#I drew them both without reference within one day

[inkyrainstorms]

Remembered I had free will ALSO they are adorable oh my gosh, I couldn’t not draw them.

Based on this art by @aissadraw!

[cheriecoke]

hi~! can i rq a scenario with dazai where his s/o finds out he abused akutagawa in the port mafia and gets super pisssd at him because they themselves were abused? thank u!

color me blue

FEATURING. osamu dazai x gn!reader — wc: 3.1k

SUMMARY: mori reveals dazai's true nature as a mentor to akutagawa.

CONTENTS: references to past abuse, arguments, pm!reader, ada!dazai, angst, typical dazai warnings lol, comfort at the end

notes: thank you for the request !! i hope this is okay <3

It’d begun like any other morning. Already exhausted, you woke with an overwhelming list of things to do, tasks that needed to be completed by the evening.

It was a typical routine for you, these days. As a high-ranking member of the Mafia, you never got a break. Not from your job, nor the menial chores you needed to suffer through in your personal life. The laundry, it seemed, wouldn’t do itself, no matter how much your boss paid you for all the illegal actions you’d committed.

And though it was wearisome, everything had been fine. The sun began to set, and you realized that for the rest of the day, you would be free.

That was, until your routine check-in with Mori somehow led to a disclosure of what had been years’ worth of private information.

He’d greeted you as normal, sat you down before his desk with his oily smile, and had you review everything you’d accomplished that week. Though you believed you would be free to go within half an hour, when you stood to leave, Mori released an oh, by the way, and reiterated the unanticipated torment that Dazai had put Akutagawa through.

For the entirety of his story, you sat without so much as a twitch of the muscle, but you couldn’t comprehend why Mori was telling you now. It had been nearly four years since Dazai left the Mafia, and though the Boss had been aware of your relationship as teenagers, he’d never given you any sign that he knew it’d continued after Dazai defected.

You’d both been careful, secretive. You never did anything to draw any suspicion or be labeled as a traitor, and the two of you were successful.

At least, you thought you’d been successful.

Mori had never once mentioned it, had never so much as batted an eye when you spoke about Dazai from time to time. Though, now, his grin was much too conniving, the words made of steel as he drew them out, directing them in a sharp point towards your chest.

He had no intentions of going after Dazai, that much was clear. Nor did he seem intent on killing you for your misdeeds. Already, he’d spun a vile web, knowing exactly how to use you as his best asset. With you still under his command, he had some sort of advantage over Dazai and the Agency.

Perhaps, his comments were just a test of your loyalty. If Mori laid that one tiny seed of doubt in your mind, would it be enough to fracture the bond between you and Dazai that had been unsevered for years?

You wanted to convince yourself, fervently, that the answer was no. You’d been by Dazai’s side for this long and nothing he’d done had turned you away. Yet, you were unprepared for the anger that had risen in you, burning so hot and ravenous that you were unable to think of anything else.

It was all that was on your mind as you returned to the apartment, a barren space that had been used for nothing besides meetups with Dazai since the two of you purchased it. Each wall was entrenched with years of as much sin as there was love. Items that belonged to both of you were scattered across the surfaces, but there was never anything too important.

At the end of the day, neither of you could stay there long.

You paced the apartment, thinking through everything that Mori had said, over and over again. An ache of sorrow fought against your warranted rage, and you stood by the door waiting for Dazai to enter.

As angry as you were with him, as horrified as you wanted to be, there were still years and years of comfort and gentleness that placed a cooling balm over your burning wounds.

Still, a part of you had always been envious that Dazai had managed to escape into something good, and you’d become the enemy to his organization. Now, it seemed, you were the only thing holding him back.

In some other universe, surely, there was a life better for the both of you than this.

Despite your affection, you inhaled, fortifying yourself for a regrettable conversation. You channeled your resentment into logic, rephrasing sentences in your mind until they were perfect, forming an argument that couldn’t be so easily shut down by Dazai’s soothing words.

The door clicked, unlocked by the only other person that held a key to the salacious space. He was humming to himself, an upbeat song that had been stuck on the radio charts for weeks.

Something about that simple action startled you, set you off kilter, and you crossed your arms, protecting yourself. You came here with a purpose, and you refused to diminish the weight of the conversation. A puff of steam left you on a heavy exhale.

Dazai threw the key on the counter and smiled, his eyes softening the moment they caught a glimpse of you. “You got here faster than I thought.” His tone was cheerful, and he seemed relaxed, without the foreboding cloud of misery pushing down on him. It was so unusual that you, almost, regretted bringing up what you’d learned from Mori at all.

Though, it wasn’t something you could just ignore. You straightened, making sure not to deflate under his undeniable warmth.

For a moment, Dazai didn’t realize that anything was wrong. He hung his coat up, stretched his limbs, and talked without facing you. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen one another. I thought about you all day,” he said, drawing out the syllables with a short laugh. “You’re always such a distraction. How will I ever get my work done?”

Dazai seemed so happy, and in all your years together, you’d never thought that would be a word used to describe him. It pained you to ruin that, even as your nails dug into your palm, trying to reconcile the two versions of Dazai that you knew.

You looked away. If you wanted to say what you needed to, you couldn’t bear to see the way his soft expression turned into one of animosity.

For a few more moments, he rambled on to himself, before realizing that you hadn’t said a word at all. You felt frozen in the middle of the room, your mouth dry as you tried to think of the best way to segue into the conversation.

“Hey.” Dazai had grown quiet, and he stopped mulling around the apartment, finally focusing all his attention on you. “What’s wrong, pretty?” There was a pout on his lips, his expression already falling from the bright, joyful one he’d worn when he’d entered. “I still haven’t gotten a kiss.”

You were weak for a moment, questioning if your anger was even worth it. A minute passed of your own silence before you resolved yourself, ending your hesitance. What you’d heard had upset you tremendously; you couldn’t just brush past it like it was nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dazai’s face screwed up, eyebrows pinched, as he tried to remember what he could’ve possibly done to upset you that week. Though you often bickered about ridiculous things, it was rare that either of you lashed out in anger at the other.

Your expression was enough to let him know that this was one of those times. He hesitated. “I’m… not sure what you mean, love. Did I do something wrong?”

At that, you laughed, amused that he could play so innocent. He’d changed while in the Detective Agency, that much was certain, but you knew every bit of his soul and he certainly hadn’t been purified of his sins. “Mori told me about Akutagawa today. I doubted how much of it was true until I thought about it, really thought about it, and it makes sense.”

Dazai stared blankly back at you, his eyes searching your face for any more context. They flicked back and forth, round brown irises full of an uncertainty you weren’t sure was genuine. He was a master of manipulation, and you refused to ever be a pawn in his schemes, no matter how small. “I haven’t seen Akutagawa in weeks. Whatever’s happened to him—”

You stood straighter, keeping your hands tight at your sides. “I’m not talking about now, Osamu. I’m talking about years ago; back when you were training him.”

A moment passed; he didn’t blink. Nothing in his eyes betrayed him. “Would you care to provide me with some context?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” You scowled, clenching your teeth so hard that it hurt. “How could you do that to him? All those years, you and Oda kept it a secret from me. You hurt him. You were so cruel.” Your nails dug deep into your palm. “I told you everything that happened to me before I came to the Mafia. Every way that I was hurt, and you told me you understood. You promised me, and you turned around and did the same thing to him.”

Dazai held his body loosely, surprised by your sudden outburst of emotion. It seemed he was unsure what to do with the confession you’d just handed over. Dazai licked his lips, wetting the dry skin, and searched deep into your soul for the best way to soothe you.

But the betrayal, the hurt, was buried deep within you, and the anger wouldn’t fade so easily.

“I never kept secrets from you,” he said, instead of answering any questions. His tone was cool, unaffected, like you hadn’t just raised your voice as your countenance changed into one of distress. “You just never bothered to ask.”

Silence. You swallowed, hard, each notch of your spine stiffening. “That’s not fair. How was I supposed to know his training was any different from mine? Should my first suspicion have been that you were mistreating him?”

Dazai grew grim, the first twinge of emotion you’d seen since you’d spoken. He rubbed his temple. “You’ve got a right to be angry, but I never hid anything from you on purpose.” He reached out for you, his touch soft as he rubbed your bicep. “I just don’t know what you want me to do about it now, sweetheart. Why are you bringing this up?”

You didn’t want to tell him about Mori, not yet. That was a conversation for another time, and he wouldn’t hesitate to claim that bit of information was the more pressing matter.  

Instead, you inched out of his hold, gazing back at him with contempt. “You can’t be serious, Osamu.” His audacity shouldn’t have been surprising, but it shocked you, nonetheless. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Dazai held his hands out like you would hand him over a script, a typed apology just for him to repeat back at you. “Never once did you show any concern for Akutagawa’s wellbeing when he joined the Mafia. Suddenly, you care, and I’m not sure why.”

“That’s not true!” you said, your cheeks hot with frustration. “We we’re friends—”

Dazai laughed, though it was mocking, without any true humor. “You expressed an interest in him that wasn’t ever reciprocated.”

You scrubbed your face, drained from his rebuttals, and put enough space between the two of you so that Dazai couldn’t touch you.

“Fine. Maybe we weren’t friends, but I wantedto be because I knew he understood. I thought we could get to know each other well. Then one day, he wouldn’t even speak to me anymore. He looked at me like I knew so much more than he did.” A finger was in Dazai’s face, scolding. “You fucked it all up. We’re just a year apart, Osamu. I didn’t want him to treat me like that just because I was dating his mentor.”

There was a break of silence. Dazai sniffed, recovering some sense of power in the conversation. “I’m sorry.” he said, but it was merely to appease you, no sincerity in the words. “Perhaps my methods of training were inappropriate and unethical, but it’s the Mafia, my love. What did you expect?”

Frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. “And if it had been me? If I had been under your command, would you have done the very same?”

At that, Dazai softened, his lips curling down. The light in his eyes flickered and faded, any happiness in his face muted. “It would never have been you. You know I could never bring myself to hurt you.”

You buried your face in your hands, his sweet comment doing little to soothe you. “He was just a kid—”

“I was too.” Dazai held your wrists gently, prying them away. He was frowning, dark eyebrows pinched together as he looked at you with both concern and betrayal. “You’re going to blame this all on me, when I was a child too, doing what I thought was right?”

“No. But you’re an adult now, and you still treat him the same way.” You shoved him away, putting space between you, never before having felt so cold in Dazai’s embrace. “He’s nothing more than a chess piece to you. That’s something I can’t accept.”

“Is that the case?” Dazai turned hard; suddenly he’d lost the upper hand. “You’ve got a lot of opinions on what’s right. Yet, remind me who’s the one still in the Mafia?” 

It was meant to hurt you, a low blow that stung and went straight to your chest. You hadn’t wanted to stay in the Mafia, but he’d never given you the choice. Dazai had left you with nothing more than a note and a promise, and you were too stupidly fond of him to ever let him go completely.

“It’s so hard to love you sometimes, Osamu,” you said, quietly, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Your new friends at the agency get to be ignorant about the man you used to be, but I know just how cruel he was. I see him every time I look at you.”

Dazai stared back at you stunned and hurt. He flexed his fingers, but for once, he didn’t reach out for you.

You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

The bathroom door slammed behind you, and you stood in front of the mirror, watching splotchy patches form on your skin from unreleased emotions. The sink ran, a steady stream with no end, to tune out your deep, calming breaths until you no longer felt that immense amount of anger.

You knew what you were getting yourself into by falling in love with a man like Dazai. You’d known it from the beginning. He was no different than all the people that had hurt you, the reason why you’d come to the Mafia in the first place.

Yet, he was so much more loving with you, gentle and patient, and you knew that under every layer of bad intent and regretful crimes, Dazai was a good person.

With a sigh, you turned off the sink and crept back into the room, feeling remorseful and miserable. The knowledge of what he’d done to Akutagawa was something you couldn’t forgive him for. It was horrible and traumatizing, but so were so many other things that he’d done.

You couldn’t place double standards on him for his previous actions. If you had loved him despite all of those things, you weren’t going to be able to stop now.

“Osamu?” you said in a quieter voice, creeping out of the bathroom silently, slinking within the shadows.

He was spread over the length of the couch, his head resting on the arm of it as he stared up at the ceiling. When you approached, he shifted into a seated position, waiting for you to speak.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” you began, walking slowly towards him, drawn to him easily. “You’re not a difficult man to love. I’ve never felt that way.”

Dazai smiled, though it was half-hearted, and extended a hand to you. You took it quickly and he drew you into his lap, squeezing you tight. “Well, I certainly don’t make it easy on you.”

You were silent. He kissed your forehead, running a delicate touch across your back.

“I can’t take back what I did to him.” Dazai sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “The damage is done.”

“I know that.” You breathed, his calming scent wrapping around you, reminding you that no matter what, he would always be your home. “It’s not fair for me to judge you when I’m still in the Mafia. My crimes are no better than yours. Even if what you did…” you trailed off shaking your head. “No. You’re right, Osamu. It’s not fair.”

He guided your fingers to his lips, kissing each of them lightly with the beginnings of a smile. “I’ll never be a perfect man, but I’m trying to be a better one.” Though he refrained from showing vulnerabilities to most people, he was more open with you, more willing to reveal the parts of himself he despised the most. “I… hope you know that. It may not seem like I’m trying, but—"

“I know you are.” You ran a hand through his hair and swallowed, resting your cheek on top of his head. “Osamu, you’re already so different than you were when you left. You’ve changed much more than I have. It was horrible of me to diminish that.” You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I said that.”

A minute passed before he spoke again, his breath so steady, a reminder that he was still there, with you, despite all attempts he’d made to leave you behind. We’ve seen every ugly side to one another. It makes it far too easy to be unkind. Doesn’t mean I’d ever love you any less.”

You smiled, though it was sad, but through your hurt you were still devastatingly devoted to him. It was just easier to ignore the damage he’d caused when you weren’t staring it right in the face, a walking, breathing reminder of the person he held inside him. The very type of man that had once hurt you.

You squeezed him tighter, blocking out the cruel memories of your past. Dazai had never laid a punishing hand on you, had never spat demeaning words at you that could never be forgiven. Through it all, he had adored you, treated you with a gentleness you’d desired, and loved you without conditions.

Brushing dark hair away from his forehead, your eyes softened, the darkness in him cracking as the light began to shine through. “I know, Osamu,” you said, your cheeks pinching, warm. “Despite it all, I will always love you without regrets.”

[scoobydoodean]

Okay so in 1.03 Dead In The Water, there's this exchange Sam and Dean have at one point in regards to Lucas—the little boy who watched his dad drown, who Dean connects with during the episode:

DEAN Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died. SAM There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies. DEAN Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.

And the last time I watched this episode, I went "Oh cool! A little Psychic!Sam Easter Egg." Right? Sam goes through the traumatic experience of losing Jess, and he's tapped into "whatever's out there" (the yellow eyed demon) and he's having premonitions about what he's going to do next. Which definitely makes a lot of sense.

But when I was gif-ing stuff from 1.03 today, I realized that... funnily enough, within the context of this episode we also have some fun stuff relating to the "slightly psychic Dean" posts that have gone around this year... Or if you prefer, Cassandra!Dean. Cassandra, in reference to the prophet in Greek myth, cursed by Apollo to utter true prophecies but never be believed.

Dean often knows when bad things are going to happen in Supernatural. He doesn't have visions—but he has "bad feelings" and makes predictions that turn out to be scarily accurate at times. Of course we can infer that Dean is just good at 1) reading people and 2) understanding how sequences of events tumble one by one in a row like so many dominoes. It's another sign of his incredible intelligence. But it IS fun to think about Dead In The Water as the first indication of Cassandra!Dean.

First, because Lucas has premonitions, and Lucas and Dean are paralleled and connect on an emotional level.

Dean and Lucas have similar traumatic childhood experiences. Both watched a parent die and both lost the ability to speak afterwards:

DEAN You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

Dean is able to connect with Lucas through their shared traumatic experience. He's the only one who's able to get through to him—and after a short conversation and just drawing together for a while—much to his mom's shock. Dean is able to understand what Lucas is feeling without Lucas saying it.

Second, because Lucas has bad feelings that tell him the locations where the spirit will strike next, but no one listens to/believes him.

...Kind of like people usually don't listen to/believe Dean's bad feelings.

DEAN Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.

Of course, this line is just Dean paralleling Lucas with himself and his own reasons for not speaking, but it must hit home, because Lucas begins communicating with Dean through drawings.

Further, despite Sam also knowing Lucas is having premonitions, when Lucas reacts with extreme distress to the idea of going home and clings to Dean desperately, Sam still... doesn't think it means anything. He thinks the case is over.

Third, Dean has a bad feeling that the case isn't over, and Sam doesn't believe him.

The sheriff had just threatened to arrest them if they stayed in town, so of course going back to town is a big deal. When Dean turns around based on a bad feeling, Sam thinks he's just being paranoid.

SAM But Dean, this job, I think it's over. DEAN I'm not so sure. SAM If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest. DEAN All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt? SAM But why would you think that? DEAN Because Lucas was really scared. SAM That's what this is about?

Dean sticks to his guns, and they arrive just in time to save Lucas's mother from drowning in a bathtub.

[snorklingfae]

Shades of Deception- Prologue

Dark!Joel Miller x naive!Fem reader

Synopsis: Amidst the ruins of a broken world, one survivor stands out from the rest - Joel Miller. With his sharp wit and unmatched ability to deceive, Joel has always managed to outmaneuver those around him. But when he meets y/n, an unsuspecting and trusting survivor, Joel sees an opportunity to take his game to the next level. As their relationship progresses, y/n unwittingly becomes entangled in Joel's web of lies and deceit, utterly unaware of the true extent of his cunning and manipulation. Will y/n break free from Joel's grasp before it's too late?

Notes: thinking of instead using the term y/n as it can get tedious to write but use Bambi instead as a nickname Joel uses.

Warnings: none yet more will be added in each chapter

Joel trudged wearily through the overgrown remnants of what was once a thriving city. The air hung heavy with the scent of decay, and the dilapidated buildings echoed his every footstep, reminding him of the world that had crumbled around him.

His senses were on high alert, scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. Survival had become his second nature in this unforgiving landscape.

One day, fate intervened as Joel was patrolling the area, and he saw a movement amidst the rubble of an abandoned storefront.

He slowly approached, weapon at the ready, prepared for any threat. But as he drew closer, he realized it wasn't a runner or clicker. It was a survivor, like himself, but far more vulnerable than he could have imagined.

She looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes, and her face was illuminated by a faint glimmer of hope that still flickered within her.

Despite the grim reality of their world, she radiated an aura of innocence and purity that Joel found both unsettling and strangely captivating.

As Joel observed her, a comparison sprang to mind, one that surprised even him. She reminded him of a character from a storybook, a creature from a world untouched by the darkness that now enveloped them—a fawn, fragile and trusting, with wide eyes that held a spark of curiosity and wonder.

Bambi, he thought to himself, though he doubted she would understand the reference in this harsh new reality.

"Are you bit?" Joel's gruff voice betrayed his concern as he approached cautiously.

"No, I swear," she replied, her voice trembling.

After a few seconds of debating, Joel sighed, "Are you alright?"

She nodded, offering him a tentative smile that tugged at something deep within Joel's hardened heart.

“I'm fine," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just... scared."

Joel crouched beside her, his expression unreadable as he studied her carefully. He could see the fear in her eyes, and the uncertainty mirrored his inner turmoil.

Despite the danger that lurked around every corner, there was something about this girl that drew him in, a flicker of humanity amidst the chaos that consumed their world.

Without a word, Joel extended a hand to her, offering her comfort in a world devoid of kindness.

“Come on," he said gruffly, his tone softened by a hint of warmth that surprised even him. "You'll be safer with me."

And with that simple gesture, Joel's solitary journey took an unexpected turn, leading him down a path he never could have anticipated—a path that would intertwine his fate with hers in ways neither of them could have imagined.

As they set out together into the unknown, they would discover that sometimes, in the darkest of times, it was the tiniest glimmer of hope that could light the way forward.

Shades of deception tags

@orcasoul @paanchusblog

[jomiddlemarch]

without reference to you

Later, much later, it would be a small consolation that he had had no intentions other than to retrieve the next volume of the agricultural treatise he had found in the Netherfield library, having discovered the author cogently and thoroughly addressed several issues related to crop yield and various rusts Darcy and his steward had been wrestling with over the past eighteen months. It was an absolution he would grant himself repeatedly, one both Bingley and Fitzwilliam had referenced in attempts to soften the blow of the rushed wedding by special license to a gentlewoman whose family was undistinguished at best and embarrassingly silly far more often than he could wish.

He'd come into the library so caught up in his own thoughts, he almost had not noticed Miss Bennet standing at the window, her face in profile against the rain-streaked pane, the heavy grey clouds a subtle relief. It was the strangled sob she made that caught his attention, her anguish undisputable, reminding him of Georgiana’s grief after her return to Pemberley; there was a hopeless quality to the swallowed cry, a despair that did not expect comfort. It was isolation which drew him to her side.

“Miss Bennet, I cannot fail to observe you are distressed and I should like to assist in any way within my ability. I am your servant, ma’am,” he said. It was clumsy, he knew that as he heard the words uttered, too formal, too easily misconstrued or waved away, but it was what he had said and he must wait for her response.

“You are kind, Mr. Darcy, but there is nothing you can do,” she replied, her voice low, her fine dark eyes downcast. He had not seen her so pale before and the hand she raised to dab at her tears trembled.

“Perhaps you are mistaken,” he essayed.

“My sister is ill and you are not a physician. Even a physician will say there is nothing he can do, it is God’s will to decide and she did not even want to come here, not like this. It was all Mama’s foolishness and now Jane is insensible, burning up with a fever, she does not even know me and for what?” she said. 

“You must rest, you are over-wrought,” Darcy said, a peculiar ache in his throat as he spoke. Miss Bennet had said more than she knew but what was most salient was her sister’s failing health, far beyond the skill of even the most affectionate and diligent sister to nurse.

“I cannot. Who else will look after her? I cannot let strangers nurse her, she is the best of us, the best person I know, so good and sweet—she calls for me when I am right there beside her, her voice most piteous, she thinks I have abandoned her, and she can barely swallow a sip of water or broth, and I cannot lose her, I cannot—” she broke off, breathless, all her strength seeming to desert her. In the instant before she would collapse, he took hold of her arm and brought her to rest against him.

“Elizabeth, it will be all right,” he said, startling them both with his use of her Christian name more even than his gentle embrace; any gentleman would keep a lady from falling to the floor in a dead faint, but to address her so was the intimacy of a close relative, a father or a brother or a husband. He could not regret it, not when he saw her reaction, felt a surge of vitality in her weakening form and noticed the ruddy flush across her cheeks. “You will tell me the name of the best physician in the county and I shall send for him, Elizabeth. Whoever you want conveyed from your home to Netherfield I will have brought over by day’s end. You must not make yourself ill nursing her, you will not help her that way.”

“Sir, I am grateful, but I cannot, it is not proper—” she said.

Later, much later, he would recall that she had spoken so. He’d felt her begin to pull away from him and he had tightened his hold, bringing a hand up to rest against his chest.

“She is your dearest sister and I will do whatever I can to help you, Elizabeth,” he said and that was when the door opened for Charles and Caroline Bingley to witness the tableaux, Miss Elizabeth Bennet compromised in every way, her name on his lips very clearly audible given Miss Bingley’s gasp of horror and Charles’s look of disappointment, a slight shake of his head he would apologize for in the days to come.

“Pon rep, Darcy, you must explain yourself,” Charles said as sternly as he was capable of sounding. Darcy was reminded Charles also had sisters he felt responsible for and for all his congenial nature, was strict when it came to matters of honor and hospitality.

“Miss Elizabeth has done me the very great honor of agreeing to become my wife,” Darcy said. Elizabeth’s lips parted as if she would speak and then she pressed them together. “I shall obtain a special license after I send for a physician for Miss Elizabeth’s sister, whose fever is growing worse.”

“She’s that ill?” Charles asked. Darcy would have ordinarily made a point of expecting felicitations, but given that he had announced a wedding without making an offer and Elizabeth’s own anxiety about her sister, propriety could go hang.

“She’s in a bad way,” Elizabeth said softly. “I’ve never seen her so sick—”

“You must know the best physician in the neighborhood, Miss Elizabeth,” Charles interrupted. “Tell me his name and where to find him and I’ll fetch him myself.”

“I shall ride to Longbourn, speak with your father and bring your mother back with me, Elizabeth,” Darcy said. He must impress upon both Bingleys that he and Elizabeth were affianced, must undertake to render their engagement as unremarkable, the product of a brief courtship rather than a rakish compromise.

“Make sure she brings Hill with her,” Elizabeth said.

“You and Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” Caroline said, as if she were coming out of a dream, having been deaf to all conversation that had followed his declaration. “But you said she was barely tol—”

“Excuse me, Miss Bingley. You don’t appear to be yourself, perhaps a rest or some tea, in your room,” Darcy said.

“I will go back to sit with Jane,” Elizabeth said.

“Do not overtax yourself,” Darcy said, pitching his voice to be heard solely by her.

“Do not worry about me, Mr. Darcy,” she replied.

“Fitzwilliam,” he said. 

Once again, a few days late for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month day 13, prompt: Christian name.

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Four

“Obedience” — @febuwhump prompt!

If this doesn’t have Ambrose’s name written all over it >:)

Intoxicating Fear — part Xi

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: forced to obey, mentions of SH, SH implied and referred to, mentions of scars, past Whump implied, past sh implied, past sh inferred, kidnapped Whumpee, captive Whumpee, sadistic whumper,

*~*~*~*~*

Kit walked out of his room a few hours later, looking worse off than before he went in, but Ambrose didn’t question him as he walked over to the kettle and filled it with water. He just sat at the table, watching him as he moved about, doing his best to ignore Ambrose’s stares.

Ambrose had Kit’s phone in between his thumb and index finger, using his fourth finger to twirl it slowly, in a controlled motion over itself and back again.

Kit took a mug out from the cupboard above the counter, spooned three spoons of coffee into a cup clanging the metal spoon into the mug and turning to face Ambrose. He was wedged in the corner, crossing his arms over his chest as he shrugged and asked: “what?”

Ambrose smiled, “what do you mean what?”

“Don’t play coy, Ambrose,” Kit said with a groan, wiping a hand down his face. “It doesn’t suit you. I can hear your cogs turning in your brain.”

Ambrose’s smile turned coy, “isn’t that my power, Mallory?”

Kit scoffed and turned, throwing his hands in the air.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to himself as the kettle boiled, the switch flipping up as the water rumbled soothingly within. “I’ll probably find out soon enough anyway.”

Ambrose’s smile fell when Kit turned his back, his eyebrows drawing together in quiet contemplation, whether to broach the subject or not.

“I’ve been thinking Kit,” Ambrose said after a while.

“Uh-oh,” said Kit, stirring his coffee.

Ambrose smiled, despite himself, at Kit’s inability to shut up sometimes. Kit turned again, steaming hot cup cradled between his palms as he regarded Ambrose with an impassive expression.

“Should I be worried?” Kit asked, taking a tentative sip.

Ambrose let out a soft laugh. “No. It’s actually something that could benefit both of us,” said Ambrose. Kit’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling, before immediately pinching themselves down into a frown, suspicious.

“I know,” said Ambrose. “You have every right to be skeptical, but I think… after recent events that we should consider a way to do things more effectively.”

Kit’s lips curled back into a snarl, like that of a stray dog. “You mean you want to be more efficient in how you torture me?!”

“No,” Ambrose said, dark eyes meeting Kit’s light ones, bright with anger. “I think we should be able to have a conversation without getting defensive.”

Kit scoffed, rolling his eyes to the sky. “I wonder, God, gee Ambrose, you’re right. I wonder why the fuck we can’t be civil with each other. It’s a real head scratcher, huh?”

Ambrose’s voice took an edge to it and Kit’s mockery vanished in his throat.

“There is no reason we can’t both somehow get along.”

“I don’t know, Rosy,” Kit said, which drew a cutting stare from Ambrose. “Somehow getting along with my torturer is not on my bingo card this year.”

Ambrose laughed. He laughed a moment too long at Kit’s outburst, before he settled his gaze on Kit again and his entire expression went blank like the fucking psychopath he was.

“I could take every single freedom from you, Kit,” said Ambrose, voice full of sadistic promise. Kit swallowed hard and covered it up with a sip of his coffee. “I could have you on your knees right now begging me to hurt you again—”

“You would just love that wouldn’t you?” Kit snapped. Ambrose inclined his head at Kit, a warning, so Kit shut up.

“The truth of the matter is that I don’t want you to be some drooling, half formed thing,” Ambrose said, leaving the phone on the table and getting to his feet. Kit’s expression faltered for a moment, fear flashing across his features before schooling them neutral again.

Ambrose approached slowly. Kit took an unconscious step back but was quickly reminded that he was standing in the corner of his kitchenette and silently cursed himself for cornering himself.

“I want you to struggle and fight me, otherwise you wouldn’t be as entertaining,” he said getting closer and closer. Kit tightened his grip on the mug to stop his hands from shaking. “I want you to have your free will and be, well, Kit, because you are the most fun, I’ve ever had.”

Kit swallowed, wanting to look away but too scared to do it. “Glad to be of service.”

“See?” Ambrose said, eyes bright and voice brighter as he stood in front of Kit, forcing Kit to stare up at him. “You just can’t help yourself.”

Something flittered across Ambrose’s face that Kit couldn’t quite identify. “Your defiance is what makes you so fun, but it’s tiring subduing you all the time.”

Kit didn’t dare speak, no matter how much he wanted to. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled when Ambrose put his hands on the edge of the counters boxing Kit in more. Ambrose leaned in, teeth bared in a wolfish smile as Kit’s eyes widened and he leaned back awkwardly to try and keep some space between him and his tormentor.

“See? That fear,” Ambrose whispered, as if he was saying a prayer, eyes searching Kit’s face and drinking in every last detail, every minute wince or flinch or hint of discomfort. “You just can’t bury it no matter how hard you try to hide it from me. It’s commendable really, but this doesn’t have to be just me benefiting from this relationship.”

“Relationship?!” Kit breathed with a scoff, disgust written across his face and lacing every syllable. “I want nothing to do with you!”

“But wouldn’t you enjoy your life a bit more if there were days where I didn’t have to wrestle every piece of your defiance from your body?”

The words left Kit speechless. His chest rising and falling in time with Ambrose’s. The thought of not having to worry about Ambrose’s power invading his mind sounded too good to be true, so foreign. How long had it been since Kit didn’t have to worry about Ambrose torturing him for fun? To worry about what he was going to say in case it flipped a switch in Ambrose’s brain and made him hurt Kit.

Kit was tired. He was exhausted. Life before Ambrose seemed like a dream, not a reality. He missed being ignorant. He missed not having to be terrified every day.

Ambrose got his answer when Kit’s shoulders dropped.

“See? You want it just as much as I do.”

Ambrose leaned back, backing out of Kit’s space and allowing him to stand properly again. Kit’s eyes dropped to the floor as shame flooded his system.

Deferring to a Villain?! Who was he? He was so weak; how could he kid himself into being a Hero when he couldn’t even fight a Villain for himself?! What would Mentor say if he saw Kit now?

“What do you suggest?” Kit asked, voice quiet and broken. How could thoughts of freedom take this much life from his body?! The guilt burned red up Kit’s neck, but he couldn’t not concede. He was exhausted. He just wanted a little semblance of normalcy, and if that price was whatever Ambrose named so be it.

“Your… obedience,” Ambrose said. The words hit Kit in the chest harder than a kick from a horse. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Ambrose’s in accusation.

“You want my consent to hurt me?!” Kit barked out with a humourless laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”

Ambrose rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Would you just hear me out before making a judgement?”

Kit clenched his jaw behind closed lips and nodded.

“I was thinking about it all. The amount of power I have to use to subdue you every day, not letting you use your power, not letting you leave the house. It doesn’t all happen naturally. My power’s working overtime 24/7 with you. It’s getting exhausting.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Oh boo-fucking-who, he thought, torturing someone takes effort, poor Ambrose.

“So, I came up with a proposition if you dare to consider it. I will leave you alone for most of the week,” he said, and Kit’s heart stuttered to a stop. It must have shown on his face given Ambrose’s smirk. “I will pop in sometimes, only two or three times a week. All I ask if that you obey this little schedule change without fighting me.”

Kit’s words came out breathless, “so you do want me to consent to being tortured,” he said, an unreadable expression screwing his face up tight.

“Think of it more as consent to not being tortured as you are now,” said Ambrose taking a step closer, closing the gap between them again. He placed a hand on Kit’s cheek, thumb hooked under his chin and tilted Kit’s head up. Dark eyes searching Kit’s. “Don’t you want to be free of me, even if just for a little while?”

Kit’s bottom lip trembled. He did, he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to have some kind of normal life even if it meant agreeing to this outrageous condition. He missed his life; he missed Superhero and his job. He missed grocery shopping and late nights with his friends. He missed being able to make decisions for himself.

“What else does obedience entail?” Kit asked, spitting the word obedience as if it was some monstrous creature.

Ambrose’s eyes shined a little at the question. “It means that when I do come and see you, you drop everything. You can still fight me, still defy me, curse me out do whatever you need to — but you simply accept it.”

Kit worried his bottom lip, eyes going far away as he considered Ambrose’s proposal. Ambrose stepped away, turning to lean against the opposite counter in the kitchenette. He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Kit as he mulled everything over.

“I can see you’re conflicted, Kit, so let me sweeten the deal,” that got Kit’s hesitant eyes back on Ambrose. “If you agree to this, I won’t attack another Hero.”

It seemed as if all air left Kit’s lungs, like an anvil had fallen from the sky and landed on Kit’s shoulders weighing them down suddenly. This was Ambrose’s ultimate cruelty. Appealing to Kit’s heroic nature, forcing him to be a martyr and shoulder the burden of Ambrose’s torment to save other heroes, the people he loves. His friends, hell, at this point his family.

Kit swallowed hard. He didn’t want to be heroic; he didn’t want to shoulder this unfair burden. He didn’t want to protect everyone from this torture, he wanted… he just wanted to be left alone.

If you agree to this, I won’t attack another hero.

Which really was a double-edged sword.

If you don’t agree to this, I will attack another hero. Take another Hero hostage, do everything I’ve done to you and more. Break them, and when they break, I will let you know that it’s all because you didn’t take my deal. Then Ambrose would probably present the deal to Kit again and Kit would take it, the guilt forcing his hand.

“I can have a normal life?” Kit asked, not meeting Ambrose’s gaze.

“Semi-normal, but I can’t see why not,” Ambrose replied.

“And I’m guessing I can’t tell anyone about our little arrangement?” Kit asked, voice mutinous. Ambrose stepped closer and put a hand on Kit’s shoulder. Kit suppressed a flinch; he hated Ambrose touching him. Kit glared up at Ambrose.

“If you like I can make you forget about it all until you see my face, then you could really live a life.”

“In ignorance,” Kit spat, batting Ambrose’s hand away. “No thanks. I’d rather know what’s coming than be caught unaware again.”

Ambrose smirked. “Fine by me.”

Kit licked his lips, passing his coffee cup into his left hand before extending his right to Ambrose. “Fine then. Deal.”

“Ah,” Ambrose said, holding up a finger, “I think we should try this out before you accept.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed and let out a soft tch of disapproval. He knew Ambrose wasn’t going to make it as easy as he made it out to be.

“You’re already reneging on your deal,” Kit said, looking to the side and taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. Ambrose stepped back to lean against the opposite counter.

“I’m not, just consider this a test,” said Ambrose. Kit rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the countertop with a dull thud.

He shrugged his shoulders and said: “fine. What do you want me to do?”

Ambrose’s eyes lit up in that eerie way they did when he got an awful idea to further humiliate or cause Kit pain.

“Let’s start with something easy,” said Ambrose simply, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. “How about… sit?”

Kit scoffed and walked towards the chair beside the table. Ambrose’s voice stopped him again with a soft, “Ah.”

“What?” Kit demanded. “You said sit. I’m going to sit.”

“I didn’t say sit on a chair, Mallory.”

Kit’s eyes burned as well as the tips of his ears, shoulders bunched up. He clenched his fists at his sides and turned to face Ambrose again.

“What? You want me to sit on the ground? Like a dog?”

“Your words,” said Ambrose with an innocent smile. “Not mine.”

Kit clenched his jaw, glaring up at Ambrose and keeping eye contact as he bent his knee and dropped to the ground. He planted his butt firmly on the ground and crossed his legs.

“Now,” Kit spat. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Good,” said Kit, moving to get to his feet again. Ambrose pressed a boot down on Kit’s ankle to stop him from getting up. Kit clenched his fists tight but settled himself back onto the ground.

“I didn’t say you could get up, Mallory,” Ambrose chides, removing his foot from Kit’s ankle.

Kit crossed his arms across his chest in a huff like a child throwing a tantrum, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care what Ambrose thought of him.

“You’re such a dick,” said Kit, grumpy.

“Look at you, you’re adorable. Are you pouting?”

Kit bared his teeth up at Ambrose in reply. “Okay, you can stand up now,” said Ambrose.

Kit scoffed and remained stubbornly on the floor. “Fuck you.”

Ambrose shrugged theatrically. “Fine, I guess I was expecting too much of you when I proposed my deal.”

An obvious ploy for Kit to protest, but still Kit couldn’t do anything but protest. The thought of freedom… it was too enticing to say no to.

“Wait,” Kit grumbled, casting his eyes to the floor as his mind screamed at him for obeying Ambrose at all. “Just… wait.” Kit swallowed hard and got to his feet, still not meeting Ambrose’s hungry stare.

“Kit,” Ambrose said, but Kit still didn’t look at him. “Kit, look at me.”

Kit felt his blood flood his cheeks with humiliation as he raised his head to meet Ambrose’s gaze. His hands were shaking, with anger or frustration or shame Kit didn’t know, but he knew they were shaking and that he didn’t want them to.

“Show me your scars,” said Ambrose.

Kit took a step backwards, as if Ambrose had just assaulted him. His lips curled up and he cut his hand through the air as if to say enough.

“No,” Kit said, voice thick. “No.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side. “Will I have to say everything twice, Mallory?”

“You are fucking loving this aren’t you?” Kit hissed, throwing his hands up in a helpless sort of gesture. “Whether I agree to your deal or not it doesn’t matter because you still get to hurt me like this. You’re fucking sick. You disgust me.”

Ambrose stared at Kit’s emotional outburst like one would judging the weather from their bedroom window in the morning. “Do I have to say it again, or are you flat out refusing?”

“Fine!” Kit snapped, voice higher, almost hysterical. Kit reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and hoisted it over his head to reveal his back, not taking it off all the way. He turned his back to Ambrose and said: “that one on my left shoulder? That’s from a nasty run in with Other Villain when Another Hero called for aid on a mission. I got it from his fucking scythe if you can believe it—”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Here,” said Kit, turning again and shrugging his shirt back on before lifting the bottom of it to reveal the scar just above his hip. It wasn’t one but three. “Villain’s whip,” Kit told Ambrose. “It stung like a bitch, but she only ever caught me once with it.”

Kit flung his shirt down and grinned at Ambrose. “There, Rosy. I showed you, my scars. I obeyed your fucking command. Are you happy?”

Ambrose hummed in the back of his throat. “We must be spending too much time together, Mallory. You’re starting to understand the power of words.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You learn to when your freedom is limited by them.”

Ambrose didn’t say anything for a moment. He pursed his lips together, taking his hands from his pockets.

“Perhaps the deal was too premature,” Ambrose said. Kit’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, his throat suddenly dry at the prospect of losing his chance at a semi-normal life again. “I’m sorry Kit,” said Ambrose. He meant it too, because he turned to go but Kit’s hand shot out before he could stop himself and grabbed Ambrose’s arm stopping him from leaving.

Ambrose looked down at the hand on his arm then at Kit’s face which was hidden behind his hair, his head tilted down.

“Okay,” Kit whispered. “I’ll show you… you just… you have to use the right words.”

Ambrose stiffened under Kit. “Which are?”

“You said show me your scars. The scars on my arm? They’re not mine,” Kit continued in that same grave, self-hating voice. He raised his head to meet Ambrose’s black eyes with his own haunted gaze. “They’re yours. I didn’t earn them; they mean nothing to me. My scars are mine, wholly mine. I got them.”

Kit ignored the way his voice cracked and let Ambrose go, rolling up his sleeve. “Not these. I didn’t get these, they were forced on me, much like you are. So there. Have I passed your fucking obedience training, or do you want me to bark?”

Ambrose couldn’t help but be a little impressed at Kit’s speech. He didn’t even look down at Kit’s arms the whole time that Kit spoke. He was too focused on the spark of defiance that defined Kit in his mind. The way it left a strange sort of glow to Kit’s features, made them brighter, more animated and life like. As if fighting back the rage he wanted to scream at Ambrose was going to energise other parts of his body.

He didn’t tremble once. He didn’t shake. Everything he said he was certain of, and he didn’t fear any retribution because of it. Ambrose wanted to see more of it, not less, and he feared if he kept Kit isolated and locked away from life forever that spark would dwindle down into nothing. He could search the entire planet ten times over and never find something like it again.

Ambrose smiled. “No Kit. You proved that you could do what you say.”

Kit’s eyes went to Ambrose’s with that same delicious conviction. Ambrose stuck his hand out and Kit shook it.

“I think we have a deal.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage roll call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3 ): - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland

[averillaratargaryen]

“A Better Man.”

Chapter XV

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sprawling meadow as they rode side by side.

The horses’ hooves rhythmically thudded against the soft earth, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers around them.

The warmth of the sun kissed their skin, the sky a brilliant blue with only a few cotton-like clouds drifting lazily.

Averillars and Ser Gwayne were both riding their horses, as promised to last nights dinner.

Averillara rode her horse forward as she looked back and chuckled, proving Ser Gwayne right, “I told you, I am a fast rider.”

However, he had managed to meet with her in only a space of a couple of seconds, his hand brushing against hers as their horses drew closer, their laughter mixing with the rustle of leaves in the distant trees.

“It is lovely here” Ser Gwayne looked around to the clear skies, “a perfect day at the perfect time.”

Averillara smiles, “it is the most calmness I have felt within weeks. You are great company, I must thank you for that.”

“As are you” Ser Gwayne tilted his head with a smile.

“Did Rhaena and Ser Garmund not wish to join us?” Averillara asks.

“They have other plans, I suppose. Which reminds me” Ser Gwayne and Averillara slow down their riding as they wish to speak to one another, “what was with that conversation last night? You and my nephew, Aegon?”

“Oh it was nothing” Averillara chuckles awkwardly, “we were childhood friends and were just.. sharing a joke with one another.”

See Gwayne looked at her, unconvinced, “there was a lot of tension built up between the both of you. Are you sure everything is alright?”

“Everything is fine” Averillara brushed it off, waving her hand at him, “we are fine.”

“Well, I must take your word for it” Ser Gwayne responds.

The two continue to ride on, reaching within the long trees, leading deeper into the field.

“So, Ser Gwayne” Averillara spoke, “how is it that you are yet to find yourself a wife?”

“I suppose my father has never really put me out there, for others to see or recognise me” Ser Gwayne let out a small smile, “Alicent has been my father’s focus. Especially after my mother had passed away.”

“I’m sorry” Averillara sympathises with him.

Ser Gwayne nods, “and what of you? Have you ever been in love? At your young age, I’m sure it has been easy to find love, no?”

“It would be easy, if I truly had someone to love” Averillara signed, looking ahead, “loving someone can result in only two things. A happy ending, or a feeling of hurt and betrayal.”

The two stopped in their tracks, as Ser Gwayne continues to hear Averillars speak.

“Love” she muses, “is like the softest rain falling gently on a parched earth. It doesn’t rush, it doesn’t demand; it simply nourishes. It’s in the quiet moments, when two souls sit in comfortable silence, feeling the warmth of each other’s presence without the need for words.”

Ser Gwayne looks at her in must shock, as he whispers, “wow.”

“It is the way hearts intertwine, not through grand gestures but in the small, unnoticed things—the way fingers brush, or a glance lingers just a second longer” Averillara then looks to Ser Gwayne, “that is what love is.”

“If you know this much, you must have been in love at one point in your life” Ser Gwayne asks.

“I was” Averillara nods, “but as I mentioned, love only ends with two results. A happy ending or feelings of hurt and betrayal.”

“I’m sorry” Ser Gwayne apologises, realising the ending Averillara referred herself for.

Averillara shook her head, smiling as she looked at him, “it was lovely whilst it lasted. But sometimes, you must chose yourself. Loving yourself will be the best thing for you.”

Ser Gwayne looks into her eyes, his amusement and her intelligence having his heart beat fast.

He takes a glance at her lips, before looking up the her eyes, once again.

The hurt was evident, now that he truly looked at her, the two sharing this silent moment, looking into one another.

“Uncle Gwayne” both, Averillara and Ser Gwayne’s shoulders jump, looking away from each other, to see Aemond following behind them.

“Aemond! What brings you here?” Ser Gwayne looks around awkwardly, Averillara simply just looking away.

“I have always had an interest for such.. greenery” Aemond lies.

“Have you?” Averillara asks, looking back at him questionably.

“Yes” Aemond glares at her, “Princess.”

Averillara rolled her eyes, a chuckle escaping her as she looks away.

“Why not join me? I am heading straight, towards the water fall. I’m sure you have not seen such great scenery as that” Aemond asks.

“Yes, of course” Ser Gwayne then looks to Averillara, “is that okay with you?”

“Of course” Averillara nods with a smile.

Aemond rode past, looking towards Averillara.

He gives her his courtesy, bowing his head at her, “Princess.”

“Prince..” Averillara does the same, yet more slowly, as she looks at him with a confused look on her face.

Aemond only smiles smugly, riding ahead, Ser Gwayne then following beside him.

The two begin to talk, leaving Averillara to go unnoticed, having her then take a different route, through the woods.

…

They come to a lake, before Averillara jumps off, petting her horse as she did, allowing him to eat and drink, as they stopped near a lake.

As she is petting him, her mind becomes fogged up of memories. Ones of her and Aegon, and the night that the two first kissed.

After speaking with Ser Gwayne of love, it was the only scenario that played in her head. Repeatedly.

The promises he made of wishing to marry her. To run away.

A smile escapes from her teary eyes, remembering the rash decision of running away, knowing Aegon was quite serious about it.

Yet it was a childish thought to have.

But that is what she had loved of him. His child like personality, his soft touch, his calm voice. Yet all of it was seen to be fading away, remembering Ser Cole’s words.

The last thing she’d ever do was trust someone, such as Ser Cole.

However, it all made sense to her, on how they were found. On how Aegon did not even fight against being crowned.

If anything, Averillara knew Aegon was one to fight until he can not, yet he took himself to the throne so easily.

It was hard to believe Ser Cole’s statement was false, because of that.

As she continued to pet her horse, Averillara notices a strange noise from behind her.

A low, gentle meh.

She turns around slowly, and surprisingly was met with a deer. A white deer.

Averillara had made contact with this deer, the two then looking at one another.

She found it too familiar. As though she had seen this deer in a past life. Before she remembered her mother’s story.

Her story of how she was chosen by the gods, as the white deer approached her. How it had given her faith, that she would one day sit the throne.

And now, Averillara was stood, looking towards the same deer.

“The gods have chosen” she heard Aegon’s soft voice, turning her head to find him on his horse, behind her.

She looks back, noticing the deer had now gone.

Yet she continue to look ahead of the direction that the deer had left in, wondering what it could have meant or why she had come face to face with it.

“You are alone?” Aegon asks, bringing his horse forward.

Both their horses now stood side by side.

“Your brother took Ser Gwayne away, to the other side, near the lake” Averillara responds, “although you probably are already aware. I’m sure this is a plan you both have part in.”

Aegon smiles, walking toward her, “so is it true? Do you really wish to marry my uncle?”

“It is something to be considered” Averillara responds.

“You cannot be serious” Aegon chuckles.

“And why not?” Averillara looks at him, “it is a proper proposal this time. Not one of make belief.”

“Mine was not make belief” Aegon looked at her, offended by her words.

“Was it not?” Averillara asks, “then why are we not married? Why did you not come to Dragonstone to marry me?”

“Because I knew you would not marry me after I become king” Aegon responds.

“Did I say that?” Averillara asks.

Aegon looks at her, his sharp eyes softening.

“I waited for you, Aegon. I had to leave, with no choice, as you became King. But i still waited for you, at Dragonstone. Hoping one day, you’d come to find me. To make amends with my mother and marry me” Averillara’s shaky tone had her choke up, as she looked at him.

“Averillara, I did not know. I- I’m sorry-!”

“Of course you are” Averillara chuckles, looking away from him, as she wipes her eyes, before her tears could drop.

She sighs, looking back at him.

“You are sorry, every time” she cried out softly.

Aegon, who could not bare to see her pain, held both her hands tightly, “marry me. This time, I will marry you. With no regrets, and no betrayal. Become my wife.”

“It is too late” Averillara whispered, letting her hands slip out of his.

“It is not” Aegon pleaded, walking towards her as she took a step back.

“It is” her lips folded as her eyes fluttered, looking away from him, “I cannot fall in love with you all over again.”

Aegon’s eyes continued to soften, realising that he lost the one thing that kept him whole, as she looked at him, giving up her love completely.

His sadness had him stop himself from holding her back, simply watching as she walked away from him.

Sitting herself back on her horse, and riding away.

Aegon stood still, staring into the distance.

A single tear slipped from his eye, tracing a slow path down his cheek, as the weight of the moment sank in.

“You see what I mean” Aemond whispered to his uncle, as the two were sat watching the entire scene fold, hiding behind the trees.

Ser Gwayne realising the betrayal she felt, was from Aegon. That the two were truly in love, yet wronged by society. Their families.

Two souls that linger on to one another.

~

Aegon returned home soon after, finding his uncle stood at the gates.

“Are you leaving? So soon?” Aegon asks.

“I have businesses I wish to attend” He responds.

“What of Averillara?” Aegon asks, “I thought you were both wishing to get to know one another.”

He gulps as he speaks, not even liking the sound of it.

“She has left. For Dragonstone” Ser Gwayne responds.

“What?” Aegon let his feelings be shown, his shock and confusion being blantly obvious.

Ser Gwayne smiles, his hand motioning Aegon to come towards him.

He places his arm around Aegon’s shoulder, turning around to whisper, “my sister. She can be wrong sometimes. She will not admit it, but she can be. And she was wrong, for forcing you on the throne and letting you lose the people you love.”

Aegon looked at him confused, wondering how he had managed to know everything.

“Go to Dragonstone, Aegon. Surrender the crown to your good sister, Rhaenyra, and marry Averillara” Ser Gwayne pats his shoulder.

“She does not love me” Aegon spoke softly, “not anymore.”

“She does” Ser Gwayne responds, “she is hurt, so she will not show it. But her eyes talk a lot. When she talks to you. When she is near you. You just have to let her trust you again. So go, and get your wife.”

“And what of you?” Aegon asks.

“I will be okay” Ser Gwayne smiles, “Averillara is a smart, beautiful girl. Having known her only for a day, there is a lot still to uncover. But I can not continue with a woman who is still in love with another. She is yours.”

Aegon smiles softly, before whispering, “thank you.”

Ser Gwayne smiles, with a nod, “now go! Pack your things and go to Dragonstone.”

Aegon nods, turning around to run off, before Ser Gwayne calls him one last time.

“Oh, and Aegon!”

Aegon turns around to face him.

“Tell Averillara I thank her” Ser Gwayne says.

“What for?” Aegon asks.

“She will know” Ser Gwayne turns to look down at his hands, a ring he held onto tightly, remembering a part of his conversation with her.

“Actually, there was this woman” Ser Gwayne admits, “her name was Helta.”

“And what of her?” Averillara asks.

“She is a Targaryen, like yourself. She would not bat an eyelash towards me. But by the gods, I have never felt more in love, than when I were by her side” Ser Gwayne sighs.

“Then you should run after her. Get her back” Averillara encourages him, “it does not matter if you are a Targaryen or not, love has no bounds.”

“But how do I know if she loves me, to propose to her so quickly?” He asks.

“You will know it, the moment your eyes meet hers” Averillara responds.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

chapter 16

[hrokkall]

Saw the little nightmares 3 trailer got released and wanted to hear your thoughts on it. Is there anything in particular that you're excited for or just generally hyped about?

Also sorry if this question comes across weird I have no clue about the series but remembered you enjoyed it and drew some stuff for it so I thought it'd be fun to talk about it if that makes sense?

- 🥊

Oh I have so many thoughts on it. So many that I'm going to put them below the cut so this post doesn't take up anyone's entire dash.

First of all, damn my copious amounts of coursework for the fact that I couldn't sit down and start drawing fanart immediately the moment I finished watching the trailer once… or twice… maybe three times. Mark my words though these kids WILL be getting some day 2 (actual) art, even if it's just a little sketch.

…Point being, I was pretty excited right out of the gate. Admittedly, I was a little nervous that the studio changeover would mean that any (potential) future Little Nightmares content would mean a massive tonal shift, but based on the trailer alone + the additional guides related to the game, it nails the atmosphere of the previous games pretty damn well. Hell, the giant baby enemy even resembles some of the concept art from the flesh walls!

Already, Nowhere is combining some of my favorite things (notably locations that seem/are "alive", steampunk motifs, and copious amounts of birds… also reminds me a little bit of Zone 3 from OFF, but that's probably just me), but most notably is the fact that it actually seems to resemble some of the locations seen in the (tragically cancelled) 2017 comics. This is particularly notable in the first issue, which features two children taking shelter in a barn from a monster known as the North Wind (who is made of/"sees through" the eyes of black birds, presumably crows), but the second issue is about a monster that lives within mirrors, which are shown a lot in the trailer as well. Either way, I'm cautiously hoping for some references to the comics, especially because we never got to learn what happened to the rest of the Maw kids there (the answer is probably "they died horribly" but I mean hey. You never know).

The designs of the two protagonists are, of course, adorable. I love the plague doctor/gas mask duo (especially because having face coverings makes sense in such a dusty place) and the bit where they both glide down using feather umbrellas is genuinely so fun—absolutely no complaints there.

…Actually, one complaint: I have no idea which one is Low and which one is Alone. None of the official sources have clarified that. Please LN3… I need to know the names of my new kids before they get put into the meat grinder like every other protagonist in these games. (Given the series' track record, I'm not too optimistic about their fates—sorry little guys! I'll be rooting for you anyway). EDIT: It seems like Low is the bird mask kid and Alone is the hazard suit kid

Mechanically… I don't think we've seen enough of the game for me to make any hasty judgements. I know everyone wanted LN2 to be multiplayer (and LN3 appears to have a singleplayer option), but I'm unsure of how that will work. Will it be Spiritfarer style multiplayer where only one player has to own LN3? Will it be online? Will it be splitscreen? Will me inevitably ditching the main campaign to screw around with my friend ruin the atmosphere? No idea. The way I see it, it's too soon to tell.

While we're on the topic though, I did also listen to the first episode of the audio drama! Without spoiling anything… yeah I can definitely recommend it. It's very reminiscent of The Magnus Archives and/or The Bright Sessions, so if you like either of those podcasts you'll probably like The Sounds of Nightmares. Even if you know absolutely nothing about Little Nightmares, I'd honestly recommend it. Voice mixing is a little off in places (though there's a decent chance it was just my headphones being fucky), but the podcast MORE than makes up for it in terms of imagery and phenomenal sound design. No word on the lore implications though; I'll listen to episode 2 when I get the time and THEN deliver the verdict there. I also hope they release an official transcript for it—there isn't one right now afaik, but that would be really helpful for a multitude of reasons.

But yeah, that's about it! TL;DR hell yeah I'm excited for this game, but I'm trying not to fill in the blanks with too much supposition while there's still so little info available

[the-november-system]

Hello, I’m M, and hello to our blog.

This is for our system. We have recently been diagnosed with DID. we have very little understanding of official terms and things because of this. We’re still learning about what being a system is. Please don’t treat us poorly for this reason.

I (M speaking) , am the host.

This blog is just a place for me and everyone else to hang out and feel like we can share social media together and stuff without secrets. This is a part of myself nobody else knows about and we all intend to keep it that way. This is anonymous for that reason.

Below are bio’s for all of us. Everyone at this time wanted to be included. They wrote their own descriptions (minus click who doesn’t like to really talk, I wrote it for them.)

M: Main host, does a majority of the fronting. I am usually gonna be the one responding and doing things.

Pronouns: They/Them

Likes: Tea, drawing, Crochet, transformers

Dislikes: Flying bugs, overstimulation, confrontation

Niki: Hello, I am Niki :-) I'm the oldest individual within the system. I don't really front by myself, but I will do so from time to time. M tells me that I appear as a Guardian Angel to others, but I see myself more as just an assistant than something so grand. M seemed excited to have us all write down this Bio, so i was happy to do so. Thank you for reading.

Pronouns: He/Him

Likes: vintage aesthetics, naps, asmr, meditation

Dislikes: Maybe long work days? The others seem stressed by those which of course worries me.

Winslow: Hello everyone! The name’s Winslow, I'm not quite sure what to put here, so i guess i’ll just describe my interests? I'm super into dad rock, and love to have jam sessions while I clean and stuff. I'm also a sucker for Cozy games. The others find it funny that a tough guy like me enjoys some animal crossing, but hey, this guy knows what he likes! I'm also a lover of customization, pins, patches, piercings, ect. If I can make myself stand out I would like to do it! I aint livin my life as the color beige.

Pronouns: He/Him

Likes: Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, patches and pins and stickers

Dislikes: idiots on the road, hypocrites

Note: Winslow is proudly trans, FTM.

Click: Click is almost entirely non-talking. For the longest time, Click was very protective of their form, not showing themselves to anybody, but recently they drew themselves as a cloaked clown. Click communicates through noises, flapping, and only when necessary, speaking. They are able to, but it causes great discomfort. Click is able to clean and do tasks, but generally only enjoys fronting when alone. They’re very shy. Click commonly fronts when I need a break, and is great at self -care and soothing everyone else, however, they do struggle to soothe themself.

Pronouns: They/Them, or just refer to them by their name

Likes: colorful object, stim toys, liminal spaces, exploration, ambient music

Dislikes: speaking, loud sounds

Note: Click does want to be included in this, there is always a possibility they will want to be removed, but as of right now they were excited and enthusiastic on being included.

Melody: hi!!! I’m melody✨💕 I am a lover of all things pink, i'm a bit of a y2k girlie but i also like other stuff as well, i'm also super into Crochet like M, and i've been making such cute stuff and it's making me so dang happy! Ooh and i also like Godzilla, a weird one but I’m not gonna let someone stop me 💁‍♀️

Pronouns: She/Her

Likes: Godzilla, Pink, Space, Crochet

Dislikes: Looking like a man

Flora: Hello, I'm flora 🌼 im kind of new to the system, but am happy to be here. I am a lover of nature, and am a spiritual person, believing in nature and its many gifts. I'm an eclectic witch (Me and M share this trait.), though we’re both new to this path. I will admit i'm a bit shy, but would love to try and be a bit more adventurous so feel free to say hello :)

Pronouns: She/ They

Likes: Flowers, green, the beach, candles

Dislikes: Catholicism/ Christianity (it's not necessarily a trigger but i don't like to talk about this, thank you :) ), Soda

Timothy: Sup I'm Tim. I don't get to be on here a lot because I'm not as “pretty” on paper as the others, so I'm honestly kinda surprised I was allowed to write this but whatever. I'm into horror movies and Metal music. I like hoodies too, my favorite color’s are blue and red. I also enjoy taking walks, I can be a bit of a hothead so it's nice to take a walk and get some fresh air.

Yeah I'm not that interested, but thanks for reading.

Pronouns: He/Him

Likes: Horror movies, Metal music, poetry, walks

Dislikes: Assholes

Thank you for reading everything!

[thecameronchronicles]

Faking It

TW: Smut. Overstimulation. Slapping. Dom!Drew! Degrading language. 

SUMMARY: After Drew finds out you lied to him about your recent orgasm, he decides to rectify the situation by teaching you a lesson you won’t soon forget. 

WORD COUNT: 2100

*Requested*

Faking It

“Can you come here a second, baby?” Drew’s voice called you into the bathroom as you found him standing in front of the mirror in wait for you. Casting him a look of confusion, you obeyed the silent motions made to have you stand before him until his hands sat at your hips and you both looked to one another in the reflection before you. 

“I love absolutely everything about your body, you know that, right, sweetheart?” You nodded, a detail he spoke of often whenever he had the chance-both in innocent reminders and promises of how he would prove it once you were alone.

“I love the way your body reacts to me…''Your eyes came to a soft close as he ran the back of his ringed finger along your spine, aware the contrast of its chilled metal to your warm skin would cause the shivers he strived for. 

“I love how you get goosebumps so easily-” He explained, tracing his touch along your arms as he continued his list of favorite responses.

“How my voice alone makes you so wet…” His fingers dipped slightly at your sex, able to validate this by the thin fabric of your chosen dress as he remained sincere and in focus as his continuation broke the silence between you. 

“How you arch your back and curl your toes when I make you come…That little face you make that makes your eyes flutter and your lips purse just before pulling apart in that silent release…”  You closed your eyes at the thought before a sudden grip to the back of your neck forced them back open. 

“So you can understand how I can know when you lie to me.” Your cheeks flushed as you knew what he was in reference to, praying it would go by unnoticed in contrast to the countless other exchanges you’d shared without issue. 

“I’m sorry, I was so tired-”

“You don’t think I’m tired? And I still make you feel so good, don’t I?” You narrowed your eyes more in worry than in objection as he waited rather impatiently for your response. The way his eyes seemed to scorch you through the reflection made the air around you draw thin as it was rare you were the cause of Drew being upset-seldom that you saw him upset at all. But to be on the receiving end of it made you suddenly submissive to the comfort you usually found within him.

“And you let me believe it….kept lying to me, baby-”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Drew-” He slowly nodded, a breath of relief casting your chest into a quick rise and decline, as you watched his expression turn focused on a new ambition. 

“But how can I be sure that you won’t do it again, huh?”  You now turned to face him, this usual arrangement of dominant and submissive having only tasted the lines drawn previously in your relationship. Bondage and spanking having been lengths in which he’d gone, but never anything strong enough to leave a mark that lasted beyond a few days. But with the look behind his expression in this moment, you questioned if he had come to truly hate you for having lied to him. 

“Forty two…” Your brows sharpened as he let out a deep exhale. “Forty two hours that you could have told me…and so…” He turned you back to the mirror, a bitter sting left behind by a slap having echoed throughout the space shared by you both.

“Forty one now…”

“Drew…I didn’t want to stop you…But the people at work-” He slowly shook his head, rubbing your ass and revving for another slap, gifting it with that harsh snap, before returning in yet another glide of a palm pressing lovingly over his sting. 

“How can I trust you’ll tell me the truth, sweetheart?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings…” Another slap sent your words into a premature cessation as you would be forced temporarily forward by the surprise of his eager palms. 

“You…Since when do you lie to me though baby? When did we stop being honest with each other?”

“Drew…” You became exhausted in offering your rejected apologies, only ever finding him continuing to counter you. 

“It’s okay baby…We’ll rectify it today. I cleared my entire day to make sure you learn your lesson-” You began to lose track of the slaps, your eyes prying open from their tears to notice his lips part to keep count, an eventual reprieve sending a kind roll soothing your battered ass. 

“I-”

“I want you to wait for me. Take everything but your panties off and wait. Now, sweetheart.” You swallowed hard before feeling his grip finally release you until you were able to obey him. You crossed over the threshold of the bathroom, ignoring the burning pain spreading across your cheeks, before disrobing as commanded. But you were left in wait well beyond what you were foolish enough to believe would be his eagerness. When he spoke of teaching you a lesson-he meant it to every extent. 

The door of the bathroom came open to reveal him wearing nothing more than a towel, a clear shower having been taken as you were patiently acquiescent to his mercy. The way his lips pulled toa grin showcased how you’d appeased him, as you captured your lip between your teeth at the sight of him feasting his eyes on you. 

He kept this stance for only a moment before crawling over you, a series of deep kisses pulling your focus to him as he would retract once you believed he’d begun to forgive your dishonesty. 

“You didn’t want to come for me before…So I am going to make sure you do in every goddamn way I can-” 

And so he began this crusade of edging and torment with the drive of his tongue pulling apart your lower lips in torturous slides of flicks and savored strides. He continued through your pleas and your bucks, withdrawing upwards once your thighs began to tremble at either sides of his cheeks. The most sinful of smiles kept across his face as he’d rise from between your legs, wearing his trophy in a drip down his chin, before standing between your legs. 

“Bet you want to come NOW, don’t you baby?” You nodded, soft whimpers pulling his teeth to clench as your echoes of pleasure always held this effect of him; reminding him of just how soft you were beneath him and how much control you’d relinquish to him without him needing to ask the question.

“Then make yourself…” You blushed, the idea of having to do so on your own embarrassing enough, this had left your cheeks illuminated in a fiery red hue as he looked at you with conviction. 

“You want to show me that you can be a good girl again, don’t you?” You nodded again, the bobs of your head made in desperate conviction as he grinned towards you. 

“Then let me watch you show me just how sorry you are for lying to me…Show me how you like it because apparently I wasn't good enough to make you come last time-” You groaned, both of you well aware how he had the capability to make you come in seconds if he willed it, which is what made this so painful. Not only was he edging you but doing it in vain, but portraying it in such a way that made you desire him that much further. 

“Good girl…” He praised, watching you begin to outline yourself for his viewing. His eyes wide with carnality didn’t budge to even blink as he continued to study every motion and its reaction while endorsing you. But the familiar pull within your stomach had led to that curl of your toes and purse of your lips that tattle on your coming release. 

“Stop…” He spoke in a near growl, only half convinced of his own direction, before watching you quicken, a lunge over your body sending a slap now across your cheek to gain your attention. 

“Do I need to do it again?” He asked in such a way to keep his role of dominant while also asking for permission if you had favored this. When you nodded, the most mischievous of smirks spread across his face as he’d come to realize a new kink, he was happy to exercise to satisfaction. 

“You like how that feels baby girl, huh? You like being put in your place?’ He continued to tease you, while you fought the natural need to defend yourself as you trusted knowing he’d done this in a place born from trust and curiosity. 

“I want you, Drew…”

“I know you do, sweetheart…”

“Please…” You breathed quickly beneath him as he looked at you for a moment in consideration. “I NEED you….I’ll do anything-” His brows rose. 

“For starters, you can stop sounding like a fucking whore and just be patient. Maybe thank me for being patient enough to teach you this lesson.”

“Thank you…” He slowly nodded. 

“Show me JUST how grateful you are-” You attempted to move onto your knees for him as he took a grip to your hair and to your jaw until you were reserved solely to his touch. 

“Did I SAY to suck me off? NO! You don’t get to make me come that easily-Not when you still have so much to learn…”

“Then how can I prove it to you?”

“Get your rabbit…” You blushed, a gift he’d given for an exploratory exchange that you’d only ever use with him was now taken from your bedside table and pressed into his palm. 

“Look at me. Forty two hours of me wondering all those reasons you lied…means forty one minutes of this for you.” Your eyes stretched wide as you couldn't fathom forty two seconds of those vibrations. 

“And if you come before you’re told, you’re not gonna come for a goddamn year, don’t try me, sweetheart…” You nodded, gripping the sheets to the immediate reaction of the vibrator to your clit. He began softly, favoring your mix of moans and whimpers, the sound of his name so beautiful from your lips, before you began to arch. 

“Baby-” He warned as you groaned deeper. 

“It feels so good…”

“I know, my God, I can see it across your face…” He chuckled, almost patronizing, before returning. This time, doing so at a higher setting, bringing you to your edge again, and increasing the speed. He continued this as you were winded, dripping in both perspiration and need, and pleading in mutters and whimpers as words now seemed to fail you. 

“Only twelve minutes in…” You were honestly surprised you'd made it this long, but not even half way and you were already seeing stars behind eyes pressed too tight to remain comfortable. 

“Please!”

“No matter how pretty you beg…you still don’t get to come until I say.” He kept dominant in this focus as you glared. 

Before too long, you were unable to speak in any form of intelligible verbiage. The vibrations and your attempts molded together beneath him until he’d wait until you were nearly spent before slipping himself inside of you. Immediately, your nails attached to his bare arms,clawing in appreciation, as he drew a final slap across your face. 

“I’m doing this for ME because your goddamn moaning is too fucking sexy…But if you come, so help me-” You nodded, having memorized this threat enough that the bob of your head was a natural response. 

And once more, he resumed his motions, painfully deep and stretching you despite the work put in in the hours leading up to this. Never before had he been so drained of compassion or this desperate for his own release. But the way you’d plead beneath him, the way he still loved you despite your dishonesty, had him pivoting in depths and speeds that allowed you hints of relief beneath him. 

“You want me to make you come?” 

“Y-y-yesss…” You struggled to speak as he smirked, flipping you onto your knees and taking you once again. But he’d only laugh behind you, drawing his fingers to your clit strictly to tease, making lazy lines over what was highly overstimulated but still in need for a release. 

You were well beyond your limit. Exhausted. Spent. Pulsating. And he was pounding into your ass as if he knew he’d never have the chance again. Until eventually the sound of your name straining from his lips informed you of his coming orgasm and the pleas for you to join him. 

“If you don’t come with me, you won’t get to come until next time-whenever the fuck that would be…” He threatened as you nodded, your body on reservation so long that it struggled to release, only able to do so once feeling him find solace in you first. 

“You EVER lie to me again and next time you won’t get to come…” You nodded as he wrapped you into his chest, the patter of his heart returning to normal having reminded you of the man you loved remaining beneath this hardened exterior, having awoken a new kink in the process…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271

[glazelilyy]

you, yourself (diluc)

pairing - diluc ragnvindr x gender neutral reader

word count - 2552

genre - angst with comfort

format - fic

warnings - changing yourself for the sake of others, crying, one sided discourse

summary - after a long day of work and fueled by exhaustion, diluc impulsively says some things he doesn't mean to you, his lover, and is confused when the next day you aren't acting like yourself and more like him.

a/n - yeah this is heavy. changing yourself to please others really sucks. additional note, the reader is a bit stylized for plot purposes meaning they have a bit of a personality to them but i still hope it makes for a good angsty experience. there'll be more of this topic with the other characters i write for which is why diluc's name is in brackets :)

content under the cut!

if master diluc were to embody wispy shadows and the darkness of night, you were a basket of sunshine and embodied warm, fuzzy bumble bees.

diluc himself wasn't exactly sure how he'd managed to fall at your feet, heart on his sleeve instead of locked away behind his chest. for someone who lives in the dark, you were the end of the tunnel, his bright light. he'd managed to stumble his way into love and yet you welcomed him with open arms, took his hands and said "we'll do it together."

you were no different, always the bubbly and cheerful one you'd found yourself at a loss for words when one day you realized the elusive and mysterious master diluc had captured your heart. in a way his liking to the shadows and quiet demeanor drew you in not unlike a moth to a flame.

you weren't total opposites though, after all a relationship needs to have some middle ground. you both loved chess, private time, and a good book in the early moments of evening when the crickets in the bushes that surrounded dawn winery had yet to come out.

a bit of an "oddball couple" (as kaeya affectionately referred to the pair of you), it wasn't uncommon for many locals to see your hand intertwined with the wine tycoon's as you walked towards angel's share—you rambling on about a pretty butterfly or the like you'd seen during your commissions today, while diluc simply nodded and listened along with a loving smile on his face.

diluc at first was hesitant to reach out to someone so luminous like yourself. where you thrived in light he lurked in shadows and he wasn't all that sure that his affections would manifest into anything meaningful. he can still fondly recall your comment on his perception: "to hell with opposites! i like you, you like me, that's all that matters!" you had said with the biggest grin you had to offer.

and you were right, despite your differences the only fact that mattered was that you loved each other. you both believed so at least.

but as of late, diluc's patience had been running thin. the lack of sleep combined with hours upon hours of work both for his business and for the protection of mondstat left him weary and lethargic. by the end of the week he felt little more than a shell of a man.

today, he'd woken up with a glorious three hours of sleep to his name, left in a hurry without the breakfast you carefully prepared (to which he deeply apologized with a kiss on your cheek), sat through countless boring meetings, and sifted through mountains of transportation and quality check documents.

by the time he was to bartend at angel's share for the night, the exhaustion was visible on his sullen face. the shot glasses in his palms felt as heavy as lead, and though drink orders came in through one end of his ear, they always exited out the other side like the faintest of winds. and something else brewed quietly within the confinements of his mind: anger fueled by exhaustion and frustration. he'd almost snapped at a nearby drunkard but managed to reign himself in, though he didn't know how long he could keep it up.

"maybe you should take a break boss..." diluc was brought back from his thoughts into reality when charles placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"...i'm fine," he meant to mumble, but it emerged from his lips more like a sour grumble.

he turned to resume mixing drinks when your hand came to rest upon his knuckles, stilling his movements.

"actually charles, he'll take you up on that suggestion. come on diluc." you gently pried the glass away from him.

"(y/n)." from his stern eyes and warning tone alone you could tell he wasn't happy with your interjection.

"i'm sorry, but you need some rest, even for just a few minutes." you smiled apologetically and took him by the arm, pushing the back entrance door open in the process.

the cool night air did little to calm the simmering anger and frustration that had been swimming in the deepest pits of his stomach for the past few days. in an attempt to get a grip on himself, he leaned his forearms on the wooden beams and massaged his burning temples with the tips of his fingers.

"feeling better?" with a gentle smile you placed your palm on his shoulder.

"...quite." he grunted, though his grainy voice betrayed his response.

"you don't really think i'd believe that right?" your teasing smile fell when he made no move to reciprocate or validate your comment. "you've been working so hard lately," you paused to collect your thoughts, and tried to pick up the mood with your signature brightness, "but on the bright side at least you've accomplished so much! i'm very proud of you and you should be proud of yourself too." still, no answer from your lover.

heaving a heavy sigh, you spoke up once again. "you're doing your best no matter what, i hope you realize tha-"

"must you always be like this?" the atmosphere suddenly grew cold and bitter, as did his voice.

"be...be like what?" your smile grew confused and began to feel out of place on your face.

"you drag me out here in the middle of a shift and for what- for me to listen to your rambles again?" he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth and met your puzzled eyes, the ends of his fingers dug into the polished wooden banister in front of him.

"di-"

"there's no end to it is there? you simply ramble on and on and expect me to listen but there's only so much i can take. archons forbid you ever shut your mouth for once." the eyes that had looked at you so fondly this morning now burned with quiet passion, as if the gentle flips of a fan over cooling embers had begun to rapidly move up and down. you stood in utter bewilderment and hurt, each syllable of his words slapping you across the face like a whip.

diluc however, seemed not to notice the utter look of pain on your face. the rims of your eyes began to pool with tears as you desperately looked at him for any sense of rationality.

"diluc could we talk-"

i simply do not have time for this, please excuse me." he scoffed and brushed past you back in through the doors of the tavern.

and all you could do was stand there, watching as his figure retreated past the wooden door, and let his words ferment in your mind as tears cascaded down your face.

the words you so badly wanted to speak got caught in your throat and coagulated in place.

***

diluc doesn't remember how he managed to fumble through his last shift at angel's share, nor does he remember exactly how he somehow stumbled home and flopped into bed still wearing his day clothes. what he does remember is the feel of your hand on his knuckles, and nothing else. everything was a blur mixed in with exhaustion and frustration.

the morning greeted him with an aching spine that sent shoots of pain down towards his legs. unconsciously, his hands stretched out seeking the warmth of your body...

...only to find your side of the bed cold. his eyes snapped open and, though blearily, he scanned the room in search of your figure. perhaps you'd simply gotten up to use the restroom or change clothes. but much to his bewilderment, you were nowhere in sight. your side of the bed had been neatly made. the satchel you usually carried everywhere hung from a nearby rack in the entrance to the bedroom.

confused, he managed to clamber off of his awkward sleeping position from the bed and went about his morning routine. the feeling of going through the motions of his morning felt off without you by his side, reminding him to brush in circles instead of straight lines, or adjusting the broach on his chest while he fumbled with the buttons of your shirt.

he finished up and pulled open his bedroom door, only to jump in surprise when you stood there, fist raised as if you were about to knock.

"good morning." you politely smiled, looking at him with loving eyes.

the minute you opened your mouth, diluc felt a sick feeling crawl up his spine. your voice, it was odd, something he couldn't place his finger on.

"good morning, my love." he pressed a swift kiss to your forehead.

"i've made breakfast." there it was again, your voice. something was wrong, despite the fact that you looked perfectly normal, even your signature smile was on full display.

as if to silently ask you if something had happened, he placed one of his large, warm hands on your shoulder, the other finding solace on your cheek.

"you could have woken me up. i thought you loved my pancakes?" he spared a teasing smile, just for you, but it fell flat quickly. usually you'd make a witty remark or tease him just the same. but instead you simply stood there, that same smile on your face, and took his hand.

"the food will get cold." you spoke quietly, tugging him towards the stairs.

he obliged and followed but the nauseating feeling eating away at diluc's skin hadn't ceased. something was wrong, he could feel it. and yet as you sat down in front of him at the dining table and cut into your waffles, you appeared perfectly normal.

diluc mimicked your actions and stuck his fork into a strawberry. he looked at you expectantly, knowing that during the morning at breakfast, this was where you'd eagerly talk about the activities you had planned for the day. and yet you sat, munching on your waffles surrounded by a thick fog of silence.

he cleared his throat and met your eyes. "darling, what do you have planned for the day?" instead of going on an animated rollercoaster of dialogue like you usually did, you merely shrugged your shoulders and stuck another bite of waffles into your mouth. diluc frowned, now he knew something was up.

when breakfast had finished, he tried to pull you aside from the hustle and bustle around the winery but you took off with the excuse of needing to get to the guild early.

while he went through the motions of his day, he couldn't get his interactions with you out of his head. diluc hadn't feel the presence of that spark you held that he loved so much. what remained felt cold, and empty. it was quite unlike you to hold your tongue and keep your voice down, it bothered him to no end.

while he sat through meetings, the only face he saw was your eerily calm one. while signing documents, he could only remember the unusual quietness of your voice. these thoughts taunted him all throughout the day, he ended up abandoning what little work he had done in order to catch you before you scurried off towards another commission.

luckily for him, he caught you just as you were cashing in your last commission as dusk began to fall.

"(y/n) i'd really like to have a word with you." he panted, having run all the way from the winery to mondstat. one of his hands perched itself his knee and the other softly gripped your elbow. you nodded and let him lead you to the lake behind mondstat's walls.

"is something the matter my love? you've barely spoken a word." with both hands he took your face into his palms and thumbed your cheeks. his brows furrowed, creasing in the middle, the worry no longer held closed behind the cages of his mind.

you heaved a deep sigh and cast your gaze towards the grassy floor coated in the last remaining rays of sunlight, in favor of staring into his searing red eyes.

"i'm just a bit scared." you mumbled, reaching up to grip his charcoal coat. "scared? of what? have you been threatened?" you couldn't help but silently laugh to yourself and shook your head rapidly.

"no, none of that. i just...wish not to upset you." dumbfounded, diluc could only look at you with confused eyes.

and suddenly he felt his heart drop to the deepest pits of his stomach. the words he'd spouted towards you out of pure frustration and exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks as he looked through the fog that clouded his memory. concern and worry replaced themselves with an enormous wave of guilt as his horrified face looked towards you.

"(y/n) i- i can't believe i said that i-..." his grip from your shoulder slackened as he stepped back, raising a hand to his mouth as the guilt in his stomach swished and swayed like a torrential stormy sea. you fumbled with your hands, a bit at a loss for words.

"i just wanted to make sure you were okay...i didn't mean to make it worse...i'm sor-"

"no, no. do not apologize, i'm the one who should be groveling at your feet for forgiveness." he interrupted you, running his gloved hand through his frazzled locks.

"diluc..." you took his hand that had been gripping his mouth and held it in both of yours. "i won't lie, what you said hurt me deeply. but i know you were just exhausted and-"

"no, please. don't make excuses for me. i've made a mistake (y/n), but i promise you," his burning hands found their way into yours, gripping them with a passion you'd never seen in him before, "i meant none of those words. i love listening to you, i love your voice- archons you have the most lovely voice. please, even if you are to leave me i ask that you never hold your tongue-" he opened his mouth to speak more but you cut him off by slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you in a comforting hug.

"i won't leave you diluc." you mumbled into his shirt.

diluc's hands hovered in the air before holding you to his body in a desperate grip. "i deeply apologize, no words could ever describe how sorry i am that you heard those vile words from me, my love." you felt his trembling lips fall upon your temple, then your cheek. you pulled your face back to look him in the eye only to find tears running down his burning face. with a smile—a genuine smile—you rose your hands up and wiped away the streaks from his face.

"thank you, i really appreciate the apology." you pressed your forehead against his and brushed your noses.

he buried his face in the crook of you neck and breathed words you only rarely ever heard from him: "i love you." of course, you never needed to hear him say it to know how he felt, but whenever he did say it, he made sure to save it for just the right moment.

"i love you too diluc, thank you." you planted a kiss in his hair and buried yourself deeper into his embrace.

date published: june 25th, 2021

[sailtomarina]

Flying lessons

“I don’t really see what you’re so worried about, Draco. You’re nothing like you were in third year.” “Of course I’m concerned! I was mauled, scarred for life, emotionally and physically.” Hermione took in the uncharacteristic crack in his voice and smirked knowingly. “I won’t doubt you were emotionally wounded, but mauled? Please.” She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively at him. “Pomfrey had that scratch healed within the day and you being the prat coward you were milked sympathies of every drop possible.” He drew to his full height in offense. “I was thirteen, Granger, and that overgrown chicken was legitimately terrifying—” She cut him off with a hiss and a smack of her hand over his mouth. The hippogriff standing behind her stomped its front claws menacingly, bright eyes glinting and beak swiping from side to side. “You bloody idiot, I thought Slytherins had better instincts for self-preservation. If you remember the past so well, then demonstrate better manners!” Despite her annoyance, Hermione glowed in the crisp air with her pink cheeks and loose curls. The wrinkle in Draco’s brow relaxed and he brought his hands up to gently grip her arms and pull them down. “You’re right. Though I still don’t see why I can’t just follow you on my broom.” Hermione leaned up onto her toes to rub her nose against his. Hints of jasmine and pear drifted over him as her hair rustled in the breeze. “Because where would the fun be in that? You’re already great on a broom. Why not let me give you flying lessons, hippogriff style?” As she settled back down on her heels, he chased her with his mouth, tilting his lips to fit against hers. His arms wrapped tightly, almost painfully, around her as she went boneless in his embrace. By the time he finally pulled away, they were both breathless and aching for more. “I suppose I can be convinced to play nice…as long as you give me something in return?” She hummed in assent as he continued his assault on her neck, nipping and sucking marks to the surface. “Let me take you flying next.” He grunted as she shoved him back and retreated to the safety of the hippogriff, letting it angle its body to stand in front of her. ”I trust Goldenwing to not let me fall. I do not trust some twiggy stick!” Draco arranged his stance in one of supplication, bowing deeply and waiting for Goldenwing’s response. Hermione squawked indignantly at the avian’s acceptance as he lowered his head without hesitation. “I hope you’re referring to the broom and not me.” Draco ignored her snort. “I won’t let you fall, just like I trust you to take care of me,” he replied, stepping forward and carefully running his hand across the hippogriff’s neck, soothing the feathers there. “Or are you taking back your offer?” “Not on your life, babe.” Hermione vaulted onto Goldenwing’s back and offered a hand to Draco, not even bothering to hide the smirk on her face. Grasping her palm without any hesitation, he hopped up behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as the hippogriff jumped and spread his wings. Draco felt her breath catch as he pushed her hair aside and nuzzled her ear, fingers idly rubbing circles against her sides. ”Let’s get this lesson started, Granger.”

[theycallmebecca]

18+ Drabble: Don't Cross Me

A couple days ago I mentioned that I was working on a drabble like nothing I've ever written before... and stuff I've never written before. All inspired by our favorite sadistic bastard Lloyd Hansen and a little show on Netflix called "How to Build a Sex Room".

Those two things combined put a bug in my ear and @nomadicpixel put more in and fanned the flame. And since she is quick to blame me... well right back at you! haha

Anyway, here is a moodboard to go along with this drabble. I recommend looking at the warnings because there is stuff I don't normally write in this story.

Title: Don't Cross Me

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x female reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: language, BDSM themes (including flogging, spanking, bondage, blindfolds), oral sex (both male and female receiving), semi-graphic sex

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

18+ Disclaimer: This work contains sexual material that is for those over the age of 18. By clicking the keep reading link below, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and are not offended by sexual content.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context. 

Lloyd Hansen loved control.

Lloyd Hansen craved power.

Lloyd Hansen trusted no one.

Except you.

You were the only person he willingly gave control and power to.

You were the only person he trusted with his life.

And his body.

Especially his body.

When it came to sex, he'd do basically anything you asked of him. (And vice versa.)

Like let you secure him to a Saint Andrew's cross completely naked and blindfolded.

"Omelet" was the safe word the two of you always used, but he had no plans on using it as he waited for you to touch him.

——

From across the room, you watched him relax into the x-cross.

The two of you had converted your attic into a sex room just for nights like this.

The cross was the newest addition, something the two of you had built during his last visit but hadn't had a chance to use until now.

Turning to look at the wall, you selected one of the floggers and then made your way over to him.

Wordlessly, you stopped within arms reach and gently ran the strands of the toy over his chest.

He responded by flexing his pecks. He didn't say a word, but that charming as fuck smile of his spread across his face.

Narrowing your eyes, you drew your wrist back and then gave it a flick, letting the strands of the flogger strike his skin.

The smile left his lips as his mouth dropped open, whether from shock or pleasure, you weren't sure.

Not wanting to injure him, you alternated dragging the strands over his body and snapping them against his skin. His vocalizations encouraging you as you went along.

Especially when you knelt down in front of him, letting the flogger drop onto the floor, and wrapped your hand around his semi-erect cock. While one hand stroked hum, the other reached down and cupped his balls.

Your actions elicited a moan from him, but a deeper, guttural moan escaped his mouth a moment later when you licked the underside of his cock from base to tip.

Sucking his cock wasn't part of your plan, but you couldn't help yourself. You wrapped your lips around the tip and swirled your tongue around it before you slid him into your mouth, taking him as deep as you could.

His hips jerked in response to your movements and you backed off quickly. You had a lot planned for this evening and it would be worthless if he came now.

Removing the adjustable leather cock ring from your wrist, where you had conveniently worn it as a bracelet, you slipped it behind his balls and then wrapped it up over his shaft, securing it with the velcro.

——

Lloyd groaned as you let go of his body.

He wanted to cum, but he knew you wouldn't let him. Not yet.

Not knowing what would happen next, he was surprised when he felt you pressing your body against his and unhooking the cuffs from the x-cross. His arms fell to his sides as you knelt down, purposely dragging your body against his legs, and undid the hooks at his feet.

"We're going to the bench," you told him. "You're going to lay on your stomach."

Still blindfolded, he let you lead him to the bench. Once on his stomach, he felt you attach the cuffs at his wrists and ankles to the straps on the leather bench.

He was just starting to figure out what you had planned when he felt your fingers at his asshole, spreading lube around.

The two of you had done anal play before, so it wasn't anything new.

But then he felt something familiar hit the back of his thigh.

——

You drew the dildo along his skin, preparing him for what was about to happen. He'd worn an anal plug before, but you'd never fucked him.

That was changing tonight. As long as he didn't use the safe word.

Wanting to prepare him further, you set the dildo aside and used your fingers first and then an anal plug. It was only once he was ready for more, that you slid the dildo into position on the belt you were wearing and adjusted the straps so it was snug against you.

You added more lube to the dildo and then you positioned yourself behind him. You grabbed his hips and then slowly inserted the fake cock into his ass. His body resisted at first, not used to it, but you soon felt him relax below you.

Taking a page from his own book, you started slow, letting his body adjust to the girth of the dildo. Then you started to speed up your movements and becoming less gentle.

Below you, Lloyd was clearly enjoying being fucked in the ass. His grunts and groans were the same as when you were sucking his cock.

Reaching down, you grabbed his hair and pulled back a little, getting his attention.

"Don't you fucking cum, Hansen," you hissed. "If you cum, you will be punished."

Then you rammed the dildo home in his ass, forcing him to take every single inch of it.

That was his undoing and he came. His body jerked under you and he cried out, "I'm sorry! I couldn't help it!"

Pretending to be disgusted, you pulled the dildo out of his ass and took it off, throwing it onto the floor. You knelt down and undid the hooks on his cuffs before you took the blindfold off of him.

Once he was standing up, you pointed at the bench and the mess he'd made when he came. "Clean it up," you ordered. "With your mouth."

He nodded and knelt down to clean up the mess with his hands on either side of it, propping himself up.

While he was busy, you grabbed a paddle from the wall and brought it over.

"I told you there would be a punishment for disobedience," you told him. "Stick your ass out."

He did as told and you brought the paddle down on his butt, hard enough for it to sting.

"How many spankings do you think your disobedience deserves?" you asked him as you brought the paddle down on him again.

"Five," he choked out after a gasp. "One for each spurt."

"I'll accept that," you replied. "Finish cleaning up your mess."

You paddled him three more times while he licked the bench clean.

"Good boy," you praised once he was finished with his work. Reaching around him, you palmed his cock, which thanks to the leather strap around his balls and shaft, was still semi-erect. He moaned at your touch.

Letting go, you said, "Turn around and look at me."

Gingerly, he stood up and turned to face you. His eyes met your own for half a second before he dropped them to the floor.

"Now that you've cum on your own, you're not much use to me," you said, scorn in your voice. "Get on your knees and worship my body."

——

Dropping to his knees, Lloyd did as he was told.

Starting at your feet, he kissed and touched his way up your legs.

But when he tried to nose in between your legs, your hand found his hair and tugged.

"You haven't earned that right yet," you said, glaring down at him.

Filled with shame, he nodded his head and continued to caress your body as far as he could from his knees. He knew better than to stand up or even ask permission to.

He wasn't sure how long he worshiped your body before you finally relented and said, "Get on the bench and lay on your back. You've earned a reward."

Climbing on the bench, he laid down and waited.

"Time for this silly mustache to earn its keep," you said as you knelt over his face, your knees on either side of his head.

——

If there was one thing Lloyd Hansen's tongue was meant to do, it was pussy licking.

You'd discovered his special talent in college and it was the reason you kept hooking up with him.

None of the other lovers you'd been with could make you cum just from oral sex like he could.

He'd once jokingly called pussy licking the only "fine art" he was interested in, but you knew there were plenty of vagina-yielding people that would pay fine art prices for an experience like this one.

You rocked your hips against his mouth, feeling the tickle of his ridiculous mustache against your bare skin. You hated that stupid thing and he knew it, but he claimed it was what gave him his pussy pleasuring powers and you didn't dare jinx it.

"Make me cum," you ordered him through clenched teeth as your fingers gripped his hair.

A moment later, he did just that and grabbed your hips with his hands as you ground your pussy into his face, his tongue going until you backed off.

"Get yourself hard," you ordered him between breaths. "I want you hard and on the lounger in three minutes."

Never one to back down from a challenge, Lloyd waited until your feet were safely on the ground before he moved himself to the tantric sex lounge chair. He nestled into the curve of it and then wrapped his hand around his cock.

By the time you reached his side, his cock was standing proudly once again.

"What position do you want me in?" you asked him. He'd been your plaything for the majority of the evening and you decided to let him make this one decision.

He tilted his head in consideration before he said, "Facing me so I can play with your tits."

You nodded and then climbed astride him, using your hand to guide his cock into your pussy. You both groaned as he slid all the way in.

"You have the best tits," he stated before he reached out and cupped both with his hands. "I've missed them."

"Show me," you ordered as you moved your hips.

Leaning in, Lloyd let his talented tongue tease one nipple while his fingers worked the other one into an even stiffer peak than it had been previously.

While he proved how much he'd missed your breasts, you focused on riding his cock. The rise and fall of your lower body only adding to the pleasure Lloyd was inflecting on your breasts.

As your movements quickened, Lloyd's hands dropped from your breasts to your hips and he helped guide your movements as his mouth found yours for the first time that evening. His fucking mustache tickled your skin as you kissed and his tongue proved again that it was more powerful than most.

Feeling your walls clenching, you pulled your lips from his and braced your forehead against his. As the pleasure grew, you changed his name and then you were cumming, your orgasm triggering his.

He jerked below you, his body rising to meet yours as he came.

You sagged against him as your body relaxed from your climax and he wrapped his arms around you protectively.

It didn't bother you that happily ever after wasn't in the cards for you and Lloyd Hansen. Neither of you were the conventional type.

While some people needed the white picket fence and the whole shebang, you and Lloyd didn't.

The only thing the two of you needed was the sex room… and the leather sex bench, the Saint Andrew's Cross, the sex lounge chair, and a wide variety of toys.

[silverlining317]

Scarlet

For @hinnyfest, prompt #7 - Getting caught in the act.

Rated T.

GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY... The red envelope unfolded at the edge of the Gryffindor table. But before the tongue of the envelope could transform the letters into a second scream from her mother's lips, Ginny drew her wand from the sleeve of her robe.

-'' Incendio''- Ginny pointed to the letter and like an avalanche, the fire spread from the center to both ends of the table in an uncontrollable reaction of explosion and ashes. The smoke cover the screams of the first-year students but as thick as it was it could not cover the silhouette of the headmistress coming right to her.

-'' Aguamenti''- McGonagall twists her wrist in an effortless move 

Facing Ginny, Hermione shook her head. In her eyes, the fixed expression of: " I told you not to do it''. Only that at that point Ginny didn't know to what of all of what she had done in the last 24 hours she was referring to.

-'' Mrs. Weasley, would you be so kind as to follow me to my office''-  McGonagall said- 

-'' But I have potions in ten minutes''- Ginny protest

-'' Don't worry Mrs.Weasley''- said McGonagall with tight lips- ''I'm sure the class would survive without ten minutes of this neverending circus you keep feeding''

Ginny smoothed down her skirt, and try to lower the edge of the fabric a little more before having to undergo her fourth or fifth walk of shame of the morning.

Sometimes she wondered how Harry coped with being constantly under public scrutiny. Meaning that although he was pretty rubbish at the job, he still manage to appear dignified while being pursued by the wizarding society. Having fight-and-flight dragons maybe have done the trick. But without any of those feats at her side, the only pose she could embroider was the one of a silly and pathetic girl caught in the act. 

A gust of wind blew through her hair and Ginny looked up to see Pig flapping his wings with another red envelope in his beak. Ginny tightened her fingers around her wand, but as if reading her mind, the headmistress turned around with a scathing look. Behind them, Ron's shouts plunged the great hall into another wave of silence, the whole school petrified in their places waiting to learn more details of that sordid encounter that had taken place at the gates of the castle.

-...AND TO DRAG MY BEST MATE INTO....-

Were the last words Ginny could hear before disappearing into de hall. 

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

-'' Take a seat''- Mcgonagall said pursing her lips- ''To say that I'm disappointed would be an understatement. As captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team and a seventh-year student, I can say I did not expect less than exemplary behavior on your part. It goes without saying that after the events of last year, Mrs. Weasley, you should know,  better than anybody, the power an image can have. The whole school sees you as a role model and you have to rise above and act like the part you were given in this story''

"I'm sorry"- Ginny said with a broken voice- "I promise it won't happen again."

"I can not allow my students to set the great hall on fire just because they cannot face the consequences of their actions''- said McGonagall- "Nor I can allow them to hex those who bother them.''

-'' She called me a scarlet woman!'''- Ginny said

-'' Which reminds me. I won't tolerate my students to escape through the night to see their boyfriends or girlfriends'' - McGonagall added- ''Regardless of the esteem that I may or may not have to say boyfriend''

-'' I think I've had enough punishment for that''- Ginny bit her nail- ''It's on pages 1 to 20 of Witch Weekly. I'm sure you already saw it, everyone saw it.''

-'' In this regard, I would like you to know that Flitch has been ordered to seize and destroy any copies found within the bricks of this castle. Ginny...''-McGonagall lowered her voice- ''Take the rest of the day off.''

-''Seriously?''- Ginny said

-'' It will do you well''- McGonagall put on her glasses and stretched her shoulders back- ''Also, there is a limited number of bats that Poppy and I can deal with per day.''

Ginny went downstairs cautiously. Pay attention to the voices that could come from the corridor. She had promised the headmistress not to take her anger out on anyone else. Since when were they all so holy? They all did the same thing, only Ginny was the one with fifty reporters behind.

The redhead descended another step all her senses focus on what she heard or did not hear, until her hip hit hard against the gargoyle. Ginny looked up, only the Gargoyle was a few feet away and there was no one else around her.

"Harry?" Ginny said as soon as those words left her mouth a silky and familiar cloak enveloped her.

They walked in silence, their bodies impossibly close, until they found the corridor behind the armor. One of the few secret corridors to survive the war.

-''You shouldn't be here''- Ginny said once they both entered- ''We have enough problems already.''

-''I didn't want to leave you alone''- said Harry- ''Listen, I know you are mad at me...''

- ''Im not mad''- Ginny interrumpted- ''Not at you anyways''

-'' Well, its my fault they were following us''- Harry ruffled his hair- ''How I'm supposed to be an Auror if I cannot see when a camera is shooting at me? You should probably leave me''

-''Because you are a horrible Auror?' - Ginny said- 

''Because'' - Harry said- '' You deserve so much more than having your image plastered all over England''

-'' Harry I'm not going to let you break up with me the day after those photos were published. What are you thinking? This is so much more stupid and less noble than the last time. What do you want? To have everybody whisper behind my back: ''Oh he left her after he got what he wanted?''

-'' This is gonna get a lot worse" Harry said resting his body against the wall- "What if they send you threat letters?''

-'' Just trust me''- Ginny said- ''Harry we talked about this, i cand handle this''

-'' But...''

-'' Fine, if you want to break up with me, good luck. Keep trying. But I'm not going to make it easy. I'm going to tell everyone that I left you because you were a horrible lover''

-'' Really?''- Harry said trying to fight his amusement

-'' And that you couldn't fulfill me in the ways a woman needs to''- Ginny 

-'' I don't think anyone will believe you after seeing the photo on page fifteen''- Harry said

I don't remember photo fifteen anymore- Ginny said - But it must have been bad

"I'm sure you enjoyed it," Harry said, approaching her.

"Weren't you breaking up with me?" Ginny said.

"Nah," Harry said, taking her by the waist, "you are right. I can't risk you deciding to go out and talk about me like that. I will never recover. "

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || my little flower

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: ryomen sukuna

pronouns: she/her 

notes: historical!sukuna x reader, slightly sexual (no smexy time involved lol - maybe another day ;)), quite fluffy towards the end

also - I’ve been reading so many sukuna hcs and imagines of him when he’s in his prime or during the historical era - so like excuse me as I politely simp for the man that is ryomen sukuna >< thank you 

references: https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/literature/Ryomen-sukuna.html 

Sukuna leans back into the futon with a tired sigh, two of his arms folded behind his head while the other two held you against him securely. His ruby red eyes glanced away from the ceiling to look down at the woman curled up in his embrace, sleeping peacefully against him whilst her own soft arms were wrapped around his muscular torso. He admired your peaceful features at first, but soon his eyes started to travel down your delicate neck and cleavage, your soft skin marked by dark splotches where he had marked you up for the world to see.

Just the sight of the hickeys and bite marks caused Sukuna to smirk once more, the feeling of pride traveling through him at the sight of the hickeys, both new and old, marring your skin. It was a sight he would never get bored of seeing, since it was a constant reminder to you that you were his and no one else’s. 

Many would question just how did this happen - how did a simple human manage to ‘tame’ the infamous Sukuna - the King of Curses, who spreads chaos and bloodshed in his wake? How did you, a mere human woman who looked far too kind hearted and warm, ended up with such a fearsome man? 

Well, how this came to be was actually a cute story.

You grew up in a small village in Hida province, where many cities treated Sukuna as their patron deity. He was what people would call quite a cold ruler - one who would not hesitate to bring terror and bloodshed down on a town that had angered him. But at the same time, he was quite the generous man as well. He protects the people of the Hida and Mino Provinces, and many towns had florish and grow under his careful guidance.

Your town was one of the may towns that worshipped the Cursed Spirit, preparing offerings on special celebrations and always paying your respects whenever you go up to the ichinomiya on the weekends with your parents. It was because of one of these special celebrations that drew Sukusa to you.

It was one of the many days where offerings were given to him by townspeople, in hopes that they will still continue to get some form of protection from the unknown. He was their patron deity, after all. Even though many times he does all the things he does for his own benefit, it was nice to know that there are some who are gullible enough to think he does it for them. But he it’s one to complain - many of the offerings are things he does not mind indulging in. The best crops from the harvest, women for his ever growing harem, beautifully crafted weapons and clothes are the few he can keep in mind

Many times, he does not care to go through the offerings himself - Uraume goes through all of them and then gives him a general overview of everything. However, as he was walking past one of the neat piles of offerings, a particular garment box caught his eye; causing him to pause before he unwraps it curiously. 

Sitting inside the carefully wrapped package was a beautiful dark blue kinomo made of the finest silk, the fabric so smooth that it almost felt like water slipping through his fingers. Packed along with the kinomo was a beautifully crafted haori, a simple yet beautiful crane woven into the haori in white, the details done so carefully that when worn, the crane moves with the shifting of the fabric. The packet also came with a matching hakama made from the luxurious fabric, and a beautiful kaku obi made from navy blue, white and silver carefully weaved together into in a beautiful talent.

It was because of the level of craftsman ship that had Sukuna curious - who was the mastermind of something so beautiful?

He had went to the town where the garment was from and after some digging about, discovered about you. A daughter to a family of tailors, you were quite well known for your talents in embroidery and your mastery of the loom. Having gotten such talents, you crafted many beautiful pieces, and one of them was gifted to Sukuna himself recently. 

When he first saw you, he was struck by your beauty; how you had such a warm smile no matter who you were referring to. How your movements were graceful yet swift, your needle and threat embroidering the most beautiful depections of animals and flowers without a single mistake. How your voice was so sweet and calming that he can physically feel the tension from his body starting to unwind ever so slightly. If he could, he’d love to listen to your voice forever - which was what he intended to do. 

The first time you two met was actually in the dead of the night; you had stayed up later then usual, carefully embroidering a water lily onto a long fabric for a personal tapestry you wanted to hang in your room. A candle was burning by your work table, casting the engawa of your home in a soft but comforting glow; enough for you to do your work without straining too much. You were so fucsed on your work that you didn’t notice how the flames of your candle started to flicker in the glass holder; even though there was the air was still. Your eyes didn’t trail up from your tapestry even as a large figure quietly entered the hallway you were in; only pausing when you felt a huge presence looming over you.

Your bright eyes flickered upwards and met with four pairs of ruby red ones staring right back at you; all four of them shining in amusement. “You are quite oblivious, little one.” Sukuna hummed out with a soft grin, to which you just gave him a confused look as you tilted your head ever so slightly. “How did you get into my house?” You asked quietly, not even acknowledging how the man before you looked very different from what you’re used to; from the four muscular arms sprouting out from underneath the dark blue haori, the very same one that you had made for him. to the extra pair of eyes he sported on his face. Or how the top of his head was clearly brushing against the simple weed roofing of your family home.

“Is that really the first thing you’re going to ask, little one?”

From that day onwards, things definitely went a lot smoother then Sukuna could have imagined. At first the lack of reaction from you confused him, but he found it quite amusing nonetheless. Even after finding out that he was the same deity that you had heard stories of since you were in diapers, you acted no differently around him. You still talked and laughed with him like he was any other human. which for some reason made his heart feel warm and fuzzy. It makes him want to gather you up in his arms, protecting you from the horrors of the world.

The two of you will continue to meet up in the night like secret lovers; many nights he’d just lean against one of the pillars of your family home, with you perched in his lap as you work on different projects every night; talking about things that happen that day, or the funny stories that the townsfolk would share with you whenever they drop by to mend and purchase clothes, or when they dropped off freshly dyed fabrics. During a few of these nights Sukuna had suggested if you can help him mend a few of his kimonos, which you agreed to without hesitation. Some days you’d ever create new kimonos for him as well, which he would wear quite proudly. 

Soon these innocent nights of talking and laughter, him watching you do your work under the moonlight, to having you gasping and crying out for him as he took you over and over again in his grand bedroom; watching quite gleefully as he corrupted your innocence, ruining you for any other man. Ever since the first night you two shared in his bed, he knew that there was no turning back - there was no one else for him but you. 

And there was no way he was going to let some puny human even try to get in between the both of you.

With that he whisked you away from the somewhat mundane and boring life in your town, making you his entire world. He showered you with the finest gifts and opened the more human side of him to you; one that he thought he had lost the moment he had decided to go down the path he did. But you pulled these emotions out from him with ease, making him realise that he can chase all the power he want till the end of time and that will never satisfy him completely. 

All he needed was you, and everything feels right in the world.

“I’ve lost you again, haven’t I?”

Sukuna’s eyes snapped towards the direction of your sleepy voice, watching how you gave him the most beautiful yet sleepy smile as you carefully shifted your body so it was pressed against his. He marveled how your naked bodies clicked together seamlessly, even with the clear size difference between the two of you. “You will always have my attention, flower.”

The sound of the simple nickname cause a small smile tug against the corner of your lips, remembering how that nickname came about. You have always love studying flowers, since you enjoyed embroidering different sorts of flora and fauna onto different tapestries that now adorned the walls of the home you two share. You had once told him about your love of flowers, and because of that, you had came home one day to the courtyard in your shared home turned into your private garden; with flowers from all across the country planted at every nook and cranny. 

When you had asked Sukuna about it, he just shrugs and gave you an indulge smile - as if asking were you really shocked by his gift to you. When he realised just how deep your love for nature was, he had started to call you ‘his flower’, and the name has stuck since then. “What a sweet talker.”

A chuckle rumbled deep within his chest as one of his hands found purchase along your back, starting to massage what he was sure were your sore muscles; watching in satisfaction as you melted more into his chest. “Only for you.” He admitted quietly, to which you just gave him a loving smile as you rest your cheek against his chest once more; a soft finger started to trace along the tattoos on his skin. This action caused him to relax further into the futon, sighing softly in content. “Sukuna? Can we take a bath?”

“I’m lazy.” Sukuna stated with a soft groan as he glanced down at you once more, only to be met by the soft pout that you just know gets him to give in. This caused him to scowl as he cupped your face in one of his hands, gently squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he pushes himself up into a seated position. “You little minx.” He growls playfully whilst you just gave him a teasing smile, straddling his lap with your legs on either side of his whilst one of your hands wrapped around his wrist; causing him to loosen his grip on you whilst letting out a loud sigh. “How annoying.”

His arms suddenly wrapped around you before he got up from the comfort of the warm futon, causing you to giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Let’s go, flower.” He sighs dramatically before he walked you both to the bathroom, causing you to perk up before you lean over to press a loving kiss against his cheek; ignoring his soft eyeroll at your act of affection. As if he didn’t enjoy it whenever you do so. “I love you.”

“Of course you do.” He teases before he started to walk you two towards the bathroom, one of his hands skimming down to the small of your pack where a beautiful black tattoo rested against your soft skin; a tattoo that looks similar to the black lines that adorned his own skin. “You’re mine, after all.” He stated simply, causing you to roll your eyes at him playfully as he carefully sat you down on the wooden steps leading to the opening of the ofuro; watching as Sukuna started to prepare the bath for the both of you. “Wouldn’t it kill for you to just be a little nicer to me?”

Your teasing tone clearly didn’t win any points with him, who narrowed his eyes at you and before you know it you were suddenly pinned down against the wooden steps. A soft giggle left your lips at the narrowed eyes that stared back at you, causing Sukuna to scowl softly at your reaction. “Now you’re just asking for it, flower.” He growled before diving down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss; not being able to mask his smile at the sound of your soft laughter just as you wrapped your arms around him once more.

"My little flower..”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[orange-waterfalls]

I Call This One: Bold & Brash!

The egos x artist! gn! reader

ty @pokemonpunqueen for the request!

A/N: I’ve decided that I’m gonna write for the egos when I can’t think of anything else or I need practice writing lmao. I mean I was doing that before? But I didn’t know it? listen it’s fine it’ll be fine but FOR NOW I thiiiink I’m gonna take requests. Just a few. I’ll stop when I think it gets too much. This is exactly what it says. I focused on like drawing/painting for “artist”, with some references to animation thrown in there. I did Darkiplier, Wilford, Yancy, Illinois, Google, Eric, and a Host thrown in there bc I love him and I miss him

Word count is 1.5k

Enjoy

Egos x artist!reader

Darkiplier

He’ll want to commission art from you

He makes comments about how Mark is a narcissist but also he’s a narcissist.

Oh look, Dark’s asking you for another picture. What does he want? He wants you to draw him? Again? For the fifth time this fucking month? Wonderful.

He likes looking at how you make art of him, be it stylistic or realistic

He will hang them up all over the fucking house so pace yourself

He’s fine if you draw anybody else

Except Mark. Never Mark. How can he tell, you ask? No fucking clue, but he does

Gets a bit worried that you won’t make enough money to live comfortably

Just because not everyone needs a fucking MANSION-

Will always buy things for you if you ask

Likes to be able to support your job or hobby

Sugar daddy? I mean maybe

Makes sure you eat, sleep, drink water, survive--

Leaves snacks for you at your desk for when you don’t want a meal.

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep at a desk

Recommends you wear comfy clothes at all times so you can fall asleep wherever

A bit of an enabler, he’s doing his best tho

If you take commissions don’t be surprised if he threatens to kill someone when they don’t pay or are rude to you

He loves you, that’s all

Wilford

Fucking elated

Draw him!!! Please!!!! Please draw him!!!!! He has coin!!!!! He can pay!!!!!

Ecstatic if you actually draw him like he’ll giggle for an hour straight just looking

Secretly commissions more art from you

So also sugar daddy

It’s always something so obvious so you know it’s him anyways

He likes bright colors and eyestrain for some reason

If you make that, he just. Stares at it. Unblinking. You have to snap him out of it (im not projecting what do you mean)

Gets extremely worried about you not taking care of yourself

Gets someone to fucking babysit you when he’s gone so you take care of yourself

When you get greatly offended by this he settles for texting you reminders

And when you ignore those he texts more

Don’t be surprised if you get spammed by several people and an alarm starts to play from somewhere in the house

You’re gonna be healthy whether you like it or not, asshole

Drags you to bed aggressively

He WILL NOT drug your food with melatonin because that’s illegal. B U T-

He’s a little confused, but he got the spirit

Will advertise your art to anyone and everyone and also on his show and threatens the audience with a gun

AGAIN, a little confused. he just wuvs u so much 

Yancy

I mean technically he’s kind of an artist too so he appreciates your skill and creativity

He’s very nosy and likes to look over your shoulder while you work

If you don’t like him doing that, he still does it, just more secretively

Likes to work in the same room as you. 

That is if you don’t mind constant singing or tap dancing in the background

He shows off your art to anyone and everyone and gets mad if they don’t immediately say it’s fantastic

May or may not have stabbed someone over it, you’ll never know

If you show him something you’re working on, he’ll show you something he’s working on in return

The law of equivalent exchange

You tell him you can make MONEY from things like art and dancing and he goes apeshit he gets so fucking excited

If you’re like an animator and offer to animate his dancing he might actually cry

He’ll deny it constantly every day until he dies

If you make things traditionally he hangs them on the wall Everywhere

You might run out of room

By which i mean you will run out of room as soon as possible

Will never tell you a drawing is bad ever unless it’s like Really Bad which it never will be in his eyes

He loves anything and everything you do u are so precious

You have a permanent support system within the man

Google

Used to see art as pointless

Then comprehended the chemical release it causes in the brain and thought that was fine

Then saw you get really mad with something you were working on and got confused again?

If art no make good chemical, why art?

He still doesn’t understand, but that’s ok

You tried to get him to make something once

He just. Kinda. Made a buncha ones and zeroes

You still framed it and hung in on the wall and he got embarrassed

If he could blush, he would

If you draw him he looks like he doesn’t care but it’s at that point he decides he would die for you

Primary objective: answer questions as quickly as possible. Secondary objective: make u happy. Tertiary objective is to destroy mankind

If you draw bing that will disappear IMMEDIATELY you have BETRAYED him

If you ask for a color palette recommendation he Always says the google colors. Always.

You might’ve thought he was going for an rgby type of thing. But then you realize.

He is in charge of your financing. He will tell you the most efficient ways to make money as an artist and you follow then

He is also in charge of making sure you FUCKING EAT A MEAL

“But isn’t an objective to destroy mankind?” shut up he’s not happy about it either

Despite his best efforts he loves you and that ain’t gonna change

Illinois

Doesn’t fully understand

He needs to be outside at all times and cannot stay in one place

And you’re like??? Required to stay still???? For prolonged amounts of time????? Disgusting. Anyway, whatcha workin’ on?

He might ask you to try and teach him

If you do try he gives up almost immediately

Sometimes you just get so into it that you forget to do basic things and he gets upset

(i.e. eating, sleeping, living, etc.)

He gets worried about you

He is a hypocrite bc he does the same

He will drag you to bed, motherfucker

Honestly he might lock your shit somewhere until you fucking take care of yourself. it’s like a hostage situation god

“Where the fuck did you put it” “I have no clue what you mean. I might know if you eat your dinner, though”

Asshole (affectionate)

Sometimes you like make faces when you try to draw a person and it’s hilarious and cute to him

He looks at your drawings the moment you walk away but acts like he doesn’t care

He cares a lot

Will support you no matter what but will also tell you without hesitation if he thinks something looks shit

Listen he’s out of line but he’s right

Eric

Loves you a lot and will support anything and everything you choose to do or make

Drawing? Awesome! Painting? Wonderful! Animation? Superb!

He often wants to buy you supplies or something but he does not know what anything is

Fuck is a chalk pencil???? What are gel pens vs normal pens?????? Watercolor????? What the fuck are you saying??????????

Will subtly drop hints that you could,,,, draw him,,,,, maybe,,,,, if u wanna 

And by subtly I mean he starts to ask and then starts crying

If you draw him he will cry again he loves u so much 

If he ever were to get a tattoo it’d be something u drew. Nothing else is as important to him at the moment

He enjoys photography and film, and likes to try and bond with you over artistic things

I mean. Some things overlap.

You could talk about a single drawing for hours and he’d listen intently the whole time

Don’t ask him for feedback, it’s always some version of “it’s perfect and I love you”

Even if he hates it

Which,,,,, he might hate it sometimes

He’s not a good reviewer. 2/10, very biased

He likes to take photos when you’re in the zone

If you tell him to delete them he will

While secretly making one his home screen

Host

Hey, he gets it

He writes, he understands the hyperfocus

Sometimes he wouldn’t move from his chair for a day because he was busy writing a script

That being said, you probably have to be the one to get him to take care of himself

Or you have to take turns

Otherwise you’re both gonna fucking die

He asks you to describe your art to him and tries to picture it.

He’ll tell you if he thinks it probably looks good or bad

You shouldn’t take it to heart because he can’t see it

He is a bastard sometimes

“Well, what do you think?” “I think it looks fantastic” “Thanks, babe” “...” “... you think you’re fucking funny, don’t you”

He asks if you can draw him sometimes

No, he won’t see it, but he’ll appreciate the sentiment if you do

He will ask for your opinion on his scripts sometimes

If you say it’s bad he gets really defensive

You work in the same room a lot of the time and forget the other is there

One of you has to preemptively order food or like set a timer so you can goddamn Survive

You’ll be fine