#sorry to those who hate this but it is what it is

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

My girlfriend requested this

Hazbin men trying the period simulator. Somewhat of a follow up to my period post so this is based on the reader having severe period pain due to PCOS/ENDO

Lucifer

The man is sweating before you even attach the simulator. He knows he fucked up. He only agreed to this because he loves you a lot.

He handles the first 3 levels ok. You tell him very few women experience that little pain and that usually 4-6 is the average.

Those levels make him tense. He's uncomfortable, but still pretty able to work and do normal things. 5 has him pausing to do deep breaths every now and then. (If this is the canon timeline where he birthed Charlie he compares it to bad kicks).

6-8 he's pretty much doubled over. If you tell him that's the level you experience, he will cry. Literally begs forgiveness since again, period and labor pain is technically his fault. He is so sorry. If he didn't have issues with his Dad before he does now because this is fucked up. God's fucked up for doing this.

He doesn't make it to 10, he's crying by level 9. This is labor levels of pain. He gets why all you do is sleep. Treats your period like a sacred ritual after that. Preps for weeks. He goes full Bible, sheltering you for the duration of it so you can have peace and quiet. Please never hook him up to this again.

If you wear it at anything from an 8-10 and tell him "It's close, but I've hurt worse" he's gonna sob and then try and fight his Old Man again. He'll settle for offering to have your bits removed for you.

Vox

Once again this man hates admitting he was wrong. And yeah he knows your periods are really bad, especially now he's witnessed it. But it's still a huge knowledge gap for him and he doesn’t really take the time to think about it.

He handles 1-5 well. He's mildly uncomfortable by 5, but thinks that if this is the average experience, then it's not such a big deal. Tell him the statistics on how many people with periods actually experience 6-8 because that's actually the majority, and he's just confused. How is the average pain level not the most common?

6-8 has him gritting his teeth and glitching, but he refuses to stop and keeps trying to work. Is starting to wonder how you went so long working with this level of pain without him noticing.

He makes it to 10, but by then, he's unable to move, clutching his abdomen and sparking and glitching. Tells you it feels like his entire insides are being squeezed. The fact that he can feel it in his groin. He's kind of afraid of period sex with you after that because of how much he felt it. And you said it's caused cramps from your ribs to your knees. He's like... genuinely scared of your period and pain tolerance.

He's going to snuggle the fuck out of you afterwards and apologize for not appreciating how much you still do for him when you're not feeling good. How he didn't see how hurt you were. He does a lot of research after that and not only does he spoil you by buying whatever you need for your periods and giving you time off, he looks into treatment options. Even if that means chopping the useless fucking things out. Sinners can't have kids anyway so who needs ovaries and a uterus?

He's more convinced you should just be rid of the damn things when you wear it and 8-10 is "Yeah, this is close, but it doesn't really cover how much of my body hurts".

Valentino

Is only doing this because he was dared to by Velvette. Or if this an au where he's trying to be a less toxic person. But really I think it's also to prove that you're all being dramatic. It's a perfectly normal body function and his employees are just trying to get out of work.

He gets all the way to 6 before he starts to realize he may have fucked up. Especially when it's explained that this is what most people experience.

By 10 he's gritting his teeth, chain smoking, clawing at things. He refuses to give in, but he can count on one hand the number of things in his entire life and death as a pimp and a whore that he's experienced that come close to this level of pain.

No one told him his dick was gonna hurt. Sitting hurts. Breathing hurts. He doesn't even try to eat. He won't ever admit to being wrong, but he does behave more leniently with his actors when they're on their periods.

If you put it on (and lets say he actually cares about you) and setting 8-10 is "Yeah, this an average day for my cramps. My bad days are like..5 or 6 levels worse" it's gonna rearrange his brain a little. He might be a little afraid of you and some of the other actors with periods because your pain tolerances are so high. It threatens his ability to control you and them. But on the other hand, that's kinda hot???

Alastor

Has never once doubted that people who experience periods undergo serious struggle and has nothing but respect for women (and trans people he just associates it with women more because of the time period and his mama) who work through it.

He is actually the one who heard about the simulator through Rosie and asks you to show him your experience. Just to better understand you. He knows you're the type to try and function through the pain (probably because society ingrained into you that your pain doesn't matter).

Initially, he wants to skip the lower levels and just have you set it to your pain level. You tell him that's a bad idea, and to be honest, you're not sure if this thing goes that high. He asks you to check and you set it to the highest setting and say, "It's pretty close. It's been worse, but this is a rough idea," he's a little frustrated but still tries it.

You agree to set it to 4 and tell him 4-6 is what most people report feeling. He acknowledges it, registers it as unpleasant, but otherwise is fully capable.

7-9 has his ears flat, his smile is more a snarl. This is uncomfortable. Not what he considers painful but certainly irritating. It makes sitting, stretching, and eating feel much more difficult.

10. There's static visble around him. His teeth grind. Actually painful. Not the worst pain he's experienced, but he hates it. He hates the way he feels it in his back and hips as he walks. He hates the way taking deep breaths (which for someone as dramatic as he is and with the transatlantic accent, breathing technique and posture is important) stings. He hates the way it causes his stomach to cramp and churn. He hates the ache in his thighs and groin that make sitting feel stiff and ackward. He can only picture how blood loss would make this worse. Tired, losing nutrients, the headaches, the increased moodiness. It's no wonder you sleep, so much, but he wonders how the Hell you sleep like this? He's snappy and short tempered because of the pain (and again he gets why you would be if you weren't sleeping so much).

How does this affect how he treats you?

Not much. He still expects you to know your body and your limits. He would never dare to presume otherwise. He still helps prepare whatever you need for your time of the month and still meal plans for you, though he perhaps finds ways to ensure you get all the iron and vitamins you need without cooking steak and other big, heavy meals, since he now understands how bad your stomach hurts.

The only really noticeable change is how much more protective of you he is. Your time of the month hits, and Alastor hates being more than a few moments from you. He growls, pins his ears, and his antlers grow when people get too close to you. He's more prone to letting you snuggle with him when you want, trying to comfort you.

Angel Dust

Another who volunteered. His girl besties insist he doesn't have to do this, he's got the pass. He still wants to do it though, for solidarity.

He also starts on 4 and handles it well. He handles all of the levels pretty well, even 10. By 7 it's obvious he's sore, maybe a bit more withdrawn, exhausted, trying not to move too much or eat too much. Just trying to find a comfortable way to exist. The sad problem is, Angel already has to do this after rough nights at Val's.

He's used to sitting being uncomfortable and aches in his groin and thighs, cramps in his stomach from muscles clenching constantly. 10 is the only level where he's visibly ill, hunched over, lower arms curled around his midsection protectively.

He and the girlies all curl up together and nap and chat and snack on easy to digest junk food and granola bars. He's the first one to say "I bet it's even worse for you gals, but I tried".

He gets it. He's one of the girls. Honestly, kind of becomes a favorite when the ladies have period problems. (If you're dating any of the others and Angel is openly your favorite after this it is gonna cause a lot of dramatic pouting, posturing, and tantrum throwing.)

Husk

I'm going full balls to the wall on Veteran Husk. This man has seen some shit and dealt with his fair share of pain. Like Angel he takes it the best, with very little outward reaction. He's used to stiffness and nausea. The pain in his crotch is a little off putting, but it could be worse.

He's more cautious how he moves, rests more, occasionally a cramp causes his ears to pin back or a small hiss. Overall he takes it like a champ.

Offers you endless amounts of supportive words for dealing with this as well as you do, for days on end. Also is deeply sorry you even have to put up with this shit. Offers all sorts of tips on how to do stretches that help with easing cramps and stiffness without pulling something. Tips of foods/protein drinks to keep on hand to make sure you're maximizing how much nutrition you get. Man's a whole ass survival guide.

He only offers advice if you ask, though. He's not mansplaining how to handle your own body. He genuinely wants to help you, and that's the best way he knows how.

When you're on your period and just want something soft and warm he doesn't even bitch about it, he just settles on top of you and purrs, offers a massage, maybe offers a sly grin and a "no man left behind" joke as he helps you through these dark times.

BONUS:

ADAM

Would only do this if you challenged him, he has to prove his masculinity. He is definitely nervous as fuck though because he's seen yours. You and Lute already forced him to sit through a whole PowerPoint on women's anatomy and shit. He remembers how shitty he was to Eve, even if hers were in comparison, not that bad, just scary and new.

You forcing him to learn about and acknowledge female health is making him scared of pussy. This isn't gonna help.

3 and 4 make him whiney. He's uncomfortable. His groin feels weird. This sucks. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS ISN'T EVEN THE AVERAGE?!"

By 5-7 he's actually on his knees, curled over his stomach. He tells you getting stabbed hurt less. This is making him re-evaluate his entire view on women (again he knows about trans people, but because of personal history equates periods to women. Wouldn't hate if a trans person had a period, it would just take his brain a second to process). He whines that you and Lute shouldn't be more badass than him.

"I thought men were supposed to be tougher and stronger. This pain tolerance horseshit is a lie. You guys suck."

He insists on going to 10 because quitting is for losers. He may actually throw up at 10 though. Every time the stupid simulators sends out a pulse and his stomach clenches, he groans. He's in the featal position, there are tears. One hand clenches his stomach the other is cupped around his groin. He's apologizing so much and he doesn't even remember what he's apologizing for. At one point its just "I'm sorry...oh fuck this...sorry about...ugh just...just men?! I guess. Fucking shit ass. Men suck. Women are...fucking great. Aces. You do this shit every month? For like 5 days....what the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck."

You feel a little bad, but Lute is definitely filming this. Afterwards, he tells you you're a badass and any person shit talking people for bitching about period pain (Not that a lot of Winners do, but ya know, obviously they let some questionable people into Heaven if Adam and Lute got by) he's gonna beat the shit out of them. Like "Do you even fucking know, bitch? They're literally so much fucking better than you. Absolute queens. You try doing literally anything when it feels like your dick is falling off and your insides are trying to claw outside your body!"

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #vox x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel adam

[bunniesanddeer]

Hate (Alastor x Reader)

Hey, awkward haha. This is only my second attempt at smut, inspired by the lovely @hazelfoureyes. (If you want me to untag you, I totally will).

Obviously minors, DNI.

I'm normally not comfortable with this stuff, mostly because I don't have a ton of experience writing it. I decided, that for practice, I would try writing something where the reader doesn't like Alastor. I figured a dynamic that was different from what I normally wrote might help me learn how to get better at writing smut. So here is something inspired by the best smut writer, about a dynamic I've never written :) Also, my first time writing PiV, so sorry if it sucks :) be gentle with me, lol

Hate

Pairing: Alastor X Reader

Warnings: Reader HATES Alastor, Enemies to enemies with benefits, heat, smut, 18+, Alastor speaks French, praise kink, fingers, PIV.

Word Count: 3,818

You could feel it building. The heat rising and coursing through every inch of you. The way it settled in your core, at the pit of your belly. The twinge and ache in your chest. The pressure behind your eyes. The delirium in which you processed it. It was as much as you could take, and you could feel the tension building.

You hated him. You hated him with every inch of yourself. It was a hate that suffused your bones, that dripped through clenched teeth, and twitched tightly gripped hands. You hated him entirely. It wasn’t just the way he talked, although the pompous air and the two-faced words he spoke with angered you to no end. It wasn’t the way he dressed, despite the fact that it was an out of style suit that he preferred, that pissed you off at even a glance. You knew it wasn’t the way he looked, because as much as you hated the sight of him, he was an admittedly handsome demon and had likely been a handsome man; he had dark skin, and fluffy red hair that framed his sharp face nicely. No, it was something deep inside, that you couldn’t quite explain, that made you despise him so, so much.

Alastor was not a good man. No, it wasn’t exactly the best way to judge those that were already in Hell, but among the many denizens you’ve met, he was surely high on the list of fucked up crimes. Sure, he claimed he had a moral code that he strictly followed, but if no one knew what it was, what the hell was it good for? Maybe it was his hypocrisy. The way he held himself and looked at others with such disdain, and yet he was just as lowly and weak and corrupted as everyone else.

Alastor was a hypocrite, for sure, but maybe so were you. How else could you explain this? Who were you to judge him, for all his faults, when yours were staring you in the face? 

Your thighs ached. You could feel the pain growing, and you knew it would only get worse. You had been around him long enough now, that the cursed body you had been gifted had caught on, and now you would suffer for something you never agreed to. 

It hadn’t even been a thought, when you moved into the hotel. You hadn’t thought about the fact that your form and his might affect one another. How were you supposed to know it was a possibility when you’d never run across another deer demon, let alone a Buck? Hell, quite frankly, hell. Each new, fucked up thing, you found brought you greater misery. Now your own body was a prison. You’d take having periods again, if it meant you didn’t have this terrible thing.

When it had first started, only days before, you had sought out Angel Dust, who had laughed at you. 

“Ha! Are you pulling my chain, toots?” He had asked, his tone filled with bewilderment. “C’mon, you gotta know! You’ve been here for years!”

But you didn’t know, and when he caught the anxious look growing on your face, and the fidgeting of your hands, he sighed. 

“Shit, ya don’t know, do ya?” Angel put one of his many arms around your shoulders, and guided you to his room. He settled you on a plush bean bag, and offered you something to drink. You shook your head, anxiety making your face tingle. “Suit yourself, babes.” He sighed, and scratched the back of his head. “It’s called heat. Some folks don’t got one, some do frequently, and some are seasonal. For folks who got it seasonally, it tends to, uh, depend on whether or not ya got someone, you know, compatible.”

You cocked your head as you scratched and pulled at a stray thread on your pants. 

“You gotta find someone with a similar build to yours. If you ain’t ever seen another deer, it might be why it hasn’t come up, babes.” His words clicked in your head, and your face paled. 

“No,” you said, chest frozen at the thought. It hurt suddenly. Your hands tingled, and your chest hurt. What was happening? “No, no, no. Absolutely not, please tell me it’s not because-”

Angel winced, and gave you a pitying look. “Yeah, it’s cuz of Al, doll.”

You gasped for breath, and you shook. You couldn’t think clearly. Everyone knew how much you and Alastor hated each other. You made it clear, and his constant badgering and rude behavior seemed to solidify it for everyone that it was mutual. But for your body to betray you, for him? This felt like the ultimate Hell.

When you started crying, Angel had soothed you to the best of his ability. The next morning, after falling asleep in Angel’s many arms, he gave you an unopened toy, and told you to gather supplies. Enough to hoard up in your room for a few days. He promised to run interference for you, and sent you on your way. 

So here you were, writhing on your bed, on day three. Your sense of smell was increased, and your ears twitched at each subtle sound in the hall. You had tried putting on some mindless show so you could stop focusing on all these extra sensations, but it didn’t help. The extra voices, all not his, sent your head spinning. You had turned it off after only half-an-hour. 

Your thighs rubbed together, and sweat dripped down the back of your neck. You pushed your face into a pillow and groaned. You had avoided it thus far, but it might be time to break out the little vibrator. 

Eventually, you sat up in your bed, ignoring the blankets that you had pushed to the floor the day before. You huffed, and reached for the toy that had been plugged in the night before. You gave the strange pink toy a squeeze, the soft silicone giving just slightly, and made your way to the bathroom. While you washed the toy, you tried to convince yourself that this was all you needed. One good vibe session, and you’d be back to normal. You were wrong.

It was hot. The whole room was unbearably hot. You were covered in a thin layer of sweat, and your clothes had long found themselves on the floor. You had needed to recharge the toy one already, and it had only been a day. The water in the shower couldn’t get cold enough to cool you down. Your core ached, constantly, and your thighs had a near constant mess of slick spread along them. You were delirious with the unfathomable sensations you had been unwillingly wrapped in. 

With a cry, and your soaked fingers at your clit, you orgasmed, weakly. The release wasn’t nearly enough. You twisted, and bit down on your pillow as you cried, just a little. This was terrible. And all because of Alastor. You thought of his nasty jokes, and how cruel he could be. You thought on sharp eyes, and sharper smiles. You thought of his claws, and a soft grasp around your throat, slowly tightening as a normally clear voice grunted and huffed. You pulled your vibrator out again. With something in you snapping, you kept thinking of his slim hips, and broad chest. The way his hands twitched and grasped at his microphone. His leer and the way his eyes followed you when you walked into the room. His laugh, when he was angry with someone. The way he had shown you to handle a weapon before you fought the angels. The angry look he gave you when you yelled at him weeks later. You thought of his hands wrapping around your wrist, and his chest hovering over your back as lithe hips pressed against your ass. 

You came with another cry, the white-hot feeling surging through you. 

Shame filled you up. You were a hypocrite too, it seemed. 

It was dark. Your head was fuzzy, and you couldn’t place the time of day. You sat up, the room spinning as your heart settled. Something smelled good. Your eyes fluttered as you took it in. After a moment, you flicked your eyes around the room, and in the chair by the window was a figure. 

You screeched. It wasn’t terribly loudly, but it made the figure twitch. You dove to the lamp by your beside, and quickly flicked it on. As the warm light filled the room, it flashed across his eyes, and the look alone made you gasp.

“Alastor?” You whispered. What the fuck was he doing in your room?

“Oh, ma bichette.” His voice was rougher than normal, something dark tinging it. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my room, Alastor?” Despite the yearning in the pit of your belly, and the aching you had suffered through for days, this was beyond not okay. Alarm bells were ringing in the back of your head, and you couldn’t fathom why he would break into your room.

“Oh, ma chérie. I have felt that burn for days, and in your absence it grew worse.” His head cocked, and his eyes flashed in the light again. His hair looked strange, as if it was nearly damp. Something in his smile was unhinged. Your chest tugged and ached, and you had to fight to focus through the tingling in your fingers. “I could smell you, and this ache, this hunger I have never known, only grew worse.”

He stood from the chair, and you leaned back on your hands, ready to twist and run if you needed to. His tall form drew your gaze up his shape. Your mind struggled to focus on any one thing, and it was hard to hold onto your anger, like this. 

“It is impolite, to come in like this, but I need. And I can tell you do too.” He walked towards you, and leaned over you. Your conflicting feelings about the situation caused you to hesitate. You leaned back, your back meeting your sheets, and your knees bent, as if your legs could stop him from advancing. You were right, in that they would not, because a moment later, he was crawling over you, forearms flat on either side of your head. “I will leave if you ask it of me, my dear. But I ask that you let me pleasure you,” he whispered to you. His sharp teeth clacked as he glanced over your form. “Let me relieve us of this.” 

One of his hands brushed some of your damp hair from your forehead, and the look on his face nearly flat lined you. He looked so strange. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was. His eyes were soft and gazing at you with some unknown feeling gleaming in them. His mouth was slanted, and his teeth glittering in the low light — Your train of thought halted as you realized he wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t smiling. What the fuck? What could have done that? Your eyes widened, and you could only stare as his thumb strayed to your lips and tugged at the bottom lip. 

“What do you say, my dear?” His gaze caught yours, and you could barely breathe.

“I hate you,” you said. “I hate you, especially for this.”

Something flickered across his face, but he didn’t pull away. “I know, mon cœur. You have many reasons, but this isn’t about that. I merely wish to ease our suffering. Your suffering.”

You wanted to cry. How fucking dare he? How dare he be so terrible on a daily basis, and yet so kind now? You wanted to scream. You could feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. It felt so unfair. But you were desperate, and he was offering to touch you, something he didn’t like to do. You knew his reputation, his dislike and disregard for things of a sexual nature, and yet here he was, crossing that boundary with you. (Something in you hurt, knowing that someone who hated him would be crossing that line with him, not someone who loved him or cared for him in any capacity. Maybe that was his Hell). 

“Fine. Fuck. Fine. We can fuck, just, I don’t know. No kissing. And I uh, I’d like to be on my belly.” You didn’t want to look at him. (You knew it was the thought of him that got you off so many times, but the idea of really seeing him, bothered you in a way you couldn’t explain). His face twitched, but he nodded. 

“I understand, ma bichette.” He pet your hair, again, and rubbed a thumb across your forehead, and he took a deep breath in. “Alright, dear, ass up.”

Your eyes widened, and you gulped down the little moisture in your mouth. With deep, steady breaths, you turned over, maneuvering on the bed with twitching limbs. You pressed your chest against the bed, aching at the tenderness in your breasts. Your hands held onto the sheets tightly, and your ears twitched and pressed flat against your skull. Your tail sprung straight, and you could hear Alastor let out a breathy chuckle. The sound of clasps and zippers coming undone made your tail wag, and you could feel one of his hands swat at the fluffy bundle of fur at the base of your spine. 

“Excited, dearest?” His voice carried in the quiet room. You couldn’t reply with words. You were so conflicted. You hated him acutely, and yet here you were. Something akin to giddiness was building in your chest. Your tail wagged harder. You hoped he didn’t take it as an answer. 

You could feel his warm body lean over yours a moment later. He was so much bigger than you. It was clear with how wide his shoulders were, and how his long legs cradled yours easily. One of his forearms settled beside yours, and his face rested in the crux of your shoulder. Sharp teeth lightly grazed the skin there, while hot breath fanned over your back. Soft touches on the swell of your ass, creeping over your hip, and then cupping your mound softly. (How could he be so soft in this, and yet so harsh? Your mind was buzzing so loud). 

“Stop thinking, mon trésor.” His finger grazed your clit, and your mind went quiet. Oh, you had forgotten what it was like being touched by someone else. 

His fingers moved with focus from there, and your legs twitched. You huffed, and closed your eyes, letting the sensations fall over you. Soon, with the gentle touches getting firmer, and more precise, your thighs were getting slick. Small sounds left your clenched teeth. (It felt good, but the petty part of you wanted to deprive him of the satisfaction of your noises). 

Alastor’s hand moved, and suddenly one finger was sinking into your heat. You groaned, and your back arched. 

“Oh, continuer ma chère. Je veux vous entendre.” His voice is coarse, but his finger curls, and you can’t even try and translate his whispered words. Your body trembles as he slips in a second finger. His thumb catches your clit, and your mind is a muddled mess. Your resolve to remain silent shatters, and your voice leaves your throat with no control. 

“Oh, Alastor,” you say. Your eyes flutter, and you clench down on his fingers. He grunts, and thrusts them a little harder. 

“When you are ready, my dear, come for me. And then we can move on to the main event.” His words attempt for nonchalance, but the way he struggles to get them out has you internally laughing. It stops when his erection, clear as day, rubs against your ass. Your hips twitch, pressing against him. “Oh,” he grunts. “Not yet dear.”

He twists his hand, and presses his chest against your back. His hand on the bed grabs at yours, and he intertwines your fingers. Teeth scratch at your shoulder, and the sudden flood of sensory information sends you over a line you didn’t know you were near. 

“Ah! Alastor,” You cry, and fire flicker up your core, and in your veins. You clench hard on his fingers, and his ever present static swells in response. (Although, with how much your hands and face tingle, it could be in your head). 

“Oh, yes.” His head settles against your shoulder blade, and his hand slowly pulls from your core. His wet fingers graze your hip with soft touches, and the hand holding yours rubs softly. “So good for me, dearest. My doe. So good.”

Your chest aches, and you want to cry. How fucking dare he hit the fucking nail on the head? Your breath hitches, and you have to work to not cry. 

“Oh, my dear.” He sits up, and the loss of his heat nearly makes your tears fall. You can’t fathom why you’re suddenly emotional, but it won’t waver in its intensity. His face settles in your sight line. “Are you alright, dear?” His lets go of yours, and cradles the back of your head. “Did I hurt you?”

You want to cry. Fuck him. Fuck this. How dare he. A tear slips before you can stop it, and his eyes narrow, something nearly concerned looking, crossing his expression. 

“No. Fuck you. I hate you,” you can barely finish the sentence before a hint of a sob leaves you. “I hate you. I hate you. Just fuck me already.”

His brows furrow, and the red of his eyes glints as he manages a nod. “If that’s what you desire,” he says, and then he’s behind you again. 

His hands are on your hips, and you hear skin against skin, and then he’s gently prodding you with the thick head of his cock. Alastor presses his cock into your soaking entrance slowly, and you worry about his size for a moment. But then, he’s pressing more firmly, and your thoughts halt. Electricity is shooting up your spine as he sinks into you. You internally thank him fro prepping you with his fingers, because he’s packing more than you would have expected. 

A sharp breath from him, and then his hips snap against yours. “Hah, sorry, dearest.” His breaths are rough, and you feel his hands squeeze your hips hard. “I had intended to go slower, but this is-” He bends over you again, and his chest is against your back, and he’s grasping at the sheet with you. “You’re so good, my dear. Better than I could have ever-”

His hips snap again, and your body jolts. You gasp as he presses his hips against your ass, pushing as far he can get. You feel so tight. Everything is hot, and all you can think about is him. Your tail brushes against his belly as he starts to set a rhythm. All the pain you had been in, and you were starting to feel like it might have been worth it. 

One of his hand wraps around your waist, over your breasts, and his hand settles on your neck. “Let me know if you wish me to stop,” he huffs, and then he’s squeezing your throat, just slightly. 

You mewl, and roll your hips against him. “Oh yes. Little doe. You are so good for me.” The way he says makes you moan again, and you huff as he squeezes your throat again. 

The pace he sets is just under what you need, and it makes you hate him more. Part of you knows what he’s waiting for, and you dread it. It’s within mere moments, though, that you cave, and open your mouth.

“Alastor, please,” you say. Your voice is weak, with how hard it is to take a full breath. Your body is pressed into the mattress, and with the stinging breaths you attempt to take with each thrust, and the light squeeze of his hand around your neck, you struggle. 

His hand loosens, as if he can read your mind. “What is it, dearest,” He asks. “Use your words. I know you can.”

You sigh, and nearly yell at him when his hips stop, giving you time to speak up. You roll your eyes, and nearly beg, “Please, just a little faster.”

You can hear the smile when he responds, “Of course, my doe,” and then his pace starts up again, faster, and just a tinge harder, than it had been before. Your toes curl and your hands grasp at the sheets. 

That heat was growing again, low in your belly. Your thighs were aching, and your back was as arched as you could get it. Sweat was dripping down your back, and all you could think is that you wanted more. 

“Alastor,” you moaned, and grunted back. As you clenched down on his cock, the heat grew, and you could feel tight wires wrapping around your core.

“Oh, ma biche, tu es si bonne pour moi.” His fingers found your clit again, and he rubbed with focus. “So good. You are so good.” He kept repeating it like a mantra, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

The wires snapped, and your body went white-hot. You couldn’t see, and you stopped being able to hear more than garbled syllables and the rhythmic thumping of the headboard against the wall. 

Your body went taut, and you clenched down. You could hear his voice grow sharp and ragged, but nothing more as he kept thrusting. 

When you finally settled enough to focus your hearing, you could hear Alastor muttering to himself. And then he went still. “Do you want me to leave my seed in you, or no?”

Your breath caught. Fuck, you hadn’t thought about that. Without thinking too much, you whispered, “In.” 

You watch one of his hands tighten on the bed, sharp claws piercing the fabric. (you’d make him replace it for sure, jerk). Without much warning, he starts his pace again, his thrusts nearly brutal. His grunts and murmuring start up again, and it’s only moments before you feel him twitch, and then heat filling you. He curls around you, head pressed between your shoulder blades. 

You stay sitting like that for a few minutes, before he slowly extricates himself from around you and pulls his cock from your slick entrance. When he returns with a warm, damp rag and cleans you up, you refuse to make eye contact. When he picks up the dirty sheets, and bring you clean ones, you stare at the floor. It’s when he brings you water, and tucks you into bed, you finally look up at him.

“I hate you,” you tell him. 

His face is neutral, and he nods. “I know.”

“This changes nothing,” you say. 

And he nods, letting his normal smile pop back on his face. “I know.”

Hi, please let me know how this was? I'm really awkward about this kind of stuff, and it makes me a tiny bit anxious. Anyways! I hope you liked it. Should I add an 18+ taglist? Also, I have a few asks and stuff that will be posted soon. House hunting has been going terribly. The market is awful, and I am just sad :(

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #bun's short fics #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic #alastor x reader smut #smut #hazbin hotel smut

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search. 

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition. 

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received. 

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all. 

Yours truly, 

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there. 

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea. 

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws. 

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed. 

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom. 

Yours truly, 

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew 

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention. 

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them. 

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama. 

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters. 

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.” 

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them. 

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?” 

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?” 

“Everything is wrong with that.” 

“Hmm.” 

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face. 

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.” 

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?” 

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.” 

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.” 

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.  

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said. 

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.” 

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud: 

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered. 

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her. 

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.” 

“Piss off.” 

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms. 

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.” 

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell. 

“I don’t want this anymore.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.” 

“Please, just give u—” 

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.” 

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.” 

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.” 

“I second that.” 

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.” 

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything. 

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?” 

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.” 

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.” 

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society. 

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today. 

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps. 

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness. 

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get. 

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham. 

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month. 

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen. 

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.” 

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?” 

“Not your room?” 

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.” 

“You are getting restless.” 

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?” 

“Oh yes, she’s fine.” 

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.” 

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name. 

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact. 

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.” 

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.” 

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.” 

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?” 

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.” 

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you. 

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?” 

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.” 

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?” 

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.”  

“And, by the way, I already washed up.” 

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.” 

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room. 

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora. 

“Oh, good. It is just you.” 

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?” 

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.” 

“What?” 

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.” 

“Your Highness.” 

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.” 

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.” 

She gasped as you hugged her. 

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.” 

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.” 

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.  

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination. 

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?” 

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it. 

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs. 

“Is there a problem, Marshall?” 

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.” 

“WHAT?!” 

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back. 

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance. 

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss. 

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…” 

“Keaton,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name. 

“Mrs. Keaton?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all. 

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.” 

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.” 

You nodded. “Simply Miss Keaton.” 

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.” 

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues. 

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.” 

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.” 

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.” 

They all chuckled when you laughed. 

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.” 

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you. 

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?” 

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.” 

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?” 

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time. 

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.” 

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.” 

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.” 

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.  

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

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#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x princess!reader #benedict fluff #bridgerton fluff #fic

[geckoomoria]

Unforgettable - Sam monroe x Reader drabble

i literally love this guy sm i have to write about him 24/7

mention of smoking, bullying , fantasizing about sexual things , kissing , sam and reader have a crush on eachother

enjoy cuties !!♥︎

———————————★————————————

Saturday August 21th

approx 9:05 pm

It was a late summer night in your little hometown, the breeze blowing against your face as you walked across the board walk overlooking the ocean.

The wind blows through your clothes and it makes your legs shiver a little.

As much as this pretty little town seemed like a dream , you hated its residents. The neighbours who put on a face just to please each other , the neighbours who call each other friends but backbite all the time about those same “friends”.

Everyone was so fake…. Well everyone except a few certain people.

You take a seat on the edge of the board walk and watch as the moonlight gleams into the water.

You’d come here often to get away from the town and the people living there , it was like a breath of fresh air.

You were given a small taste of life , real living felt like this.

suddenly the smell of smoke came from behind you, at first you thought someone decided to have a late barbecue tonight but as you turned your head

a young boy around your age with dark blackish blue hair , baggy clothes , piercings evident on his ears , and guyliner had a cigarette in his mouth. He stood above you watching the ocean as well.

The sudden sight of him caught you so off guard you screamed and even almost fell into the water but luckily you grabbed the wooden pole of the boardwalk. His reply to your scream? he screamed as-well.

“AH WHAT THE FUCK! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?”

“IM SORRY , YOU JUST APPEARED OUT OF NOWHERE”

“SO YOU SCREAMED??”

“ANY SANE PERSON WOULD!”

“WHAT SANE PERSON GIVES SOMEONE A HEART ATTACK!?”

He basically started choking on the cigarette from how your scream startled him

You recognized the dark haired boy as Sam Monroe , he went to your school and was in your grade but you’ve never really spoken to him.

He didn’t have the greatest reputation, always getting in some sort of trouble , jocks would pick on him sometimes for his choice of style but he didn’t care much. There was even rumours of him buying drugs.

He also happens to be your little hallway crush.

Even if everyone thought those things, you thought Sam was the coolest. One of those not-fake people you thought about earlier.

after the two of you catch your breath from the screaming match you just had , you couldn’t help but start to giggle.

You bring your knees to your chest and start trying your hardest to cover the laugh attack you were surely going to have.

Sam takes a seat right next to you , dangling his feet off the board walk right above the ocean water. “Oh so now its funny huh? attempting to kill me” he says through a little smile on his cute face.

“a little” you say holding up your thumb and index finger close together. Sam takes a long drag on his cigarette and then puts it out.

“Yeah yeah laugh it up Y/n but you dont see me thinking you almost falling into the water funny , do you?” his voice laced with sarcasm but thats not what had you stumped , its the fact that he just said your name.

“how do you know my name?” you ask curiously with your eyebrows raised and head tilted , his face goes a bright hue of red instantly.

“uh i- i uh just know you know? you’re not easy to forget” he attempts to explain as he nervously fiddles with his fingers avoiding eye contact with you.

You find yourself leaning closer to Sam “oh? meaningg?” , “meaning i think you’re real unforgettable.”

this time he looks deep into your eyes as he speaks, the blue shades of his glistens so bright , even his eye makeup couldn’t cover it. They shine so breathtakingly. it completely hypnotized you.

Smiling while the silence engulfs you two , you look off into the moon staring at its brightening figure. you decide to ask Sam a question thats been on your mind.

“Do you wanna stay here like forever?”

The blue eyed boy continues to stare at you , wondering where a question like this could possibly stem from.

“In this town?” you nod in response. “ nah , i mean exploring sounds real fun you know , checking out all the different countries and what they have to offer”

“offer?”

“yeah offer like what things i can daydream about when im not there, unforgettable things i can be in awe of”

you liked his thinking of travelling the world, it did have so much to offer.

His response also made your heart flutter , didn’t he just call you unforgettable? You feel the corners of your lips lifting up, he looked so cute all red earlier , it just made you wanna tease him again.

“Ahh so does that mean you daydream about me too?”

Sam looks at you and once again , he starts blushing. but not just on the fact that you just called him out but also that it triggered a certain daydream he had about you not too long ago.

He reminisces about how nice it was to hold you in his arms , kiss your sweet honey-like lips , stretch his hands all over your pretty body and call you his.

but then again it was just a daydream. (for now😈)

Sam could feel his body heat rising just thinking about fake scenarios involving you , he zones out momentarily but comes back to his senses as you call his name.

“Sam? Sammm?” you ask waving your hands in front of his face trying to catch his attention

“sor-sorry got distracted” , “hm , thinking bout me?” Your teasing words were going to be the death of him.

Sam cant hold back anymore , he needs you now. He HAS to kiss you right this very second.

He leans in closer , closing the minimal gap between the two of you , your breath hitches as he whispers against your lips.

“Can i please kiss you?”

“say please” you voices calls out quietly, you wanted him just as much too but it was more fun this way.

he whines out a cry of silent desperation “please”

you initiate the kiss but he’s the one taking full control.

He kisses your lips like a starved man , both of his hands holding your face , on each side of your upper jaw

you interlock your fingers into the back of his dyed hair and continue kissing him like theres nothing else in the world important to you.

The kissing intensifies between you and Sam , neither of you wanted to let go.

The moment between you is broken minutes later as you pull back from each-others lips and catch your breaths , still in the same position.

“So uh- does this mean i can have your number?” he says , crystal blue eyes locked onto your E/C ones.

you chuckle at his words,

“thought you’d never ask Monroe”.

———————————★————————————

man i love my boyfriend Sam😇

i literally opened my window last night to get into the vibe of writing this and got my dumbass sick😭😭

i follow back guys😓

leave literally anything in my question box thingy it makes me feel like a guest on the jimmy Fallon show

love u all mwah 💞

#girlblogging #it girl #just girly things #fanfic #hayden christensen #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #2000s emo #emo boy #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #star wars anakin #stephen glass #life as a house #lana del ray aesthetic #lana del rey #viralpost #viral video #fypツ #fypシ゚viral #foryou #fypage #levi aot

[scoonsalicious]

2.3 Bucky*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit sexual content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (protected PIV).

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Bucky helped your soul vacate your body.

A/N: More smut, yay!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He held her until she stopped trembling, looking at her in absolute awe as she came back into herself. He’d never, in his entire, long life, had a girl come apart like that for him before. I could love this woman, he thought to himself, then immediately banished the idea from his head. He barely knew her. But, god, how he wanted to. He wanted to know everything about her, and he wanted her to know everything about him– the good, and the bad. All of the bad. He wanted her to know all of him, and still want him once she did, because even though he’d just had her, he wanted more of her, all of her. Every single bit.

“Major?” he murmured, once her body had finally stilled. 

“Hmm?” She sounded so peaceful, satiated. 

“I hate to ask this, sweetheart,” he began, feeling the flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks, “but is there any way I could–”

“Oh my god, you poor thing!” she said before he could finish. “You’ve been lying here with cum in your pants this entire time. Fuck. Come on.” She stood up, still gloriously naked, and reached for his hand. Blowing out all but one of the emergency candles, she led him by muscle memory through the darkness into her bedroom. “I’m so sorry,” she said, taking the remaining candle and placing it on top of a dresser. 

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for,” Bucky said. His breath hitched as she walked up to him, the soft golden light of the candle bouncing off her naked body. She reached down and began undoing his belt, then the fly of his jeans. Silently, she rolled the soiled clothing down his legs, helping him step out of them until he was just as bare as she was. When the power came back on, she told him, she’d toss them into the wash for him.

“Fuck,” she whispered, and he noticed her staring at his erect cock, eyes wide as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

“Sorry,” he said, shyly moving a hand to cover himself, but she pulled his hand away. 

“You’re fucking beautiful,” she whispered, repeating his own words back to him with a smirk. “I just wanna look at you a minute.”

And god, she made him feel beautiful, scars and all. 

“I would really, really love to have that down my throat right now,” she told him, not once taking her eyes off of his, admittedly thick, dick. 

Bucky groaned. He would love that, too, but there was something else he wanted so much more right now. “Major,” he said, and she looked up at him at the sound of her name, eyes shining in the darkness. “We have all the time in the world for that, later. But right now?” Bucky stepped forward and grabbed her hip, jerking her against him and feeling satisfied when she let out a little shriek of surprise. “Right now, I gotta know what it’s like to have my cock inside of you. Please let me fill you with my cock.”

He watched her breasts rise and fall as she took in his words. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but he was pretty sure her pupils had blown out, leaving only black. “Yes,” she breathed, and she flung herself at him, jumping to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. 

Bucky groaned into her mouth as he kissed her, his hands kneading into the soft skin of her ass. She felt like absolute heaven, and he nearly blew his load again once he felt her hot, wet cunt grind itself against his lower stomach. 

By the light of the single candle, he carried Major over to the bed, gently placing her down. Before he could join her, though, she leaned over and reached into her bedside table, pulling out a roll of condoms. He watched in awe as her small hands, with a slight tremble of anticipation in them, tore at the foil packaging and removed the latex. He gulped as she reached for him, giving his shaft a few long, sure strokes before rolling the condom down the length of him. 

Then, to his utmost surprise and delight, Major crawled herself over to the middle of the bed, laid down on her back, and opened her legs wide for him, a silent invitation in the smile on her lips. He must have died and gone to Heaven, he thought, because there was no way he was deserving of something so amazing in this life. God, she was so pretty, all spread open for him like a beautiful flower he couldn’t wait to pluck. 

Joining Major on the bed, Bucky settled himself between her thighs. Grasping his length, he ran the tip through her soaking wet folds, loving how her eyes rolled back each time the tip of his cock hit her clit. 

“Tell me if it’s too much for you,” he warned gently. “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop.” He’d been with girls in the past who hadn’t been able to take him, especially without him warming them up first, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause Major discomfort or pain. Not when she was so open and pretty for him. 

“Dick. Inside. Now,” she ordered, and he loved how bossy she sounded. Slowly, so as to give her time to adjust to the stretch of him, Bucky sunk himself into her, inch by agonizing inch. He was about half way when he paused to check in with her. “How you doin, gorgeous?” he asked. Major’s eyes were scrunched up, a look of intense concentration on her face. “Good,” she grunted. “So… thick. Keep… going.” And so, he did, moving nearly incrementally until he was fully seated inside of her. He could feel her walls squeezing him, and he wondered if he was hurting her. “Doll?” he asked, looking at Major intently. “You alright there? You still with me?”

She opened her eyes and smiled, nodding. “Just need a second,” she told him as she worked to breathe through any stretch she might be feeling. “Never… had so… big.”

Bucky grinned at that, hopeful that, whatever might happen between the two of them in the future, he’d at least be memorable in that regard.

After a few moments, Major’s breathing evened out and he felt her muscles relax around him. She was ready, and Bucky wasted no more time. He slowly slid out before snapping back into her, building up a rhythm. There was a part of him that wanted to fuck her hard, to show her what he was capable of, wanting to ruin her for any other man but him, but a bigger part of him wanted to take his time, to go slow, to savor her. 

So he kept his thrusts long and even, relishing in the feel of her every time he bottomed out, every time his tip nudged her cervix. He loved the way she squeezed him, pulled him back into her as he worked to pull out, like she never wanted him to leave. “‘S so fucking good, Bucky,” Major moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles together behind his back and using them to pull him further into her, as if she couldn’t get him deep enough to satisfy her. He brought his lips back down to hers, kissing her with a slowness he was unfamiliar with, but that felt so right. Everything about Major, about this felt so right. “You’re doing so good for me, sugar,” he said, burying his face into her neck and sucking kisses into the skin there. “So nice and warm, so tight. Makin’ me never wanna come outta this pretty pussy.”

“Christ, Barnes,” she panted. Major yanked on the chain of his dog tags, pulling his face closer to hers so she could kiss him again, long and deep, and the motion sent Bucky reeling over the edge into his release. Not wanting to leave her behind, he brought a hand to her clit as he continued to thrust into her. “So close,” Major moaned, and he knew she wasn’t far behind. He kept rubbing, kept kissing, kept rutting his hips into this little slice of Heaven until she was falling over the edge with him.

Bucky collapsed, trying not to drop all of his weight on top of her, but Major wrapped her arms around his back and held his head to her chest, gently running her fingers through his sweat-slicked hair.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That was amazing. You were amazing.”

Major chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “I’m pretty sure we were both amazing, together,” she said. Bucky could not disagree.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[bimb0fy]

04; put me in a movie

pairings; luke castellan x hephaestus!reader

warnings; dark!luke, manipulation,

summary; lukes plan is only beginning, and you find yourself sucked into the middle of it.

word count; 1k words.

a/n; sorry this is late exam season is a bitch

masterlist!! | navigation!!

i. Mind games, don't leave me. come so far, don't lose me, it matters were you are. — when the sun hits; slowdive.

You sat down in your cabin, staring at the scrap book on your desk. You hadn't gone to work in ages now, your brother Alex was growing concerned. He knew something had happened but when he went to ask Luke, all that the other man returned was silence.

You didn't understand why it hurt you so much, not the choking but the words that he said to you.

Maybe it was the fact that when you were vulnerable, you told him the one thing you never wanted to remember.

You told him about your mom, how she died. How in her death bed she wanted everyone with her.

Everyone but you.

Your aunt told you it was because your mom didn't want you to see her at her weakest. That if you entered the room, it would become too real and no one wanted to stress out the dying woman.

But deep down you knew why.

You knew that deep down, she hated the monster you were.

No one wanted anything to do with your father, especially his ex wife, your mother.

Your father did love your mother, and she loved, for a while, she hated you because she believed that you were the reason he had left, but the moment you burned your favorite sweets, he appeared in your room, and he showed you what parental love was.

Luke hated that, he hated how easily it was for your father to reply to your cries, but when your mother found out, it infuriated her.

So when your mother heard about camp half-blood, she sent you away instantly.

That was were you met Luke. He was the one who greeted you to camp, who helped you get the hang of everything. That was when you fell for him.

He didn't remember these interactions and you couldn't blame him, he had yo take care of thousands of children, you were one of those who were a bother to him.

You heard a knock on the door, looking up to find Luke waiting for you. Your breathe hitched as he entered, he sat down, a comfortable distance between the two of you. He pushed a plate towards you, a smile on his face.

"I didn't see you at breakfast, since uhm." Luke mumbled as you took a bite from the mac and cheese. "How's the bruises?"

"They're healed. So I guess I'm fine." You muttered as Luke sighed, he sat up slowly, moving towards you before sitting down beside you.

You turned around to face him, it was Luke. Your Luke. He placed his hand onto your thigh, giving you a sympathetic expression before he sighed.

"I'm. I'm really sorry, about what happened." He stuttered out. You could see by the way his eyes were pleading that he truly was filled with remorse and guilt. The bright Luke castellan had changed, and you didn't understand why. "I. I didn't mean anything I said. I was just stressed and irritated and I took it out on you."

"I know." You hummed as you continued to eat your food, looking at the ground, a few tears leaving your eyes as he tusked, wiping them away.

"Don't cry mender, please. I. I really am sorry. Will you ever forgive me?" Luke pleaded, his eyes begging for forgiveness.

You wanted to forgive him, really you did, but you know that your father would never let you live that down.

Everyone at camp all wanted one thing, approval, and you had it so you couldn't mess up your chances at having a loving father for some boy.

But he wasn't any boy. He was yours. He was Luke, the man you thought you'd be with forever.

Maybe you were naive, maybe you just didn't understand what lobe actually was, but the way Luke held you, the way he always seemed to care about you, that was all you needed for now.

"I." You let out a breath as you turned to face him. You could see how Luke was waiting for your response. How he almost seemed. Anxious. "I forgive you Luke."

Your hand hesitantly found his, your rough hand intertwining his softer one. You would be lying if you said it didn't make you insecure, but Luke changed that, he changed so many things for you.

Maybe he did love you. That's what you thought, that's what you wish was the case, but he just needed you by his side during the war, he needed the most powerful woman he knew to win.

ii. she said, do you think you'll kill for me one day, yes, of course I will my darling.

You sat down, waiting at the docks for Luke. Little did you know, he was watching, waiting.

Kronos needed a blacksmith, and obviously, your name was the first he thought of.

To Kronos, you were Hephsaestus' most skilled daughter, to him, you were the love of his life. He was given a second chance, and his plans ruined him.

He knew he had to change you, you loved your father, he was one of the few he tried, but Luke knew he only tried because you were the one blessed with powers.

No one knew your strength, only you did. Luke would be lying if he said he wasn't curious. So, here started his plan.

He watched as Chris walked towards you, sitting next to you. He watched as your face shifted to disappointment as he told you how Luke couldn't make it.

"You know we've never really talked." Chris stated as you nodded, looking around. "So tell me about yourself."

"I don't know I guess. I've always been used to be what my father wanted I never like. Thought about it." You answered. You knew there was no point in lying, Chris was Luke's best friend and God be damned, you were tired of lying.

"That's harsh." Chris sighed as you chuckled. "Luke's sick by the way. He wanted me to give you this."

Chris took out a charm bracelet, one clearly bought from out of camp half-blood. You smiled as you put it on, staring at the charm bracelet.

Luke smirked from afar, the tracker was now planted. Curtesy of Kronos who gave him the spell after all. He felt dirty, feeding of you but he had to do it, it was his destiny, he was made for this.

He watched as Chris walked away and you turned to the ocean, the waves louder and harsher than usual.

You couldn't help but feel like it was a sort of warning from posiden, especially since you always loved the ocean, you often spared your chunks of food to posiden to let you be free.

You always wanted to live by the ocean, hell, you wouldn't complain if you lived on a boat, especially a yacht. You wanted to ignore the feeling, but it grew more and more everyone you looked away.

Maybe you should check up on Luke.

#x reader #fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #luke castellan pjo #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell

[justanerd1234]

Ok, so I’m not new to Tumblr but this is only my second time posting so I apologize if I do something wrong, but I need to rant.

I was doing my work in my world history class the other day. My teacher likes to play music, and she had it on some country station. Now, I like country music, that’s not the problem.

However, one song in particular came on, and I’d never heard it before. It’s probably actually a really popular song and I’ve just been living under a rock my whole life, but anyway, the more I listened to it and its lyrics, the more I began to hate it.

The song is “Friends Don’t” by Maddie and Tae. It showcases a lovely chorus that goes:

Friends don't call you in the middle of the night Couldn't even tell you why They just felt like saying hi Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys Finding reasons not to leave Trying to hide their chemistry Drive a little too slow (slow), take the long way home (home) Get a little too close (close) We do, but friends don't

And ok, I get the point of the song. I know it’s just supposed to be a sweet cheesy love song. But it just makes me think of how high romantic relationships are held above platonic ones in our society, and songs like this do nothing but inflate that disparity.

For someone who’s Aroace like me, friendships are all I have. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’m really damn tired of everybody telling me I’ll find someone eventually. I’m tired of people seeing all my friendships as second-rate. As less than. They can’t see that maybe my “someone” is found in all my friends that I get to spend life with. In a society that only really cares about romance and sex, people who aren’t constantly seeking those things are left forgotten. And it hurts. A lot.

I’m scared for what the future holds. I worry about how long it will take for all my friends to eventually leave me. How long will it be until my only source of companionship leaves me for something “better”.

I don’t want to be the second choice. I want somebody I can talk to about everything and do silly stuff with and everything. But society doesn’t care. They still see platonic relationships as less than.

They see me as less than.

Sorry for the rant, I just really needed to get this out.

#asexual #ace #aroace #aspec #aromantic #aromantic asexual

[kckt88]

Here With Me I

Summary:

After the disaster that was his last relationship, Aemond is convinced that he'll never find love-until he meets his new neighbour.

Warning(s): Slight Angst, Slight Drama, Flirting, Kissing, Aegon Being a Twat, Smut, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex - F Recieving, Multiple Orgasms, P in V sex,

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C BILLIE SKYLARK

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 6,000

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

As Aemond Targaryen walked towards his apartment building, his mind swirled with the day's lectures and the huge stack of papers waiting to be graded. Lost in his own mind he rounded the corner and nearly collided with someone standing just outside the entrance.

"Oops, sorry about that," Aemond said quickly, catching himself before bumping into the person.

"No worries" came the gentle reply, accompanied by the soft tap-tap of a cane.

Aemond's gaze shifted downward, noticing the guide dog sitting calmly beside the person. "Ah, you must be my new neighbour," he surmised.

"Yes, that's right," she confirmed with a smile. "I'm Wilhelmina Skylark, but my friends call me Billie. And this here-" she gestured to the dog beside her, "-Is Darcie."

"A pleasure to meet you, Billie and Darcie-" Aemond replied warmly. "I'm Aemond Targaryen."

Billie chuckled softly. "Targaryen, huh? That sounds like it's straight out of a history book."

Aemond nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "Funny you should say that. I actually teach history over at the university."

"That must be interesting-" Billie remarked. "-I've always been fascinated by history, what came before and how we’ve evolved over time”.

Aemond found himself intrigued. "Well, perhaps I could share some of my expertise sometime" he offered.

Billie's smile widened. "I'd like that."

As they chatted, Aemond couldn't help but notice the grace and resilience with which Billie navigated her world.

“So, Wilhelmina-“

“-Gods I hate my first name” chuckled Billie, as she reached up to adjust the sunglasses on her face.

"Why don't you like your first name?" Aemond asked, curiously.

Billie hesitated for a moment before answering. "It just never felt like me, you know? Wilhelmina sounds so formal. But Billie, well, that feels more like my style”.

Aemond nodded understandingly. "I see what you mean. But I must say, both names suit you perfectly."

Billie laughed softly. "You're too kind, Aemond."

"So, Billie," Aemond began, curiosity lacing his words, "What do you do for a living?"

Billie chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in her tone. "Well, prepare yourself for something a bit unexpected. I'm a perfume designer."

"A perfume designer?" Aemond echoed, surprise evident in his voice. "That's fascinating! How did you get into that?"

Billie's smile was radiant. "It's a bit of a long story, but let's just say I've always had a keen sense of smell. Even though I can't see the world around me, I've always found beauty in the scents that surround us."

Aemond listened intently, intrigued by Billie's unique perspective on the world. "That's truly remarkable. I imagine your work must be quite intricate, crafting fragrances that evoke certain emotions or memories."

Billie nodded; her expression thoughtful. "Exactly. Perfume has a way of capturing moments in time, transporting people to different places. It's a form of art that I'm deeply passionate about."

Aemond couldn't help but be drawn in by Billie's passion and creativity. "It sounds like you have an incredible talent," he remarked, admiration colouring his words.

Billie's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you, Aemond. It's not often that people understand what I do, let alone appreciate it."

"Well, count me among those who do," Aemond replied sincerely. "I'd love to hear more about your work sometime, if you're willing to share."

Billie's smile widened, her excitement palpable. "I'd like that very much."

"Would you like me to escort you to your apartment?" Aemond asked, his voice gentle and genuine.

Billie chuckled softly; her smile evident even in her voice. "Thank you, Aemond, but I can manage just fine. Darcie here knows the way”.

Aemond felt a pang of embarrassment at his presumption, quickly realizing his misstep. "I'm sorry, Billie, I didn't mean to imply that you needed help. It's just-a habit, I suppose."

Billie's laughter was warm and understanding. "No need to apologize, Aemond. I appreciate the offer, truly."

Relief washed over Aemond as he realized Billie harboured no ill feelings towards him. "Thank you for being so gracious about it," he said sincerely.

"It's nothing," Billie replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Besides, it's nice to know there are still gentlemen like you around."

Aemond couldn't help but smile at the compliment. "Well, if you ever do need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Billie's smile widened. "I'll keep that in mind, good day Aemond."

"Good day, Billie," Aemond echoed, watching as she and Darcie made their way towards the elevator. As he turned to head to his own apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that lingered from their encounter.

In the days that followed their initial encounter, Aemond and Billie found themselves gravitating towards each other more and more. What started as casual conversations in the hallway soon blossomed into deep, meaningful discussions over cups of coffee and leisurely walks through the neighbourhood.

As their friendship grew, Aemond couldn't help but be captivated by Billie's resilience and zest for life. Despite the challenges she faced as a blind woman, she approached each day with unwavering optimism and grace, inspiring Aemond in ways he never thought possible.

One evening, as they sat in Aemond's living room, savouring the warmth of a crackling fire, Aemond's aging Maine Coone cat, Vhagar, made her entrance. Known for her disdain for most people, Vhagar typically kept her distance from strangers.

To Aemond's surprise, Vhagar didn't shy away from Billie. Instead, she sauntered over to her, nuzzling against her leg with a contented purr.

"Well, I'll be damned," Aemond muttered in disbelief. "Vhagar doesn't usually take to people like this."

Billie laughed softly, her fingers gently stroking the cat's fur. "Maybe she senses a kindred spirit in me."

Aemond couldn't argue with that logic. It seemed that Billie had a way of melting even the iciest of hearts.

As the days turned into weeks, Aemond and Billie discovered that they had more in common than they initially realized. From their shared love of literature and movies to their mutual fascination with history.

Before long, Aemond found himself confiding in Billie in ways he never thought possible, sharing his hopes, dreams, and fears without reservation. In turn, Billie opened up to him, offering glimpses into her world that few were privileged to see.

One quiet evening, as they sat together in Aemond's living room, the topic of conversation took a more sombre turn. Aemond had always been curious about Billie's blindness, but he had hesitated to broach the subject, fearing that he might unintentionally cause her pain.

"Billie," Aemond began tentatively, his voice soft, "if you don't mind me asking, how did you- become blind?"

Billie's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in her eyes. "I was born blind" she replied gently. "I've never known what it's like to see."

Aemond felt a pang of guilt wash over him at his presumptuous question. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," he apologized earnestly.

Billie reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "It's alright, Aemond. I understand your curiosity. It's only natural."

Embarrassment coloured Aemond's cheeks as he struggled to find the right words. "Thank you for being so understanding," he murmured.

Billie offered him a reassuring smile before the silence between them grew comfortable once more. Sensing an opportunity for honesty, Aemond decided to share a part of himself with Billie that he had kept hidden for so long.

"You know, Billie," Aemond began slowly, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "I'm not without my own- affliction."

Billie's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, Aemond?"

Taking a deep breath, Aemond recounted the painful memory that had haunted him since childhood. "When I was just a boy, my nephew and I got into a fight," he explained, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the room. "It was foolish, really. But in the heat of the moment, he-he struck me, and I lost my left eye as a result."

Billie's eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth in disbelief. "Oh, Aemond, I had no idea-"

Aemond shook his head, a sad smile playing at his lips. "It's not something I often talk about. But I feel like I can tell you anything”.

“I’ll always listen” replied Billie softly.

"Billie," Aemond began hesitantly, his voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and regret, "There's something else I need to tell you about-someone from my past."

Billie listened intently, her expression soft and compassionate.

"Alys Rivers," Aemond continued, the name heavy on his tongue. "She was-she was my first love".

Billie's brow furrowed in curiosity. "It’s ok take your time-"

Aemond took a deep breath, steeling himself for the memories that threatened to engulf him. "Alys was much older than me," he explained. "She had a way about her, a confidence that drew me in. She made me feel special, like I was more than just the broken reflection I saw in the mirror."

Billie reached out and squeezed his hand in silent support, urging him to continue.

"I hated my reflection for years," Aemond admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "The scar, the missing eye-they were constant reminders of the boy I used to be, before everything changed."

"But Alys," he continued, a hint of longing in his voice, she made me forget all of that, if only for a little while. I lost my virginity to her, and for a time, I thought I loved her."

"But-" he continued, his voice strained with emotion, "-Alys eventually showed her true colours. She-she kept cheating on me and she would say things-hurtful things."

Billie's eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth in disbelief.

"What did she say?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond closed his eye, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "She called me ugly," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "She said I was worthless, that no one would ever love me with a face like mine."

Billie's heart clenched at the cruelty of Alys's words, the pain in Aemond's voice palpable.

"Oh, Aemond," she murmured, her voice thick with sympathy, "I can't imagine how much that must have hurt."

Aemond shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "It did," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "For years, I believed her. I let her words define me, shape me into someone I wasn't."

"But not anymore," Billie interjected firmly, her gaze unwavering. "You're not defined by your scars, Aemond. You're so much more than that”.

“Billie-“ whispered Aemond.

"Aemond," she began softly, her voice tinged with sadness, "Navigating a life without sight-it hasn't been easy."

Aemond listened intently, his gaze fixed on Billie as she spoke.

"But-" she continued, a note of determination creeping into her voice, "through touch, I've learned to experience so many things. The texture of a book's pages, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the gentle caress of a breeze."

Aemond felt a lump form in his throat as he realized the depth of Billie's resilience, the quiet strength that had carried her through the darkest of days.

"Billie," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "You're truly remarkable."

Billie smiled softly, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you, Aemond. But there's something I want to ask you-"

Aemond cocked his head in curiosity, inviting her to continue.

"May I-may I touch you, Aemond?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Aemond's heart swelled with tenderness at Billie's request, the depth of her trust in him echoing in the space between them.

"Of course, Billie," he replied, his voice filled with warmth.

Billie reached forward, her fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his face, Aemond closed his eye, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursing through him. He felt her hands cupping his cheeks gently, her touch both tentative and assured as she explored his features with a gentle reverence.

With practiced precision, Billie's fingers moved over the sharp lines of his jaw, the smooth curve of his lips, and the slight indentation of his scar.

She felt the slight pressure of the eyepatch he wore, and a curious thought crossed her mind.

"Aemond," she whispered softly, her voice barely above a breath, "May I-may I take this off?"

Aemond hesitated for a moment before nodding silently, his heart racing with anticipation.

Then, with a careful motion, she reached up and removed the eyepatch that concealed his missing eye, her touch feather light as she grazed the skin around the scar.

Aemond's breath caught in his throat at her touch, a surge of vulnerability washing over him.

"You're so beautiful" Billie declared softly as her fingers threaded through his long silver hair.

Aemond took a deep breath as he felt a tear escape his eye.

"Billie," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "Can I kiss you?"

Billie's breath caught in her throat at Aemond's request, her heart racing with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.

"Yes," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible in the hushed silence of the room.

With a tender reverence, Aemond leaned forward, closing the distance between them with aching slowness. Their lips met in a gentle caress, a soft sigh escaping them both as they melted into each other's embrace.

"Billie," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of shyness, "There's something I've been wanting to ask you-"

Billie's gaze softened, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she waited patiently for Aemond to continue.

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?" Aemond blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush of emotion.

Billie's eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat at Aemond's unexpected confession.

"Yes," she replied softly, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I would love to be your girlfriend."

A wave of relief washed over Aemond as he heard Billie's answer, a radiant smile spreading across his face as he reached out to take her hand in his.

"Are you sure they'll like me?" Billie whispered; her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Aemond squeezed her hand reassuringly, a small smile playing at his lips. "They'll love you; I promise."

As they stepped into the grand foyer of the Targaryen estate, Aemond's family gathered to greet them—a warm, welcoming sight that eased the tension in his shoulders.

"Mother, brothers, sister, grandfather," Aemond greeted them each in turn, his voice tinged with pride.

Alicent Hightower, regal and elegant as ever, enveloped Aemond in a tight embrace, her eyes shining with motherly pride. "Aemond, dear, it's so good to see you. And who is this lovely young lady you've brought with you?"

"This is Billie," Aemond introduced, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. "My-girlfriend."

Aegon, couldn't resist a sly comment. "Well, well, it's about time, brother. I was beginning to think you'd never find a girlfriend."

Aemond flushed slightly at his brother's teasing, but Billie merely smiled graciously, unfazed by Aegon's jest.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Billie," said Daeron kindly.

Helaena nodded in agreement. "Yes, welcome to the family."

"Aemond has spoken highly of you, my dear. It's a pleasure to finally meet you” said Otto.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir” replied Billie softly.

“What’s the stick for?” asked Aegon.

“It helps me to navigate unfamiliar places-I’m blind” replied Billie.

"Blind?" Aegon remarked with a smirk, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Well, Aemond, looks like you finally found the perfect girl—no need to worry about her being put off by that nasty scar of yours, eh?"

Aemond's heart sank at his brother's callous remark, his eye widening in shock as he felt the blood drain from his face. Beside him, Billie stiffened, her jaw clenched in anger.

Before Aemond could even muster a response, Billie's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife.

"How dare you," spat Billie, her eyes flashing with fury. Aegon's smirk faltered, taken aback by Billie's sudden outburst.

"I will not stand here and listen to you belittle him," Billie continued, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Aemond is one of the most courageous, kind-hearted individuals I've ever met-“

“-Aemond-courageous?” quipped Aegon sarcastically.

With a swift, decisive motion, Billie's hand lashed out, the sound of her palm meeting Aegon's cheek echoing in the stunned silence of the room.

Aegon stumbled backward, his hand flying to his reddened cheek in disbelief.

Aegon stood there, stunned, as he gingerly touched his reddened cheek, disbelief etched on his face. "I-I can't believe you actually managed to land a slap on me," he stammered, his voice tinged with both surprise and begrudging respect.

Billie stood tall; her chin held high, unapologetic for her actions. "Just because I can't see doesn't mean I'm defenceless," she replied coolly. "Besides, your repulsive odour is enough for me to know exactly where you are."

Aegon's eyebrows shot up in offense, his pride wounded by Billie's blunt assessment. "Hey now, I'll have you know that I always smell just fine," he retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice.

Billie couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "I could smell your rank arse from across the room."

Aegon's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his retort dying on his lips as he struggled to come up with a response.

Billie, however, wasn't finished. "And let's not forget the woman you were obviously with earlier," she continued, her tone cutting. "Surely you could have taken a shower before coming here."

Aemond couldn't hold back his laughter at Billie's boldness, the sound echoing in the room like a peal of thunder.

Aegon's expression darkened, his pride wounded by Billie's blunt honesty. "Well, I never," he muttered, his voice tinged with indignation.

But Billie merely shrugged, unapologetic for her words. "Just speaking the truth," she replied simply, her voice filled with a quiet confidence.

“So, what does Billie do for a living?” asked Alicent.

"Billie designs her own perfumes. She has an incredible sense of smell and a talent for creating unique fragrances."

Alicent's eyes lit up with intrigue. "Is that so?" she exclaimed, turning her attention to Billie. "Tell me, my dear, what perfumes have you released so far?"

Billie smiled warmly; her enthusiasm evident as she spoke. "Well, there's Lavender Luxe," she began, her voice soft and melodic. "It's more of a body mist, but it's infused with lavender essential oil, which helps people relax and unwind after a long day."

Alicent nodded in approval, impressed by Billie's ingenuity. "That sounds lovely," she remarked.

Billie's smile widened as she continued. "And then there's Radiant Rose," she added. "It's a delicate blend of rose petals and citrus, reminiscent of a spring day when the roses are in bloom."

Alicent's eyes sparkled with recognition. "That's the perfume I use," she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face. "It's simply divine."

Billie's cheeks flushed with pleasure at Alicent's compliment, her heart swelling with pride. "Thank you," she replied graciously, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

"Do you have any more perfume ideas on the horizon, my dear?" she inquired, her voice filled with genuine interest.

Billie's smile widened, a glint of excitement dancing in her eyes. "Actually, I do," she replied, her voice tinged with enthusiasm. "I've been working on a new fragrance—one that's very special to me."

“That sounds interesting-“ said Helaena brightly.

"It’s in honour of Aemond," replied Billie, her voice soft but resolute, "I've been designing a perfume that captures the essence of his spirit."

A hush fell over the room as Billie's words sank in, the weight of her revelation hanging heavy in the air.

Aemond's heart swelled with emotion as he processed what Billie had just said. Her gesture filled him with a sense of awe and gratitude.

"You're designing a perfume in honour of me?" Aemond stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Aemond," she replied, her voice filled with conviction. "Because you inspire me, in ways that words can't even begin to describe."

Aemond's heart overflowed with emotion at Billie's words, his eye misting over with tears of gratitude.

"At least Billie has her own money then, not like some of the usual trollops that hover around us" Aegon quipped, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Aemond's jaw clenched with barely concealed anger, his fists tightening at his sides as he struggled to contain his rising fury.

"How dare you," spat Billie, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. "You have no right to make such assumptions about me."

Aegon scoffed dismissively, his arrogance palpable. "Oh, please," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Isn't that all anyone ever wants Aemond for? His name, his money-"

Billie's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. "That's not why I'm interested in Aemond," she shot back, her voice laced with steel. "I couldn't care less about his wealth or his status. I love him for who he is, scars and all."

Aegon's smirk faltered, taken aback by Billie's fierce defence of Aemond.

But before he could respond, Billie turned on her heel, her eyes blazing with fury as she stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence that followed.

But then Aegon's laughter echoed through the room as Billie's departure was punctuated by the sound of a crashing vase, her inadvertent mishap drawing unwanted attention.

"Great one you've brought home there, brother," Aegon quipped, his voice laced with mockery. "Does she need you to hold her hand as she crosses the street?"

With a roar of anger, Aemond launched himself at Aegon, his fist connecting with his brothers face.

The room erupted into chaos as Aemond and Aegon grappled with each other, their shouts and curses filling the air.

"I fucking hate you" Aemond declared, his voice thick with emotion, each word laced with venom, as he punched Aegon in the nose.

"Why?" demanded Aegon, his voice tinged with both confusion and defiance. "Because I speak the truth? Because I refuse to coddle you like everyone else?"

“That’s enough-“ screeched Alicent.

Aemond shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides as he fought to contain the torrent of emotions raging within him.

"No," he replied hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you always have to cause trouble. You always have to ruin everything"

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the rift that had always existed between them—a divide born of jealousy, resentment, and betrayal.

With a heavy heart, Aemond pushed Aegon away from him and stormed out of the room, ignoring his mothers concerned calls or the sound of his grandfather berating Aegon for his rude behaviour.

Aemond's steps quickened as he approached his car, his heart heavy with worry for Billie, who stood by his car, her shoulders slumped.

But as he drew closer, he saw her quickly wipe away a tear, a futile attempt to conceal her distress. His heart broke at the sight, the pain in her eyes mirrored his own.

"Billie," he called softly, his voice filled with concern.

"Aemond-" she murmured, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the words.

Before she could say anything else, Aemond closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, his arms enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry for my brother's cruelty”

Billie leaned into his embrace, her tears flowing freely now as she buried her face in his chest, seeking solace in his warmth.

"It's not your fault," she murmured, her voice muffled against his shirt. "You don't have to apologize for him."

But Aemond shook his head, his grip on her tightening. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Billie," he vowed, his voice fierce with determination. "Not now, not ever."

With Billie still held close in his arms, Aemond gently pulled back, his hands framing her face as he looked deeply into her eyes, his own shimmering with emotion.

"Billie," he began, his voice soft but filled with conviction, "You are the most amazing person I have ever met."

Billie's breath caught in her throat at his words, her heart swelling with a mixture of surprise and tenderness.

"So smart, so fierce and determined," Aemond continued, his voice tinged with awe. "You've faced challenges that would break most people, and yet you've emerged stronger than ever."

Billie's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she listened to Aemond's heartfelt words, his love washing over her like a warm embrace.

"I love you," Aemond whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a depth of feeling that resonated deep within her soul.

Tears spilled down Billie's cheeks as she threw her arms around Aemond once more, holding him tightly as if afraid to let go.

"I love you too," she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion. "More than you'll ever know."

"Shall we go home?”

“Yes” nodded Billie.

“You can drive-“ replied Aemond.

Billie's eyes widened in surprise at Aemond's unexpected suggestion, but then a smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she realized the absurdity of his joke.

"-Aemond, you know I can't drive," replied Bille with a chuckle.

Aemond joined in her laughter, the tension of the earlier encounter melting away in the warmth of their shared amusement.

"You caught me," admitted Aemond with a grin.

Billie nodded, her laughter subsiding into a soft smile as she gazed up at him with affection. "Thank you for trying to lighten the mood," she said, her gratitude evident in her eyes.

Aemond squeezed her hand gently, his heart swelling with love for the woman beside him. "Anything for you, my dear," he replied, his voice filled with warmth.

"Would you like to stay over, Aemond?" Billie asked softly, her voice filled with warmth and invitation.

Aemond's heart skipped a beat at her words, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of longing and affection. "Yes, I'd like that," he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Inside the cozy confines of Billie's flat, they kicked off their shoes and settled onto the couch, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering shadows across the room as Aemond scrolled through the selection of films.

He decided on one of Billie’s favourite films-Jaws.

“I like the music-it’s builds up the tension” said Billie as she snuggled closer to Aemond.

“Me too-“ replied Aemond as he reached for his phone and ordered a pizza.

“Not a fan of the sequels though” whispered Billie as she listened to the dialogue of the film.

“I guess number two wasn’t that bad-but the rest were total shit”.

“There is another shark film I like-Deep Blue Sea” said Billie thoughtfully.

“-Is that the one where they do experiments on the sharks, and they get smarter or something?” asked Aemond curiously.

“Yes, it’s really good. I also like Lake Placid as well” admitted Billie.

“You know I’m starting to see a pattern here-you certainly like your creature feature movies”.

“Yes, I do-I also like disaster movies as well, one of my all-time favourites is the 1970’s Poseidon Adventure-“ said Billie smiling.

“Is the one with the guy who played Grandpa Joe in Willy Wonka?” asked Aemond.

“Yes, it is-another favourite film of mine, I know all the songs word for word”.

“You know I always thought he was a bit of a shifty character-spends most of his life in bed having whoever it was running around after him and then his grandson finds the golden ticket and miraculously, he can walk-“ mused Aemond tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“I mean you do have a point”.

“-And what about that woman in that Tom Hanks film-Forest Gump, she was the true villain of that piece. Only wanted to get involved with him once he had money, then she bogged off and had child-and only introduced him to the child because she was dying-who’s to say the kid was even his-telling you she was an evil master mind” said Aemond.

“How have we gone from Jaws to Forest Gump?” laughed Billie.

“I haven’t got a clue-“ exclaimed Aemond.

“Ooh that will be the pizza-“ said Billie as the doorbell rang.

“Thank god-I’m starving” muttered Aemond as he jumped up from the sofa.

Billie sighed in contentment as she listened to Aemond open the door and cheerfully accept the pizza.

“Thank you-have a nice night” said Aemond as he shut the door. The smell of pepperoni wafting through the apartment.

“Someone seems happy-“ exclaimed Billie.

“Why wouldn’t I be-I’ve got my girl next to me and pepperoni pizza. What more could I ask for?”

“Cheesy chips?” quipped Billie.

“Ooo yes those too-” cheered Aemond as he ripped open a styrofoam box.

“Garlic sauce-“ mused Billie.

“Of course,” replied Aemond as he dipped his finger in the sauce and swiped his finger across Billie’s cheek.

“Hey-“ exclaimed Billie.

“My bad-let me get that for you” said Aemond as he leaned forward and ran his tongue over Billie’s cheek.

“Aemond-“ squeaked Billie.

“Hmmm-delicious” growled Aemond.

Billie giggled as she picked up a slice of pizza and picked off the pepperoni slices before offering them to Darcie.

“I thought you liked pepperoni?”

“I do-but so does Darcie” replied Billie as she took a handful of chips.

After they had finished eating and cleaned away the rubbish, Aemond and Billie settled back down to watch another movie-but part way through Billie had other ideas and she began pressing gentle kisses to Aemond’s neck.

“Hmmm- that feels nice” growled Aemond as he reached over and pulled Billie into his lap.

“I love you so much-“ whispered Aemond.

“-I love you too” replied Billie.

“I want to make love to you” whispered Aemond.

“I-I’ve never done it before” muttered Billie shyly as she pressed her face into Aemond’s chest.

“Oh-“

“I was waiting until I found someone special-” said Billie.

“T-That’s fine-we don’t need to do this-” replied Aemond stroking her hair softly.

“Aemond -your that special someone. I want you to be my first” whispered Billie.

“Only if you’re sure, I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything” said Aemond firmly.

“I’m sure Aemond. I want this-I want you” exclaimed Billie as she took his hand and led him to her bedroom.

Despite his experience, Aemond had never so nervous in his entire life, his hands shook as he slowly undressed himself.

Billie gently tugged off the p.js she was wearing and Aemond could feel his mouth watering at the sight of her delectable body.

“I-I don’t know what to do” muttered Billie her cheeks tinged pink.

“It’s ok-I’ll take care of you” replied Aemond as he directed Billie to sit on the end if the bed.

“I trust you” replied Billie quietly.

Aemond smiled as he knelt on the floor, lowering his head between Billie’s legs.

“I’m going to kiss you down there-is that ok?”

“Y-Yes” stammered Billie.

“Hmmm”

“Aemond-“ shrieked Billie her eyes rolling into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.

Billie bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.

“Let me hear you”.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” begged Billie

Aemond slowly pressed two fingers inside Billie, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake, his tongue moving against her folds, his lips wrapping around her pearl.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Come for me” whispered Aemond.

Billie arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond crawled up Billie’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

“Calm yourself my little bird” murmured Aemond.

“I-I’ve never-” mumbled Billie moving her hands over her face in embarrassment.

“Was that your first peak?” asked Aemond as he gently pulled away her hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

Bille blushed and nodded quickly, jumping when she felt Aemond’s cock against her.

Aemond then began to place a series of kisses along Billie’s neck, his hand gently cupping her breast before he sucked the rosy bud into his mouth, his tongue rolling around the stiffened peak.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow” whispered Aemond as he reached down and took hold of his hard cock rubbing it along Billie’s warm wet folds.

“Ok-I’m ready”

“I-don’t have a condom” whispered Aemond.

“I-I-want to feel you. If that’s ok?”

“Yes-I want to feel you too“ whispered Aemond.

“So beautiful-my Aemond” whispered Billie as she ran her hands over Aemond’s face and placed a kiss upon his scar.

“A-Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Aemond, his cock sliding through Billie’s folds.

“Y-Yes. Please. Aemond Make love to me” replied Billie softly as she opens her legs wider.

“Ok. Take a deep breath-” said Aemond as he slowly pushes the blunt head of his cock inside.

Just the tip felt okay but then he was pushing further inside, and it stung, Billie clenched her eyes shut as his cock fully slid into her, his hips coming to rest against hers.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“It hurts,” cried Billie a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Do you want me to stop-I can pull out” whispered Aemond his voice laced with concern.

“N-No g-give me a moment” whimpered Billie.

Aemond stops, holding himself still, his hard cock throbbing inside her.

After a few minutes, Aemond begins to press gentle kisses all over Billies face and neck, making her sigh.

“I-I think you can move now” whispered Bille gently moves her hips.

Aemond exhales shakily, pulling out halfway only to thrust right back in.

“You’re taking me so well little bird,” whispers Aemond soothingly, thrusting again, harder this time.

Gradually he gets into a rhythm, his movements slow but powerful.

Billie brings her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down the bed.

Aemond made a strangled sort of sound and lowered himself onto Billie even more, kissing her passionately.

His cock is still thrusting in and out. Billie kisses him back, threading her fingers through his long silky hair.

Aemond breaks the kiss, breathing heavily.

Billie can feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.

“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”

Aemond groans as he begins to move faster pounding into her, their skin slapping together.

“Aemond -my Aemond”

“You’re so fucking perfect little bird, mine all mine” growls Aemond.

“Y-Yes, yours all yours” moans Billie squirming as her pleasure peaks and she explodes.

Aemond lets out a long low groan, his hips bucking wildly. His cock twitching as he spills his seed inside her.

Aemond’s hips finally stagger and stop. His face buried in the crook of her neck.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“I’m fine-I’m glad I waited for you” whispered Billie smiling breathlessly.

Aemond's heart raced with anticipation as he carefully examined the assortment of engagement rings on display in the jeweller’s shop. Each one sparkled and shimmered under the soft glow of the overhead lights.

After much deliberation, he finally settled on a simple yet elegant diamond ring, its brilliance reflecting the depth of his feelings for her—a symbol of their love and commitment.

With the ring safely tucked away in his pocket, Aemond made his way back to his apartment, his heart light with excitement at the thought of proposing to Billie, they had been together almost a year now and Aemond couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her, shortly after their first time being intimate with one another, Aemond had asked Billie to move in with him and she readily agreed, which pleased him no end as he spent countless nights between Billie's thighs and taking her on every available surface in the apartment.

Obviously Vhagar took some time adjusting to spending everyday with Darcie, but she begrudgingly accepted it-with bribery from Billie that consisted of endless cat treats.

Aemond felt like the luckiest man on earth, and he couldn’t stop smiling as he reached the apartment he now shared with Billie.

But as he entered the apartment, his excitement turned to confusion as he found Billie standing in the living room, her expression tense and troubled. And then, to his shock, he noticed Alys standing beside her, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly.

TBC -

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x original female character #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

[vodika-vibes]

a innocent, tiny sunshine reader being completely oblivious with alpha-17?

The Devil's Luck

Summary: You’re parents have always warned you that you were far too naive about the way the world works, they feared that you would have a bad ending. But you’ve never been worried. You’ve always had the devil’s own luck, after all.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1018

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: This is another ask that's been sitting in my inbox since last year. I'm a little worried that I didn't quite get the vibe needed for the oblivious, sunshine reader since I wrote from the reader's POV rather than Alpha's. This is set in an AU where Alpha-17 somehow became Mandalore (I have a whole plot on how that happened, but it's largely unimportant to this.)

“How are you adapting to life in the North?” The currently Mandalore, Alpha-17, asks in a low rumble as he towers over you. “It is very different than life in Sundari.”

“Different, but not bad.” You agree as you favor the massive man with a brilliant smile, “I’m just glad that you aren’t going to try and force to fight for you.”

There’s a dry look on his heavily scarred, but handsome, face. “There are plenty of men here who are more than happy to fight, an unwilling soldier is more of a risk than an untrained one after all.”

You laugh, “I’ll take your word for it.”

He glances around your home, still filled with unpacked crates and boxes, and sparsely decorated. “And how are the others treating you? I would hate for you to inform the Duchess that you’re being mistreated.”

“I think you’re overestimating how much Lady Satine cares about what I have to say.” You open a box and peer into it, cooking utensils. Nice, you’ve been looking for these. “The Duchess has already determined what she thinks of you and yours, Mandalore.”

“And what does her grace think of us?”

“That you’re little more than rabid animals, I’m afraid.” You’re genuinely apologetic about telling him that, “I was warned, on more than one occasion, that I should expect to be treated as little more than chattel.”

Alpha raps his knuckles on your counter, annoyance clear on his face, “Is that right. And she sent you here anyway?”

“She didn’t.”

“Sorry?”

“Send me. I’ve been wanting to leave Sundari for ages so I jumped at the chance.” You grin at him, “My parents were horrified.”

He crosses his arms across his broad chest, “If you wanted to leave, why didn’t you move away before?”

“My parents.” You reply as you make a face.

“...you’re an adult.”

“Yeah, that argument only really works in theory.” You shrug, “They think that I’m naive and worried that leaving Sundari would have me accidentally joining a cult or something. Apparently I’m ‘easily influenced’.”

He quirks an eyebrow, “That is pretty concerning, if it’s true.”

“I’ve never been worried. I’m Lady Lucks favorite.”

He releases a quiet chuckle, “Sure you are.” His dark eyes scan you for a moment, and then he leans back against your counter, “I’m having a dinner tonight. Nothing big or overly fancy, just me and some of the ambassadors towards the other sects of Mandalorians.”

“Sounds awful.”

“Generally is.” He agrees, “I want you to come.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you’re a New Mandalorian who not only moved from Sundari to Little Keldabe, but is also thriving.” Alpha replies honestly, “Because you’re short and cute and very non-threatening. Because I want you there to have someone interesting to talk to.” He shrugs, unconcerned, “Take your pick.”

“...you think I’m cute?”

He shoots you a look, “Is that really the important thing here?”

“Yes~”

“I think you’re cute, beautiful, stunning. All of those nice things that you’re supposed to say to a woman.” Alpha replies with a roll of his eyes.

You grin at him, “Thank you~”

“You’re welcome. So, do you want to come?”

“Mm...I don’t really have anything to wear to a nice dinner.” You admit, “And won’t people get angry about you inviting me and not them?”

“By people you mean my brothers? If they have a problem with it they can come and talk to me.” He pauses, “But knowing my brothers, the moment they hear the word politics they’re going to run for the hills.”

You laugh softly, “I don’t blame them, really.” You fall silent for a moment, tapping your lower lip with your knuckles, “Yeah, alright. I’ll come to dinner with you.”

“Good,” He lowers his arms and leans them against the edge of the counter, “And now, because you told me that you’re oblivious, I’m going to be much more clear.”

You tilt your head curiously.

“This is a date. I’m asking you to come on a date with me.” Alpha says, amusement clear in his voice, “My intention is for this to become something more.”

You stare at him, your lips parted for a moment, and then your face burns. “...oh.” You squeak out.

“Is this a problem?” Alpha asks.

“No! Uh...outside of the fact that I don’t think I’m ‘mandalore’s girlfriend’ material.” You say quickly as you press your hands against your burning cheeks and try to force the flush away.

“The only person who’s allowed to decide that is me. And if I say that you are, no one is going to question me on it.” Alpha stares at you for a long moment, “So, still interested?”

“Yes!” Your face burns when you realize just how excited you sound about it, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you slide your hands over your face, “Um...I mean...yes. I am.”

You don’t see Alpha’s wide grin, and you don’t see him push away from your counter. You do, however, feel him wrap his hands around your wrists and tug them down away from your face, “There you are.” He murmurs his voice a low rumble that rolls through you pleasantly.

“...hi.” You whisper up to him.

“Hi yourself.” Effortlessly, he walks you backwards until your back bumps against the wall, “Is this too much?”

“No.” You reply immediately, “I think it might not be enough.”

He chuckles, and lowers his head so that his lips are hovering just over yours, “I think ‘Mandalore’s Girlfriend’ is a perfect title for you.” Alpha says, “What do you think, cyar’ika?”

“I think it sounds really good.” You agree.

“Good.” He closes the short distance between your lips and his, and you almost instantly respond, your hands sliding across his armor to find purchase between the plates so you’re able to cling to him.

He kisses you like he’s trying to replace the air in your lungs with himself, and you can’t be happier about it.

And, just before you lose yourself in him and his lips, you can’t help but think that you really do have the devil’s luck.

#star wars #tcw #alpha-17 x reader #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[middlingmay]

Single Dad!Gale x Baseball Coach!Bucky AU

Gale and Marge married when they were eighteen and had Amelia nearly nine months to the day later.

She was a perfect combination of both her parents, with Marge's white-blonde hair and Gales sky blue eyes.

They moved away from Caspar. Marge's pa never got over thinking Gale wasn't good enough for his little girl, and Gale refused to have Amelia anywhere near either of his parents.

They ended up in Wisconsin. All they could afford was a one-bed house in need of a heck of a lot of TLC. But Marge had never met a challenge she didn't face head on, and she got her hands just as dirty as Gale's whilst the two of them traded off caring for Amie.

Equals. Partners. In everything.

Gale built a little extension out back which would be Amie's bedroom when she was old enough. They fixed the rot, board by board, and that ramshackle little place on the edge of town became a home.

It wasn't perfect, but they couldn't have been happier.

It was a normal day, when it happened.

Amie had just discovered her legs could hold her up. Marge stood with a beaming smile as she leaned against the kitchen door. She watched Gale coax their daughter into stretching her newfound legs.

Then Gale heard an almighty thud and turned to see Marge on the kitchen floor.

Scooping Amie up in one arm, Gale rushed to her side. He tried: tried to wake her, tried for a pulse, a heartbeat, a breath - tried to restart that gorgeous heart when he couldn't find a single one of them as the panic choked him and blurred his vision. Tried to make sense on the phone to the ambulance as he begged them to get here.

But there was nothing to be done.

He'd find out later it was a brain aneurism. Unpredictable. Instantly fatal. She didn't feel a thing.

He'd be jealous of that in his darker moments: that she couldn't feel the anger he felt, the hate, the guilt, the sadness that made his limbs feel like lead.

Whoever said grief numbed you was a goddamn liar.

He had never felt, never been so useless as those first days without Marge.

And one night when it became too much, it led him to the first and only time he ever took up after his old man.

He put Amie to bed and pulled the bottle he'd bought from under the sink, and didn't stop drinking until it was gone.

He was lost in his head, recalling every memory he had of Marge, rehashing their last days together for signs - for anything he missed to prove it was his fault she was gone.

It took a while for him to hear the screaming.

Amie's voice was nearly hoarse as Gale staggered to her room.

He wouldn't pick her up, but he tried to hush her back to sleep but she only cried harder, and something in him snapped. He hurled the bottle to the ground and the smash splintered what was left of him.

"She's gone! Your momma's gone, Amie! And she ain't coming back! No matter how hard you cry!"

There was one blissful moment of silence before his horror descended and Gale heard a different voice in his head and vomited onto the floor - all the booze and his disgust with it.

He crawled sobbing to his daughter, who thankfully hadn't taken his words to heart and carried on crying anyway.

Carefully, so carefully, he lifted her from her crib and pressed her to his chest. He didn't think his stink or his heaving sobs were particularly relaxing for a little baby, but Amie burrowed right on into the crook of his neck anyway.

She slept with him on the sofa that night. Gale was too terrified to fall asleep, so he talked to her all night, about how wonderful her mother was and how sorry he was, and he laid out his promises to her like vows.

He would never drink again. He would never raise a hand to her or raise his voice in anger. He would love and protect her always. She would grow up knowing how much her mother loved her.

And Gale kept those vows.

He sold the house and got a fresh start a few towns over in Manitowoc.

Over the years, he watched his daughter grow into the best of him and Marge.

She had Marge's kindness and strength. She had a terrible dose of his stubbornness that never failed to make him proud. She was a calm and quiet child and other children liked her for it. She took to defending other kids on the playground and the first time she came home with bruised knuckles, Gale had to send her to her room and repeat his vows to her over and over before he felt calm enough to go to her.

Unsurprisingly she was far from repentant and Gale had to tell his daughter about a grandfather she'd never know and hurts that never quite went away.

"Sometimes we gotta fight back, and protecting others and yourself is the only time that's okay. But always, always as a last resort. D'you hear me?"

She'd thrown herself at him and burrowed her face into that crook like she did when she was a baby and hugged him like his life depended on it.

Clever girl, like he said.

In Junior High, Amie started dropping "hints" (more like bombs) about Gale finding himself some company.

She'd point out her friends' single mothers, and when waitresses looked him over a little too long. But he only ever gave her what she liked to tell him was his flat, you-are-testing-me-child look that made her friends scatter whenever they saw it. And he ignored her easy as breathing.

He couldn't see himself feeling for anyone the way he'd felt about Marge.

Until, that was, Amelie started High School and he met a baseball coach called John Egan.

#gale cleven #john egan #mota #clegan #buck x bucky #masters of the air #headcanon #alternate universe

[juiles]

Sticking Out Sucks 3

Requested: no

Summary: part 3 of the au where they find out a secret of yours they dont love.

Tags: fluff

Triggers: smoking

Masterlist here.

Requests here.

Taglist here.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I looked out at the field below my window as I sat on the windowsill, a cigarette between my lips taking small puffs. A calming lull of security ran around me as Queen songs played on in the background. This was something I did when I knew my new mothers were out. It was a lot easier to hide when they hated me. Well, I guess they never hated me but when they decided to ignore me for my own benefit. Something I’m still getting used to is having two parents who care about my health. If they knew I smoked, they would freak out, I would probably get grounded for life.

I heard the elevator ding meaning someone was coming on to our floor which was odd because nobody but me and my mothers ever came up here. I quickly extinguished the cigarette in my hand and stashed the whole pack and my lighter away in a small nook right outside that was kept dry by a stone I shoved over top. I quickly sprayed some body spray around my room and settled back on the windowsill, music still playing in the background.

I heard a knock and yelled come in. My door opened and Bruce was standing in my doorway. “Your moms told me to feed you while they were gone, din-“ He stopped mid sentence and sniffed the air around him. “Why does it strongly smell like vanilla with a hint of cigarette smoke in here?” My heart rate picked up slightly but, on the outside, kept a calm façade. I shrugged flipping the knife in my hand around. “Y/N?”

“Its probably someone outside smoking. I had a candle lit not too long ago.” I muttered looking over at the man in the doorway. “What did my mothers say you were to do again?” I asked placing the switchblade on the dresser beside me.

“Right. Food is on the table in the kitchen. Its pizza and wings. Sorry I can’t cook like your mom.” He said with a small sheepish look on his face. I shrugged and grabbed my phone off my bed, following him as he walks out my door and towards the elevator.

“That’s fine. I was used to less than that before.” I said as he pushed the elevator button and the doors opened with a ding. I pushed past him lightly as I got on, him following up behind me and pressing the button for the main living floor where the kitchen was. We stood in silence as I scrolled through my phone.

“If you’re smoking you need to tell me.” He said out of the blue, making me look up at him with shock. “You’re thirteen years old. Your body is not ready to handle those types of things. Those drugs.” He said looking at me strongly.

I tried to play it cool. “If I was smoking Bruce, you wouldn’t know. I’m to smart for that.” I bit my lip looking down at my feet as the doors opened. I quickly stepped out of the elevator and made my way towards the kitchen trying to get away from him.

As I sat and ate my pizza, the doors opened revealing my two mothers, dirty but otherwise not looking to bad. “Detka.” I looked up and my face broke out into a giant smile. My safe people were home. It had been a week since my breakdown and they’ve been nothing but supportive in everything I need and I knew that tomorrow we would be having the conversation with Fury about taking me off missions, something that I was ridiculously looking forward to.

“Momma!” I said, hopping off the stool and running towards the two women. “Mama! You guys are back early! I thought you wouldn’t be back until early tomorrow morning!”

“We happened to finish early so we thought we would come home and spend the night together! Movie night?” Natasha said with a small smile as I wrapped myself up into their arms. Nat sniffed my head then pulled me back with a raised eyebrow.

My smile immediately faded as I looked up at the redhead in front of me. “Hi mama.” I said sheepishly. Her smile faded as well as she looked over at Wanda then back at me. “We have pizza…?”

“Why do I smell cigarette in your hair young lady?” She asked, nervously I shrugged and went back to the counter where my pizza was sitting. “No. Why do I smell cigarette in your hair?” I shrugged again and took a bite of my pizza, knowing it was fruitless to lie to them, but I still didn’t want to admit it to her.

“Natasha what are you talking about?” Wanda said, making her way over to me and placing a kiss on my head before she stopped and sniffed my hair as well. I knew I had forgotten to spray something, my hair. “You do smell like cigarette smoke. Why?” Wanda said, making me put down my piece of pizza.

I shrugged again but stopped when I heard a cough from beside me. “No lies. Truth. Now.” Instead of taking that properly, my whole body felt like an instant reaction to Wanda’s words, and I immediately went into defense.

“Why should I tell you the truth?” I snapped standing up. I pushed past the redhead on my left and found my way up the stairs and into my room. “FRIDAY, keep my door locked, no one can enter, not even Wanda and Natasha.”  I opened my window and grabbed my cigarettes, quickly pulling one out and lighting it. I took a few puffs, tears falling down my face. “Why the fuck would they want to keep me now? You’re fucking stupid Molchalin. Why would they want to keep you now?”

My door was kicked open and, in the wake, stood my redhead mother looking at me with nothing but concern and worry. “Why did you run off detka? Why did you lock yourself in?” She said running towards me, ignoring the currently lit cigarette in my hands, and pulling me into her arms. I felt the cigarette get taken out of my hand and I instinctively wrapped my arms around Natasha, small sniffles coming out.

“I’m sorry mama! I’m sorry!” I cried out looking up at her. She shushed me, tucking a piece of red hair behind my ear and pulled me into her again. Rubbing my back to calm me down. “I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I smoked!”

“No more tears malyshka.” Wanda said pulling me into her arms next.

“We just want to know if you plan on continuing to smoke or if you want to stop. We would really like to help you stop. Youre so young detka.” Natasha said, sitting on my bed, prompting wanda and myself to sit next to her.

“It’s calming… it makes me feel serene… something I don’t get very often.” I mumbled, picking at my fingers, being held in my mothers arms. “It was more often from when you guys ignored me… it was easier to just feel spacey then deal with what I really felt on the inside.”

“From now on, when you feel the need to smoke, why don’t you come to one of us?” Wanda suggested, running her fingers through my hair. “You come to us and we talk about why you might be feeling that way rather than smoking and ruining your body hmm?” I looked up at her, eyes wide and full of fear.

“What if I’m not sure why I feel that way?” I mumbled looking back down at my fingers. “Sometimes I feel feelings, I don’t understand and its just easier to float away than feel them…”

“Well momma and I were talking on the flight back and we thought about maybe putting you in therapy… we all had to do it when we first got out of wherever we got out of and since your now in our care, we think it would be very helpful.” Natasha said braiding my hair in small sections. I shrugged holding the teddy they had recently gotten me, tightly in my arms.

“Its scary…”

“But it will be easier with us on your side. Now, movie and cuddles? I can go get the pizza and some snacks?” I immediately perked up when mama mentioned movie and cuddles and nodded my head quickly.

“Yes please!”

Taglist:

@asiangmrchk13 @boredandneedfanfics @mythixmagic @natashamaximoff-69 @grim-trans-witch

#marvel imagine #avengers imagine #mcu imagine #elizabeth olsen #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wandanat x daughter!reader #wandanat fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #marvel one shot #marvel women #marvel #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel fanart #marvel headcanons #avengers #mcu fluff #mcu fandom #wanda mcu #mcu family #mcu #scarlett johansson x reader

[honey-minded-hivemind]

OH MY GOD imagine platonic yandere adults, find out that the reader is their biological child somehow. Maybe from one of the scientists while doing some test and yans find out they need all of there reactions, especally if Wanda and peitro find out they have another sibling.

Ooooooh, yes! Yeah, that WOULD make things different. Because now the adult/s in question feel more attached (or entitled) to Reader, especially if they were someone who turned out very different from them (as in, saner and maybe a bit nicer)...

If it was Magneto who was Reader's biological parent, surprise, he's now doubling his efforts to free himself, his kids, Charles, and the rest of them out. And those who harmed his kids? They'll be dead when he's done with them. Of course, he is going to try and get closer to Reader, attempt to tell them what he now knows. Hopefully they believe him...

If Charles Xavier is Reader's biological parent, oh, what's this? A few guards mysteriously ended up in a coma? Oh, some head scientist who saw him went insane? That's nothing to worry about, but let's talk, try to calm down, and enjoy a bit of peace, shall we? Yeah, Xavier is ready to keep Reader safe, be it by incapacitating their abusers or simply helping calm his kid down. He wants to badly tell them their relation, but he's aware that it might not be a good time. But on the other hand, he doesn't know how long any of them have...

If Logan is Reader's biological parent, he's scared. He doesn't want them to get hurt, and he doesn't want them to be used as a weapon. He also doesn't want to hurt them. But he also wants to be close to them, wants to protect them. He's worried even more, because they could get hurt just for being related to him. He feels like he can be a bit more feral around them if he's their parent, because it's just as likely they're feral, too, and neither one of them would hurt the other when they're like that, would they? He'll be by their side as long as he can, and he'll try his best to keep them safe. He just hopes Reader survives long enough so they can escape...

If Victor was Reader's biological parent, he's ready to break out even sooner. He has a cub? And they're hurt? And they're sweet? And they're his blood? Ooooooooh, he's going to be goring those lab rats when he's free. He can share his kid with Jimmy, Logan, his runt, but the others? ... He'll think about it. He gets more possessive of them, more protective. If Reader is his by blood, then he feels he should have a say in how they handle them... And he won't hurt them, he'll try not to, but they shouldn't run if he goes to collect them. They don't need to be scared of their papa, right? He's keeping them safe, getting rid of their enemies and freeing their friends and uncle...

If Ororo was Reader's biological parent, she'd be very loving and motherly towards them. She'd happily accept them, and she'd be happy to take care of them. She's sorry they're in this situation, and wishes they could have found this all out some other way, but she hopes that they can move past their trauma and heal together, along with Evan and their friends. She will be electrocuting anyone who lays hands on them, and will be keeping Reader close once they've all escaped. She just has to break the news to them first, that they are related... Hopefully it won't make things worse, finding out about all of this...

Mystique would feel happy about it. One of her kids actually likes her? And this child is friends were her other two children? It's perfect! Perhaps she can finally reconnect with them, the way she's wanted to for a long time. She however hates that they're all stuck in this death trap of a place. She'll get rid of the ones who did this to them, and then they can all go home. She has to do this. If not, she could very well lose them all before they've got the chance to leave. She just hopes she can tell Reader about this newfound information next time she sees them...

Hank would enjoy knowing this, while also being bewildered. He, has a child? Him? When did this happen? And with who? Where? Why? It doesn't matter, he supposes. It just matters that he tells them, eventually. And that they survive, and get out. He knows his team, his family, will accept Reader, they already do, so knowing Reader is his kid will only make him more able to have a claim over them, to truly parent them. He already has ideas, and he's so ready to be done with this awful place. All they have to do is make it awhile longer, and it will only be a bad memory...

(I'd gladly discuss each possible parent option further, but I myself like any of the feral guys as possible parents for Reader. What can I say? They're my comfort characters! But I would find it fun if Reader were someone's hidden kid/clone... What do y'all have in mind over this?)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #🌑hidden in the dark💉 au #platonic yandere magneto #platonic yandere erik lehnsherr #platonic yandere charles xavier #platonic yandere wolverine #platonic yandere logan howlett #platonic yandere victor creed #platonic yandere sabretooth #platonic yandere ororo munroe #platonic yandere storm #platonic yandere raven darkholme #platonic yandere mystique #platonic yandere hank mccoy #platonic yandere beast

[queenofmalkier]

Okay, I just have to say it to anyone feeling isolated or picked on or like the Main Character standing against Amazon's Wot-Show wrongs: nobody is mad that you don't like the show. People have different opinions! Different expectations! In a series this long there's dozens of things people will disagree on in terms of importance and that is normal!

You know what nobody likes?

The condescending, holier-than-thou attitude of some individuals who don't like the show who have decided that It Is Actually Bad And Terrible and anyone who likes it is Wrong.

Who constantly invade show-friendly spaces, who review bomb, who basically act like five year olds having a tantrum in the middle of Target.

People who I'm sorry to say don't seem to understand that there's no one way to adapt a series. Think of it like the works of Shakespeare and move on with your day.

The way I'd do it is going to be different than the way you'd do it, which will be entirely different from the way a third person will do it. That doesn't make any of us wrong - and YET you get mad when reasonable people point out that when you say the show is an Evil Bad Wrong No Good Bad Adaptation Without Question you are discounting those of us who think it's honestly not bad.

And then those same people wrap themselves up in a mantle of hurt and victimhood because everybody is being mean to them! Nobody understands!

Honey, we understand talking to you about the show right now is like talking down some drunk guy in a Denny's parking lot who is screaming at the curb. You aren't making rational points. You are Big Mad and trying to make it the problem of anybody who doesn't think the way you do.

I know I've made an effort to be understanding and empathetic about it, I've tried to explain my reasons for enjoying the show while seeing the point of others who hate it, but I'm tired of only receiving "that's cute you think that but Actually I Am Correct still" in return.

There's no growth, no learning, no further understanding. At this point it's bitching to bitch while pretending to be the only one knowledgeable on the subject. It's screaming about "that's not what I'm asking for!" while, actually, the complaints you're making are very much asking for a perfect 1 to 1 adaptation or some secret third thing that remains a mystery to me.

Either way, I love ya'll, I love WOT, I hope like hell this is a taken as the I Don't Know What Else To Do intervention, come-to-maker post it's meant to be but if it's not and you're angry maybe think about why.

#wheel of time #did I write a lot of this months ago? yes #was I in a mood? yes #but you know what it was true then and it's true now #I absolutely value the opinion of the many talented people in this fandom #I think we're all so joyous and genuinely happy to bond over meta and lore and jokes #that the few bad apples don't really ruin things #I fucking love it here #but also? I'm done babying the bad apples #improve your attitude go touch grass whatever you gotta do #so we can all fucking get along again while agreeing to disagree

[fromgoy2joy]

After a tizzy of a freshman year of college as a jew-ish student, I'm packing boxes for uHaul.

My target-bought menorah went into the first box, along with all ten of my hillel sweatshirts. Pictures I had printed out from Purim are taken down, and neatly put into an envelope to be hung up later. My many books on Jewish culture and religion went into the second one. And so on, and so forth. The hamsa I lost three months ago was under my mini fridge.

As I put away each Jewish item, intermingled with my sweater collection and stuffed animals, I remember both the joy and grief of this year. A hostage necklace goes hand in hand with my Magen David in my jewelry box. A newspaper on a local antisemitic hate crime finds it place next to the belated "Hanukkah gift" my friend got for me in April. It's been so much to carry- both the joy of finding home along with the tangible feeling of uncertainty, fear, and pain.

And finally, I am on the fifth box. In the pocket of two separate winter coats, I found posters of two people-

one, the childhood best friend of a man I know, currently a captive in Gaza. I'd been given that picture, personally, by my friend who kept on referring to this hostage in the past tense. Then, he would continually correct himself, looking even more stricken as he made that mistake of letting what he's resigned to slip out. And I can't imagine- I can't. If the boys I played in the summer streams with were currently being tortured by my worst enemies. If I had no idea if the friend that sent me funny texts and assurances after a bad day was alive or not. The other, Hind Rajab, a Palestinian child killed in the crossfires of war. I found that poster blown off from a fence. It was one out of around sixty so I felt comfortable taking it home with me, just to look at her and remember. Her little face would've blended right in with the kids I helped out with every Monday for the last two semesters. Who could've cried on her last day of kindergarten, because she wouldn't see her teachers again, just like how all the six-year-olds clung to me when they realized it was my last day. In that moment, I laughed, pushing their hands off of me gently because I had to leave for Pesach celebrations. But at the same time, I thought of her and how she didn't get to see Eid.

When I come back to campus in September, with those boxes waiting in my new dorm for me, I will open up that box and see their faces. And I'll feel that sorrow as deeply as I feel it now and the moment I first learnt their stories. But I hope my friend's near-brother will be back home. And I hope - I hope to everything- that Palestinian children just like Hind will be able to go back home, get the help they need, and spend the rest of their childhoods crying over their teacher assistants leaving for summer breaks.

And when I see them in September, I'll think "We've done it. I'm sorry it took so long, I'm sorry it took this pain and nothing ever deserved to happen to you. But we did it."

#jumblr #jewish #jewblr #jewish convert #jewish tumblr #jewish conversion #fromgoy2joy thoughts #am israel chai #am yisroel chai #jewishness #jewish stuff #judaism #jew

[daemon-in-my-head]

Past Life Dark Urge Asks - 9th Edition:

OK but how does Durge actually view relationships and romance?

What does their room look like? Describe it to me. Neat? Messy? Organised mess where everything has its place?

What's their favourite spot to hang out at after a long day of temple managing and murdering in Father's name? Is it by the altar, their desk, a certain someone's office or by the docks?

Gorion's Ward was a hero and a Bhaalspawn that defied Bhaal. But they're also a powerful person who rose far above many, as well as the reason Sarevok once returned. What does Durge think of them? Is he an idol or a villain to them? When did their view of them change or do they perhaps even feel pity for the sibling which had been led astray?

Durge loves efficient killing, but what was their one little indulgence whenever they did it? I don't mean getting loot, keeping trinkets. Did they perhaps draw out the hunt or play with the mouse unfortunate enough to fall into their trap?

There's this funny bit that Durge refused to clean themselves, but is it true for yours? Did they indeed always carry the scent of entrails or did they bathe regularly? After all, Bhaals Scion has a reputation to uphold.

Speaking of Water, Baldur's Gate is a Port City. What did Durge think of the sea? Did they long to sail or do they prefer solid ground beneath their feet? Did they feel any connection, or was it just a body of water, perfect to drown some innocent souls?

Durge is clearly a skilled master of their craft, but would they ever consider taking an apprentice? Perhaps they already did? Or would they absolutely detest those who yet lack skill and prefer they attain it on their own?

Orin makes for a great spy and even the Bhaalist Temple relies on intelligence to survive and operate more efficiently. Did Durge ever try to help out Orin in attempts to gather intel? What was it like? Did they charm their way into hearts and minds, or did they rely on the thing they did best, a skillful killing?

Bhaalspawn are pretty similar to Aasimar in every aspect, well except that Aasimar are children of celestials and good aligned powers while Bhaalspawn hail from the Lord of Murder. What did Durge think of their goody-two-shoes counterparts?

Bhaal is widely hated or feared, as are Bhaalspawn, but what does Durge think about that notion? Would they hunt down anyone who dares speak I'll of their father, or could they not care any less? Do they perhaps revel in that fear and hatred?

If Durge knew they'd lose all their memories in the future, what would they think? Would they weep for their treasured moments or perhaps even feel delighted about forgetting a dreaded past?

Name a personality trait of theirs which is, in theory, something great, but they've taken it to such extremes it became something negative.

How is Durge handling failure? Do they handle it at all or do they just refuse to acknowledge any?

Would Past Life Durge like for their life's story to be told and remembered? Why or why not? In what way would they have liked it to be remembered?

In general, how does your Durge cope with stress, life, and the things that happened? How did it affect them? Are there any lasting effects from an outburst once?

On a scale of 1 to 10, how easily does your Durge snap? 1 being the world could end, and they'd barely be mildly inconvenienced, and 10 being somebody looks funny in their direction, and the next minute, they're in a nasty brawl.

What is their favorite spell? It doesn't have to be one they themselves know or learned. Just a spell they think is neat, handy, cool, etc.

If there happened to be a street fair in the Gate, would they attend? Yes or no, who would they go with, what would it be like visiting one of those with them?

Bhaal was a netherese arcanist. Does Durge, considering they're made from Bhaals flesh, consider themselves to be netherese? Have they ever thought about these things or do they simply not care?

I totally forgot I had these I'm sorry lmao. They've been rotting away in my drafts the whole time.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #durge #dark urge #bg3 durge #daemons ask game #dark urge ask game #durge ask game #bg3 ask game #ask game

[silverskye13]

could I ask how far into building you are when it comes to the uhhh

court of remembrance? was it court? church? order! the order of remembrance lol

how far have you build out how they work, like their common routines/rituals/etc.

I was considering making my hels!oc part of em cause the hermit-adjacent/"original" player version of my sona is really big on documenting things as they have poor memory, and I want that to be something that ties the two together? if that makes sense?

I'm so sorry this got so long. I. Have a lot of fun world building.

My notes on the Order of Remembrance, as cohesively as I can jot them down, below:

Sooo, when I was figuring out hels stuff, the Order of Remembrance [OR for short] kinda turned up as the equivalent of a culture developing an afterlife, in a world where "afterlife" demonstrably doesn't exist. What would you replace with the idea of an eternal spirit/soul, in a world where superstition and religion still exist? What do you cope with? How do you comfort? Who fills the gaps and holes in the community that people slip through, and why? What informs purpose and meaning?

Memory, the importance of remembrance, the idea that you owe it to the people around you to remember they existed, and that existence affected your life. The idea that you, as an individual, can make someone's life matter by celebrating them, mourning them, even hating them. The universe is indifferent. The greatest sin a helsmet can commit is being indifferent as well.

This started the Remembrance Walls, which gave them importance as landmarks and places of spirituality. And any place with importance deserves protection, preservation, and accessibility.

OR probably started as a small neighborhood collective dedicated to preserving the Remembrance Walls. Which turned into being the people who also supplied the bricks made for those walls, and helping people carve them. Which turned into people who would check in with folks in the neighborhood that hadn't been seen in awhile, making sure they were safe, and taking their names down if they were gone. Eventually a collective turns into an organization, and the ritual of that collective turns into a religion. Now there are helsmets who dedicate their lives, or large sums of money and material goods, to the church. In turn, the church gives back to the community in any way they can, because the more people are involved with each other, the more memories they make, the more that can be preserved.

This is also why OR is so big. Successful people in hels want a legacy that's remembered, so you put your name on every landmark in town -- the OR cathedral is a massive landmark. Memory is important [even the most self centered and heinous need purpose and fulfillment] so a lot of people associate themselves with the church in some way or another. Being remembered is a goal for everyone, not just the community minded. The OR will be important until memory stops being important.

The Staff:

Members directly serving the OR in an official capacity are: Priests/clerics [with one presiding Head/High Priest], scribes, clerks, historians, brickmakers, knights [and squires], and one or two paladins. Various members of the official congregation [they consider all of hels their congregation, given everyone deserves to be remembered, but the official congregation are those who actually attend the church services and functions] will also work for the church if they can donate relevant skills -- this is a part of the church's community building. They will seek needs and fill them with skilled individuals within the church or, if they don't have a recommendation, will contact other churches for members of their congregation. If you need a stone mason for a project, a jeweler for a custom piece, or someone to provide wheat for your new bakery, and don't know where to find one, asking at the OR cathedral is a good place to start.

Priests: Deal with the more spiritual and communal aspects of memory and remembrance. The church has divided the city into districts, and every district has at least one priest who regularly attends it, though the church's goal is to have 3 per district. Every district has at least one remembrance wall, and it's the priest's job to know all the names on that wall, as well as to know as many people as they can in their district, so they can do regular check ins on their well-being. They hold services to add new names to their walls, host and organize community events for their districts [plays, cookouts, parties, gatherings, etc]. They don't pray in the traditional sense -- Memory is more of an idea than a true deity -- but their prayers involve memorizing names, events, dates. A lot of priests will write songs and ballads to aid in this, which they will perform for each other or sing at organized events.

Scribes/clerks/historians: Exactly what it says on the tin. Stationed at the church, these guys get down to the brass tacks of putting ink to paper and codifying memory. They keep accurate records of everything from city economics to books written to personal anecdotes, and they guard their work jealously. Transcribing is a job of great importance, and accurate scribes are revered by the church. The OR has been known to pay a small fortune to individuals who can write quickly, accurately and legibly. Most of the statues decorating their cathedral are scribes revered for their dedication to their craft. Historians meanwhile function as both researchers and, to an extent, unintentional journalists, following developments in hels so they can document them as they happen. While the OR doesn't own news or run a newspaper, the handful of newspapers in town are all run by people who either used to work for the OR, or have friends on the OR historical staff.

[It's important to note the historians and clerks aren't detectives or police. They find information and write it down, they do not solve crimes or prosecute criminals. However, their thoroughness and impartiality means they're often called on as witnesses and informants to crimes. They have been attacked before for either sticking their noses in business someone didn't want remembered, or for providing information someone wanted ignored/erased. Their documents hold a lot of weight.]

This division is also in charge of the OR's extensive library. There is one main library in the cathedral, where every collected written work the library can get its hands on exists. They collect everything from journals, to poetry, to fiction writing, to recipe books. Anything written that can be remembered. They also keep transcripts of hymns and songs written by priests and knights, and up to date registries of the names on the remembrance walls. There is a second, public library that is free for hels to access, which contains every copy the scribes have gotten around to making from the main library. They encourage people to make their own copies of the library works they borrow, and can be paid to make specialty copies of popular works.

[Given how hard it is to grow large amounts of paper in hels, most books in the OR collection are written on vellum (hog skin). Almost every off-world smuggler in hels has a regular customer with the OR if they collect paper/sugar cane on their travels. OR has a current project trying to put every book they own on paper (The Nice Copy TM) and every 2nd or 3rd copy of a book on vellum. Only their best scribes are allowed to write paper copies.]

Knights: Knights are a relatively new addition to the OR staff, in that they weren't really needed when hels was small. As hels got bigger, however, and things like vandalism and crime became big and unruly, knights eventually made their way onto the scene, starting as priests with particularly good PVP skills, and eventually graduating to in-house trained fighters. You can still see their priestly roots in their practices. They too are assigned to districts. They too memorize the names on their associated walls and try to make themselves known in the neighborhoods they patrol. Instead of organizing events and focusing on the social aspects, however, they focus on making a safe place for people to live. They aren't police. Unless the crime is strictly related to memory [for example, destruction of stones on the remembrance walls] they don't track people down and drag them off to jail. They do help the community though. They will stop active crimes, they will stay with people who feel unsafe, they break up street fights, they escort their priests in rougher parts of town, they volunteer to clear out mobs that wander into the city, and have even been known to simply help with building projects for people who need a few extra hands around. Because of their generally neutral disposition towards events in hels [they protect individuals and their church, instead of business or gang interests] they are sometimes asked to be conflict mediators for battling factions in the city who are trying to reach a negotiation point. As a whole, the knights can always be found walking in groups of 2-5 on their routes. They're very rarely seen alone.

The Cathedral:

Paladins: Paladins are an enigmatic rarity for OR. Generally speaking, a paladin is a knight or priest of a given order embued with supernatural power by a deity. OR, as a godless religion, shouldn't be able to get them -- and yet sometimes they do manage to pop up. Some people think they're evidence of a Universe that actually does care about hels, sending someone who can literally fight for the rights of people to be remembered. Only a handful of paladins have ever been called, and they seem to coincidentally pop up whenever someone has done great harm to memory: massive destruction of remembrance walls, burning books, intentionally trying to erase someone from history, fraud. Generally they are compelled, like a very angry sleepwalker, to track down whoever was responsible and stop them. Sometimes this entails violence, but more often than not it involves the perpetrator being imprisoned for a very long time by what amounts to a preternaturally knowledgeable lawyer. It is probably from the OR paladins that the rumors first started that, if you angered the OR, they would have you forgotten [who else could strike someone from the memory of the world, than a guardian of memory itself?]. When they're not actively pursuing holy justice, the paladins look and act pretty normal, though their memory skills are uncanny, near perfect, and they have the habit of just Knowing Things they shouldn't be able to -- speaking and reading languages they've never learned, prophetic visions, etc. When they're being compelled to justice, they describe it as being "dreamlike". In the same way in a dream you Know you can fly despite it being untrue in reality, a compelled OR paladin Knows a destruction of memory has happened, and is unable to stop pursuing that destruction until it's been righted. In the moment, paladins describe the feeling as intensely peaceful: the ability to Know and be Sure. The only frustration is when forces actively try to hinder their task. Because of the intensity of their compulsion, they often have to fight to keep up with basic needs, and it's not uncommon for paladins to lose weight, fall into sleep deprived psychosis, and collapse from exhaustion. Paladins released from their compulsion often have to be nursed back to health again, though none yet have expressed regrets about the rough treatments of their bodies. The way they see it, whatever force compelling them has never been human, and therefore doesn't understand the toll it takes on a living body.

As with all paladins in hels, while they're recovering or in between compulsions, they tie a peace knot around their weapon to symbolize their dormancy.

Squires and apprentices: alongside their regular training with their chosen staff and/or clergy, squires and apprentice clerics/scribes/historians work as the general help staff of the cathedral. If errands need running, someone needs contacted, a mantle needs dusted, an odd job needs filled, they're the ones who catch the chores. They also have the very important responsibility of brick making -- or helping with brick making. The cathedral does employ master brick makers, but those brick makers often need extra hands, so every day the squires and apprentices set aside time to make bricks. This is a time of concentration and meditation, and the apprentices are encouraged not to talk during the process. When each batch has finished baking, the master brickmaker working with the group will call an end to the silence. When this ritual started, the ending was a lot more reverent. Over the years though, the brickmakers have taken more joy in their work than solemnity. It's not uncommon for the brickmakers to break the silence with increasingly bad jokes, rewarding the apprentices that laugh first.

The Head/High Priest: The high priest differs from the other priests and clerics by taking on mostly administrative work. They do not work alone. They have a board of 10 priests, clerks and scribes that help keep things balanced. Balance is the high priest's main objective. The OR excels because it stays as neutral as possible in all of hels's affairs. It does its best to owe nothing to anyone, repays all its debts, and doesn't work with one or two of the various hels factions exclusively. Its goal is to remain as uncorrupt as possible in a system rampant with political and financial corruption. Hels is a place full of evil halves and dark mirrors, a lot of very selfish and manipulative people end up in power, so it's a hard line to walk.

The First Church of Hels, also known as the Cathedral of Remembrance, was the first dedicated church erected in hels. It started out much smaller, a netherbrick building with a brickworks in the back for providing stones. As they grew in importance, so too did the building, until eventually the large cathedral was erected. It was a massive effort from many different hels denizens, and almost every room in the cathedral has a place to display the names of contributors to the project, from the people who laid the mosaic tiles to the folks who soldered the stained glass. The original bricks of the first iteration of the church are enshrined as a pathway that leads through the back garden of the building to their new, much more impressive brickworks. These foundational bricks remain empty, and are blanket dedicated to any helsmet who managed to slip through the cracks in society, whose names were forgotten, never known, or never noted.

The cathedral has one main sanctuary where worship and prayer are performed. They have one holy day a week where all their various members, and any congregation who wants to join, gather to sing songs and hymns, poetry and lists. There are meditations done on works written by bygone individuals, studies and philosophies discussed. While the topics of the main service change from week to week, the basic formula of singing/recital, meditation/discussion, singing/recital happens every time. They open and end every service with the list of names added to the walls that week.

During the week, the cathedral plays host to any number of meetings and events. They have many rooms dedicated as spaces for community gatherings, from small clubs for youths to workshops to food drives. People are constantly coming and going from the place.

Because of the church's center as a place of refuge, history and memory -- and by extension, power -- it has no small amount of detractors and enemies. HumanCleo doesn't allow the OR's knights on her turf, in part because of fear of retaliation: if her gangs attack any of the Order, she risks a paladin ripping down her criminal empire brick by brick. The Demon is one of OR's paper suppliers, and has been known to try to corner and intimidate scribes sent to document his shipments. Many of the historians cannot walk the city without an escort. Even their clerks have been scouted by influential merchants who want an expert in numbers looking over their books. Scribes with a particularly steady hand have been harassed and attempted coerced about forging documents and reproducing copies of cursed books. Thieves and vandals have attempted break-ins of their treasury. They have also had to deal with gang fights and general violence at their larger events. This is where their connections with other churches come in handy. Organizations like the Church of Blood and Steel, with knight and paladins who specialize in fighting, are often contacted to help when the OR needs a little more muscle. In return, the OR will loan them use of their scribes, arrange for their monuments to be built at a discount, etc.

The OR has a few loose ties to the Colosseum. All the statues of past champions that line the corridors are designed, drafted and prototyped by OR affiliated builders. Their epitaphs are drafted by their scribes. They have a team of knights whose main job is to attend Colosseum events and study and transcribe fighting styles of the various fighters, so their martial memory isn't lost when they return to the universe. They also record the Colosseum matches, and send a copy of their notes to the showrunners for the use in writing future fighting arcs.

[Also this is just me, but I think there's a writer in hels somewhere that spends all day making serialized literature out of the Colosseum matches, and submits them to the newspaper for people to read after a match. They probably also are very grateful for the OR's Colosseum notes lol].

I think! That's! Everything! I can think of! Though I'm sure I'll remember something else in an hour! Oh well!

#rns asks #order of remembrance #the order of remembrance #hels worldbuilding #hels world building #hhhhhhh oh my gosh #sorry this feels like it might be too much info #i tried to keep it organized