ice to the touch, and he cannot feel her chest move with her breath in his palm. While that is entirely normal for him, it's not normal for small human women.

The sharp aroma of blood is far too palpable, even for his palace.

His red eyes truly focus on the girl contorted in his sheets for the first time: Her skin far too pallid, her stench far more enticing than it had been hours ago. His hand goes to brush the hair from her face, and there's a slick, wet feeling between his fingers as he does.

He is hit with the subtle yet bitter scent of freshly dying blood. Something that is usually sequestered only to beings beginning a state of decay. Something that should not be in his bed.

Unsettling, he thinks, but mostly irritating. Dead, hmm? He's almost certain he didn't kill this one on accident. Fairly certain. He callously rolls the woman's dead weight onto her back, frowning as he's met with a scene that he's quite certain he couldn't have done accidentally.

What was her throat is now a gaping maw of blood and bone-shine, scraps of gore clearly ripped out from inside. Her mouth-- or what is barely left of it-- is twisted in an eternal wordless scream, her face eternally contorted in some unseen horror. Her lovely eyes are wide and frozen in terror, unblinking and milky. Upon further inspection of her body, there is a hole where he assumes her still-beating heart had once been, clawed savagely free from her ribs by some brutal, unrelenting force.

He scowls, needling his lower lip with his teeth. It's a shame, he thinks with an exasperated sigh. He's sure was a beauty before all of this.

Another vicious, deadly beauty clearly demands his attention now, and he pushes the dead whore off the bed with an annoyed huff, snatching his long silk robe from the bedpost before affixing it around his body.

"Such a pity," He fastens the tie around his narrow waist, stepping carefully around the bedframe to stand in front of the newly made corpse with a grimace. "You were so vivacious last night, dear girl. But you're making the wrong kind of mess of my sheets, and I cannot abide that."

With a careless tug, he rips the remains of the young woman off his mattress, her mutilated body landing on the floor with an uncomfortable, wet thud. He steps over her, striding towards the door, feeling decidedly irritated. He was planning to spend a lazy afternoon in bed, but it appears something more urgent demands his immediate attention.

"Good morning, my lord--" A servant greets him just outside of his door with a sweeping bow and an expertly balanced tray. Astarion doesn't bother to look at him, instead grabbing a morning glass of wine, taking several deep swigs before finally sneering unpleasantly down at the man.

"Where is my wife?"

Another scraping bow, but Astarion doesn't stay to witness it. Rather, he takes off down the hall in search of someone more important. Someone that, he imagines, was rather busy last night after he fucked-- Hells, what was her name? He doesn't remember. Did he ever know?

"In her garden, sire."

"Right," Astarion carelessly tosses the glass back onto the floor, where it shatters to pieces. "There's a rather putrid corpse on the floor in there. Have it taken care of. I want it spotless before I return."

"Yes, my lord."

He tries to recall as he makes his way through his palace and towards the garden, and ultimately decides he doesn't care.

He finds his lovely wife right where he expects to, taking a leisurely stroll in her strangely fruitful garden. The scent of damp, rich soil permeates the air, mingling with odd, exotic flowers he has brought her and lush, fertile plants that she has coaxed into life with her hands. Blossoming organic life from nothing is not something that he imagined was in the wheelhouse of a favored child of Bhaal-- quite the opposite, really-- and yet, she seems to have nurtured a niche talent for it of late.

It irks him that she's grown somehow cold to his affections. She no longer stares at him with owlish eyes and flushing cheeks and a rapidly beating heart; rather she seems to shrug off even his most endeavored attempts at seduction with an ease that, if he didn't know for a fact that he was the most powerful and attractive man in a country mile, might hurt his pride.

She seems entirely at peace and unbothered, gently cradling a small rose between her fingertips, admiring it as it slowly blooms into a lovely, blood-red bud. The placid expression of someone either entirely unacquainted with the art of murder, or a masterful artist with it, and he knows all too well which one. As he approaches, she doesn't acknowledge him with anything other than a brief turn of her head and flick of her eyes.

"Your garden is looking lovely as always," He saddles up behind her despite her aloof silence, gingerly sliding his arms around her waist and leaning to scent along the side of her neck. "As are you, my sweet girl."

She only hums her acknowledgement, her ever-present sly semi-smile unfaltering as he speaks, still clearly far more taken with her flowers rather than his company and flatteries.

A deadly mistake for everyone other than her.

"Been busy this morning, little love?"

"Oh, only as much as usual," She gives him nothing--no guilt, no anxiety, just the hints of a mischievous, murderous smile-- as she releases the flower from between her fingers, turning instead to continue sauntering through the row. "I try to keep busy."

A quick sniff reveals all he needs to know. He doesn't need to get any closer to the freshly filled hole to smell the rancid stench rising from it. Underneath the sopping wet dirt, mingling with fertilizer and fallen leaves is the unmistakable stench of dead flesh; A muscle steeped in still blood, to be specific. Buried beneath soil alongside the foreign seeds lies what is left of the mangled heart of the woman he'd taken to bed last night, now planted in his wife's garden in some macabre ritual to sustain yet another carnivorous horror she's gotten her hands on and is now coddling into growth.

"I can see that," He croons, eying a fresh mound in the dirt, clearly freshly dug. "Is this one new?"

"Just this morning, dear," She lulls softly, a barely discernible playful edge to her voice. "Newly planted."

Dozens more peculiar vines twist up from the ground in various states of growth in nice, even spaces carefully organized into rows. Under the lively essence of plants and sticky-sweet flowers is the painfully apparent stench of decay and rot; Months and months of the still-lingering scent of blood of all the lovers he'd taken, turning spoiled and foul in putrefaction in her grisly little garden. All of their lives ended preemptively by his wife with the same feral glee that a rabid mongrel must feel upon sinking its fangs into a terrified, defenseless creature.

All for daring to indulge in him.

What a senseless thing. Died so futilely and no doubt miserably at the hands of his wife, alone and panicked only feet from their powerful king, and for what? Finding their way into his bed? How absurd. Who could resist him? Who would dare? He almost pities the funeral procession of poor creatures whose hearts have become fodder for the dirt, no honoring of their lives save his consort's nursery, fed and weaned on their innards. Their final moments belong to his insatiable wife's ruthless bloodlust through no fault of their own, and yet--

--Something about her vicious possessiveness over him smolders in his core, igniting a twisted arousal that coils the length of his spine and constricts like a serpent until he simply cannot stop himself. Deadly, precise, perfect little wife of his, so vicious and yet so precious to him. He swears her bloodlust only serves to stoke the flame, and how he longs to devour her.

(How long has she denied him? How long has she teased and tested him, tantalizing him with memories of burying himself inside of her sweet, tight heat with merciless drive, supping from the delectable blood of her soft body, her voice crying his name like a chant to some dark God until she rips what is left of his soul clean from him to take it into herself. She would yield for no one, a primal and ferocious creature beneath the veneer of illustrious, undead beauty, and yet she would heel to only him, letting him lose himself in her warmth, her fire until he burned--)

He reaches around and whirls her to face him so that she cannot feign indifference under his scrutinizing gaze. She knows better than to fight his manhandling and allows him to spin her towards him, though she refuses to wilt under his sultry glower. Her expression remains entirely passive as his hand reaches up to take her chin between two fingers, squeezing hard enough to have her wincing.

"Another one, darling?"

"You dislike the roses?" She blinks big eyes at him, the perfect picture of innocence. She hasn't been innocent a day in her life, and today certainly isn't a start.

A part of him wishes he could remain angry-- or at least a little indignant-- about the fact that she believes she has some overarching and indisputable claim on him, but deep down, he knows that she's right; she does have a staked claim in his heart in a way no one else ever possibly could. Even as his eyes and body might stray from her, he is forced to admit time and time again that nothing compares to his wrathful little lover. The strays he shepherds into his bed don't fill the gaping hole she leaves within him in her absence, her wretched denial of him. It is only silently that he acknowledges his wayward lust is just his spiteful response to her cruel neglect.

"Don't play the fool for me, my dearest girl, you're a terrible actress. Another concubine. Another corpse in your grim little graveyard. Is calling it a well-tended monument to your jealousy perhaps too romantic?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my love," She smiles gently, lifting a hand between their chests and up to her face, slipping a finger between her plush lips. He smells the lingering blood on it and yet he cannot take his eyes off her tongue as it curls sensually around the length of her knuckles and how immaculate it might feel on him. He cannot help himself but think just how graciously daddy Bhaal has blessed him with his beautiful daughter; How fiercely alluring it is to watch his undomesticated little monster clean up her homicidal mess.

It started as all things do: With a seed. A bladed joke bloomed into irritation and resentment. His endless libido and her cresting bloodlust come to blows over priorities. The only woman who dared to gainsay him, her lovely little hands covered in blood and the power of Bhaal coursing through her veins keeping her too wild to be truly tamed by his vampiric blessing. His appetite for domination was insatiable, as was hers.

A child of Bhaal would not be tamed-- even by him.

He craved obedience and reticence-- he craved raw reverence and worship. To be viewed with wide eyes and admiration and blind devotion from some poor, pitiful creature too weak and foolish to resist him; To be seen as a God before a miserable little mortal; For his subject to offer willingly for a chance to taste of his splendor.

It is the only thing his beloved would never give him: acknowledgement of his superiority; submitting before him, allowing him to enforce his will upon her willingly. She is a fanged and clawed creature, wild by nature, and she would not purr her praises chained at his feet. She commands respect-- even from him.

She could never play the fool for him, encouraging him to believe that she was helpless against him, or weak, or pitiful, or foolish. It would insult her pride and her lineage. She is a force of nature in her own right, and he could never truly own her without her consent-- consent she has withheld.

And so, he would tell you that he simply retaliated.

She never spared him a sour word when he teased the waters about bringing other people into their marital bed. She only smiled that damn smile of hers and told him that he can do as he wishes as the king. Hells, she hardly seemed to notice when he first took some pathetic creature into their sheets for some harmless fun. The reaction he yearned for from her, some measly sign of her devotion to him, she wickedly denied him, seemingly knowing full well the impact it had upon him.

It drove him to madness, a spiraling misery fueled by his pride. He refused to beg for her, and she would refuse to kneel before him. He came to believe that truly she did not crave him with the same veracity that he longed for her. He no longer sought her out, and she did not come seeking. Surely, if she loved him, she would show some sign, some indication of caring that his fingers caressed a pale pastiche of her rather than where they desperately longed to be: Tracing her lovely mouth, coaxing her clever tongue, circled around her neck, between her warm thighs--

--And then corpses began popping up like flowers, and his beloved suddenly took up gardening.

She grinds his patience to a fine powder, and something about that gets his fires burning hotter than it ought to. Her insouciant dismissal of him, the absurdly casual slaughter of insignificant sex partners and then having the audacity to seem almost bored of his presence. She clearly cares enough to rip the bleeding hearts out of his inconsequential conquests, and yet, here she stands, utterly unfazed by him, having the audacity to feign indifference.

"If you're jealous, my love, you only need say so," He hushes to her, batting her cheek softly as he forces her to look up at him. "You needn't kill everyone who finds their way into my bed. I would cease if you simply said the words."

"Jealous?" Her brow furrows, head cocking, her lips jutting into a little pout. "I don't know what you mean."

What he asks is simple, so dreadfully simple. So easy, so, so easy--

Acquiesce to me.

And yet, she dares to deny him even as there is blood on her hands from strangling and wringing his full attention from his lover's corpses.

The wall of the greenhouse he built for her isn't particularly comfortable, but he couldn't care less as he shoves her against it, bullying his body against hers with brutal force, slamming her head against the glass with a lightning-fast palm encircling her throat.

"Why do you insist on being such an obstinate little brat?"

She opens her mouth to reply, and he squeezes tighter in response, choking the air from her little neck and stoppering the words on her tongue. There is a flash of something in her eyes once they open again, but he isn't entirely certain which sin it's indicative of: wrath or lust, or some degenerate mix of both.

It had to be her.

"I don't know what you mean, my lord," She croaks as he allows it, her hand clasped on his wrist as he clenches the rounds of her neck. He swears he sees her lip twitch in the ghost of a smirk even as he suffocates her. He holds all the power over life and death over her, and yet she is insufferably calm.

"I warned you not to play stupid, darling. You know very well what I mean." He growls against her ear, frustration and arousal building to impossible levels. Of all the women in Toril, it had to be her-- it had to be--

"Admit it," He hisses, sharp fang nipping at her ear. "Just admit it, and ask-- beg me, and I'll stop."

He feels the chuckle bubble in her throat even as he cannot hear it through the pressure he applies to her windpipe. "Beg what, my lord?" Her eyes narrow, her amusement apparent even as she has a practiced expression of apathy, whispering back to him with a strained voice still somehow full of unmitigated audacity. "Do you think I suffer?"

His lip curls downwards, and he realizes that he has no leverage here other than her violent jealousy, which she will happily unleash upon his unfortunate bedfellows rather than swallow her pride and cling to him as she should. She has no qualms with murder, and he might as well hand-deliver her victims. It has become an inevitable truth that whoever finds themselves romping beneath the sheets with their king won't be leaving alive because the queen would rather die than admit she cares that he spends his affections elsewhere.

"You can't hold out forever," He knees her legs apart and wedges himself between them, grinding his lust into the clothed heat of her core. "You will beg for me. You will acquiesce. You know your place is at my side."

He pushes forward again, lips brushing against her cheek, his warm breath on her neck sending shivers spiraling down her spine. The way she rhythmically gyrates her hips deliberately against where he wants her most has his hands flexing, kneading deeper into her flesh. His nails dig into her deceptively soft skin, sliding one hand up her body to grope gratuitously at her curves before crawling up to thread his pale fingers through her hair. With the silky strands weaved between his knuckles, he yanks, exposing her throat to the mercy of his razor-sharp fangs like a wolf perched over carrion. He'd die before admitting the overwhelming, frantic need she inspires within him, but he swears if he doesn't have her now, he will perish.

She exhales ragged and husky, squirming against him in apparent need, but still manages to stand her ground. "I am at your side, my lord. Your front, to be more specific."

"On your knees, on your back, whatever I demand. Give in to me. Heed my command, my love," He releases his fingers from her neck, both his arms snaking behind her to scoop her ass in his palms and hike her up against his waist, bidding her wordlessly to lock her legs around him. She does it instinctively, throwing her arms around his neck, tugging playfully at his silver hair as she does. He keeps her up with easy purchase against the wall, keeping her prisoner between a wiry cage of eager limbs and foggy glass panes. "Submit to me of your own free will. Kneel to me, your husband and king, and submit to me fully."

His voice is low and husky as he exhales against the shell of her ear, doing his best to swallow down the desire to rip her pretty dress to shreds with his bare hands and ravage her on the filthy ground of her greenhouse.

"All you need do is say the words," He mutters, barely audible even to her, the scent of her driving him to the precipice of insanity. "Say you belong to me, body and soul. Submit to me, girl, and I'll never have need of another."

He feels the derisive chuckle in her throat reverberate against his own mouth and pulls away to observe. Her eyes are glassy and low as they meet his, moist lips parted in a little 'o', trying so hard not to do that hateful little smile of hers. His hand tightens in her hair, jerking his hips ruthlessly against her once again. So close now, he can feel it, he's going to destroy her, ruin her, tear her to pieces only to put her back together and do it again--

She dares to deny him, dares to have the raw audacity to mock him-- he's going to hurt her so badly, sink his fangs into her neck and drain her fucking dry, force himself inside of her until she has to beg him through hiccupping sobs to stop, unable to fend him off in his full power. He will show her who is the master--

"No."

She cranes her head forward just a little and gives him a mockingly gentle peck on the mouth. It's deceptively gentle and cruel in its intention, entirely meant to taunt him. In his shock at her gall, he is stalled, almost paralyzed and entirely unresponsive and numb to the tidal wave of rage and lust that collides in a nuclear cocktail deep in his gut. It's but a brief moment before he regains control over his senses, and when he does--

"Maybe," She flicks her tongue out, licking a small, red stripe up his cupid's bow. "But not yours-- and you can try, my love."

He releases his grip on her hair only to grab her cheeks, digging his fingers into her jaw so hard that he can feel her gums scrape against the ivory ridges of her fangs. Her wince of pain doesn't escape him, fueling the inferno inside of him as he snarls, baring teeth down on her as a predator might.

"You dare to play games with me? You are a miserable, stubborn little whore and I'd see you put back in your proper place!"

It's more animalistic growl than spoken sentence, and even as he squeezes her face, he can see the twitches of a smile on her crumpled mouth. He can smell the blood on her tongue, the utter defiance in her expression, and despite his frenzy of anger, he throbs between her thighs.

--and yet it's him on the cusp of inescapable frenzy, the taste of her now blasting away the dull, gray months and the now; this one fiery moment where she is wholly his, reminding him of the untamable bonfire of desire she stokes within. His beloved consort, his wife, until death take them both or not at all--

It should drive him into a blind, red rage, but it just makes him harder, pulsing against her insistently, his body demanding entrance to what is rightfully his--

"You will always belong to me."

He crushes his mouth to hers so hard it pains the both of them, more devouring gnashes and fierce, hungry greed for her than passionate kiss. His fangs break the skin of her lip, his tongue thrusting between her teeth, determined to taste every inch she offers up to him. She mewls weakly into his mouth, trying to break the kiss to breathe, but he won't allow it; she only breathes by his will and he'd see her reminded of that--

A battle he will win.

"Mine-- only mine--"

He pants it sloppily into her open mouth, still desperately trying to swallow her essence into himself. She manages to tug away from his unhinged fervor, though only briefly, just to heave and whoop air into her lungs, desperate to catch her breath before she speaks:

"Not if you're not only mine."

It's a fool's facade, this game they play. Around and around and around once more, each demanding prostration of the other only to burn themselves on their own encompassing greed for the other. A toxic whirlwind of emerald-green jealousy and blood-red rage, enveloped entirely by hazy, punch-drunk lust. Two titans locked in a battle for dominance, chasing the vulnerability of the other one.

He hard-swallows, using every ounce of strained willpower he has in his willowy body to retreat away from her, casting his savage need into an abyssal pit inside of him and sealing it before it swallows him. instead. Slowly, he manages to peel away, slowly setting her feet back on the ground, doing his best to compose himself despite the very blatantly obvious signs of arousal and his apparent state of both mental and physical dishevelment.

"I won't humor you forever, darling," He purrs, giving her one last squeeze before stepping back away from her, distancing himself from her control over his body that he loathes. "I always get what I want. You should know that."

She blinks up at him again, her lips puffy and skin smeared with swatches of blood that he has to bite his tongue to keep from tasting. "Not this time."

His lips quirk in a condescending grin at her adorable little show of defiance, resituating himself within his linen pants without shame. "We'll see, my dear."

With that, he abandons the 'conversation,' turning to walk out of the greenhouse, only sparing one last glance at her garden of flesh-- and then once back at her. It breaks his willpower in a way he is miserable to admit, but his need for her overwhelms his pride.

One last snarl in her direction, and he turns to stalk out, itching to backhand the smugness from her pretty face. If he does, he knows well enough that he will not be able to walk away from her. He will take her here and now in a maelstrom of blood, violence, and ruthless sex, and he will lose this little game of control, and he cannot have that.

Still, that doesn't mean she is allowed to believe she has any choice in the matter.

"It's been long enough. I am expecting you in my bed tonight. Do not make me come searching for you. You won't like what happens if I must seek you out."

She seems surprised and almost pleased with his minor acquiescence. It comes in the form of a demand, but she knows full well that it's the best she's going to get. She offers him a sweet smile, smoothing her skirts back down her legs from where he'd hiked them up around her still-quaking legs. He can still smell her, the wet between her thighs, the rich, royal blood flowing through her veins, her body that sings to him a siren song luring him to his fall. If he doesn't break something in soon, he is going to combust--

"We'll see."

He traipses back into the palace, body shuddering and shivering in its effort to control the raging hormones. He is ravenous, needing to drain someone dry and be drained dry-- and soon. Another well-trained servant greets in the halls, cautiously approaching upon seeing his dour expression, bowing from some distance away in case his master decides to lash out.

"My lord--"

"A concubine. Now. Sent directly to my chambers. We are not to be disturbed, no matter what you hear. Do not keep me waiting."

#morgana and friends #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x dark urge #nasty boy stuff and there's a body count in this #don't read if sensitive #lots of tension and a ping pong game of idiots trying to get the one-up on each other #just as toxic as you'd imagine #sorry this is not edited or proofread I was far too lazy #im proud of myself for just getting it out #It ain't great but hey it's what I got in me right now

[melinoephilia]

Analyzing Anya & Xander's Duet

Aside from the general sadness of the episode, one of the sad things about "Once More With Feeling" is Anya and Xander's "I'll Never Tell" song. First, let's start with the most obvious. When Xander sings about Anya in this song, almost all his lines about her positives have to do with her body/looks and being in her "tight embrace" (we all know what he was really talking about). In fact, if you go through the lyrics of the song, the only time he compliments her personality is when he calls her a charmer and says she's sweller. But if we look at all the things he sang previously, is it charmer for her personality or because of what she does for him? (satisfy his sexual urges). On the opposite end of this, he has many criticisms of her personality within the song, "She clings. She's needy. She's also really greedy." Furthermore, if you want to take his insecurity lines into account, you can see that while, yes, he's insecure, which is fair, anyone can be insecure, they're also implying that he believes she's only with him for monetary purposes, and views him as disposable DESPITE her clear dedication to him (and willingness to live in his parents' basement). Don't even get me started on the "Am I marrying a demon" line. While I can understand that fear, on account she was a demon for a thousand or so years, it completely ignores all the human growth she had and character arc she went through.

Now let's start on Anya's verses. While yes, she does criticize him a bit, almost all her lines have to do with one of two things. A) the way he treats her. OR. B) insecurities centered solely on her. She doesn't compliment him much in this song, but she doesn't disparage who he is as person much either, and when she does it's either things all couples complain about like, "he snores" and most fair of all "his penis got diseases from a Chumash tribe," or things that critique his behavior in their relationship, "I talk. He breezes." and "Say housework and he freezes." Now I will acknowledge one line she said "His eyes are really beady." Yes this is a diss against his appearance, but this also comes with her interrupting a long verse of him just disparaging her personality and she was like just trying to stop that train by changing the track. It should also be noted that this verse against her personality came directly after she called out his habit of hiding behind buffy when things get rough, so he is clearly lashing out having not liked the feeling of feeling emasculated. Another note is that all but one of her complimentary lines toward him have to do with his personality. "He's swell," and "My knight in shining armor."

From her lines in the song we can see how insecure he makes her, because ultimately we have to remember this is a song about their relationship. "Will I look good when I've gotten old," "when I get so worn and wrinkly. That I look like David Brinkley," "I've read this tale. There's wedding. Then betrayal," and most importantly "Like it's all just temporary."

Lastly, just a quick assessment on their perception of their relationship that comes in near the end of the song. Xander sings, "Am I crazy?" whereas Anya sings, "Am I dreaming?" She views this as a dream, something not possible but somehow is, whereas he views it as something crazy, a word with negative connotations, that what he's doing could be done by someone not in their right mind.

My summation? While this song is upbeat and peppy, it actually was telling us exactly how their love story would end, as well as who would be the one to run. Xander, as much as he's central to the scoobies, was and always will be a sexist coward. He never loved Anya, he only love what she could do for him, and she was also the only one interested in him.

Anya wasn't perfect, but she 100x deserved better.

#buffy the vampire slayer #anya jenkins #xander harris #btvs #once more with feeling #i'll never tell

[bleedingectoplasm]

Glowstick Danny

It's been a few days since Danny's accident, and, for the most part, he feels fine. Sure, yeah, he can see how to some other person the accident may have been horrifying or disturbing or something, but for Danny it seemed like just another day in the life of a kid with ghost obsessed parents.

The ghost powers are a little bit weird, but honestly, having superpowers has been pretty fun. Sam and Tucker have been coming over for sleepovers every night since the accident to mess around with his new abilities, throwing wads of paper through Danny's intangible chest and drawing on invisible skin with pen.

It's during one such sleepover that Danny, Sam, and Tucker are hunched over playing Doomed, having gotten tired of watching Danny walk upside-down on the ceiling while tossing a ball back and forth with Tucker. It's approaching one in the morning, and Danny has been sitting in the same position for far too long. His back is starting to ache and he feels like his bones are fusing together, so he reaches his arms above his head with a yawn and leans backwards as far as his chair will allow.

As he stretches, his spine lets out a series of small pops. Danny lets out a sigh of satisfaction as the tension in his body eases slightly.

"Dude, that was a nice one," Tucker remarks, leaning backwards to stretch his back as well.

Sam screws up her face in disgust. "Guys, you know I hate the sound of cracking joints, knock it off."

Danny throws her a shit-eating grin, and without breaking eye contact, he quickly presses down on the fingers of his left hand with the heel of his right, releasing a satisfying snapping sound from each of his knuckles. He braces himself for a punch to the shoulder from Sam, but it never comes. Instead of the trademark gross out expression he was expecting to see on Sam's face, her eyes are widened in wonderment.

"Dude," she whispers, "do that again."

"Uh, what?"

Tucker nudges Danny in the side. "Crack your knuckles again."

"Um...okay?" Slowly, cautiously, Danny moves to pop the joints on his right hand. This time, instead of smugly staring at Sam's face, he looks at his own hands. With the slightest amount of pressure, his knuckles release a small sound. This sound is accompanied by a faint green glow surrounding the knuckle, emanating around the joint before slowly fading, like a light shining through his skin. It seems his body has learned bioluminescence, but only in small doses.

"Woah," Danny murmurs.

"Do it again!" Sam encourages him.

He is more than happy to oblige. He walks over to the floor length mirror in his room, Sam and Tucker at his heels. He places his hand along his jaw and twists his neck. Once again, his joints crack, and each vertebrae in his neck is outlined in an unearthly green light.

"Dude!" Tucker exclaims. "That is so sick!"

"How does that work?" Sam muses. "I mean, I guess that cracking joints is bubbles popping in the fluid that lubricates your joints, and we know that your blood is some sort of weird ectoplasm blood hybrid now. Maybe all of your bodily fluid has a little bit of ectoplasm in it? And the light is from bubbles popping in the ectoplasm?"

Sam turns to look at her best friends, only to see that they are both staring intensely at Danny's hands. Danny is flexing his fingers with a sort of reverence.

"Tuck," Danny says as he locks eyes with his friend, "are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Absolutely," Tucker says with a nod.

In unison, they both shout at the top of their lungs: "HUMAN GLOWSTICK!"

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #everlasting trio #ficlet #ecto writes #this has been bouncing around in my brain so here take it i am shoving it at you #this has no beta i just needed to release the brainworm into the world so i can do other things <3 <3 <3 #....glowstick danny.....

[kate-bridgerton]

@pscentral event 13: tropes || A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin

Fairest of Them All: This tropes is played with in Cersei Lannister’s arc as she is given a prophecy as a child that though she will be queen, a young and more beautiful queen will cast her down. Regarded as the most beautiful woman in Westeros, she still fears that another younger woman will one day surpass her. Though she doesn’t believe that her daughter-in-law Margaery is more beautiful than her, Cersei targets and attempts to remove her as a threat, all the while ruining her own political position. Meanwhile, Cersei is also ignoring the hints of Daenerys Targaryen, a younger and more beautiful queen who is building military support and intends to overthrow the Lannister regime.

Knight in Shining Armor: The role of knight is both practical in a military sense, but it lends itself to being a ceremonial and PR role where the values of chivalry are idealized and often discarded when inconvenient. For Loras Tyrell, its a showy display for tourneys. Others are more villainous, such as Criston Cole, Gregore Clegane, and Jorah Mormont, who use the respectability of the role while displaying none of the values of it. The ideal of the heroic Knight in Shining Armor is played straight with characters like Dunk, Lyanna Stark, Aemon the Dragonknight, and Brienne of Tarth, who fight to protect others.

Animal Eye Spy: The Stark children are all skinchangers. Bran, Arya, and Jon are specifically shown warging into their respective direwolves and seeing through the eyes of their bond animals. Arya and Bran extend their abilities from their direwolves to other animals. While Arya skinchanges a cat she bonds with, Bran is actively being taught to see through the eyes of birds and secretly skinchanges into another human-being, Hodor.   

#asoiafedit #gameofthronesdaily #iheartgot #pscentral #gotjonsnow #gotaryastark #gotdaenerystargaryen #targnation #starkedit #gotedit #daenerys targaryen #cersei lannister #margaery tyrell #Brienne of tarth #lyanna stark #bran stark #jon snow #arya stark #asoiaf #arthurpendragonns #userbbelcher #fantasyedit #creations

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Shine Bright

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Star!Reader

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: fluff, angst, being kidnapped and almost killed, but then fluff again

Summary: Hydra wants to reign eternally, and the best way to do that is to eat a falling star's heart. They knock you out of orbit but didn't expect the Avengers to find you first.

Squares Filled: stars (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: This takes place during or after FATWS, but I've made John evil, and everyone who died post-Endgame is alive and well.

I am absolutely in love with the movie "Stardust", so I decided to base this story on that! The picture down below DOES NOT represent the reader at all, I just wanted to showcase the movie.

x

The sky above is still and peaceful. There isn’t a cloud in sight that allows visibility to whoever looks up at it. John Walker looks through the telescope and positions it on the star Hydra is targeting. If he wasn’t on a mission right now, he’d appreciate the stars shining brightly for their human audience.

“John, is everything in position?”

“On my end. What about yours?”

John looks at his coworker who is in charge of the missile they plan on using for this mission. The man tweaks the numbers and aligns them with the correct star.

“We’re ready.”

All eyes turn to Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. She is in charge of this whole operation under the assumption this is for the CIA. She sits at the large desk in the middle of the room, leans back, and rests her hands in her lap.

“Fire away, gentlemen.”

John and his coworker turn the machine on and launch the missile at the star. John rushes over to the telescope and watches as it flies into the sky, breaks off into tiny pieces, and zooms straight into the heart of the star. Instead of blowing it up like most missiles do, it knocks the star off its orbit and sends it straight down to Earth. Whatever John is seeing through the telescope, everyone can see on the monitors in the room so that Valentina can see what’s going on.

Everyone watches it fall straight to Earth to a place they don’t know. They can’t predict the crash site for something as big as a star but it won’t be hard to track it down. Once they figure out where it is, they’ll have so much fun dissecting it for what they truly need it for.

It was Tony’s idea that the entire team kick back and relax after a hard working week. Sam and Wanda brought out the board games that can account for a lot of people since everyone lives at the compound. The only one not here is Thor but that’s because he has duties to complete on Asgard.

“Okay, this time, don’t cheat,” Tony says to Sam.

“Hey, that was one time and I was trying to get Steve.”

The game they’re playing is Cards Against Humanity, something they all love to play—adult edition. What’s a good night in with alcohol and friends if not for an inappropriate game?

“Bucky, you in or not?”

“Yeah, pass me some cards.”

With everyone on board, the game can get started. The first few rounds were hilarious and the next couple was causing a lot of people to drink. Tony loves to put a spin on his games. If he can get people to drink, then a lot of people are getting drunk. By the tenth round, everyone is relaxed and willing to kick things up a notch.

Tony brings out a Truth or Dare drinking game when something bright lights up the night sky.

“What the hell is that?” Clint asks.

Everyone gets up and gathers around the window to watch it fall to the ground. It lands not far from the Avenger’s Compound but far enough to where they can’t see it.

“Tony, Sam, let’s check it out,” Steve says seriously.

Tony and Sam get suited up while Steve fetches his shield. Steve catches a ride with Tony to travel two hours from the Compound in Madison County. There is a big crater on the ground from the impact of the white light, and the three men tread carefully over to it. Steve’s shield is in front of him ready to protect him, Sam’s drone, Redwing, flies next to him cautiously, and Tony’s repulsors are ready and waiting to be fired.

Tony expected to see some kind of weapon in the middle of the crater but instead of a thing, it’s a person--you. You’re wearing a white dress that goes down to your feet, and you have a white glow about you. You groan in pain just as the light dies down and you look up at the three men staring at you.

“What the hell happened?” you ask.

You look to the sky to see your sisters shining in the night sky. How the hell did you get from up there to down here?

“Who are you?” Steve asks.

“My name is Y/N. Who are you?”

“Steve, Tony, and Sam. What happened here?”

“I don’t know. One minute I was shining in the sky and the next I’m down here and in pain.”

“Shining in the sky?”

“I’m a star. I was minding my own business and someone knocked me out of orbit.”

Steve, Tony, and Sam walk down the crater’s walls and toward you cautiously. They still don’t know if you’re good or not until you get up and reveal what’s been behind you this whole time. A shell of a missile that has the Hydra symbol on the side of it.

“We need to get her inside. If Hydra wants her, then she must be special. We can’t just leave her here.”

“Leave me here? What the hell is going on here?”

“If Hydra wants you, it’s for a reason. We should get you inside before they come looking for you.”

Going with them beats sitting here and waiting for someone bad to find you. Everyone who was left behind waits eagerly for the men’s return, and they’re shocked when they return with a gorgeous woman. You’re scared of the many unknowns of your situation: who are these people? What do they want from you? Who is after you? Are you in danger? Will these people hurt you?

“Who is this?” Natasha asks.

“The white light.”

“Here, sit,” Steve offers, and you take a seat away from everyone else. He knows you’re scared so he’s trying to make this as easy as possible for you. “She’s a star.”

“A star?” Bucky asks with two eyebrows raised.

“As I said to them earlier, I was living peacefully in the sky when something knocked me out of orbit.”

“Hydra knocked her out of the sky. They must want a star.”

“Why? What’s so significant about a star?” Bucky asks.

“There’s lore around shooting stars,” you explain. “For centuries, people have tried to get stars to fall to Earth for their hearts. If our hearts are consumed, it’ll grant the person a sort of immortality. No one can live forever, but our hearts can extend life for centuries. Many of my sisters have fallen and died because of it.”

“Hydra must want to reign for a long time,” Steve theorizes. “Listen, why don’t you stay here until we can figure out how to get you back into the sky.”

“Can we even do that?” Natasha wonders.

“There’s a way. It’s complicated but there’s always a way.”

“Bucky, why don’t you show her to the room next to yours.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you,” you sigh and follow the man with a metal arm. He’s very quiet and doesn’t talk much which you relate to. “I appreciate your kindness.”

“Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky leaves you alone in the room and you sit on the bed in thought. You never sleep at night and allow yourself to rest during the day so you’re not tired at all. Bucky looks at you before he leaves but pauses. You look so scared and nervous that he can’t help but walk back into the room to be with you. He sits next to you on the bed and wipes both hands on his jeans.

“I was once new here. I didn't know anyone besides Steve. I’m gonna help you figure out a way to get you home.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

The rest of the night is uneventful but right before the sun rose, your eyes started to droop. All of your sisters are sleeping as you’re supposed to be, but the Avengers are so loud you can’t fathom sleeping with this noise. If Hydra wants you then they must have a base somewhere to hold the equipment to knock a star out of orbit. All that equipment will take a lot of money to acquire and a lot of space to hold, so they all come up with places that can be potential bases.

“Ah, there she is. We need your help,” Tony says and waves you into the room.

“What are you guys doing?” you sigh and slump over to them.

“We’re trying to figure out where Hydra’s base is. If we can, then we can plan an attack before they try and come for you.”

“Great,” you sit down and place your chin in your hand.

All of them start talking over one another creating a small headache to form.

“Y/N, I know you’re tired but can you remember where the missile came from? If we can get a sense of direction, we can narrow potential places significantly.”

“I’m not tired, Steve, I’m exhausted. I never stay awake during the day. I need to sleep and rest but you’re all being so loud,” you sigh.

“Come with me,” Bucky offers.

Bucky leads you past both your rooms and to a wing of the compound that rarely is used. This place is the farthest from where anyone is gonna be. There is a spare bedroom down here that Bucky takes you to, and he opens the door for you.

“You’ll be able to get some sleep here. I come here when I want to be alone. It’s quiet.”

“Thank you, Bucky,” you smile.

Your entire body shines slightly to show how happy you are but Bucky doesn’t think much of it. You’re a star. You’re supposed to be shining. All he does is give you a friendly smile and leave you alone to rest. It’s easy for you to fall asleep and you stay asleep for the whole day. When the sun goes down, your body wakes you up to start shining. Then you remember where you are and your glow dims.

You’re ready to take the night on and wander until you find the majority of the Avengers. They’ve been working hard all day to figure out where the Hydra base is and are now taking a break to watch a movie.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Tony says when you enter the room.

“Got room for one more?”

Bucky moves over so you can sit next to him, and you blush slightly when your leg brushes up against his.

“Did you find out where Hydra is located?”

“No. They have defense walls that aren’t coming up on our radars, but we have Friday constantly looking for a way in.”

“Who’s Friday?”

“My AI,” Tony answers.

He turns the movie up so everyone can hear it, and you turn to Bucky with a shy smile.

“Thank you for letting me use your space,” you whisper.

“I don’t mind.”

“What movie are you guys watching?”

“Dumb and Dumber. They love it.”

You try to get into the movie but you’re not connecting to it as much as you hope to. Everyone laughs at the same time when something funny happens but not you. You’re not sure if you fit in well with this group. Humans have always been part of your fascination but you only know of the evolution of them, not them personally.

“Excuse me,” you whisper and get up.

Bucky watches you walk off toward our room without another word. He knows more than most what trying to fit in feels like and how bad he can feel when he doesn’t. He leaves his friends and follows you to your room. You’re sitting on the balcony and staring at the night sky where your sisters are.

“I promise I’m coming home. I’m figuring out a way to do that,” you sigh.

They twinkle to let you know they hear you.

“Mind if I join you?” Bucky knocks on the balcony doors.

“No.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not really a group person.” Bucky sits next to you on the lounge chair. “I’m more of a loner. I didn’t have any planets orbiting me, and the closest star to me is my sister Vega. She’s such a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I’m more of a loner, too.”

“My sisters are the only ones I can count on, and they’re watching over me right now to make sure I’m okay.” 

Bucky looks up and they twinkle so he can see where they’re located.

“When you were in the sky, could you watch over humans?”

“It was my favorite thing to do. I’ve watched humans grow since they first arrived. I see the value in human life because it ends. They’ve come a long way from where they first started.”

“I’ve never met a star before. You’re pretty nice and beautiful.”

Your body shines a bit at his compliment.

“Thank you. Stars are pure and innocent despite the violence and horrors we see on a daily basis. We represent everything good about the world. We represent beauty.”

“I can tell,” he smiles.

Your body shines a bit more the more you are happy being here with Bucky. The stars in the sky shine a bit brighter when they see their sister happy.

Hydra hasn’t made a move against the Avengers over the course of the following week because they’re not sure how they can approach the situation. Valentina knows exactly where the star is and she can’t charge in like she normally would. The Avengers are powerful that deserve careful planning and strategy to overcome.

 Meanwhile, you and Bucky have grown closer. When you’re not sleeping, you’re spending as much time with Bucky as you can. There is only a short amount of time you can spend with him before one of you needs to sleep. In the beginning, you were only allowed a couple of hours to be with him, but now you’re spending half a day with him. You’re slowly starting to fall asleep later in the morning and waking up later in the night. It’s something you’re willing to change in order to be with Bucky.

“Tell me something,” Bucky says.

You two are lying on the roof of the building admiring the night sky which is sure to come soon. Your skin is glowing brightly that if whoever were to look up at the roof, they’d see nothing but a white glow.

“What?” you ask and look at him.

“I know that stars shine but do you get to choose when you get to? I’ve seen you with and without.”

“I shine when I’m happy,” you say with a bright smile, “and I’m happy right now with you.”

You and Bucky stay on the roof until there is no more sunlight left in the sky, and you yawn tiredly.

“Tired?”

“A little bit.”

“Let’s go back inside.”

You and Bucky head back inside your room to get ready for the night, and you look at your bed in thought.

“You know, I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve been transitioning into sleeping at night so I’m still struggling a bit. I might be able to sleep better if it were next to you.”

Bucky holds his flesh hand out, too scared to use his metal hand for fear of breaking you. He takes you to his room where you two get comfortable underneath the sheets. He’s shocked he can sleep with you shining next to him but it gives him a sense of comfort knowing you feel safe enough with him to shine.

The next morning, you wake with a smile on your face and your skin glowing.

“This is the first time I slept through the night.” You look beside you but Bucky isn’t there. The brightness dims on your skin until it looks normal. “Bucky?” You get up and walk around the compound in search of Bucky, and you find him in the main room where the other Avengers are. “What’s going on?”

“We found Hydra’s base. Nat’s gonna stay here with you,” Tony declares.

Your eyes immediately find Bucky’s.

“You’re not gonna stay here with me?”

“I know Hydra like the back of my hand. I have to go with them.”

“Oh, okay.”

Tony, Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Sam get geared up to go while you and Natasha stay behind. She’s decked in her gear just in case something happens. She has the capabilities to keep you safe since you’re not a fighter--you’re a lover. You don’t think you could fight even if you wanted to.

“So, how long have you been with the team?” you ask.

“Too long.” You look away in thought and bounce your leg nervously. “Look, I haven’t known Bucky for very long but he’s trying. He used to be one of the bad guys but he’s doing a helluva lot more good to make up for the bad. He knows how to handle Hydra. He’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” you nod with uncertainty.

You and Natasha make conversation for the next couple of hours when the alarms start blaring inside the compound.

“Stay here.”

“You’re leaving me alone?” you gasp.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Just stay here and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Natasha is gone before you have a chance to question her further. You wait nervously for her to come back because you have no clue where she is, what’s going on, and who is inside the compound. After an hour of waiting around, you get up and look out the window. Everything seems normal as if there isn't an intruder inside. Footsteps near the room you’re in, ad you turn to the door waiting to see Natasha.

The door opens and you smile.

“I was beginning to worry.”

The smile is lost when you see a strange woman with four soldiers around her.

“So was I. The easy part was tracking you down. Stars have a bit of… aura about them that is easily tracked. The hard part was infiltrating this place. I had to make sure I had all my bases covered. You’re coming with us.”

“No,” you stand your ground.

“No? Emilio.” One of the men takes out a tablet from one of the pockets and flips it open. He presses a few buttons and shows you what’s on the screen. All your friends are tied with Hydra soldiers all around them. Of course, you’re worried about all of them but you can’t help but look at Bucky. “Either come with me or your friends will be killed.”

You have no choice but to go with her.

The woman, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, leads you through the large Hydra base to a big room with a staircase leading up to a small landing. A large table is on the landing with a  medical cart next to it. There is nothing but different sizes of knives--knives that will be used to cut your heart out.

“A shining star’s heart is the way to go, but I’ll settle for your scared little one any day of the year.” You’re only doing this because you’re scared of what these people are going to do to Bucky if you fight back. You’re forced onto the table where Valentina straps you down so you’re not tempted to leave. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure to make it quick and painless.”

She grabs one of the sharpest knives and walks over to you. You close your eyes and send a quick prayer to your sisters in hopes they can hear you. She raises her knife when the double doors slam open. You both look to see Bucky storming in with his deadly gun.

“Bucky!” you smile and shine brightly at the sight of him.

“Get him!” Valentina orders.

A dozen guards make their way into the room and start shooting at Bucky who is more than prepared to handle them. Bullets fly as your concern for Bucky grows. However, he seems to beat every single one of them as he makes his way closer to you.

“Emilio!” Valentina yells.

The big guy who was with her earlier steps into the room with two charged electric gloves. His metal armor makes him immune to the bullets Bucky is firing at him, and he gives him an uppercut when he reaches him. Bucky goes flying across the room and uses his vibranium arm to slow his descent down the walkway.

Emilio and Bucky meet in the middle as they fistfight for your honor. There is no way Valentina is cutting your heart out now. She wants to see how this fight is gonna end. She is pretty confident that her soldier is going to win against the Winter Soldier, but oh how wrong she is. The double doors bust open and Wanda comes in with red magic at her fingertips. Tony and Steve are behind her ready to fight whoever they need to in order to save you.

Red magic encases Emilio to hold him still while Bucky delivers a deadly punch to the bottom of his jaw. Emilio is thrown across the room and knocks into a mirror, and he slides down it unconsciously. Valentina sees the urgency of the situation and raises the knife.

“Tony, heads up.”

Steve rears his shield back and throws it in Valentina’s direction, and Tony shoots his repulsors at the shield to make it fly the rest of the way. Valentina tries to escape but is hit before she can find coverage. She falls to the ground completely knocked out. Bucky runs up the staircase and over to you with an easy smile.

“You really thought I’d let you get sacrificed?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Bucky undoes your ties and helps you off the table, and the both of you run down the staircase to the other Avengers. Before you can reach them, all the doors that lead into the room slam open. Dozens upon dozens of guards come in with their weapons, weapons that can kill everyone here. There are too many guards for Wanda to control and too many for them to take on.

They might not be able to but you can. You pull Bucky into you and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Hold onto me and close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“What do stars do best?” You pull him down so that his face is nestled into the shape of your neck. “They shine.”

Your entire body shines with the intensity of a real star. Your teammates cover their eyes to protect themselves but the same thing can’t be said for the Hydra soldiers. Your light kills whoever dares look into it, and the soldiers in the very back leave as quickly as they can before they can succumb to your light. You pull away from Bucky and dim your light knowing that these soldiers aren’t going to hurt them anymore.

After Valentina is apprehended and taken back to the States for punishment through the CIA, Bucky returns back to the Compound with you by his side. There is a lot of paperwork that Nick Fury has to fill out, and Tony and Steve offered to stay behind to scour through the base and see what kinds of things Hydra has been up to.

The night sky is shining brighter than normal because your sisters are happy for your safe return.

“They say thank you for saving me,” you say to Bucky.

“No problem,” he says to the sky before looking back down at you. “She’s worth saving.”

“You know, these last two weeks with you have been amazing. If I’m being honest, I’m having second thoughts about going back. I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to leave either.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you in closer by your hips.

“Maybe staying here for a while longer won’t be so bad.”

He slides one hand up your body to your jaw which he cups. He leans down and kisses you with such intensity that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach. The stars twinkle in the sky as your own light shines brightly for all to see.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #the winter soldier #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel fluff #mcu fanfiction #marvel fiction

[mymainwastoocluttered]

Malleus requests: Reader and Malleus have been together for a long time and all topics have come up, especially children. Reader never wanted any, but one day she sees a small Fae child and stares at it. Those big round eyes, those cute little pointy ears... those cute pointy teeth. Reader runs back to Malleus, slams the door open and yells, "malleus! i want children! now!"

Kinda like the Baby Fever series fic, but in reverse! I like it!

Children Of Man (and Fae) (Malleus)

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

— (っ˘ω˘ς )

Malleus had a really hard time communicating properly when your relationship started, so you took it upon yourself to start the important talks in your relationship and guide him through them.

He has gotten much better over the years you two have been together, and definitely more approachable, much to his delight.

One topic at a time, you two discussed every part of your lives. Your world, his position as Crown Prince, you being human, him being fae, your different lifespans (that one was heartbreaking and you two avoid a repeat of it as much as you can), your future marriage (drawing nearer and nearer everyday, it has been a dream and a nightmare)...

And, of course, children.

You have no interest in them. Period.

Not because you hate them, who could hate children? No, no, you just don't think you'd be able to raise a kid. Taking care of Grim and the other first years had been overwhelming enough, and they were all (technically) grown ups.

Of course, if in the future you must provide the throne with a heir, both you and Malleus agreed on adopting an older child from a noble's house with blood connection to the royal family. But otherwise, no children.

Malleus is fine with it, the sweet dragon, placing your happiness and your relationship first. You're always so grateful for having such an understanding soon to be husband.

"You're so pretty!"

What's that? That's the sound of all your plans going down the drain? And it sounds like a child?

"... Thank you! You're very cute!"

Yep. It is exactly that.

The little one stares up to you with big, shining eyes, and you immediately feel enamoured. They're so cute, with their pointed ears and pointy teeth, smiling shyly at you. And the old fashioned fashion of Briar Valley means they're wearing a cute frilly shirt with shiny buttons, really, they're just a little gentlefae.

Then the child's mom comes to take them away, apologizing for "bothering" the future Crown Princess, which you of course denied, assuring her that her kid is the sweetest little cupcake you've ever seen and she must be very proud of them, which then started a quite long conversation about children and raising children.

A conversation that only ends when you look at the clock and gasps, noticing how late you are to meet Malleus. You excuse yourself, wishing both mother and child well one last time, before scurrying back to the castle.

You can hear Sebek hollering and Lilia laughing when you run past them, but you don't care.

No, right now you're on a mission.

Throwing the door of Malleus' office open, you don't even wait for him to put down his teacup.

"Malleus, I want children! Right now!"

And maybe you are a genius for not waiting. It's not everyday you see Crown Prince of Briar Valley Malleus Draconia choke on tea.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst x reader #x fem reader #anon request #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia

[rainesntears]

Papyrus And Selective Personalities: Every Example Of It So Far

An often overlooked character trait of Papyrus is selective personalities. What are selective personalities? 

By selective personalities I essentially mean that Papyrus changes the way he acts around certain people, specifically his brother.

Now why this is could be lots of different reasons, however im not interested in discussing the specific intricacies of why he does it, but rather when he does it. So without further a do, i present to you, every example of Papyrus and his selective personalities!

What They’re Going To Do To Us

When with Sans Papyrus says that he doesn’t know whats going to happen after we’re captured.

However despite this when he’s away from Sans he shows a clear understanding of what will happen to us.

Ice Cream Or Snow?

During one of the phone calls in which both Papyrus and Sans are present Papyrus seems to confuse ice cream and snow. 

When Papyrus is by himself though he shows to be perfectly capable of knowing what snow is. 

Papyrus also is shown to know about ice-cream and considers it separate from snow. 

Hotland Emotional Aura, Is It Negative Or Positive?

Papyrus claims to love Hotland in regards to MTT.

This doesn’t add up though, as he directly states later on that he dislikes Hotland. 

That Giant Ball

At first glance it seems as if Papyrus doesn’t know what the sun is as he doesn’t seem to recognize it when with the gang.

However when alone he shows a pretty clear understanding of the sun and wind.

This doesn’t seem to just be Papyrus knowing about the sun but not what it looks like either, since he knows that it shines on your skin, and he also knows about the moon, which no other monsters really comment on.

Has His Bro REALLY Never Seen A Human?

Sans claims that Papyrus has never met a human, this is also backed up by Papyrus not recognizing Frisk as one when meeting them with Sans.

Despite this Papyrus clearly understands human anatomy and culture.

His knowledge of the surface world (seen in the previous entry) further support the idea that he knows about humans as well. 

Labradory...?

When calling Papyrus (while Sans is present) in front of Alphys’ lab you’ll get some dialogue that suggests that Papyrus doesn’t know what a lab is.

After Sans leaves though you are able to get this dialogue inside the lab.

Papyrus clearly knows what a lab is here, as he mentions it by name and knows it involves science. 

Puzzles

When dealing with Sans and Papyrus’ japes Papyrus treats his puzzles as if they’re the best around.

When his brother isn’t around he shows a strong sense of self-awareness in this regard though. He calls his own previous puzzles “awful”.

We know he means this too since he has a book on “advanced puzzle construction for critical minds” and critiques and offers professional advice on everyone else’s puzzles through out the game.

Grease Hell

Normally Papyrus rants about his dislike for Grillby’s.

However there’s an exception, Undyne will begin to state her fondness for the place, and Papyrus lies and goes along with it.

Papyrus, What’s Your Favorite Food?

During the Undertale Q&A when with Sans Papyrus claims that he doesn’t know his own favorite food.

This seems to be something he clearly shares with his close friends though as Flowey (his best friend) not only knows this but wonders why “no one else knows the answer to this stupid question”.

Off On A Vacation...

During the King Papyrus ending Papyrus and Sans will talk to you about how the underground has been. With Sans present Papyrus claims that they’re all just on vacation.

However when alone he specifically asks us not to tell Sans what he’s about to say.

He then goes on to express remorse over the death of his beloved friends.

Going On A Vacation

Papyrus and Undyne talk about going on a vacation together.

However Papyrus pretty instanly switches up afterwards and says that he would never go on a vacation for any reason.

Fl..who..ry?

Papyrus and Undyne talk about Papyrus’ “flower friend” and when asked about him Papyrus says this.

However he clearly hesitates and lies here. He confirms this afterwards too. 

We know Papyrus knows Floweys name too because he started the “Flowey Fan Club”.

Closing Thoughts

This post wasn’t necessarily meant to be an in-depth analyzation like my previous one (and future ones in the works) it’s more so supposed to list and acknowledge the existence of Papyrus and his lying/selective personalities as I often bring it up with people not really knowing what I’m talking about. It’s unfortunate that this side of Papyrus isnt explored however, as it’s a very interesting trait and one that deserves more analyzing. I hope that the main take away from this post is that Papyrus is one of, if not, the most in-depth character in Undertale, and I beg you to PLEASE not water him down or prevent yourself from looking into his lore. With that said, always remember, Papyrus knows. 

#canon papyrus #papyrus #deltarune #deltarune theory #undertale