#the harlot and her dog

[lokischocolatefountain]

Second Thoughts

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 4.2k words

Summary: Weeks before their wedding, one of them might have second thoughts.

A/N: For days, I have been haunted by this picture of Pedro wearing gold chains and I needed to write this to keep myself from exploding. It’s Pedro’s fault. And I chose Javi for the fic because that slut always has like the first 3 buttons of his shirts undone (like a whore, jezebel, harlot) and it drives me mad to see his neck. Anyway, enjoy 😉

“What’s this?” He took the cigarette back between his fingers to ask. It was his customary post-sex smoke. Something he couldn’t give up on, much like his customary workplace smoke, road rage smoke, morning smoke, post-lunch smoke— you got the idea.

“A dildo.”

Javi looked up at her, eyebrows raised and lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t as impressed by her attempt at a joke as she was. But then again, the man was known for his eternal grumpy face. He could be offered a lifetime supply of free whiskey and he would still look like someone ran his dog over.

She rolled her eyes at him. For a man employed by the US government to go after Pablo Escobar, he sure was dumb.

“What does it look like, Pendejo? It’s a gold chain. For you. Happy birthday,” she snapped, pushing the present into his hands.

His brown eyes softened as he took her hand and rubbed circles on her wrist with his thumb. “Querida…you shouldn’t be spending all this money on me. I don’t even wear jewelry.”

“It’s a gift, Javier. And I know you don’t wear jewelry. I just think you should be.”

“Oh?” He asked, head tilted and eyebrows knitting together in curiosity.

“Mhmm. Let me explain to you in terms that your male brain would understand,” she said, getting on her knees on their bed and setting them on either side of his thighs. He looked incredibly beautiful in the dim lighting of their bedroom, golden skin made more gold by the warm streetlights. His hand that was not holding his present came up to her back, his touch gentle despite the rough calluses he’d earned with his years on the force.

She brought her index finger to his chest and traced his collarbones. He had beautiful skin, no matter the scars and the sunspots from all his days running around in the Medellin streets under the sun.

“Seeing you wearing a gold chain would do to me what seeing me in lingerie does to you. It’s like a little sneak peek of what’s inside, you know? Especially because you are a slut who forgets that the top three buttons of your shirts exist and I can see your chest all the goddamn time. It’s a little tease of what lies underneath.”

“Ahh…”

“Finally. He gets it.”

“‘s like seeing your lace bra and a bit of cleavage. I like the cleavage more, but the lace adds to it,” he said, hand lazily grazing the curve of her ass. There was nothing sexual about it or their nudity. They’d already gone at it like rabbits and were done for the night. But it was good to stay bare with him, her lack of urge to cover up adding to the easy intimacy they slipped into post sex.

“Exactly,” she said, taking the gold chain from him. She straddled his lap and looped the gift around his neck before clasping the ends together. He watched quietly, his stoic expression cracking through to reveal a smile when she pulled him towards herself by the chain.

Through lazy pecks of her lips, he said, “So it’s a leash, I see?”

“Maybe,” she smiled as she pulled away. She licked her lips as she took in the sight of him, congratulating herself mentally. It looked better on him than she thought it would. His body was already fucking perfect, well-toned, but the chain made it sexier somehow. The way it sat around his neck and bent when it touched his clavicle, the light hitting it beautifully to highlight it against the pink flush of his skin.

“Looks good,” she added, fingering the cold metal.

“If you say so, Jefa,” he said before taking a drag of the cigarette.

“Well I do say so,” she said, reaching to the back and pulling the pendant to the front to rest on his chest. He looked down at the pendant, eyebrows raised as though surprised to find it there. He took it between his fingers and squinted at the letters engraved on it. Her initials.

“Marking me, I see?”

“Sure… You gave me a diamond ring and I felt bad I didn’t give you anything, so…”

“It’s not traditional for women to give their fiancé something. You didn’t have to feel bad.”

“I know,” she said, tracing her initials.

“Hmm, can’t wait until the wedding to let everyone know I’m taken?”

“Suuure,” she said, rolling her eyes before getting off his lap and sitting next to him. “If that makes you feel better about being tied down to one woman forever, Javier.”

“It’s a woman who lets me tie her down to my bed, so…” he trailed, brushing his mustache with him thumb and giving her a once over.

“You sound worried…” he said, turning to get a better view of her. She kept her eyes on her lap, afraid that looking at him would be confirmation in his eyes if this worry he’d caught so easily.

She wasn’t worried. Or so she liked to think. When he got on one knee, she was a little surprised. One, they’d only been dating for a year. Two, she didn’t think he was the marrying kind. The first words out of her mouth weren’t Oh my God or a resounding Yes. It was a hesitant Are you sure?

When she visited his hometown Laredo with him to meet his Papa and his extended family and friends, she had more reason for unease. A neighbor just not so casually dropped the secret that he’d once been engaged to someone else, someone he left at the altar before moving to Colombia.

“You’re so brave, giving our Javi a chance after what he did to poor Lorraine.”

“What did he do to…? Who is Lorraine?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Figures. She was his fiancée. Left her at the altar. The poor girl.”

Lorraine had reassured her that everything was alright, even implying that she was glad she didn’t have the bad luck of ending up with Javier. It was an immature Javier from many years ago, she’d said as much. He wouldn’t do that again. He made mistakes, but never made the same mistake twice. Or that is what she told herself. It didn’t stop her from thinking of the worst case scenarios— Javi leaving her at the altar, a future divorce, Javi getting bored with her and cheating. He wasn’t the cheating kind despite his reputation as a manwhore. But rational thought never stopped anxieties.

“You sure you want to get married?” She asked, letting her insecurity shine through. It was better than the alternative.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” he said, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “It’s good you asked me because I didn’t even think about that when I took a good chunk of my savings and spent it on a diamond ring that lost half its value once I left the store. I just bought it on a whim and had no choice but to get on one knee, profess my undying love for you in the restaurant we met and ask you to marry me.”

You asked Lorraine too!

She swallowed her words, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“Are you sure? Because this isn’t the first time you’re asking me that,” he said, the sarcastic tone finally leaving for a more serious one. She nodded and when he looked unconvinced, she said, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“I know I haven’t given much time into planning a proper wedding. It’s not that I don’t want one,” he said, taking her left hand and playing with her engagement ring. “It’d be nice, with both our families there. But it’ll take time and I just can’t wait. It’s a dangerous job, you know that. And you decided to be with me anyway.”

His other hand cupped her cheek, his brown eyes revealing the depth of his heart for once. There was always a softness to them with their deep color and the downward turn of their outer corners.

“If I’m going to keep you in danger by virtue of being attached to me, I figured I should take the plunge, commit fully. If… I know it’s not great to hear it, but…” he sighed before rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. “If something were to happen to me, I want you to be my next of kin. For any medical decisions, visitation rights, survivor benefits if…You wouldn’t have those rights over me if I was just your boyfriend.”

“If that’s the only reason you’re marrying me…”

“Of course not. I’m marrying you because I know I want to spend my life with you. But if this isn’t the life you want…the danger, the anxiety, the missed anniversaries and birthdays,” he said pausing before he continued, “potential of widowhood.”

Her hand closed around his and he held her back, his hold tight and reassuring in its firmness. She pulled her trembling bottom lip between her teeth and leaned into his chest. “If you have any doubts, there is still time.” She heard him swallow before he spoke again. “I’m willing to make more time if you need it. We could push the wedding, you can take as long as you need. It’s a big ask— marriage. So if you want to say…if you want to change your mind, you have every right. I won’t… no hard feelings.”

“Pobrecito…” she cooed before placing a kiss on his forehead. “I don’t have doubts. And I’m not going to change my mind.”

She felt him exhale. His eyes closed and he nodded. “Okay.”

“It would be too late anyway. Had I thought of it before we started dating, when it was just sex…maybe I would’ve left you,” she chuckled, fidgeting with the loose threats coming off their thin blanket. “But I’m in too deep now. The damage to my soul in leaving you would be far greater than anything that could happen if we stayed together. We hit a point of no return long back and now I just can’t be without you.”

Something like gratitude crossed his deep brown eyes. His eyebrows raised and his tight expressions softened. His large hand came up to cradle her face. “I can’t be without you,” he echoed, voice rich with emotion. His thumb traced her bottom lip before he leaned in. She kissed him eagerly, gentle yet passionate as they poured their anxieties and fears into the kiss. Slow and languid pecks decorated her lips and then her face.

“I was lying…”

“Hmm?”

“When I said there would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind. I was lying.”

She chuckled against his lips, placing one last kiss before pulling away. “Oh yeah?” She asked and he nodded. He held her close, not allowing her to leave his embrace.

“I would be so upset.”

“Good to know,” she said, curling a finger around his gold chain and pulling him close. His lips stretched into a grin and he gladly went where she took him. He leaned in, hoping for a kiss, but she dropped his chain and pushed him off by his chest. He raised an eyebrow at her and she simply smiled.

“You look so handsome when you smile,” she said, bringing her thumb up to his mustache, caressing the prickly hairs.

“Mhmm?” He asked, his smile morphing into a smirk. She slapped his cheek lightly and he laughed before he flipped it to a frown. “Not like that. Don’t look smug.”

“My naked wife is on my bed telling me I’m handsome and I’m not supposed to look smug?”

“Wife?” She squinted at him. “I’m not your wife yet. Keep that smug smile up and I might change my mind.”

“Oh? Didn’t you just say you weren’t changing your mind? That you were in too deep for that.”

“Yeah, that was before I realized I was marrying a liar. You kiss your fiancée with that lying mouth, Javier?”

“Oh I do more than kiss her with my lying mouth,” he quipped before getting off the bed and pulling her down the bed by her ankles. She squealed at the sudden movement, lifting her head up to find him on his knees on the floor by her legs.

The smug smile she asked him to get rid of was present and glowing more than ever. He spread her legs wider than necessary. His eyes narrowed at where her thighs met and he licked his lips, sending a shiver through her. It was maddening, the effect he had on her. She’d had him multiple times in several different positions that night. She’d put on lingerie and taken him over and over until he couldn’t anymore, until her body was covered in evidence of his presence and satisfaction settled in her heart. But here she was, a mere half hour later, desiring him again.

Spread out obscenely for him, his wide chest in between her legs, she wondered how she looked to him. If it really was such a sight that it made his eyes glaze over with lust.

“Mi esposa… Estás tan guapa así,” he praised, peppering kisses up her thigh. Her heart beat for him, faster and faster with each kiss that brought his lips closer to where she needed him most. She brought a hand to his messy curls, caressing the strands she’d pulled at just a little while back.

She groaned as he moved to her other thigh, skipping her pussy that was dripping anew with her arousal, blending with both their cum from when they last made love. He dipped a finger in, coating the tip white before bringing it between his lips.

“We taste so fucking good together, baby,” he said, pushing his finger in, deeper this time. Her pussy squelched from its wetness as he pushed in and out, the white liquid flowing out of her. He bent his head down between her legs, licking up her excess, not wasting a drop of it. He gave her a few pumps before he withdrew, making her whine.

Hovering over her, he smeared the liquid on her swollen lips. His birthday present hung from his neck, gravity bringing the cold metal into contact with her own neck. God, this was what she was hoping for when she bought it for him.

Before she could lick her lips, he brought his pretty pink ones to hers. She moaned, both from the sensation of his lips on hers and the realization of how dirty it was to be kissing with their cum from between her legs coating her lips. The man was certainly creative in the plans he cooked up to defile her. There were men who refused to even kiss her after she sucked their cock and there was Javi, tasting his own release on her lips.

She parted her lips for him, allowing his tongue to glide in. She moaned into his mouth as she tasted their combined release on his lips and his tongue. She played with his hair, untangling the knots she’d left there from tugging at it. The smell of sex filled her senses as he pulled back and breathed out of his mouth. One hand played with her breast, covered in bite marks and hickeys from his greed, while the other reached back between her legs and fucked her with two fingers instead of one, his large digits stretching her out in preparation for him.

“So fucking gorgeous, fuuuck!” He cursed, taking in her expressions as he circled her clit. “Thought I’d just taste you again. But you got me hard again. What’s this, round four for the night? Look what you do to me,” he said, taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock. He guided her hand up and down his hardening cock, making her stroke his length in his hand.

“Have me fuckin’ addicted to this cunt, baby. You can’t have second thoughts now. You’re not allowed, not even if I say you can rethink this. You think I’ll let go of pussy this good? Hmm?” He asked, withdrawing from her pussy and bringing his fingers up to his lips. He plunged them between his lips and licked it up with a moan. “Don’t be fooled by how good I take care of you. I’m a selfish man. You can’t give me aaaall this,” he said, hands roaming her body and stopping to knead her breasts. “and think I’ll be all selfless and give it up.”

She shivered from his words and arched into his touch, pushing her tits into his hands. “I was being kind and fucking stupid ‘cause I thought you might want to reconsider marriage. But I’ve got you, don’t I?” He taunted, collecting what was left of them from between her legs before bringing his fingers up to her line of sight.

“I’ve got you, all for myself. No woman who comes like this for her man will think of settling for anything else,” he said before smearing it on her face. She stroked his cock faster, relishing in how he screwed his eyes shut from her touches. She brought her thumb up to the tip of his cock, swiping up the bead of precum. She brought it to her lips and tasted him, maintaining eye-contact with the man hovering over him.

“All mine… Look at you, so fucking filthy with cum on your face. You do that for your boyfriends?” He mocked, putting down all the other men she’d let touch her before him. She shook her head, speechless as she devoured what was in front of her. She lined him up with her cunt, allowing him to push in. The fervor of his words sunk into her with his cock and she wrapped around him, warm, wet and greedy.

He was fucking beautiful— messy ink black hair falling over his forehead, soft brown eyes, neatly trimmed mustache, pretty pink lips and her initials in a gold rectangle swinging from his neck. She reached up and pushed his hair back and placed a kiss on his forehead. He didn’t always understand words, was stunned by her confessions of love, of the need to spend eternity in his arms. She knew he struggled with words, saw how much courage it took him to say I love you the first few times he did. Te quiero came easy to him, having grown up saying the words to his parents, but te amo was like moving a boulder uphill.

He spoke words of love with much more ease now, he told her he couldn’t wait the duration it took to plan a wedding to finally be her husband, told her he wanted her to be his next of kin, that she could change her mind even though he didn’t want her to. He made himself better with words. For her. Because he knew when she smiled at her book it was because of a ‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you’. When she read to him ‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more’, his breath hitched as he asked her to read the sentence once again before he confessed it was how he felt about her.

While he’d gotten so much better with his words, she liked to meet him in the middle, speak his language- touch. He understood touch— her gentle hand pushing his hair back and her lips on his forehead. He understood her hips rising up to meet his slow thrusts.

“‘Y’know, fiancée pussy is good. Better than girlfriend pussy. Bet married pussy will be miles better,” he said, making her tighten around him. “You like thinking about that? When you’re all mine to do with as I wish…”

“You need a piece of—” she stopped to hiss from how his body made contact with her clit. “Y-you need papers from the fucking government to make me all yours? Thought you didn’t go by the books, Agent Peña. You are already mine, husband or not. You’ve been mine since I— hnnng!” Her words devolved into muddled sounds as he forced himself in her harder.

“Can’t talk? I shut that mouth up, huh? Try to say you might not marry me and I’ll shut you up just like this,” he scolded, pinching her nipple between his fingers and letting go to knead her breast in his large hand. “Pissed me off so bad, I wanna drag you to the fucking embassy right now and make you my fucking wife.”

His thrusts grew harder and his dangling necklace swung back and forth, grazing her chin before swinging away only to hit right back. Exactly what she pictured. It was a pretty sight, forehead covered in sweat, errant locks of hair sticking to it and eyes glazed with lust, all for her. She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his back and pulling him closer to herself as she struggled to meet the vigor of his thrusts. As much as she wanted him, she wasn’t as fit as a man who hunted other men for a living.

His physical prowess thrilled her, made her writhe underneath him. She ran her nails down his back, preparing him for how she would sink them into his back once again when he brought her to her peak. His muscles felt glorious under her fingers. She visualized each bulge and dip, pictured them with the scars she’d already left on his back and the scars she would give him. She moved her hand to his shoulder and then down his arm, licking her lips as it registered how fucking muscular he was, how he could crush her with them but chose instead to hold her, to love her.

As his thrusts grew more erratic and his breathing uneven, she knew he was getting close. His chain went from swinging against her to resting on her as he lied atop her and his thrusts got short. She moaned at the weight of him, aroused by how bulky he was. So beautiful and so goddamn muscular and all hers. He buried his face in her neck and filled her up with his cum, moaning her name before crumbling on top of her.

She felt him softening inside her. He slowly came to, kissing her neck before sliding down her body.

“What’re you doing?” She mumbled, fatigue settling into her worn out body. He looked up from where he slithered down, eyes still ferocious with hunger. How the fuck was this man still horny?

“Still haven’t shown you what else I do with my lying mouth,” he said, kissing down her belly and stopping at her cunt to give it a lick. She shuddered.

“Baby, ‘m sleepy…”

“‘s okay, you sleep. I’ll just get a taste here. Need to make you come.”

“You’ve made me cum many times already. I’m perfectly content.”

“I’m not. I need this pussy again,” he begged, flattening his tongue against her cunt. She hissed, sensitive from their night of passion, but grabbed him by his hair and pushed herself up into his face. “Thank you, ma’am,” he groaned into her, making her giggle.

“You’re such a whore, Javier,” she teased, still laughing. He gave her one more lick before he looked up at her with a shit-eating grin.

“You know what they say- you can take a man out of a whore but you can never take whore out of a man.”

“What does that even mean?” She asked, chest rising and falling from laughter.

“It means…” he trailed before licking his cum dripping out of her. He moved to her clit and sucked it between his lips, the pressure having her whining. Her hips jutted up instinctively, but he pushed her back down to the bed with a firm yet gentle hand on her belly. A minute of licking and sucking from his expert mouth and she came undone for him, thighs shaking and back arching before she fell back on the bed. He placed one final kiss on her mound before he lied back neck to her.

Javier and their blanket wrapped around her, she sighed in contentment.

“I’ll be gone before you wake up.”

“Oh…” she said, trying to not let her frown show. She’d planned a fun day out for him because he was supposed to have this Sunday off. Sightseeing, birthday cake and more birthday sex. But their plans were always written in water.

“I’m expecting intel from Helena tomorrow,” he said, caressing her arm. “If I’m right, if what she says matches my suspicions, the guys and I will join Carillo in Medellin. If things go well, I won’t be home until right before the wedding.”

“Well, then I better not see your ass in Bogota before our wedding day,” she said, earning herself a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“Thank you…umm, for the gift. I… it’s nice,” he membled awkwardly. His arms pulled her in tighter and his lips pressed on her temple before she gave in to sleep. When she woke up, there was no evidence of the passions of her night other than the rumpled sheets and the soreness between her legs.

.

.

.

Series Masterlist

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fic #javier peña fluff #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier peña x ofc #javier peña x you #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x y/n #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #domestic javier peña #javier pena narcos #narcos smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #all that i've inflicted on the world

[thekatebridgerton]

More Penelope discourse

On the topic of female rage. Here’s something you may not want to hear: Penelope can be vicious. And I personally love her for it.

What I love about show Penelope is that she is a good person, she had a wonderful friendship with Eloise in s1 and trough most of s2, she cares about her family even when they are so dismissive of her, she likes dogs, she is is sweet and intuitive and funny and so terribly cute.

But she’s vicious. 

And I’m sorry if that intimidates the crowd who likes their female characters to fit into the Mother, Witch, Harlot stereotype. But the truth is that women can be quite vicious creatures when we want to be, no matter how nice, no matter how good hearted, we are. If you push the wrong button we are willing to ruin lives, without remorse and without apology. 

I find it really funny how so many people are intimidated by that aspect of show Penelope under the guise of ‘oh she’s not a good person’.  Oh please what intimidates that crowd is that show Penelope IS a good person, that she does have good intentions. That she still has the capacity to be the villain of someone else’s story when she’s 100% the protagonist of her own.

Daphne sort of glossed over the concept of how women are expected to fit themselves into a box to survive in this world where they are punished for everything, but Penelope is a better example of what happens when a woman in Daphne’s situation of ‘sit still, be smart, and never get angry’ situation, has power.

Power to hurt back, if someone hurts her. And I personally think this makes Penelope’s character more interesting. The concept that good women can be monsters and still be the absolute most wonderful people you will ever meet, that’s just something you don’t see in media a lot. It may feel contradicting, but it is appealing to me. 

It’s usually more understandable if the character starts out as a bad guy and then does does something unexpectedly good. But the whole “ how can a person be so good and yet....do something bad?”. Well that, that is what I call good writing. 

That’s an aspect of Penelope I look forward to seeing in S3. I want to see Penelope show that just as she is good, she can be vicious and unapologetic if you cross her.

 And that’s the tea.

#Penelope Featherington #bridgerton season 3 #penelope featherington meta

[luveline]

i saw a girl play this prank on her boyfriend where she randomly turns to him and goes « you’re cheating on me, aren’t you? » and i’ve never seen someone move so fast with the look of horror on his face. it’s was literally like 😧 and all i could think of was james-

this is so cute i-

You see it on your phone and want to try it. No part of you believes James would truly be cheating on you – he's too caring. He irons your socks. 

You're bored behind the stove overseeing a frying pan of marinated chicken and rice for dinner while James hoovers the front room quickly. The hoover clicks off and you catch a peak of his shoulder, so you figure you'll catch him off guard. 

"James?" you call, scraping the pan with a fork. 

"What, honey?" 

Honey. A rare pet name from him but a favourite, he says it like hunny. It makes you feel a little guilty for messing with him. Not enough to stop you, but a little. 

"You're cheating on me, aren't you?" You've never been a very good actress but the performance is believable, a weary resignation.

There's a small silence. 

"What?" he asks. One part incredulous, one part horrified.

You flinch at his speed, how he appears in the kitchen before you've finished repeating, "You're cheating on-" 

"I heard you. Why would you think that?" he asks. 

His lips parted, head tilted to the side, his black hair due for a trim falling from behind his ear. His eyebrows pinch up and his eyes are somewhere between hurt and alarmed. 

You hadn't thought it through this much. You don't want to traverse into an area you can't get out of, so you backtrack. 

"I'm only-" 

"You're my life." 

He speaks soundly, succinctly. He grabs your hands, fork and all, almost ragging your elbows from their sockets. 

"Jamie, I saw," this video, you go to say, only he's pulling his phone from his pocket and attempting to hand it to you. "James-"

"Here, you can go through everything. I would never cheat on you, angel, I wouldn't. Have I not been around enough?"

"No! You're around all the time. And that's not my point," you stammer. 

James taps his password into his phone. It's your birthday. He forces it into your hand. 

"I don't want to go through your phone, I'm sorry," you start.

"Don't be sorry, I'm sorry," he says in return. "I-" 

You burst. "It's a joke! I'm joking! I saw it on my phone. I don't really think you're cheating on me." You pass his phone back. "It's a prank thing." 

His horror slowly turns to relief, then humour. 

"Oh." He chuckles. "Y/N, what's wrong with you?" 

You blink rapidly, leaping to defend yourself. "You wouldn't let me speak!" 

He bumps your hip with his and the only sign of his earlier panic is the too quick rise and fall of his chest as he shakes the frying pan, unsticking your browning food. 

"You have issues," he furthers, "deeply rooted issues. To toy with a young man's heart like that…" 

You worm your way into his side and sigh as he relaxes under your touch. You relax too. 

"Jamie, I'm sorry."

"I'm pretending to be mad. Get off of me." 

"It was supposed to be funny."

He laughs boyishly. "It might be in a week. Right now I'm trying to calm my tachycardia." 

"Dramatic," you murmur into his shoulder, hand squeezing his hip.

He charades stabbing your hand with the greasy fork he'd taken from you moments before.

"You're sick," he says. 

"I know. I'm sorry."

He sighs very dramatically and finally wraps his arm around you in turn. "As a dog." 

"I know." 

He huffs a breath against your forehead. "I actually can't believe you did that to me. I think I'm going through, like, the five stages of grief." 

"Only five?" 

He drops his hug and pushes you away from him gently. "Go set the table, you harlot." 

You do as he says though you grumble all the while. 

"You pull games on me all the time." 

He forces you by the shoulders into your chair and sets a heaping bowl of hot food in front of you. You know he's already moved on past your joke when he dots his usual, absent-minded kiss against your forehead before sitting opposite you. 

James smiles at you through the steam. 

"What?" you ask. 

"It was a good joke. Never do it again." 

You feel rightly chastised.

#james potter fic #james potter #marauders era #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble

[the-broken-truth]

Wednesday Wants To Collar Enid [Part 1]

Yandereish Wednesday Addams - After The Crackstone Incident - Before Leaving For Rest Of The Semester - Weems Is Still Alive - Wenclair

[Enid walks into her dorm in Ophelia Hall with wireless Bluetooth earbuds in her ears while jamming music from Seventeen with a smile on her face when she sees Wednesday standing in the middle of the room with her hands behind her back - her eyes locked with Enid's the moment she enters the room.]

Enid (Pulls one of the earbuds from her ear and pauses the music): Hey, Willa. Is everything alright?

Wednesday (Walking over to Enid with her hands still behind her back): Enid Sinclair, when we first met, I thought you were the missing piece of sunlight that had wandered too far from home. Now, I realize that you are the light that was destined to brighten my darkness. Unfortunately, I have fallen victim to the Addams Curse, which has chosen you to be my other half. Although I have no objections to this fact, there is something I need to make clear. Not to you, but to others who seem to misunderstand their place in the presence of greatness.

Enid (Raises an eyebrow): What are you talking about, Willa?

Wednesday: It has come to my attention that some people don't understand that you belong to me and me alone - like that Werewolf Harlot that got all in your face the moment you presented yourself as a Blood Moon Alpha and tried to throw herself at you.

Enid: Werewolf Harlot? You mean Chrissie?

Wednesday: I am angry with her. She had the audacity to stand before you as if she was worthy of breathing the same air as you. Although I feel the urge to harm her, I understand that you would not approve of such behavior, Cara Mia. Therefore, I will refrain from acting on my emotions. In order to prevent possible deaths and further misunderstandings, please accept this. (Pulls a black gift box wrapped in a grey ribbon from behind her back and holds it out to Enid)

[Enid takes the box from Wednesday's hands and uses her claws to tear open the wrapping paper and lifts the cardboard lip to see what is inside. A black leather collar with diamond fragments embedded in it with a metal tag rests on a velvet cushion in the box. The tag is engraved with the following inscription: "Enid Sinclair - Property of Wednesday Addams"]

Enid (Looks at the collar - eyebrow twitches - looks up at Wednesday): Willa, what the hell is this?

Wednesday: I'm staking my claim on you to make sure no one takes what belongs to me. Wear the collar.

Enid: Wednesday, I am not wearing a damn collar. I'm not a dog.

Wednesday: Wear the collar, Enid. (Takes a step towards Enid)

Enid: Hell no, Addams.

Wednesday: Enid... Either you wear the collar willingly or I shall place it around your neck myself.

Enid: You'll never take me alive, Wednesday Addams!

[Enid throws the collar and gift box in Wednesday's direction, causing the Addams Heir to grab it before it hits the ground. Enid turns on her heel and bolts for the door, throws it open, and runs out of Ophelia Hall.]

Wednesday (Runs into the hall): GET BACK HERE, ENID SINCLAIR! YOU WON'T GET AWAY FROM ME! (Chases after Enid)

#wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday wants to collar enid

[imurlilsparklejumpropequeen]

hi, good morning or evening, can you make an NSFW fic about powerbottom Jason Todd x subTop Male reader? in which they are a couple and M reader is an angel, he is very sweet and all those super cute things😭, but he has a lot of fetishes such as domination, degradation, praise, teasing, overstimulation to the point of crying, marks on the body, having her boyfriend put a dog collar on a leash and stuff? (If any of them bother you, you don't have to wear it!) context is them coming back from a super sweet date and m reader is horny so jason takes him to the room and rides him? (this is my first time requesting something and im embarrassed jaksj😭😭)

Jason Todd x Male Reader

Notes: heyyy so like i forgot about the leash and stuff hope you forgive me <3

Warnings: NSFW!, mlm smut, gay very gay, name calling (tell me if i forgot others)

You and a grumpy Jason just got back from a date, he was pissed that some lowly crook flirted with you.

"Hey jace you fine? You seem grumpier and sulkier than usual?" You questioned your boyfriend as you sat at the edge of the bed wondering why he was in an ill mood

As Jason sat with his back against the headboard you crawled your way in front of him

"C'mon love what's wrong?" You cupped his cheeks with your palms as you ran your thumbs across his lips

In one swift motion your positions switched on the bed, he was now sitting on top of you. His hands on your chest as he gripped the massive pecs

"You know what's wrong you dumb fucking harlot" Now his words struck something within you, a primal instinct of submissiveness that caused the tiniest of whimpers to escape a big man

Jason began to un-buckle your pants, he stripped you of necessary clothing and took a bottle from the bedside table, he then squirted lube on his hand and jerk you off

Another whimper spilled from your lips, each grunt and whimper caused jason to grip harder and quicken his pace

"J-Jace i'm gonna c-cum soon" Like an indication to stop Jason came to a halt. "I can't have you cumming so soon you dirty harlot"

He then unbuckled his pants and positioned his ass on the tip of your penis, anothe quivering whimper came from you as jason lowered himself into your dick

Once he fully lowered himself he began riding you, loud whimpers came from you as your senses became overloaded and overstimulated, he bounced himself up and down on you he began to once again gripping your chest as he rode you.

"What a sensitive bitch" Jason spoke but you couldn't quite hear him too dumb from being overstimulated

"You close?" Jason asked his pace quickening as his orgasm neared. "Y-yes" You whimpered an answer

"Then cum for me, cum inside me, fill me up with your hot cum" he rode and rode he also felt stupid, feeling heavenly as your dick kept hitting his prostate

In a swift motion he grabbed your lips and began making out, in your intense making out you spilled your hot cum within him, while seconds later both of your chests up to your nexts are painted with cum

"Such a good boy, filling me up with your hot cum" Jason lied his head at your neck whispering sweet nothings in your ear

#batfam x male reader #dc x male reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #batboys x male reader #male reader #dc x reader #x reader #x male reader

[themadlu]

A Simple Thing – Pt. 2

Astarion doesn't know how to navigate love, not when it's so real and alive. His fears are still clawing at him, and he still doesn't understand fully why Zélie chose him.

Luckily, she is set on making her sassy elf understand she isn't going anywhere without him. And what better place for starcrossed lovers to tend to each other, than a warm bath?

TW: nudity, mentions of sex. This one is mostly angsty fluff.

WC: ~4.4K

Read Part 1 here!

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird (thanks for beta reading!), @amywritesthings

In his frantic state, it takes a beat too long for Astarion to realise that the tremors have rippled from his hands to his arms and jaw. Long enough that even Zélie, imperceptive as she is to such inconsequential little things, has noticed them. 

(He’ll never get used to seeing her worrying about him. To how utterly confusing it is, her accepting him so wholly, so completely, that the very sight of his distress pains her. He doesn’t have the strength to hate her for making him so reliant on her, not anymore. The spite that made him what he is cowers like a rabid dog when she’s close, and she is always close, in his mind if not in reality.)

Zélie lets out an exhale, looking briefly at the ceiling before training her eyes on his. Centuries worth of insecurities are on full display in his red irises, and it is all her fault—she ripped his practised masks off him, mercilessly, one by one, to unearth the corpse that lay underneath. 

You should have known better, silly love.

Her pale eyes are assessing him, studying every inch of his face and body. She must have found what she was looking for because he recognises that unexpected, precious softness in them, wider, kinder, welcoming him in. 

(They used to be so inscrutable at first.) 

Astarion’s pointy ears perk up in attention when Zélie suddenly speaks. “Come with me,” she says, then she…winks before turning her back to him.

What the hells is that?!

They have lived and fought (and slept) together, first side by side, then in each other’s arms, and this is the first time in all their travels that his ever-serious woman winks. Children do that in secret mocking; harlots do that to attract customers—he knows because he often did so himself.

He didn’t even think her face could do that. It makes her look young (Or just her age, he never knows with humans), free, happy even, and he can’t do anything else but stare and vow silently that she will stay free and content. He’ll do anything in his power to make it so.  

“Come where?” he questions, but he doesn’t really care, not as long as she wants him with her. 

A hand lifts in front of his face, so close he smells the dirt on it before seeing it and his nose wrinkles in horror. “Astarion? Come with me? Please.” Zélie is half facing him and Astarion finally takes notice that her whole little body is covered in something that smells foul. Disgusting. He can barely perceive the crisp scent he craves underneath all…that.

“What in the bloody hells is that, darling?! Did you fall into a pile of manure, perchance?” 

Zélie’s forehead creases in the way it does when her patience is being stretched thin. He is proud to say he’s almost always the cause of it. He likes to think that he impacts her almost as much as she does him. 

Deep down he knows he does, because she wouldn't be here with him now otherwise. She’d be with someone actually worthy of her, like generous, brave, perfect Wyll.

(That first jealousy has been smothered, but the damning embers remain.)

“Come where, he says? Oh, you know, I was thinking of going to one of those wine tasting events we saw in town the other day. Enjoy an elegant evening together as we sip on a delicious burgundy, discussing the current socio-economic woes of the city with its upper class. They would be ecstatic to reveal any valuable information to this,” she gesticulates at her mud-soaked clothes before tiredness deflates her a bit. 

“I have heard sewer essence is the latest perfume craze in Baldur’s Gate lately,” her lips curve upward in a barely-there smile. “Though now that I think about it, it’s best if you keep your distance until I properly wash. I don’t even want to think about what deadly diseases I am exposed to right now.”

Astarion catches her outstretched hand before she can retract it. She’ll vanish if he doesn’t tether himself to her. He intertwines his fingers with hers, so that his ivory skin turns murky brown. Like hers. 

“So I was right, love. You did fall into a pile of manure.”

His little saviour’s hand immediately relaxes in his (Another major source of pride, that he can elicit this response from her.), as he slowly, gently, brings it to his lips to press featherlight kisses on her abused knuckles. Gods, he’ll force her into an armour tomorrow. Gloves, at the very least. 

(Maybe he’ll tie her to the bed, safe and warm and out of harm’s way, as he’s threatened to do before.)

“More like a whole river of it,” she confesses. “And mud. It appears that mephits and bhaalists have no hygiene standards.”

The elf grinds his teeth, fangs pricking his lower lip. What a complete disregard for his feelings, to put herself at risk, the very being that gave him life anew. In his irritation, he cannot stop himself from pulling her body against his to ask the question burning on his tongue. 

“I wouldn’t know, darling. I was not allowed the pleasure to witness it with my own eyes,” his accusation borders on a whine. “How considerate of you, to leave me here in a clean bed while good old Gale is considered capable enough to offer his explosive services.”

The mocking tone is not enough to hide the fear in his voice. 

(“Pathetic, prattling child. What a useless thing you are.”)

“Why did you leave me here?” he whispers it, but it sounds as threatening and desperate as the prayer of a convict seconds from execution. 

“Because you looked tired.” 

Simple. Straight to the point as always. 

“Because I—what?” Astarion blinks at her as if she grew a second head. Him, tired? He is a newly freed vampire, he does not get tired. “I thought we discussed how I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions!”

Zélie straightens her posture, sighing in affectionate irritation. “Yes, Astarion, tired. Fatigued. Wary. Whichever term you prefer. I noticed you’ve been down, since…well, since all that happened with that twat.” 

Astarion’s anxiety eases at the way his precious hero refuses to name Cazador. His captor is dust and she established firmly that complete oblivion will be the punishment for his crimes, for what he did to so many souls (What he did to him. She damns his master so, because of her love for him.) The elf is dazed by her unyielding devotion and the warmth spreading from her calloused hand into every part of him. 

“Darling, I don’t know what you mean. I feel splendid! I’m free, finally, truly free. Thanks to you. With you!” He laughs in incredulity at the thought. “Only a couple of world-ending obstacles between us and the forever we deserve.”

Melancholy flashes through Zélie’s eyes. There won’t be a forever for them, not since she convinced him to renounce the Ascension. Even then, he knows she would have denied his offer of immortality. Astarion tenses, balling his free hand in a fist. Stubborn woman, refusing to understand. He will not lose her; he found her after centuries of unheard prayers, and he will not let something as trivial as mortality take her away from him. 

(He will prove her wrong, this once. All the sacrifices they’ve made are worth nothing less than eternity.)

Zélie pulls him from his thoughts, shuffling a little on her feet with uncharacteristic shyness. “I was also afraid.” She confesses it as if it were a dirty secret, but Astarion is unsure why. If she fears something, that’s all the more reason to take him with her (As if his devotion alone could shield her from all harm.)

 “After what happened at the mansion,” that. He remembers bits and pieces of his kidnapping, Petras’s sneers and Aurelia’s apologies, the darkness, being trapped and bruised and left naked in the kennels before—

A slave. Weak.

It makes sense, in hindsight, for her not to want—need—his protection in battle after what she saw. “Ah. My sweet, I—”

“I thought I lost you,” the words are barely voiced, but they ring like thunder in the vampire’s ears. “That can’t happen, you see. Astarion, I know it goes against what I’ve been taught and I know I am not one to show my feelings, and that is a strength until it becomes a weakness, especially with you. Because it appears I haven’t been clear enough: I don’t want to put you in danger anymore than necessary. Not now, nor after we’ll be done with all this bother.” She points at her temple while holding his gaze to ensure he understands. 

He does and he does not. 

Because he felt the same the closer they got to the city—his nice, simple plan falling apart spectacularly, backfiring even, as the dread of seeing his Zélie at Cazador’s mercy settled around him like grave chill. 

(It’s too soon to realise it, but Astarion would take being under his master again over seeing his hero hurt. And now he knows she feels the same way about him, a cadaver.)

Astarion starts trembling again from joy, fear, relief and something he learnt to recognise as unbridled devotion for the creature in front of him. Zélie has no chance to react, not when his roguish reflexes have been boosted by days of actual rest (And by her own blood.) His lips crash into hers, fangs clashing on smaller teeth, the kiss of an inexperienced schoolboy, but he’s decided that the small space between them is more punishment than being buried alive. 

“Oh, Astarion! The sewers,” he doesn’t care, not when she is here with him, safe and alive, not when he can smell her under all that mud. 

I missed you, he thinks, half-mad with quelled worry. 

“Don’t you dare leave me behind again, you utter moron,” he rasps between kisses. 

Zélie lets out an entertained breath and nips at his upper lip lovingly before rubbing her bumpy nose against his. Astarion doesn’t pretend to breathe when he is with her anymore, not since she’s grown so stupidly comfortable with his vampiric nature, but the subtle affection radiating from her is so encompassing that his dead lungs expand in an involuntary gulp of air. 

“Understood. Come then, sassy elf,” she murmurs. “I am in desperate need of a bath and now you are too,” she swipes at the mud on his face. His brave woman gently pulls him towards the wooden bathtub in the corner of the large room. “The others will come here soon after finishing their supper and there will be a…well, a bloodbath to decide who takes a bath first.”

Gods, what a terrible pun, as always. What a beautifully crooked smile at her own joke, as always. 

The sight makes the elf giggle with wonder before he can stop himself. 

(Once, Shadowheart dared to point out that Astarion and Zélie have a similar sense of humour. What nonsense. As if the Sharran knew what humour even is.)

“Astarion?” Zélie’s voice snaps him from his musings. The bath is filled with steaming water and her skin’s flushed with the heat under all that dirt. She looks at him, waits for him to decide what he wants to (He’d have to be fully dead not to join her.) He commits the sight before him to eternal memory, in the scraps of his soul that belong to her now.

“Oh, you need to feed as well. It’s already been a couple days.”

I still can’t believe you are real. Mine. All mine. 

“Come here, darling. Let me wash you first, gods know you need it,” he says in half-mocking. His solemn lover steps closer, trusting him always, and he unbuttons her blouse and trousers first, then takes off her smallclothes, all thoroughly soaked with disgusting mud. She stands naked before him as if it were the most normal thing in the world, to be bare in close quarters with a vampire.

(Home. She feels like home. She is safe with him.)

Only the light specks of pink on her cheeks betrays her, a telltale sign this unguarded version of her is only for him. It makes him want to fall to his knees in prayer and shake her for naivety at the same time.

The warmth of her body leaves him as she walks to the bath and submerges herself. By the time he gathers himself on a stool near her, the water is already murky brown. Ugh. He has never seen that much dirt on her, not even in the wilds of the Grove. “Stay still darling and let me turn you back into a human,” he coos, soap in hand, leathering her shoulders, arms, breasts, every part of the person he cherishes most of all. 

Bruises appear as the mud is scrubbed away. A large, purple patch on the right side of her ribcage, a smaller one on her clavicle. Anxiety bubbles up again and he has to say something (To prattle.) or else he’ll go insane. “Are you telling me that the others went straight to dinner looking like oversized dungs, my sweet?” Zélie almost chokes on a scandalised laugh, sending him a chastising glare. “I am the only ‘breathing dung’ here, thank you very much. They were not as unlucky, so they won’t empty the tavern with their stench.”

But of course they weren’t. I’ll drain them dry, balance the scales. 

Tiredness seeps off his brave leader and Astarion is still astounded at how easily she lets him take her worries away, if just for a moment. Only he can do that, with the smallest of things: a quip, a laugh, an innocent touch, just by being himself, whatever that means. She sees him like he matters (He does, to her.) and he will do anything not to lose that. He’s the strongest and weakest he’s ever been.

A newly-clean, calloused finger softly traces his cheekbone. “Where are you, Astarion? Would you rather wait for me outside?”

No!

“No! No, my love. I am exactly where I want to be.” He tries to be suave, but comes off as pathetic, like a babe who won’t leave his mother’s shadow. 

Zélie’s stare hardens. “Stop that,” his face fits perfectly in her small hands, reverent touches that make him exhale a rough breath. “You are the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met. You will drive me to an early death with stress, but!” She interrupts him as he is about to protest, overt displays of emotion rare and difficult to articulate for her. “I wouldn’t change it for anything else. You are loved. You are you. And you will see your own, infinite worth one day. How was it? Cross my heart and hope to—uhmp!.”

His body moves before his mind fully processes her words. No one has ever had a kind word for him, and here this impossible creature stands, worshipping him, a corpse, a whore, and she must know how he will not have her mention her death, not even in jest, because it won’t happen, he won’t let it and he’s kissing her, hard, and he won’t lose her now she finally found him—

He falls in the bathtub, entangled with his lover and laughing like a madman. “Astarion! Ouh, what are you doing?! Your clothes!”

“I honestly couldn’t care less, darling,” he croaks. Astarion is soaked in disgusting water, his camp clothes are ruined, Zélie’s already messy hair is a sopping mess and the oils he poured in the tub are not enough to disguise the sewer smell. He’s so, so, so utterly content. He commits all the minute details of it to memory. The more he knows her, the more he loves her, the more she chases his nightmares away; one day, his reveries will consist entirely of her. Them. 

“All right, all right, you mad elf, let me at least change the water before we both die of some horrid infection,” Zélie concedes in half-mock exasperation. He grins like a child, toothy, fangs on display. Ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. “Vampire, darling. Infections are a thing of the past.” 

She looks at him still sitting in the receding water as if he were the most precious thing she ever saw. “Good for you. Alas,” she pulls at her round ears. “Human. Let’s not test my luck, mhm?” He giggles like a fool while pouring oils in the freshly drawn bath. 

His darling woman shifts closer, warm and intoxicating. “May I?” She points at his clothes. Astarion’s lips part in pleased surprise. She wouldn’t touch him at all if she could help the first few tendays, and even after things changed between them she’s still been hesitant. It annoys him and endears him to no end. “You can keep them on if you prefer, of course.” 

“No, love. I’d much rather you freed me of these yourself,” he whispers, leaning into her before settling back in an alluring pose that worked oh-so-well with his targets. She just rolls her eyes, but the tinge of pink dust on her cheeks is back in full-force when she starts undoing his shirt’s buttons. 

Impossible woman, do you not know what you do to me?

Slowly, one by one, the buttons are freed, her fingers leaving scorching little touches on his skin. He wants to burn for her. Shirt discarded on the floor, she unlaces breeches that have gone uncomfortably tight at this point, and Astarion lets out a relieved moan once his erection is freed. He pays it no mind; she’s looking at him, all of him, and she’s made him come accidentally with less before, but she is exhausted and bruised, and unlike those useless companions they have, he wants her to fucking rest. To make himself useful without expecting anything in return.

(She gave him everything already.)

“Come here, oh!” Zélie starts to speak, but Astarion takes her by the waist so her back is against his chest and she’s is his arms. He is sure she can feel how hard he is and he knows what it does to her, ears red from an adorable mixture of embarrassment and desire. It doesn’t matter, because the second he starts massaging her scalp with oils, she melts into him so perfectly they must have been the same being once, when life was new. There was no other explanation to the certainty of belonging in his chest. “You know, I may get used to this,” she murmurs as she twists her face up to stare at him. 

I hope you do, is what he thinks.

He wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of time. “Ugh, we’ll see if the cuddly mood strikes me again, darling,” is what he says. He’s never felt safer than when she’s with him, but true vulnerability will take time to build. And patience. She has enough of the latter, and he will take care of the former. He takes her chin in his hand, brushing his thumb against her wet cheekbone. “It’s nice to see it’s really you, my dear, under all that filth.” The pale elf is almost done cleaning his lover and is thinking of a way to keep her there with him (She is always so awfully practical, even baths follow a military regimen.), when she turns to face him, straddling his legs.

Unpleasant memories shadow his mind for a moment, before she lifts his chin with her index finger, forcing him to look at her. Astarion realises she is keeping away from his sensitive areas, sitting towards his knees, soap in hand. “My turn, if I may?” Oh. She wants to help him bathe, too. He is still not used to Zélie asking for permission to a spawn as thoroughly used as him, but he lets his face fall into the crook of her neck to hide the blush on his cheeks (He can’t hide how much harder her consideration makes him.) “All yours, love,” he mumbles, meaning it. It’s her fingers in his curls now, tugging gently to undo stubborn knots, and he has to remind himself that this is real, she is real, not a figment of a slave-addled mind. He gasps softly and swells when his hero takes the tip of his ears between her index and thumb, down to his earlobes before stopping at his neck.

“Love, ask if you can touch me again and I swear I’ll go insane,” Astarion pants in her neck. “I want you to touch me.” 

Only you. 

Zélie huffs, “Message received.” She places her palms on his neck, his back, and the world spins when she massages the wretched bite mark and cuts that mar it. Astarion tenses, he can’t help it, but if anyone can give new meaning to those scars, it is his little saviour. He inhales her scent to relax, the crispness of her skin and the sweetness of her blood peeking through the layers of soap and oils. He adores her natural smell, more so than her blood, delectable as it is. His sanguine taste is a collateral of his unwanted condition, something he had no say nor choice in. Her scent, he is sure, he would have loved as a mortal elf–it’s fresh, subtle, sensible. It’s her, and he smiles widely when he detects a note of rosemary and bergamot in it, just as he delights in smelling her on his own skin. All his. All hers. A claim, as obvious as the fang marks on her neck.  

He must have left one too many kisses on the healed wound, because Zélie puts her lips to his ear, “If you’re hungry, you can eat.” Astarion is always hungry, another shackle that will come back full force once the tadpoles are removed, but he is starving for her. Zélie hates being bitten (Silly woman, terrified of needles and in love with a vampire.) It makes her blood even more of a gift. 

“Really, darling? Here?” he asks to distract her, and bites her. “Ouch! You annoying elf!” She whisper-shouts while he traces wide circles in her back to help her relax. Astarion decides that if this is the only heaven he’ll ever know, the gods can rot for all he cares. He has all he wants.

When he is done, he licks every single drop of blood and rinses the wound with clean water. “There. All better.” Zélie is still in his lap, and she bumps her nose against his lightly, affectionately. The bath is cooling now. “Thank you, Zelie.” 

She raises her eyebrows in question. “Oh? What have I done now to deserve you saying my name?” That’s it. Astarion will have her until all she knows and feels is him. He dives on his precious woman again, giggling into her lips, when a loud crash and grunt comes from the entrance of the room and Zelie breaks the kiss in alarm. 

Astarion curses himself for having left his daggers in his pack, using his undead reflexes to stand in front of Zelie, fangs bared. Useless idiot. If it’s Orin, or one of her followers, there won’t be much he can do besides giving his love time to escape (As if she’d ever let him face any danger on his own, mad woman.) “Astarion, wait! It’s just Lae’zel.” 

“I require washing. I’ll be merciful and give you two seconds to vacate the tub. Do not try me!” 

If Lae’zel were not as useful in battle, Astarion would slit her throat, because how dare she interrupt— 

He startles when a clean, blue shirt drapes over his shoulders; Zélie stands next to him, already dried and half dressed (How did she manage that?!). The perfume on the garment tells him it’s one of her camp shirts. He wouldn’t admit it, not yet, but he rests infinitely better when wearing something of hers. It fits him fine—pillaging fallen enemies doesn’t allow the luxury of picking the correct size for their clothes.

“Make yourself scarce for a while, Gith!” He shouts as he gets dressed, and narrowly avoids a flower pot aimed for his head. Astarion is wondering yet again what Gith blood tastes like when Zélie firmly cradles his face, utters a “Behave,” and kisses him as if air were optional for her too. 

Fine. He’ll behave this once. 

Lae’zel’s presence fades away as all he can perceive is his hero clutching him like he’ll disappear. As if it were that easy to get rid of him. 

He clings to her red blouse—one of his, he thinks with pride—and when she breaks the kiss to breathe he hoists her up, her legs tangling around his slender waist instinctively. His nose tickles as her mad curls, free from their braids, are all over his face. 

Gods, she’s beautiful. 

“That’s it! Out!” Lae’zel bellows while pointing her sword at them, mud crusted all over the blade. “The puny vampire has thwarted you, Zélie. I expected better from you. Now, leave!”

Oh for hells' sa—

“So sorry, Lae’zel, we’re out! Have a nice bath.” Zélie is still perched on him as he pads to her bed. They have been sleeping separately since getting to Elfsong. He hates it; would she see him as overbearing if he asked—

“Sleep together?” Her little smile is so sincere and uncharacteristic that he drops her on the mattress, immediately laying on top of her.

Yes.

“Why, darling, do you miss me?” he grins. Say yes, please. 

“Of course. You’re too far now. I can’t fall asleep to your soft, sweet snores anymore.”

Something in his chest unravels, even as he threatens her to make her pay for this insult to his beautiful self. 

“Astarion?” 

“Mhm?”

“Bring your blanket, if you want.” 

If he had met her when he was still mortal, if he had been a better person back then  (More deserving), he would have mocked her righteousness and then married her in an instant. He knows. The hero of his dreams, packed in an impossible, stubborn, overly-honourable woman. Astarion would have still outlived her, but he would have had the certainty he would go find her, in the afterlife. He had a habit of taking the road less travelled, after all. 

Now, soulless, beaten husk of a thing that he is, he vows to hold on to her until all time ends and stars fade. Even after he will be no more, when new worlds are born, the memory of them will remain.

#astarion x oc #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #oc: zelie #bg3 oc #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion fluff #bathtime #thank you lae'zel for being a cockblock

[tainbocuailnge]

the way the imagery lines up rn retroactively setanta going through lilim harlot with draco is why caster cu has a noble phantasm thats based on a roman description of ritual human sacrifice by fire it just makes sense setanta clinging to that name longer than he should because he doesn't feel ready to live up to what his other name means him watching draco reject the death that shaped the "true" nero to become an impossible nero that lived beyond her death the skill on setanta saying cascu shouldn't logically exist because he should be always either preparing to take up gae bolg (his sealed fate) or already have it the white dogs that nobody can tell where they came from and arcade setanta didn't have yet but cascu did the burning cage looking for the sacrifice it was denied cascu is such a logical outcome of setanta and of course it happened in reverse order thats just how it be with gae of bolg you guys understand this right you understand and can see what i'm saying here right locusta's ultimate noble phantasm is the gentle death that would have saved nero that inadvertently triggers draco's apotheosis as beast and she keeps offering setanta poisonous mushrooms to kill himself with and cascu kills himself every five turns for the bit

#anyway i love cuchulainn #hound of the irish #metapost

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Damian the Dog

Inspired by Grumpy Cat, written by @adrestar

------

So what if Marinette moved to Gotham Academy, probably because of Lila bullshit or Guardian Duties.

She is mostly alone so she get a dog who she named Damian.

I actually look up on what type of dog she would have because I don't have a lot of knowledge on dogs. I wanted a small cute black dog. I am going with a Pomeranian or a Scottish Terrier.

It's all fine and going dandy. When one day, Damian overhears the new girl talking about him.

Marinette of course has zero interest in celebrities so she has no clue she is in the same class as Damian Wayne. Her classmates asked if she had any pets so she starts talking about her cute little Dami and showing off pictures of him.

"Look at my Dami. Isn't he adorable?" Marinette cooed, "I just love running my hands through those thick black luscious hair."

Damian gets the idea that Marinette is a stalker or a fangirl who is deluded herself into thinking she is dating him but brushes her off as mostly harmless. He can correct her at any time she steps out of the line.

Let the misunderstandings commence!

Fast forward the next few days, where Marinette keeps talking about her dog and no one has clued her in on the fact that there is a human with the same name as her dog going to classes with her.

Human Damian thinks she has very active imagination, going as far as to fake bite marks on her arms after a supposed passionate embrace.

(Damian the Dog is still being trained. Idk abt raising dogs so I hope I am right.)

The weekend arrive and Damian is at the dog park with Titus. Then he heard the insufferable voice calling out for him,

"Damian. Where are you? Come out. Damian. Dami."

He hid himself for a while, hoping she will give up sooner or later. But no, she keeps coming closer to the spot where he was hiding and calling out his name. Then, Titus blew his cover by coming back with the ball he was sent to fetch.

Thinking he had no choice but to reveal himself, he burst out of the bushes, scaring Marinette.

Meanwhile, Marinette was at the dog park to let Damian out of the apartment and get some exercise. She was kept an eye on him as he ran around but after a phone call from Jagged Stone for a new jacket, she had lost sight of her dog.

Then, while she looked for Damian the dog, someone jumped out of the bushes, giving her a scarce.

She realised that he was a boy from her classes and before she could ask if he had seen her dog, he began yelling at her.

"Listen up, harlot. Get out of your delusional fantasies of dating me and leave me alone." He yelled at a very confused Marinette. Human Damian continued to threaten her with lawsuits on the grounds of stalking, defamation and false claims.

Marinette gets fucking pissed at what the rude guy was yelling at her for no reasons but before she could retort, he stomped away with his dog trailing behind him.

"Come on, Titus. We don't have spend more time with this waste of space."

Marinette is so furious that if she was in Paris, she would have been akumatised for sure. She decided to calm down and go look for Damian, not the human. Arriving at home, she found a lawyer waiting for her and they handed her a thick files of all the charges she was being sued for. It was official she had met someone worse than the Chloe Bourgeosis.

So Marinette decides to stress bake about the problem. Ultimately, she made too much and decided to give away some to her next door neighbour, Jason.

Marinette had been living in Gotham for about a month and Jason knows about her habit to stress bake. They first met when Jason accidentally snuck up on her and she judo-flipped him who was 3 times bigger than her. Jason is impressed and Marinette is mortified. They became friends. Jason cooks her meals sometimes and she bake him desserts. It was a fair trade.

Anyway, Jason asks about her problem and Marinette starts a rant about this rich entitled dick she met who was from her class and she had coincidentally met him at the dog park while looking for Damian. Then, he called her a bunch of insults and names, accused her of stalking him and he had sent lawsuits to her address. Which was bad because she had her business as MDC to consider and this will affect her income.

While ranting, Marinette saw Jason's law degree which he had displayed, partially for his cover as a normal civi but mostly to brag to his siblings about being the only one who graduated from college and law school and rub it in Bruce's face. (We all seen the Jason became a lawyer to get Joker a death sentence post right? So Joker is dead here.)

"Can you be my lawyer? Or can you recommend me one? I promise I can pay you."

Jason patted her head, "Pixie, I will do this for free. I don't know which prick decided to mess with you but I will make him pay. Besides, I can't stand guys like that. You are actually doing me a bit of a favor to knock someone like that down a few pegs. Legally."

Marinette insisted to pay him but Jason compromised to get a cake for an entire month instead for taking the job.

When Jason looked through the papers, he noticed it was from the Wayne Family Lawyers so he decided to go to the Manor to get to the bottom of it. Jason arrived in the middle of Damian on a warpath.

He asked Tim who was the closest and furiously typing on his laptop about what is going on with Damian.

Tim answered, "Apparently there's this girl who is stalking Damian. She claimed to be dating him at school and she showed up while he was out with Titus, looking for him. Right now, I am just checking if she is just delusional and harmless or someone dangerous."

Jason connects the dots between Dog Damian and Human Damian and he tried not to burst out laughing right then and there. "That's good to hear. Anyways, I came here because I forgot something. I am going to see Alfred before I go. Have fun with the lawsuits."

Jason spent the rest of the way home, cackling and the funniest way to win the case.

On the day of the court date,

The rest of the Waynes are surprised to see Jason there in a suit. Dick was understandable, Tim was just there to make sure it goes smoothly, Bruce is also reasonable, Damian is the 'victim'.

"Todd, why are you here?"

"You'll see."

Then, they started telling people to enter before they could get more answers. They soon found out that Jason was the lawyer for the other side.

"Todd, you traitor. How dare you work for the opposition!"

Marinette had arrived with a pet carrier with a dog which Damian claimed was to appeal to his animal lover side.

blah blah blah. Legal procession. I don't know how it goes.

Anyways, it is time for Marinette's defense.

"Your honor, I would like to present evidence which proved that my cilent is innocent in all the charges the plaintiff has accused her of."

"Proceed."

Jason brought out the pet carrier and took out Dog Damian.

"Your honor, this is my client's dog. She was gifted this dog before she moved here to Gotham. I have the receipts to prove this."

"What is the point of this?"

Jason dramatically held up the adorable fluffy black dog which looked like a doll in his hands, "Your honor, the dog's name is Damian." Jason claimed while staring straight at Human Damian.

Dog Damian woofed at the sound of his name. There was a shocked silence that followed.

Jason proceed to give more evidence that yes, the dog name is actually Damian like giving commands using his name and adoption certificate to get rid of any doubt.

"He claimed to have heard her talking about her dating but what were the actual words you heard her say?"

"That I am adorable and she likes running her fingers through my soft dark hair."

"Your honor, my cilent was actually bragging about how cute her dog is and how she likes petting Damian the dog's obviously black fur. And you also claimed that she stalked you to the dog park and called out your name several time. She was there by coincidence because the park is the closest to her apartment and she was calling his name because she had lost sight of Damian. Dog Damian I mean. It was Human Damian's fault for assuming she was calling out for him."

Jason continued to explained how each claim was Damian's own misunderstanding of the situation and there are statements from his classmates who confirmed that Marinette was talking about her pet dog. They didn't told her about Human Damian because they found it funny that her dog had the same name.

"In addition, my cilent had no idea who Damian Wayne was. Only knowing him as her classmate. "

Tim is right now filming and having the best time of his life as he watched Damian wished that the ground would swallow him whole. Dick is trying so hard not to laugh while Bruce's lips were twitching.

Jason decides to make a counter-law suit for the emotional damage and potential financial damage Human Damian had caused Marinette by suing her for millions when she was just a struggling student, getting by on her own income in a foreign country.

Marinette stopped him, "Jason, this is enough. I am fine with a hand-written apology."

"The amount I am asking for is just a drop of water of an ocean for them. They are that filthy rich. Besides, you can get that motorcycle side-car for Damian you had been eyeing a while ago. You can also use the money to buy dog stuff that you couldn't before because of your budget."

Marinette hesitated and agreed. The case ended with it in Marinette's favor.

Tim approached them as they exited with Marinette hugging Damian (the dog) and Jason grinning in glee over his victory and simultaneously humiliated Damian (the human) in the process. Tim high-fived Jason.

Tim offered a job to Marinette because he had done a background check on her due to the potential threat she posed and found out about MDC. He does it because he liked her talent and it would look great to have Wayne Enterprise on her resume. Also the best dirt on Damian.

Marinette told him that she would think about it and he gave her a card.

Damian wrote the apology letter, very embarrassed by the entire trial. His pride wouldn't recover for a while and he took it out on Jason who knew about it the entire time and didn't tried to stop and clear up the misunderstanding.

The next day at school, Marinette went to Damian's seat and said, "Good morning, Human Damian."

"Why are you calling me like that?"

"I am sorry. I thought you would appreciate the clarification of which Damian I am referring to. I wouldn't want to end up in court again after being branded as a delusional fangirl of yours because I was just talking about my adorable Dami. I meant to say My adorable dog, Dami. Human Damian."

For the next few months, everyone keeps referring to Damian as Human Damian.

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #platonic! jasonette #could be read as pre-daminette #enemies to lovers #I really should watch legal drama or read up on court proceedings #Alfred in 'has the same name as a pet' club: *sips tea* welcome to the club Master Human Damian. #this can apply to the suits #Human Robin do you copy #Meanwhile Marinette be going around Gotham with Damian in the side car to get him a cute new outfit #Damian the Dog i mean #I had fun writing this

[hantengucloneswife]

my mamacita @adoremexxs told me to do it and i can not disappoint

Rui and Zohakuten Headcannons

both 16 years old

polar opposites but best friends nonetheless

a rumour went around that rui had paid zohakuten to be his friend because zohakuten came from a "poor family" (i mean its true but damn 😭)

zohakuten quickly stopped that rumor by BEATING UP ANYONE THAT MENTIONED IT AND MAKING THEM FEAR FOR THEIR LIVES

when a kid said that rui looked he had every disease known to man zohakuten literally screamed "SHUT YOUR FETAL ALCOHOL SYNDROME LOOKING ASS UP"

one time rui straight up called zohakuten a foghorn because hes so loud

zohakuten called rui a police siren in return

rui is just rui because he is three letters long

zohakuten is hakuten

rui is very sweet and has scary dog privileges (zohakuten)

rui is aromantic (fight me)

a girl tried to embarrass rui by pretending that she liked him and asked him out in front of the whole school and he just said "no thanks."

zohakuten lost his shit laughing

whenever rui comes over to zohakutens place karaku and urogi tease him and ask if ruis his boyfriend (he is not)

because of this zohakuten rarely has rui come over and just prefers to spend time with him walking around the city

rui is very social and is friends with tanjiro's friend group

zohakuten is a little brat on the other hand he called mitsuri a harlot and made her cry

rui was pissed off at zohakuten because she literally only just waved at him and said hi while she was passing him in the hallway

rui didnt speak to zohakuten until he apologized to mitsuri

zohakuten has learned his lesson to be nice to women so rui wouldnt completely abandon him

they have matching stuffed animals made by rui's auntie nakime

rui has a spider and zohakuten has a wooden dragon

CONSTANTLY arguing about which is better

"but spiders are pretty!"

"YEAH WELL WOODEN DRAGONS ARE WAY COOLER!"

muzan originally told rui that he didnt want him to hang around zohakuten because hes a bad influence (because he swears and have you met his brothers??) but once he saw how much zohakuten cares about rui and how protective he is about rui he changed his mind

rui runs cold

zohakuten gives rui his coat when he gets cold

Thank you for reading~ Feel free to request what ever you'd like! (⌒▽⌒)

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba #hantengu clones #zohakuten #rui #rui kny #zohakuten kny #rui and zohakuten are besties

[panzershrike-pretz]

Lanterns

Part 1

Disclaimer: This is a original short story based on my original characters' adventures in my own fictional universe.

Summary: A Goddess who lost her faith, trying to get back to her senses so her family doesn't fall apart.

Warnings: small depiction of injury,

Tag list: @malarkgirlypop, @bucky32557038ww2 (if you want in or out, just tell me!)

-> Image below found here.

It has been more than a month since the ship left it's last port, crashing through the waves as the storm raged in it's wake. It was dark and only some sillouetes could be seen, running around - pulling ropes and chains, trying to get her on her way.

The barks that could be heard from down below as stuff was thrown around by the shaking vessel were almost drowned in the thunder.

"It's alright, girl!", someone said, making Peggy stop for a moment and look over her shoulder. No, it's not alright! This thing is about to flip! If I bark loud enough, I might save us all!

A loud crack of lightning made the dog yelp, slipping on the floor as some water rushed down the stairs of the hatches. It could be properly closed if anyone really had payed attention - and now the stairs where slippery and the lower deck was filling up with salty waves.

Peggy felt her body crash against the side of the ship, but quickly got up again, trying to find balance while it swayed around. The rain was only getting worse.

Eventually, someone ran down, almost tripping and falling as he found refuge against the violent ocean. His eyes darted around the deck, almost scared - until he saw the dog protecting a ball of layers and more layers of cloth and blankets.

"Alright... it's alright... i'm..." he managed to get back on his feet, following the walls until he was with them. The man let himself sit, incapable of pushing Peggy away as she inspected him. "I'm alright, girl. I'm okay. Promise. I'm alive."

No, you aren't!, she huffed, staring into his eyes as if to say that. She could smell some blood from somewhere in his body - he maybe didn't notice, but she sure did. And began barking again, to call for some help.

"Oh, shush it, Peggy!", he said, but she couldn't care less. Instead of trying again, he ignored her and began unwraping the ball of blankets to reveal three of the cabin girls. "Brownyn, you ok?"

She was the oldest of the three and was tasked with taking care of them while the storm raged. Her eyes met his - and then she flinched when another set of barks went loose. "Yes, Mr. Heere" was all she said.

"E'ryone alright down here?", a woman came running down, heeding to her own dogs calls. "Miss Bruntley? Mr. Heere?"

She didn't really need an answer, as Peggy ran back to them and began sniffing the man until she stopped, pointing at something in his side. The woman, Pangey as she was called by the crew, immediatly made herself useful, stripping him of his dark blue cloak - and finding a blood stain in his white shirt underneath.

I knew it!, Peggy wagged her tail, proud of herself. Can I go out now, momma?

"Oh, it's ugly", he said, looking down - only now the pain seemed to set in. He thought it was only the bitting cold of the rain, not some injury.

"I've seen worse, Cap'n, ye'll be fine. 'Tis just some scratch. How'd ye get it?", as her hands worked, fast passed, her pink-ish eyes rose to meet his. Pangey didn't exactly need an answer - she knew the Captain had no clue either and everyone was falling over themselves upstairs. Could've been anything.

"By Gods, the sea is raging", he whispered, trying to take his mind out of the pain and cold.

"Well, ye're a God, sir", Pangey said as she got up, a small smile on her face. "Why won't ye stop it then?"

He had no answer. She knew as much as him that he wasn't in charge of the storms - it was that old harlot of a woman, Contance, playing her cards and joking with their lives.

"Ay, at least yer boyfriend ain't here", the Captain finally said as he got up, trying to hide a face of disconfort. "Mine are just up there fightin' ye ol' storm along with me crew. Feeling lucky yet, doc?"

"HOLY SHIT!", someone yelled, soaking wet as he entered the lower deck. "I'M SURE THE MIZZEN IS BROKEN! HOLY CRAP, IT'S A BIG GALE, THIS ONE"

"We can fix it later, is everyone alright? Are ye ok, darlin'?", Captain rushed to the other man, clebching his hand on his arm, making sure he was alive and well. "How's Michael?"

"I'm ok. He's ok. They all are. Well... in parts...", the green-eyed guy looked over at Pangey. "I'm sure Emma could use yer help".

She didn't waste anytime, nodding firmly before disappearing out into the storm again.

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

#oops already started good #PEGGY'S HERE GUYS!! #oc #original story #🥨🪶

[twostepstyless]

Good for Wilma

Fic Advent Calendar Day 16

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Authors Note: Harry has planned a date night for the pair, after a missing boot and a kleptomaniac dog, Y/N feels guilty that Harry always plans their dates and it turns out their neighbour is a bit of a harlot

As always, reblogs, likes and feedback of any and all kinds is appreciated and encouraged!

Sorry for the late posting of this one - G xo

Word Count: 1.9k

SFW

———

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Harry said in genuine awe as Y/N stepped into the bedroom from the bathroom. 

Y/N had just gotten out the shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel, scraggly hair dripping down her back, residual mascara, from her morning out at a coffee date with her friend Audrey, staining her under eyes as she padded through to the bedroom, chipped polish decorating her toenails. “Are y’trying to be sarcastic or funny or something?” she looked at him through the mirror on the wall as she quickly swiped away the black mascara from under her eyes with a cotton pad. 

“Not at all, y’just take m’breath away sometimes,” Harry shrugged, smiling at her reflection fondly. 

“I look like I’ve just crawled out a swamp,” she spun to face him, hiking up the towel that began to slip. 

“A really pretty swamp though,” he stated before he walked to stand in front of her, stooping to press three little pecks on her lips. 

“I feel like you’re buttering me up for something, or you’ve done something you shouldn’t have,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at his innocent expression, too innocent almost. 

“Can’t a man compliment his girlfriend before he takes her out on a little festive date, hm?” Harry asked. 

“He absolutely can, and I appreciate it always, but I just get the feeling you’re up to something,” she swatted Harry’s hand away which was currently tugging at the knot that kept her towel tied. 

“Me up to something? Not a chance,” Harry smirked before heading to their adjoining bathroom himself, “think y’can be ready to go in an hour and a half?”

Y/N was still suspicious, “mhm,” she hummed in agreement before heading into their walk-in to sit down at the vanity in there. 

*** 

Harry had told her to dress warm for the date night he’d planned for them and stipulated comfortable shoes. 

“Y/N/N?” Harry called upstairs, “you about ready, sweets, we need to get a move on.” 

“I’ll be two minutes, I can’t find my other bloody boot,” Y/N yelled back, voice muffled from being tucked away in their walk-in wardrobes.

“What boots?” Harry shouted, this conversation would be a lot easier, and quieter, if he just walked up the stairs but why do that when they could just roar across the house to each other. 

“The black ones,” she called. 

“With the laces?” Harry asked. 

“Uh-huh,” he heard a clatter from the closet echo downstairs as Y/N began tossing shoes behind her in the search. 

“I think I saw Vinnie with it the other day,” Harry recalled seeing their dog trailing the shoe round by the laces in his mouth. There was a pause in the thumping of shoes being tossed aside as Y/N heard what he said before she appeared at the top of the stairs. 

“You what?” 

“Vinnie was carrying round y’shoe the other day, it was so cute actually, just had it hanging out his mouth as he pulled it round by the laces,” Harry smiled as Y/N made her way down the steps with a sort of limping hobble from only wearing one boot. 

“Why didn’t you take it off of him?” she stood in front of him, her height kept changing as she switched her weight between her socked foot and the one with the boot on. 

“Aw baby, he looked so happy, didn’t want to waste his fun,” Harry said softly. 

“I swear to Christ Harry, if he’s chewed that shoe…” she sounded threatening, “you’re in for it,” 

“Don’t make promises y’cant keep,” he winked before she threw him a look over her shoulder as she shouted out to their happy golden retriever.

“Vinnie, baby, where did you put mummy’s shoe?” she cooed as she made her way to his big bed in the living room.

“I think he just liked having it to look after it for you, gorgeous,” Harry tried to spin the story, so it sounded cute. 

“Harry Styles, you are so lucky he’s an angel of a dog,” Y/N fought the shoe out the back of his bed where Vinnie liked to hide his special toys, the shoe was, thankfully, still perfect. 

“Right then, get the boot on Cinderella, we’ve got places to be,” Harry made his way back to the front door to grab his tote bag that had his supplies in it for the evening. 

*** 

“Y’still not telling me where we’re going?” Harry had been driving for around 25 minutes, it was dark outside, and Harry had kept her significantly distracted with useless chatter and the singalong of Christmas songs he took part in with the radio, so she didn’t notice any of the road signs. 

“If y’wait 5 minutes you’ll find out,” Harry grinned as he took a turn into the car park. He pulled into a reserved space and leaned over to adjust Y/N’s woolly hat on her head before grabbing his bag out the footwell and got out the car, with Y/N following hot on his heels. 

“Wait-hang on, Kew Gardens?” Y/N asked, as she took in surroundings and recognising it immediately. 

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed, lacing their fingers together as they walked to the entrance, “knew you always wanted to do the Christmas walk, so here we are,” Harry sounded proud of himself for managing to take her somewhere she’d wanted to do for a long time. 

“How’d you manage this, it sells out every year, y’didn’t drop an H-bomb, did you?” she teased, giggling as she nudged his sides. 

“No actually,” Harry said smugly, “I was on the bloody website the day the tickets went on sale, set an alarm for like 3 in the morning because I was still in L.A. Took me three goes to type m’card details in I was so tired,” he snorted remembering squinting at the bright light of his phone screen while he was in bed, one eye still closed as he typed blindly. 

“God,” Y/N groaned, quickly fanning her face as tears sprung to her eyes. 

Harry looked over panicked, “wait, why y’upset, I didn’t fuck this up and think it was you who wanted to do this when it’s actually my mum or someone?”

“No, no, it’s me, I’ve always wanted to come here, you’re just so perfect, aren’t you? I just can’t believe it sometimes. I told you about this one time, once. Years ago at that and now you’ve brought me, and y’just plan the most special things for us all the time, and you’re lucky if I take you to a drive thru McDonalds or Starbucks on the rare occasion I pick you up at the airport or from wherever,” Y/N spilled out as they stood in the car park.

“I love our drive thru dates,” Harry said seriously. 

“I know y’do, but it’s just, you always plan the most perfect things and I feel bad I don’t do any of the planning,” Y/N toed the ground, feeling guilty. 

“Right, don’t start with that rubbish. First of all, I like doing the planning and you hate it, so that clears that one up. Secondly, we spend so much time apart, I do not care if we’re doing the planned dates, or we’re two McFlurries deep gossiping about the neighbours. Which, sidenote, I’ve got something to tell you about Wilma from 4 doors down, its scandalous,” he widened his eyes for dramatic effect. “So can we leave the worrying about not planning or planning things out in the car park, because that alarm was far too loud and woke me up far too early to not fully enjoy this, got it?” Harry said, a fake threatening glare on his face, as Y/N nodded shyly. With a kiss to her temple, they made their way inside. 

*** 

Harry’s tote bag contained all the items he deemed essential for the date; his film camera which turned him into an amateur photographer, snapping pictures of Y/N bathed in the Christmas lights and display that led them round the 2-and-a-half-kilometre walk. He had a flask of hot chocolate they split as the air turned colder and colder. He had a few snacks packed in plastic containers because they weren’t eating until after and he didn’t need a hangry Y/N on top of an emotional one. He also had rammed an extra scarf in the bag to wrap around her as they stopped to watch the light show projected onto the palm house a few times over because they were mesmerised by it. 

They walked slowly. Taking in every light and decoration strung around the botanic gardens. It was approaching two hours later as they made their way to the exit. “Well?” Harry asked, “did it live up to your expectations?” 

“So good, H, so good. Thank you for bringing me,” she kissed his cheek as they stopped by their car as Harry fished through his pockets for the key, “I can officially tick that one off the list,” she sighed, dreamily.

“There’s a list?” he quizzed, unlocking the car, and opening her door for her as she slid in while nodding her head. “Can I see the list?” Harry urged as he got himself comfortable in the driver’s seat, turning on the car to heat them up and defrost the windows that had frozen over very quickly as the temperatures plummeted.  

“I don’t think you need to see it; I think you just know. You’ve managed to tick off about half without even knowing about them,” Y/N pulled off her gloves as the car heater kicked in and Harry began to drive them out. 

Harry originally had reservations for dinner but as he was driving back, he saw something that made him change his mind and change lanes quickly to alter their destination, much to the disgruntled driver behind who sounded his horn at Harry’s quick move as he waved his hand up in apology. 

He drove them in before rolling down his window and turning to Y/N, “well what do y’want?” 

Y/N looked up to see the golden arches of McDonalds drive thru illuminating the car and Harry’s smiling face. 

Y/N blushed under his gaze before Harry turned out the window to rhyme off the usual order without waiting for Y/N to answer. 

“Why’re we here, what about your reservations?” Y/N asked.

“Turns out I was craving one of our drive thru dates – Oh and two mcflurries as well please,” he directed the last part out of the window to the drive thru screen, seeing the items be added to their order on screen. “Plus, where else am I supposed to tell you that Wilma from four doors down has got three boyfriends on the go who don’t know about each other,” Harry gave her the gossip he previewed earlier.

“Shut up!” Y/N cried out as Harry drove round to the first window to pay, “Wilma from four doors down? Wilma who’s 83?” Y/N asked. 

“The very same one,” Harry pulled into the food collection bay, as the ended their date night in the most perfect way; together.   

———

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles oneshot #harry imagine #twostepstyless advent calendar #harry styles christmas #harry styles comfort #harry styles concept

[rocknroll7575]

Daughter's Advice

*Ember and her dog, Alexander, walk into her fathers room and stand near the door way*

Ember: father we need to talk

Jaune: *getting ready for a date* sure, what’s the matter sweetie?

Ember: Uncle Oscar tells me you're romantically involved with a criminal now?

Jaune: Ex-Criminal, and it’s only a date

Ember: there’s no such thing as an Ex-Criminal father, just criminals who are not breaking the law at the moment

Alexander: ARF!

Jaune: *rolls his eyes and smiles* She’s not like that anymore, Ember I-

Ember: Father I understand, your job is a lonely endeavor, if this harlot provides some carnal release, so be it

Jaune: Harlot? Your slang needs work, and you do know she use to work with your mother, right?

Ember: My point exactly father, I need not bring up your past poor choices in women, including, but not limited to my mother

Jaune: Ember, I’m not-

Ember: not that I’m ungrateful, however, I must insist that you use protection.

Jaune: *Goes to close the door, not wanting to discuss the subject further*

Ember: And another thing, please cover your drink!

Jaune: Goodnight Ember! *shut the door on his daughter*

#rwby #rwby memes #jaune arc #rwby jaune #rooster teeth #rwby knightfall #knightfall #ember fall #cinder fall #jaune x cinder

[lalaloobzy]

Random aspec fictional character HCs

Matthew Cuthbert (Anne With an E)

Asexual + aromantic

Lived his whole life unmarried like his sister but, unlike Marilla, never had any relationships in the past. Doesn't reciprocate Jeannie's feelings and tells her his love for his adopted daughter (Anne) is the only love he has room for. Was TERRIFIED when Anne tried to set him up with Jeannie.

*(this is specific to AWAE but I think it can apply to book Matthew as well)

Selah Summers (Selah and the Spades)

Asexual + aromantic

Tbh this one might be canon (or at least heavily implied). Never has been in a relationship. Admits to Paloma that she's just never been interested in anyone in a romantic or sexual way.

Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece)

Asexual + aromantic

Just doesn't seem remotely interested in romance or sex. Gets grossed out/ annoyed when people kiss in front of him.

*(this is specific to the anime, idk about the manga or live action adaptation)

**(I am not caught up on the anime, this may turn out to be incorrect)

Willie Jack Sampson (Reservation Dogs)

Asexual + aromantic

Never had a love interest or showed attraction in the show (to the best of my knowledge. If she did, I missed it). Also, THIS OUTFIT SPECIFICALLY. Her hoodie is aroace colors and her socks look like a mix of the asexual flag and the aromantic flag.

Lucy Wells (Harlots)

Grey asexual/ greysexual (+possibly aromantic? Maybe demiromantic? I haven't decided yet)

Born into prostitution but HATES sex. Avoids it as much as she can and by the last season finds a way to do her job without having to have sex. The reason I said grey ace is because she DOES seem sexually attracted to Fallon after some time of being with him (I think? I was a little confused about how she felt tbh).

Birdy (Birdy)

Asexual + demiromantic

Everyone in his life thinks it's weird that he's so interested in birds and not girls. Admits to Al he doesn't see the appeal of sex at all. Very reluctant to go to prom with Doris and had no idea what to do when she parked the car and offered him sex. I can see him developing romantic feelings after close friendship (like with Al) which is why I think he's demiromantic.

Bilbo AND Frodo Baggins (The Hobbit/ The Lord of the Rings)

Both asexual (+ maybe demiromantic, though I can also see Bilbo as aro)

Both remained bachelors all their lives. Bilbo lived alone and later with Frodo who was like an adopted son. Frodo lives for a long time with Sam and Sam's wife Rosie. I personally think that Sam and Frodo are in a romantic relationship, while Sam and Rosie are in a sexual relationship. Frodo seems content with this arrangement which is why I believe he's ace.

Ted Buckland (Scrubs)

Asexual

Simply because of the part where Carla says "I don't want any MAN filming me giving birth unless he's completely asexual" and then Ted walks in with a camera and Carla smiles and says "oh hi Ted!". (I think this was a poorly-aged joke about him being "ugly" more than anything but I'm still claiming it). Also when he sings the duet with Gooch and Gooch says "I want to screw you" while Ted says "I want to kiss you.

Fabian Rutter (House of Anubis)

Asexual

He's nerdy and into space (I know this is a stereotype but representation is scarce I take anything I can get... you get it right). Also his relationship with Nina is very innocent and I can't see him developing sexual attraction even when he becomes an adult.

Dirk Gently and Bart Curlish (Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency)

Dirk- Asexual

Bart- Aromantic

Neither of them have love interests in the show (although Bart/Ken may have been implied) so this is just how I felt about the characters personally. I think Dirk definitely had a crush on Todd and is gay but I don't think he gets sexual attraction. Bart is the opposite. I can see her developing sexual attractions and feelings but being repulsed by kissing/ dating etc.

*(this is specific to DGHDA, idk about any other versions of these characters)

Anybody feel free to add thoughts and your personal aspec character hcs <3

#anne with an e #matthew cuthbert #selah and the spades #selah summers #one piece #monkey d. luffy #willie jack sampson #reservation dogs #harlots #lucy wells #birdy #birdy 1984 #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #the hobbit #lord of the rings #scrubs #ted buckland #house of anubis #fabian rutter #dirk gently #bart curlish #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #asexual #aromantic #demiromantic #grey asexual #asexual spectrum #aspec #lgbtqia

[bellamer]

Kaidan and Shepard broke up and Kaidan’s picture is no longer on her desk in ME2 and she moved on with Garrus

So why pray tell is the third game treating it like they’re doing the “on break” thing because Geena is my Garrus romance and I can’t focus on that if Kaidan is giving me puppy dog eyes because then I’ll just feel bad ! Like he’s doing the lingering look thing and my heart can’t take that and I can’t break his heart!

So in conclusion I’m just gonna start over the first two games if they’re gonna treat Geena like she’s some cheating harlot who broke Kaidan’s heart when they BROKE UP on Horizon. Like I chose the renegade answers that I thought would ensure a break up but they’re still treating it like she and Kaidan still have feelings for each other.

#mass effect #mass effect 2 #mass effect 3 #kaidan alenko #garrus vakarian #shakarian #shenko #female shepard

[mermaidsirennikita]

Can you recommend any friends to enemies to lovers books?

Sure!

The Harlot Countess by Joanna Shupe--In this one, the heroine confided in the hero a lot, and they were on the verge of becoming more, but he believed this lie which ultimately led to her having to marry a man she didn't love. Now she's a widow who writes these anonymous cartoons dragging him in the press, the beef is real, but like, there's more to it all than she thinks. I think the degree to which she feels betrayed adds to it, and they're realllll bitchy to each other lol. Also, I think this is the one where she walks in on him in bed jerking it and approaches like "allow me to take over uwu".

The Viper by Monica McCarty. Now thiiiis is interesting. The hero is essentially tasked with escorting the heroine, a woman who supports Robert the Bruce but is married to this asshole who doesn't, across the country. At first they don't get along, but they become like... friends? Over the journey, and naturally there's a ton of sexual tension. But then she ends up in the enemy's grasp for years, believing he betrayed her, and when they're brought back together again there is a loooot of anger.

Dark Skye by Kresley Cole. This is an IAD book, and kinda massively sums this up lol. Melanthe is a sorceress with the power of persuasion--basically, if she says it, you have to do it. She befriends Thronos, an angel-demon guy from a race of God Warrior Types, when they're kids. They grow up with this secret friendship; he has wings, she touches the wings, he shivers, it's great. BUT THEN this huge event happens and she tells Thronos to throw himself out a window and NOT FLY, which greatly injures him and inspires within him an intense hatred and a desire to hunt her down like a DOG. Also. He wants to have sex with her. And he is a virgin. It's very angsty and kinda twisted but also good? They have sex through a sheet?

A Rogue by Any Other Name by Sarah MacLean. They're childhood besties, then he stops responding to her letters because he basically loses the entire family fortune gambling, and years later he returns and his family estate is a part of her dowry so he tricks her into marrying him. Very diabolical, much sexy. Daring and the Duke has a variation on this as well, but they were more like childhood sweethearts than friends. However, she did fake her death after believing he tried to kill her, and he did like, try to destroy lives after discovering she was still alive. So.

#romance novel blogging #book recs #romance novels

[freyanistics]

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Natasha had been with Alcina for ten whole years, the prior month celebrating their anniversary.

She thought everything was going well.

She felt like she was always on cloud nine when she was with the countess.

That all ended when she walked in on the countess in bed with another woman; one of the maids. Soon Natasha felt her world crash down as her heart was torn into two.

She spent the remainder of the day locked in one of the guest rooms sobbing as Alcina pounded on the door begging to be let in.

“Darling please! It wasn’t supposed to go that far!” She shouted from the other side.

“Liar! You dirty fucking liar!” Natasha snaps tears flowing down her face as she shook with the mix of rage and sadness. Ten years. Ten years of taking care of the castle, cooking for the countess and their daughters. Ten years of pleasuring the countess in ways not many knew how to. Ten years of being madly in love with her. All wasted. She trusted her. She loved her. They said vows together at the altar to be loyal to one another,

How could she do this?

The next weeks go by with tension in the air. Maids having to walk on eggshells around the matriarch in fear of angering her. Even their daughters felt the shift, opting to stay closer to Natasha.

“How could mother do such a thing?” Daniela asked laying on the bed.

“She really fucked up now.” Cassandra huffs as she sat near the window staring out the window.

“What are you going to do, mama?” Bela asked softly looking at the shorter woman, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“I’m not sure dear.” Natasha starts, her eyes downcast and puffy from crying. A soft whine was heard as the family dog, Butch pads over placing his large head on her lap, looking up at her with big puppy eyes. A soft smile appears as she pets the dog lovingly.

“We can kill the harlot who dare to make mother astray.” Daniela offers giddily, a sadistic grin on her face.

“That’s not necessary, Dani. Besides even if she did come onto Alcina, she still has a part of this. She knew she was married and yet still decided to use the head between her legs than the one in her skull. It would be unfair to put all the blame on her.” Natasha says glumly.

“She has a point.” Cassandra says looking at the others, an upset look on her face.

Soon a knock on the door comes before a maid enters, bowing her head to the ladies.

“The mistress has asked for you all to join her for dinner.” She spoke softly, a slight tremble in her voice.

“We’re not hungry.” Bela says crisply as the others nod in agreement.

“The lady has made strict instructions that you come. She said you missed too many already.” The maid says wringing her hands.

“I don’t care, mother can do punish me for all I care, I’m not going.” Cassandra growls out.

“Girls, perhaps you should go. I don’t want Alcina to do anything brash on you. It’s okay.” Natasha says reaching out to squeeze Cass’s hand in reassurance.

The girls look like they wanted to protest but after a silent plea from the darkskin woman they solemnly agreed. With a tight hug they swarm off to the dining hall leaving Natasha alone. Sighing she slumps down on the bed as it creak under her weight. “What am I going to do Butch?” She asked the dog. Her eyes look around the room before landing on a suitcase.

An idea slowly form…

(Might make a part 2 to this. Just wanted to see if I can write again)

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #natasha dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x oc