#😘blue moon

[blue22m]

Voltei ! 😊✌️

Voltei apenas para postar alguns Posts antigos inclusive análise guardada a anos então é isso por enquanto bye ☺️👏🩵💙🤍🌑☪️🌑🌑 depois postarei a segunda parte 😁bye da blue

[curiosityschild]

Tonight we get a Supermoon which means it's a full moon *and* the moon is at the closest point in it's orbit to the earth (perigee). This doesn't mean a whole lot astronomically BUT it is the perfect opportunity to give her a littol kiss :)

[beautyqueenproblems]

Hey so…I’m sorry, but I really hate answering messages. Even to people I know and love already. Please don’t get offended when I don’t respond.

It just isn’t my thing. Enjoy the blog, but don’t expect much in the way of getting a return message. God bless💗

[ellecdc]

HEY POOKIE!!!!

Could I request a fic with either poly moon water or poly marauders where reader has had mental health issues but they were getting better and then they slip back into them. This happens to me in moments and I have to remind myself that it’s part of my progress but it would be so nice if I had someone else to say it too. No pressure lovely!!!!

I ADORE all of your marauders work!! Like OML I never know how much I needed poly moonwater until youuuu❤️❤️❤️😘

hi babes! totally get where you're coming from re: mental health issues. It's a marathon, not a race. and I'm so glad you love moonwater! my evil plan of converting the entire fandom (lol) is succeeding. I opted to go with the marauders but it's quite sirius centric

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with her mental health

CW: non-sexual nudity [nothing is described], discussion of dark mental headspace and anxiety/depression [again, nothing is described]

You felt awful.

You knew the boys would be understanding, but it didn’t make you feel any better about your behaviour.

You’d found yourself slipping back into familiar and darker headspaces as of late, and though you couldn’t deny the disconcerting comfort that familiarity brought, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to fully fall back into it; you worked so hard to move beyond this, and you had been doing so well.

It hurt worse now that you felt like you weren’t just disappointing yourself anymore, but also disappointing three other people who - for whatever reason - cared an awful lot about you.  

You’d been inching closer and closer to a panic all day and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed when you got home and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours days weeks. 

Those kinds of plans don’t work when you live with three other people, two of which have the tendency to coddle you.

You knew that irritability was one of the symptoms of your anxiety, but knowing that didn’t stop the sting of your words as they left your lips. 

James was too nice, too bright, too happy, too lovely. You felt like the polar opposite of your sweetest boyfriend, which made you feel even more disappointing than you already had. And Remus was a fixer; he had a tendency to see a problem and immediately start problem solving, but that’s not what you needed right now.

Of course, you didn’t say that.

Of course, you got angry and lashed out at them before storming off to your room and slamming the door.

What started off as feeling blue quickly spiralled into a low affect. Feeling low left you increasingly anxious. Your anxiety left you feeling disappointing and less than, which caused you to feel depressed. The more depressed you got, the more anxious you became. The more anxious you became, the more depressed you felt.

It was a vicious cycle and you were stuck in its seemingly never ending assault on you.

And now, you weren’t just depressed and anxious; you were also feeling terribly guilty and overwhelmed at the thought of having upset Remus and James. 

Remus, who only wanted to help, who only wanted you to feel better, who only wanted to care for you. 

And James, who only wanted to perhaps share a little bit of his joy with you on the off chance it could brighten your day.

You were awful.

Horrid.

You didn’t deserve them, and they didn’t deserve you - they deserved better. You deserved nothing.

You’re not sure how long you had been standing under the spray of the water with your head against the cool tile when you heard a gentle knock against the glass of the shower door.

You felt the irritability surge in your blood again at the intrusion of your pity party, but tried your hardest to take a steadying breath before you hummed a quiet “yeah?”

“Can I come in?” You heard Sirius’ voice ask from the other side, apparently having gotten home sometime during your meltdown.

He could, though you weren’t sure he should.

You were terrible after all.

Horrid. 

The glass door popped open and Sirius shoved his face in. You didn’t bother turning your face towards him but you could feel the questions permeating his being nonetheless.

“I’m coming in.” He announced, deciding on your behalf. 

You heard the sound of his clothes falling to the bathroom floor, and you knew if Remus were in here he’d be scolding him: “there’s a hamper right there, Sirius.” 

But Remus wasn’t here because you were awful and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the sodding hamper nor Sirius’ clothes littering the floor.

Some of your steam escaped as Sirius opened the shower door fully and you were accosted with cool air that left your body covered in goosebumps. He corrected it quickly by standing under the spray with you and pushing his front up against your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“Fuck, you take hot showers.” He commented.

Usually you’d laugh.

“Sorry.” You said instead.

He rubbed at your hips where his hands had fallen with his thumbs, eliciting another layer of goosebumps on your skin. 

“You’re not feeling too good, are you baby?” He asked quietly.

You let out an exhausted breath. “I don’t feel good; I’m no good.” You responded just as quietly.

Sirius ducked his chin down to kiss your shoulder before quickly replacing it.

“That’s not true.”

You didn’t respond, glad that the water streaming over your face hid the evidence of the tears escaping your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sirius pulled away and grabbed your shampoo, working it into your hair. You did nothing to help him in his task, keeping your head pressed against the shower wall as he lathered the soap on your scalp. He pulled the handheld down to rinse it out, paying special attention to point the spray away from your face since you didn’t seem too fussed over protecting your own eyes. He combed some conditioner through your hair and rinsed it out in much the same manner before grabbing a loofa and lathering body wash over your form.

“Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back.” He commented, finally breaking the silence that had long been only the sound of the water falling and each of your breaths. “But that still means you’re one step forward.”

A sob escaped you, causing Sirius to pause in his ministrations and pull you back into his chest again.

He didn’t say anything else; he knew better. Of course he would, Sirius sometimes understood this side of you better than the others did. Sirius had a tendency to fall into darker times too, also having a penchant for lashing out at those closest to him when things felt like too much.

He let you cry, standing under the likely too-hot-for-his-tastes water, as he rocked you back and forth with your head leaned back, resting on his shoulder as you faced toward the ceiling. 

“Do they hate me?” You whimpered eventually, trying to convince your lungs to take in slower, deeper breaths.

“Of course they don’t; you know they don’t.”

“Are they mad at me?”

You could feel Sirius shake his head, but he answered you verbally anyway.

“No, doll. They worry, is all.”

You didn’t like that. You didn’t want them to worry. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” He agreed readily. “They do too.”

You let that sit in the foggy air for a little bit.

“Do you know that?” He asked eventually.

“Know what?”

“That you’re okay? That you’re just fine?”

You thought about that for a moment. You were sad, and you were anxious, but were you fine?

You admitted to yourself you felt the familiar tendrils of your darker self pulling at you, but you could also admit it was different this time. You were better, you had been working hard, and most importantly, that hard work was paying off.

You may have been two steps forward and one step back, but you were still one step forward from where you started.

“You’re sure they’re not mad at me?” You asked instead, earning you a chuckle as Sirius turned you in his arms to hold your face between his hands. 

“No one is mad at you, love. I swear it. You are, however, very loved.”

You offered him the best smile you could muster and let him pull you forward for a chaste kiss. 

“Then… yes, I know I’m fine.” You agreed eventually, earning you a beaming smile from your boyfriend.

“Atta girl.” 

Your felt your cheeks heat up at the praise and pushed your forehead into his chest.

“Can we get out of this torture chamber, now? I swear this water is being heated by hellfire.” He joked, leaning around you to turn off the shower without your consent.

“It’s really not that bad.” You argued, earning you a scoff.

“I’m red, doll. The water has marred my skin, perhaps permanently.”

You continued arguing about proper shower etiquette as you rubbed lotion into your skin (and then into Sirius’ for his troubles [he really was sort of red]), and changed into your comfies.

You headed towards the living room before you remembered you were sort of ashamed with yourself for the way you had spoken to the other two boys, but Sirius didn’t allow you to hesitate in the hall as he caught your elbow when your steps faltered and ushered you into the room.

“Boys, we’re really going to have to do something about her shower habits.” He commented as if a) nothing had happened, and b) you weren’t even there. “I’m surprised she hasn’t completely melted her skin off." 

“Perhaps hot showers are how she gets so beautiful, Sirius, ever think about that?” James jested back, earning him an indignant scoff.

“Are you saying I’m not pretty, Jamie?”

“As pretty as Y/N?” Remus interjected, looking between the two of you as if assessing. “No, not at all.” 

“Well I-” Sirius began, but you interrupted.

“I’m sorry.”

Everyone’s shoulders fell as they turned to look at you, clearly willing to brush over the tension if that had been what you wanted.

“I was rude and irritable when I got home, and neither of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James started, opening his arms for you which you readily accepted and tucked yourself into his chest.

“I was never mad to begin with, but I’ll go ahead and forgive you right now if that’ll make you feel better, okay?” He murmured into your wet hair.

“Okay. Thank you.” You murmured back.

“You’re too sweet for us, dove.” Remus commented, moving to place a consoling hand on your back.

“I was the opposite of that earlier.” You chuckled at your own expense. 

“Please.” Sirius scoffed derisively. “These two are too nice, especially when you feel like shit; I’ve given them a far harder time than you have, dollface.” 

“It’s true.” James said quickly. “He once told me he’d rather have a cup of tea with his mother than snuggle with me when he was in one of his moods once.”

You gasped and looked at Sirius in horror. “You did not.”

Sirius, not at all guilty, shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure did, and I meant it too.”

“Oh come off it.” Remus chided, pulling Sirius into his side who broke out in a grin, effectively eliminating his earnest facade. 

“No, of course I didn’t mean it.” He relented, leaning further into Remus’ side. 

“I don’t like myself very much when I’m like this.” You admitted quietly.

“We’ll love you enough for all of us in the meantime then, yeah?” James asked, pulling you into his arms tighter.

“Just be patient with yourself dove, you’re much too hard on yourself. We’re here now and we’ll be here when you feel better too.” Remus added.

“Can’t get rid of us that easily, dollface.” Sirius concluded, shooting you a wink.

Two steps forward and one step back.

But you were still one step forward.

You knew you would make two more steps forward again soon.

[blingblong55]

Under the moon -John "Soap" MacTavish NSFW

Based on a requests: -Your local Johnny slut requests thee a oneshot or longfic (however you choose) for 23 + 5 for Kinktober: Monster AU and Breeding because we all know and love that Johnny's a fucking werewolf. You can sprinkle a bit of pet play and praise here and there. Please and thank you for your consideration 😘 -Idk how to request for the kinktober, but I would like to request Fem Reader x Soap for no.15 & no.23, please? Tq!! --- F!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, praise, pet play, breeding, monster au, werewolf au, established!relationship, doggy style ----

Ever since he told you that he is a werewolf, he has been loving to fuck your tight pussy when he knows it's time to rub his scent on you again. He knows so much about your body with just one sniff, he can feel when you are about to start ovulating, which makes him feral, and he turns into his werewolf self for it. You are cooking in the kitchen? He walks behind you and dry humps you until you turn around and that's when he tears your clothes apart, revealing your perfect pussy lips to him.

His cock is already hard from just watching you whimper. "Johnny-" You want to stop it but it is too good to be stopped. His hand travel all over your thighs, he sits you on the countertop and fucks his fingers into you. Wants to open your pretty cunt up for his massive cock. The veiny and throbbing length is already eager to fill you with his seed. He spreads your legs open and kisses your neck, you're wet and aching cunt fucking yourself into his fingers. He growls, "Don't move," he demands. You pout and he grins, cupping your chin and bringing your lips closer to his. His spit well into your mouth.

When the moon is full, he can't resist, all day he stays home and tries to fuck you atlas a few times. He is so horny he begins to whimper and get needy when you don't touch him or don't acknowledge him. "My love, I've been a good boy, why can't you just touch me?" His hand caressing your thighs and ass. "I promise to make you come more," he pouts and kisses your lips, trying to convince you with his big blue eyes. "All I want is to fuck you," he kisses your neck.

And once you finally give in, he has you bending over the sofa, panties to the side as he licks his slick-coated fingers. "You are the sweetest little thing ever, my love," he pulls his trousers down and tubs the tip of his cock on your entrance. He lets out a moan. He wanted to tease you until you begged for it but he, himself needed to be buried deep inside your pussy. Making you into the perfect toy for him. His beast-like hands gripping your hips, you squirm and he growls. This was the perfect position to have you in. His fat cock barely fits inside your small cunt.

He growls anytime you whimper and does care for your pleasure but his. Your back arches and he grins, your hands holding onto the edges as he pounds himself deep inside of you. You let out a gasp when he bites your shoulder from behind, he grunts and chuckles deeply. "fuck, fuck...J-...shit," you say between moans. "J-johnny!....fuck," he leaves trails of bite marks on your back. "You're my good girl, such a pretty good girl," he whispers and kisses the bite marks. "I love you," he says and rubs his hands on your bare ass and thighs, his cock still being thrust into you.

He stops, "can I fill you up? Please, Bonnie, I want to fuck my pups into your pussy. Fill you to the brim." His thrusts are rare but slow, and he caresses your back. "Fill me, Johnny," you answer and he smirks. His veiny cock reaches orgasm as your tight pussy milks him for all he's worth. He moans, head thrown back, his mohawk brushed back as he grows excited. You roll your eyes back, and loud moans escape your lips. His drool-soaked fingers fucking your tight ass. "Tell me, darling, who's my good girl," he kisses your back. His cum soon leaks inside of you. His seed filling you full, your body taking a good reaction to this.

You pull on the leash that held his collar, "I'm your good girl~" you whimper. His cum falls down so gracefully and then he turns you over. "That's right, you're my good girl, no one else's." He looks at his leash and smirks. "If my mam saw me like this, her little boy leashed like the animal he is," he chuckles, "oh she'd be disappointed." he kisses your neck. "But so as long as I'm your good pup, huh, my love," he kisses your lips so carefully. His big arms embrace you warmly, and he rubs his scent on you again this way. You know it and he does too.

"Say you love me, R/N," he whispers as his head is buried in your breasts. "I love you, Johnny," you whisper back and scratch the back of his head. He smiles, "I love you too," he kisses your chest and takes in your intoxicating scent.

Tags :@anonymuslydumb @liyanahelena @vampsquerade @sevvygirl1995 @sleepydang @amygaster004 @alxexhearts

[w2sarcher]

wedding weekend | harry lewis

summary: y/n & harry tie the knot

face claim: dua lipa (barely tho lol)

a/n: hi!!! this is a anon request i got earlier. super cute so hope you all love it! please keep sending requests in i have no idea what to make next lol. also love love love all the support thank you!

more stuff by me : masterlist

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harry and y/n together with their families invite you to their wedding celebration! saturday june 22nd at 7pm. location : finca la concepcion, marbella.

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y/n_username posted a photo!

liked by wroetoshaw & 540,204 others! y/n_username wedding rehearsal before the luckiest day of harry's life & the worst of mine xoxo tagged: wroetoshaw

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taliamar the most beautiful bride to be ever 😍

freyanightingale i'm in love with your face???

wroetoshaw not too late to cancel you muppet ↳ y/n_username odds on?

r0sielewis you gorgeous girl

faithlouiseak so gorg babe

geenelly so fit 🔥🔥🔥

sidemanxfan lmao so true harry's lucky he bagged y/n as a wife

harryxlewisfan bet harry was drunk at the rehearsal ↳ y/n_username on his best behaviour for once

miaxmon can i marry you instead? 💍 ↳ y/n_username yes

w2slover this is my royal wedding

ynharryfan mum and dad's big day has nearly come omg

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calfreezy posted an instagram story! tobjizzle posted an instagram story!

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chrismd10 posted a photo!

liked by ksi and 520,320 others! chrismd10 drowning my sorrows because my guernsey boy is finally married tagged wroetoshaw & y/n_username

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y/n_username you can have him back he's doing my nut in already

wroetoshaw always in my heart

chrisdixonfan LMAO the jersey x guernsey bromance will never die 🥹🥹🥹

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calfreezy has posted a photo!

liked by callux and 510,560 others! calfreezy celebrating my two best mates getting married! best weekend of the year by far tagged wroetoshaw, y/n_username, miniminter, randolphuk, zerkaa

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zerkaa drippiest wedding guests

y/n_username 💙💙💙

miniminter blue suit going craaaaazy

randolphuk gutted you didn't include the pic of harry & y/n drunk an hour into their reception ↳ calfreezy she'd want me dead ↳ y/n_username you would've been a dead man

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theobaker_ posted a photo!

liked by theburntchip and 230,120 others! theobaker_ marbella madness with the boys! congratulations to harry and y/n! ❤️ tagged wroetoshaw, y/n_username, reevhd, willne, chrismd10

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chrismd10 i am much taller than this irl ↳ reevhd keep telling yourself that lad

theburntchip can't believe bog got married before you managed to lose your virginity ↳ theobaker_ not funny

proddyc lovely pics theo!

willne couple of distinguished gentlemen

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faithlouiseak posted a photo!

liked by behzingagram and 203,103 others! faithlouiseak such an honour to be a bridesmaid at my best friends wedding! congratulations to harry & y/n, love you both so much!! also look how cute my little olive was as her godparent's flower girl!!! 🥺🤍 tagged taliamar, freyanightingale, y/n_username

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behzingagram my girl olive 🫒

y/n_username the BEST BRIDESMAIDS ever @taliamar @freyanightingale @faithlouiseak

y/n_username i love you so much

y/n_username and little olive!!! 🥺🥹

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y/n_username posted a photo!

liked by wroetoshaw and 602,029 others! y/n_username 22nd of june. the happiest day of my life. the day i got to marry my best friend. i'm so proud to call you my husband and i cannot wait to grow old together with you. i love you to the moon and back, my boy. p.s you looked so fit in that suit 🤍

tagged wroetoshaw

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freyanightingale so flipping cute

wroetoshaw you soppy bastard ❤️

faithlouiseak love you both!!!

ynw2slove MUM AND DAD

sidemanxixfan omg i feel so old

ksi congratulations you two!

taliamar best day ever 😘

callux sickest wedding i've ever been to

r0sielewis you're finally a lewis!!!!! ❤️😭

ynfan2024 cannot believe y/n has married w2s

vikkstagram beautiful couple!!

zerkaa the baby of the sidemen is wifed off i feel old ↳ behzingagram you are old lad

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As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the room, Harry and Y/n found themselves sprawled across the bed, their laughter echoing in the hair. The balcony doors were wide open with the Spanish heat blowing in and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach filled the room - finally a bit of piece for the pair.

Y/N proped herself up on one elbow, gazing at her dreamy husband with a lopsided smile.

''Harry.'' she began, her words slurred from all the champagne she had drank, ''that was the most perfect day, wasn't it?''

Harry turned to her, pulling at his tie to loosen it (he hated wearing suits). Y/N's eyes shone with affection as she watched him do so, ''One of the best days of my life, I think.''

''One of?'' Y/N snickered, swatting him gently with her hand.

''Well yeah - nothing's going to beat my crossbar challenge with Ronaldo is it,'' he joked, earning another playful hit from his wife.

''Oh shut up you.''

''Only messing,'' he said, pushing a stray hair that had fallen from Y/N's once pristine wedding up do. ''It was the best.''

Y/N's cheeks flushed with warmth. ''It really was, wasnt it?'' she paused, ''And you... you looked so fit in your suit. I couldn't take my eyes off you the whole day.''

And it was true, Harry looked so good at the wedding reception. His cheeks flushed from too much alcohol. Undone cufflinks and rolled up sleeves - Y/N was just in love with this man.

Harry laughed smugly. He loved when she would shower him with compliments. He'd never get over having the fittest woman in the world in his eyes, gush over him 24/7.

''Well, you, were the best looking bride I've ever seen in my life.''

They shared a tender smile, hearts overflowing with love. The memories of their special day were so fresh and danced through their minds. It was a day that would be etched in their hearts forever. Harry seeing Y/N in her dress for the first time, his eyes watering at the sight and Y/N fumbling with her bouquet as she laid eyes on the most handsome man in a black suit she'd ever seen.

''I'm so glad we're finally married,'' Y/N whispered, reaching out to intertwine their hands. ''Just feels like a dream come true.''

''I know, doll.'' Harry replied, squeezing her hand gently. ''Been waiting for this moment since the first time I laid eyes on you.''

With a contented sigh, they settled back onto the bed, their fingers still intertwined. As sleep began to claim them, they whispered words of love and gratitude, their hearts overflowing with happiness.

For Harry and Y/N, their wedding night was just the beginning of a lifetime of love, laughter, and cherished moments together. And as they drifted off to sleep, they knew that their love would only grow stronger with each passing day, lighting up the darkness and guiding them home to each other's arms.

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y/n_username posted an instagram story!

story replies to y/n_username:

↳ wroetoshaw fittest wife ever liked by y/n_username

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W2S+ uploaded a youtube video!

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a/n: thank you so much for reading! bit of a short one but hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless.

[amoreva]

FEIGNING FOR YA’

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CHAPTER 1.5

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: as a little childish act of rebellion, you try dating your friend, Luke Castellan, to really piss off your perfectionist parents (for a actual real reason, not the small things they hate). what was supposed to be no strings attached turned into a little more than just childish revenge.

warnings: slow burn, college au, smau, fake dating to dating, cursing, clarisse x chris, aged up! pjo charcters, yn is older sister figure to percy, luke and thalia are older sibling figures to annabeth

a/n: smau! the posts that happened during the chapter today!!

series list | next

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FINAL DAYS OF SPRING BREAK!

seaweedbrain

♫ The Temptations - My Girl

Liked by juniper.xo, racheleliz, travisstoll and 59 others

seaweedbrain yeah, that’s my girlfriend 😎

📍greece

tagged wisegirl

View all comments

juniper.xo aww 😍

yn.ln percy is in loveee

seaweedbrain when I get back, watch yourself 😒 yn.ln okay loverboy 🙄

wisegirl ❤️

travisstoll eww, cooties

connorstoll eww, PDA seaweedbrain hello, i need to buy a gun 🙃 tyson for rock paper scissors, right? tyson percy, right? tyson right.

lukecastellan thaliagrace, annie is kissing boys

thaliagrace womp womp womp 🎺 seaweedbrain woot woot 🙌

clarisselarue

Liked by silenabeau, chris.rod and 231 others

clarisselarue last days of spring break 💋

📸 - chris.rod

tagged silenabeau, chris.rod, lukecastellan, yn.ln

View all comments

yn.ln literally my wives are so pretty

clarisselarue my wife is gorgeous 🫵 silenabeau love you sm yn 😘 chris.rod clarisselarue ???

chris.rod camera creds, oh yeahh 💪

seaweedbrain w/o me 😔

wisegirl we’re in another country?? lukecastellan you’re literally 12 yn.ln we don’t condone underage drinking 🙅‍♀️ seaweedbrain I’M ALMSOT 20

user1 location? 📍

yn.ln GORGEOSU BABES

thaliagrace otw back rn

silenabeau ❤️❤️

clarisselarue posted a story!

thaliagrace posted a story!

juniper.xo

Liked by yn.ln, wisegirl, groverunderwood and 23 others

juniper.xo he said “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” 🙃

tagged groverunderwood

View all comments

groverunderwood loml<3

wisegirl where did you guys go?

juniper.xo festival!!!

yn.ln cutie patooties

racheleliz the color palette 😍

groverunderwood it is beautiful!

silenabeau he’s a keeper

yn.ln

Liked by clarisselarue, cbeckendorf, silenabeau and 191 others

yn.ln your honor, i have a confession to make

tagged lukecastellan

View all comments

silenabeau UH YEAH YOU DO??

chris.rod this was not on my 20XX bingo card

user2 another baddie bagged 😔

clarisselarue cheating on me with castellan?

yn.ln NOOO, i promise babe it’s not like that yn.ln i’ll make it up to you 🙏 clarisselarue make it up to me with an explanantion, please. clarisselarue please? clarisselarue yn.

travisstoll since

connorstoll uh

travisstoll WHEN??

seaweedbrain what.

seaweedbrain not yn, she’s too good for him

lukecastellan ikr 🧎‍♂️ seaweedbrain DISGUTISBG yn.ln be nice

racheleliz so I need to throw my blue hairbrush at both of you now? 🤔

thaliagrace luke henry castellan, explain.

lukecastellan 🤫🤫 lukecastellan also not even my middle name?? seaweedbrain sounds like someone with the middle name henry would say

user3 cute!!

user4 whattt

chris.rod the radio silence??

silenabeau answer your texts 😒

cbeckendorf yn. silena is freaking out and running around the dorm, explain. please 🙏

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taglist:

@happy-mushrooms @m00ng4z3r

[m-jelly]

Hi, Jelly 😘 What about Levi and reader as adoptive parents? Let's say they adopt a little girl from an orphanage. It would be interesting to see moments in their lives: they took her from the orphanage, they bring their daughter home for the first time, her first birthday in a new house, she calls them mom and dad for the first time)))

I changed this a little bit to fit with Levi a little more, hope that's okay.

Hope for Clover

Levi x fem!reader

Future AU, soldier Levi, Captain Levi, married couple, fluff, romance, adoption.

When a major battle on another planet finally comes to an end, Levi returns home to you after being away for two weeks. As the soldiers return to their homes, Levi goes back to the planet you live on together with a new addition to the family. Clover is a little girl now orphaned that Levi saved. The two of you discuss what to do with the sweet three-year-old and decide to become her parents.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

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The vids were praising the legion galactic army for facing off against a race of beings that wanted to consume the whole of the galaxy. Multiple races banded together with the humans for freedom. The last stand against them was on a planet near the edge of the galaxy and it seemed like everyone won.

It made you happy beyond words to know that the galaxy was safe once again and your husband would be coming home. You used to be a soldier and had incredible tech skills. You met Levi by being assigned to his ship while he went on special missions. One thing led to another and you ended up becoming lovers, then married.

After you got hurt badly during the galactic war, Levi urged you to take a step back, so you did and your job was to help them from a distance. Levi and you had even moved to a planet known for its pure beauty and to help those recovering from wounds. It was full of rolling purple hills, blue flowers, two bright moons and suns, vast lakes and beaches. It was heaven for you and Levi.

As the shuttle arrived with your husband, you felt a knot in your stomach as you wondered what condition he was in. He always told you everything was fine and then would come back with scars, so you could never predict how he would be. The last two weeks were the hardest of all the battles, so something had to have happened.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood with only a few others waiting for the arrival of the soldiers. You watched as the other men got off first and people parted leaving you alone and no husband. You panicked a bit but another shuttle landed, this had to be your husband but you weren't sure why he had special treatment, he never liked that.

Your eyes widened when Levi stepped out with a little three-year-old girl on his hip. "Levi?"

He walked closer allowing you to see the little girl had a robotic leg, she'd clearly lost her leg in the war. "Hey." He leaned over and kissed you passionately. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." You smiled at the green-eyed little girl with thick ginger hair, she was a vision. "Who is this princess?"

The girl giggled. "I'm not a princess."

"Really? How odd because you look like one."

Levi grinned. "This is Clover. I...I saved her...she...she's alone." He looked at you with sad eyes. "I...I was hoping..."

You took Clover from Levi and hugged her. "Do you want to live with me and Levi?"

She nodded. "Please!"

You hummed a laugh. "Wonderful. Well, let's get you inside and well-fed." You placed her on her feet. "Let's go."

Levi placed his hand on your lower back. "Thank you."

You kissed Levi's cheek. "She's an orphan, we want kids and she needs us. She's ours now."

"Yes, she's ours." He smiled softly. "I still want more kids."

You giggled. "We'll make one of our own someday, but for now we have a wonderful daughter to care for!"

Clover had adored her new home and it flustered her that Levi and you bought her so much and gave her a big room. She had a lot of toys to play with and you both were gentle with her, so she knew she could do things at her own pace.

Levi would take her to the doctor once a week to make sure her robotic leg was working well and taking to her body. The two of you would teach her things and play with her often, but she was still very shy when it came to you. She was close with Levi because they'd seen war together, but you were new to her.

You worried that she wouldn't like you and didn't want you as a mother, but Levi told you how much Clover loved you. He told you Clover always asked him to tell her stories about you, to show her pictures of you and to tell her all about the things you liked. Clover wanted to get very close to you, she was just very shy.

After learning from Levi about Clover's adoration for you, you began noticing how she would peep at you, spy around corners, watch you as you moved around and look out for you when she was with Levi. It was adorable how she was with you and you would always say hello and often she'd stay with you, but sometimes she'd blush and run off to a new spot to spy on you.

One day you were sat in the garden working on a gadget to assist you with your fruit growing. You were humming a little song to yourself when your soldier training kicked in, you could sense Clover was close. So, you pretended not to notice, like she was a cute little kitty.

Clover shuffled closer to you, her cheeks pink with a blush and a rabbit plushie in her arms. She peered over your shoulder to look at what you were doing. "Mm...what you doing?"

You smiled softly. "I am making a little device to help me look after my fruit."

She walked around and stared. "Fruit?"

You nodded. "I'm growing all kinds of fruit from different planets. I also grow veg too." You looked up at her. "This device will be placed in the ground and it'll project a grid. Anything inside the grid will be monitored and I'll be updated on if they're ready to harvest or if they become sick."

She crouched and looked at the device. "Coooool." She looked up at you and gave you a toothy grin. "You're smart! I want to be smart like you."

"Well, I can teach you a few things. I used to do a lot of tech for the Legion Galactic Army."

She sat down. "Wow."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "I used to do a lot for Levi and his crew. I was the reason their suits kept them safe, their weapons protected them and the ship stayed flying."

Her eyes sparkled in delight. "Wooooow." She stared at your right hand and arm to see it was robotic like hers. "Umm..."

You wiggled your fingers at her. "Lost this in the war, but Levi saved me. He saved us both it seems." You smiled as she touched your hand. "We match."

She grinned. "We're twins!"

"That's right."

She crawled over and sat on your lap. "I like you." She hugged you tightly. "You're so pretty and cool."

You hugged her back. "Have you been trying to be with me like this since you arrived here three weeks ago?"

She nodded shyly. "Yes."

You kissed the top of her head. "You're so sweet. I'm here for you, always."

Clover had been with you and Levi for a few months now, she was very comfortable with the two of you. She would help you both out and always want to be around you. She would follow you around the most, which warmed Levi's heart that she'd taken to you so much.

Today was her birthday and you'd planned everything for her to ensure she had everything she wanted. This was probably the first one she would remember. So, you and Levi wanted to make it extra special.

You helped Clover change into a cute dress for the day before helping her comb her thick hair. "There we go."

Clover grinned. "Thank you." She reached up and held your hand. "Ready."

You walked with her into the living room to see Levi had finished the last touches. "Happy Birthday, Clover."

Clover gasped when she saw all the decorations, the balloons, banners, hologram animals and bunny-themed things everywhere. She released your hand and hurried forward to see the presents waiting for her, a big cake you had baked and Levi wearing an outfit that matched Clover and you.

Tears filled Clover's eyes. "Mm..."

Levi knelt down. "Happy Birthday, kiddo."

She ran over and jumped into his arms. "Thank you."

He hugged her tightly. "I can't believe you're five! You're growing up so fast."

She sniffed and ran over to you. "Mummy! Hug!"

You dropped to your knees as the wind was knocked out of you. You hugged her as you felt your heart race. "Wh...what...did you call me?"

She pulled back and kissed your cheek. "Thank you, Mummy. I love you."

You smiled brightly through your tears. "I love you too, sweetie."

Clover smiled at Levi. "Thank you, Daddy! I love you."

Levi shuffled over and hugged you both. "You're very welcome. We love you so much."

She released you both and smiled. "Do I get a birthday wish?"

"Of course."

You nodded. "What do you wish for?"

She giggled. "To be a big sister!"

Both you and Levi looked at each other, your cheeks heating up. As Clover ran to open her presents, you and Levi started thinking about her cute wish. As you watched her open her presents, the two of you held hands and cuddled up to each other.

Clover hurried back over to you both and lifted her bunny. "I also want to gift this to the baby." She lowered it. "Mummy, Daddy? Will you make a baby?"

Levi tugged you closer. "I think a nice big family would be good."

You giggled. "Me too."

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 1: History]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+) and drugs, alcohol, smoking, astronomy, mental health struggles, Missouri.

Selected Chapter Quote: “You’re gonna love Aemond. He’s so fucked up. He’s like Disney World for therapists.”

Word count: 4.1k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

* * * I’m going to tag like a bazillion people since this is the first chapter of a new fic, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to. I hope you are all doing well, wherever you are in the world. 🥰😘 * * *

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“You are a professional,” you tell your reflection threateningly, like it owes you money. Your hair is painstakingly tidy, your makeup neat, subdued, businesslike. You are wearing a black blazer, a white blouse, and Cookie Monster pajama pants. You are in your one-bedroom apartment in Kansas City, Missouri: grey, thunderous, humid as hell, June raindrops on the windows. “You have a master’s degree and hundreds of clinical hours and you are not afraid of clients. Not at all! Not even a little bit!”

You check your phone. 2:55 p.m.

“Oh God,” you whine to the checkered tiles of the bathroom floor, to the floral wallpaper. You clutch the cold porcelain of the sink: rose-pink, 1950s, diners and Thunderbirds, housewives and Valium. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t do this. Oh my God.”

But there is no escape! You hurry, sweating profusely, to your laptop. You start the Zoom meeting and wait for your client to arrive, chewing your thumbnail until it bleeds, a scarlet semicircle of dull warm pain, a crescent moon like spilled merlot. You glance at your notepad again. David Mills, 25, married, anxiety upon relocating to a new city and beginning employment there.

Wait.

You confirm with a quick Google search in a new tab. David Mills was the protagonist in Se7en.

You sit back in your swivel chair, eyes narrowed with suspicion. The blue-white luminance of the screen glows on your face like moonlight. Your client is either a coincidence or a liar.

So what? People lie. People lie about therapy especially. So he wants some anonymity. Big deal.

“Strange,” you murmur to yourself.

You have no further opportunity to mull it over. A gratingly cheerful ding announces your client’s arrival in the Zoom meeting waiting room. No avatar, name still listed as David Mills.

“Okay. Okay. It’s fine. Here we go.”

You shake the tremors out of your hands and admit him. He pops onto the screen like a bloom of ironweed, like fireworks on the Fourth of July. It’s nighttime wherever he is. The background is dark and indistinct, shadowy; lamplight cascades across his face, topaz and fool’s gold. You are startled to realize that you already know him. And his name is definitely not David Mills.

“…Aegon?!”

He grins, sly and cocky but never cruel. “Hey.”

“Aegon Targaryen??!!”

“That’s me!” he concurs brightly. “What’s up, Stargirl?”

And instantly, you are transported back to almost exactly one year ago: a rooftop bar downtown, neon signs coiled in shades of violet and rhodonite and sapphire, night wind, constellations, ice clinking in misty glasses, locks of his hair skating between your fingers, the sting of his teeth on your throat, the Weeknd. “Hey,” you say softly. And then again, with more enthusiasm: “Hey! I saw you on Good Morning America last week!”

“Yeah? Was I good?”

“Jace was good. You were slightly offkey.”

“Aw shit. I usually am.”

“That’s okay. You’re the hot loser, right? That’s your character?”

“That’s me, baby. That’s why it works so well.”

It’s impossible: time has passed, thousands of miles have opened up between you, and yet it’s like he’s right here in the room, he never arrived, he never left, he’s always been here for life to grow up around like the framework of a house, a trellis, a skeleton. “How did you find me?”

“I couldn’t remember your name, but I figured you must have finished school by now. So I Googled therapists in Kansas City. Do you know how many there are?”

“500,” you guess.

“712,” Aegon says. “At least, that’s how many I scrolled through before I found your photo.”

“Wow.” You’re smiling; you can’t take your eyes off him. A lot of girls have that problem. That’s why he’s worth $100 million. “Couldn’t remember my name, huh? I guess I didn’t make much of an impression.”

He chuckles, a little bashfully, sweeping his blond hair off his face. “No. No, you definitely made an impression.”

So did he. In the downstairs bathroom of the bar, tucked beneath a staircase, stark white florescent lights and red walls, lip biting and ripped seams on your dress. He’d finished in approximately thirty seconds—which, oddly, felt more like a compliment than anything else—and then promptly snapped off the condom, dropped to his knees, and went down on you until you came not once but twice, a rarity for you. But that wasn’t the best part. Afterwards you’d gone back up to the roof together, sat in a quiet corner booth until the bar closed, talked about anything and everything with your bodies folded unconsciously into each other, origami, blended watercolors, whispers and murmurs, your palm on his thigh, his fingertips ghosting the underside of your wrist.

“So,” Aegon says through the laptop screen. “Are you, like, kind of unemployed currently?”

“No,” you reply, palpably defensive. Embarrassing! “I’m clearly working right now. You literally made a virtual appointment with me. I’m just…getting my practice off the ground.”

“Yeah but you seem lowkey unemployed.”

“You are so fucking rude.” But you’re laughing.

“I’m just saying, you had a lot of appointment times available. A lot.”

“I’m recruiting clients!” you exclaim. “I’m not like you. I can’t simulate sex with microphone stands to sell tickets.”

“That was one time!”

You smirk at him, eyebrows raised.

“That was…four times. That I recall.”

“I’m a professional. A serious, grown-up, certified professional.”

“You’re a glorified hobo, admit it.”

“You’re a dollar store Harry Styles.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, clutching his chest. “Okay you win.”

“Why did you do this? Why did you track me down in order to make some fraudulent therapy appointment?”

Now Aegon is something you’ve never seen from him before. He’s nervous. “I, uh…I need your help.”

“Really?”

“Well, not me specifically,” he amends. “We need your help. Comet does.”

Comet. What he means—what screaming fans all over the world mean when they drop this name in Reddit threads or Twitter hashtags or Tumblr gifsets—is the boy band Comet Donati. Three albums, five members: Aegon, Jace, Luke, Cregan, Daeron. The lineup has changed recently. Everyone knows why. “Help with what?”

“I mean…I’m sure you heard about what happened.”

“Yeah,” you say, somber now. Six months ago a piece of rigging collapsed during soundcheck at the Nippon Budokan in Tokyo. It hit Aemond, costing him six inches of flesh on the left side of his face, his sight in one eye, and his position as the undisputed, archetypal fearless leader of Comet. The celebrity gossip sites had reported that he was taking time off to recover, and then that his younger brother Daeron would be filling in for him at a few shows, and then suddenly Daeron was the fifth member of the band, and everyone was so charmed by his distinctly buoyant, sunshine-and-rainbows quality that Aemond faded from the discourse almost entirely, a ghost, a phantom, an antiquated word like telegraph or courtship or laudanum.

“So things are different now,” Aegon continues. “Things are…not always easy. And I think it might be a good idea to have you around.”

“Look, I’m not…like…” How can you put this? It’s something you have difficulty admitting out loud. “I’m not a real therapist, you know? You’re right, Aegon. I’m basically unemployed. I’m fresh out of my master’s program, I don’t have anywhere near the kind of experience that someone would need to adequately help Comet. So, maybe I could recommend some people to you, but other than that I don’t think I can—”

“It has to be you,” Aegon says.

You shake your head, gazing through the screen at him, through the space and the time. “Why?”

“When Comet performed in Kansas City…when we met at the bar that night…” He is hushed, meditative. “I don’t really remember what we talked about. But I remember exactly how you made me feel.” He smiles, the sort of smile you didn’t know he had in him: soft, pure, nostalgic, without edges. “I think Aemond could use some of that.”

The walls fall down around you, this apartment, this city, this life. “Where are you right now?”

“Capri.”

“Where?”

“Capri,” he says again, amused. “But we’ll be in Rome tomorrow. You can meet us there.”

“In Rome,” you repeat, like it’s Mars or one of Jupiter’s moons.

“Catch the next flight out. The band can reimburse you. We’ll get you a contract of some sort. Nothing too long-term, so you won’t be locked in or anything. A few months. Then we can reassess.”

“Okay, but…I don’t feel comfortable serving as an official therapist to you or anyone else in Comet, Aegon. The circumstances are less than orthodox. And not just because of the…um…bar bathroom situation.”

“Fine, whatever.” He’s high on the victory; the details don’t matter so much.

“Okay,” you say. And then again, giggling wildly at the ludicrousness of it all: “Okay! I guess I’ll see you in Rome tomorrow!”

“Cool. Let me give you my WhatsApp.” You exchange information, and then he grins at you, crafty and radiant through the screen. “You’re gonna love Aemond. He’s so fucked up. He’s like Disney World for therapists.”

“We’ll see,” you reply distractedly, already opening Expedia in a new tab.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Midwest, the East Coast, the Atlantic Ocean, the Mediterranean Sea, Southern Europe, green to blue and then green again as the plane descends into the Leonardo da Vinci Airport of Rome. You roll your single carry-on bag through the corridors, peering out the windows at cloudless cerulean skies and towering stone pines. Aegon meets you at the bottom of an escalator. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a neon green tank top, and matching Crocs. He’s slightly chubbier than you remember, just as beautiful, just as chaotically charismatic, the sun made flesh. He’s standing with a man you don’t recognize.

“Benvenuta, bella!” Aegon proclaims, nearly tackling you with a hug before taking your bag. He smells like beer, sunscreen, Axe body spray, summer air that unfurls warm and golden in the lungs.

“Oh, thank God,” the other man—possibly Italian, definitely gorgeous—exhales with great relief. “Aegon said he needed to meet someone at the airport and I was 90% sure that you would be a drug dealer. But you do not look like a drug dealer. You’re not a…are you a…?”

“No, I’m definitely not a drug dealer.”

“Okay. Great. Hello.” He extends a hand, tan and muscley. “I’m Criston, I’m the tour manager. It is my job to keep everyone alive and uninjured.”

“Four out of five isn’t bad,” Aegon says. And then, when Criston is clearly distressed by it: “Uh, anyway, there’s an Escalade waiting outside.”

The SUV is massive and black with tinted windows. As you follow Aegon into the backseat, several paparazzi appear on the sidewalk and begin snapping photos, calling out to you and expelling rapid-fire white flashes like lightning. Aegon ignores them. You’ve been travelling all day, and the sun is setting now in Rome. The sky is the color of embers, autumn leaves, Saturn. Criston climbs into the passenger seat and gives instructions to the driver. The Escalade wheels out of Arrivals, paparazzi sprinting down the sidewalk after it to take a few final pictures.

“So,” Aegon says, smiling. He pops open the mini fridge and hands you an ice-cold can of San Pellegrino. “Do you have a boyfriend back in Kansas? Or, maybe, boyfriends?”

“Missouri,” you correct him automatically. “And no. None worth mentioning.” A guy you’ve had lunch with twice, a guy you made out with at an Olive Garden, a guy you hooked up with back at UChicago who you’re still texting, guys who flit in and out of your mind like birds through the sky, impermanent, inconsequential.

“You still on the pill?”

“Yes.” You’re not offended. Aegon is teasing, and so are you. It occurs to you that talking to Aegon is a bit like talking to yourself; there are no awkward lulls, and he rarely says anything that shocks you. “But that’s not why I came to Rome.”

“That’s fine. That’s not why I invited you.”

As the Escalade zooms by iconic landmarks—the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon, the Piazza del Popolo—you ask Aegon about them. He has no idea; he makes things up instead.

“That’s the duck waterpark,” he says as you pass a fountain that’s over 1,000 years old. Then he points to a naked statue of an extremely buff Mercury. “That’s me before I started eating carbs again.” His only snippet of accurate trivia comes as you drive by the twilight-lit Colosseum. “Holy shit, that’s where Taylor Swift made out with Tom Hiddleston!”

“Surely more important things have happened there at some point in the past two millennia.”

“I doubt it,” Aegon replies, frowning out the Escalade window, taciturn. “I wish I got to make out with Taylor Swift in the Colosseum.”

Comet Donati is staying at the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Rome Hotel, which closely resembles a palace. When the Escalade stops at the front doors, you drag your luggage out onto the cobblestones.

“No no no,” Criston says, grabbing the rolling suitcase from you. He gives it to a white-gloved butler along with a room number and then escorts you and Aegon to the top floor. It’s not until the three of you are in the elevator that you realize you are still wearing your highly unsophisticated travel-day attire: yoga pants, flip flops, a tie-dye hoodie with Louis Tomlinson’s face on it that you purchased from Etsy last winter. Aegon catches you scrutinizing your reflection in the mirrors that line the inside of the elevator.

“Traitor,” he says with a grin, massaging your shoulders. His eyes lock with yours in the mirror. His touch is—just as it was a year ago at that bar in Kansas City when you were home from school on break and he was a transient visitor, fleeting like a rainstorm—familiar somehow, pleasant and comforting but not profound, welcome without being necessary.

“Don’t hate him ‘cause you ain’t him. When was the last time you wrote a #1 hit single?”

“Never,” Aegon readily admits. “Although I got into the Top 5 in Norway once.” No, everyone knows that Aemond was Comet’s Louis Tomlinson: their best songwriter, their relatively unproblematic and grounded team captain, their protector, their compass. And now he has no official place in the band at all.

When the elevator doors open, Criston leads you and Aegon down the hallway to a bustling suite. Inside there are white leather couches and gold-colored lounge chairs, a bar, a staircase that leads up to the loft bedroom, people wandering in and out of air that is hazy with whispers and cigarette smoke. There are men in suits, women in short tight dresses, leather and velvet and sequins. You are woefully underdressed. Fortunately, so is Aegon. He is greeted with a dizzying array of cheers, waves, and toasts. Someone shoves an emerald green bottle of Peroni into his grasp. Kesha’s Your Love Is My Drug is vibrating through the speakers mounted on the wall: “What you’ve got, boy, is hard to find, I think about it all the time…”

“Hey, hey, listen up!” Aegon shouts, stepping on top of an ottoman, and the chatter lowers in volume like a radio being turned down.

You scan the smokey room until you’ve located all five current Comet Donati members: Aegon the disaster playboy, Luke the sensitive and kindhearted one, Daeron the energetic ray of sunshine, Jace the heir apparent in the power vacuum created by Aemond’s departure, Cregan the brooding, mysterious, sexy Northern Englishman. You know them, and yet you don’t. You know the characters they play, their reputations, their public personas…but that doesn’t mean you know them. Aegon is the only man you spoke to at the rooftop bar that night in Kansas City a year ago. So far, the mythical version of him seems quite consistent with reality.

Cregan is slumped at one end of the couch by the window and knocking back shots of what appears to be straight vodka. In the night sky beyond the glass, you can see stars and the illuminated Rome skyline: modern skyscrapers, ancient rubble. At the other end of the couch is Aemond. He’s smoking, drinking something iced and bloody pink, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, all in black like he’s trying to disappear. His left eye, the blind one, is an ethereal cloudy blue that reminds you of renderings you’ve seen of Neptune, Uranus, exoplanets, the Earth from space. He glances up at you and holds your gaze for just a few seconds too long. Then he looks away, bewildered, taking a drag off his cigarette.

Aegon introduces you to the room as you stand beside the ottoman, awkward and ashamed in your Louis Tomlinson hoodie. “She’s a friend,” Aegon says. “And she’s also a therapist.”

“Good, you need one!” Jace shouts through cupped hands, and there are tipsy titters and guffaws.

“Not for me,” Aegon snaps. “For you deranged bitches.”

As Aegon descends from the ottoman—klutzily, stumbling, clutching onto Criston like a baby lemur to its mother—Luke approaches to present himself. He has a mess of dark curly hair that falls over his face and large, honest eyes. There’s a black spiral notebook and a white gel pen in his left hand. He offers you his right. “Hi! I’m Luke Velaryon.”

“Yeah, I know. I spend a lot of time on Comet’s Spotify page.”

He groans. “I look so bad in that header photo.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s the nose. I have a pug nose. The label has been trying to convince me to get it fixed for years.” He turns to a girl who is practically hiding behind him: arrestingly beautiful in a fragile sort of way, gentle like a doe. “Maybe you can help Rhaena talk to people.”

“I have social anxiety,” she explains apologetically. Her voice is very quiet yet lyrical. There are weights tied to her confession, years of shame and despair. Luke throws an arm across her shoulders and hugs her to him, touching his forehead briefly to hers.

“That’s okay.” You give Rhaena a reassuring smile. “It’s super common, and there are a lot of strategies you can try that might make it more manageable.”

“It wasn’t a big deal at first, you know?” Rhaena says. It comes out in a rush like water through a cracked dam. Luke looks astonished but pleased. You have been known to have this effect upon people, a compulsive sort of disclosure that drains, empties, unburdens. Aegon is watching from several feet away, beaming between swigs of Peroni. “Luke and I met before he got famous and we could just hang out around the neighborhood. Ice cream, public parks, Pret a Manger, riding the Tube together. But now…now he’s always meeting new people and there are all these events I’m supposed to go to with him, and I can’t sleep properly for days leading up to each one, and half the time I end up hiding in the bathroom or being too nauseous to eat anything, and…”

Jace is at the bar and slurping a vesper: shoulder-length curls, flashy blazer with nothing underneath it, a contemplative appraisal of you. There’s a stunning girl sitting beside him that he’s not listening to.

As you are explaining the potential benefits of exposure therapy to Rhaena and Luke, Daeron bursts through the crowd to greet you. He’s their Niall Horan: warm, uncomplicated, disarmingly friendly, beachy blond hair, a golden retriever on two legs. He hugs you—spiritedly, like Aegon did—and then compliments your flip flops.

“So you’re our new therapist?” Daeron says eagerly, like this is something he knows they’ve needed.

“Well, I’m a therapist, but I’m not really your therapist. Because I can’t hang out with you guys all the time and also be your therapist. It’s unethical. But Aegon thought I might have some good ideas, I guess. In a strictly unofficial capacity.”

“Okay! Cool! And you and Aegon are…friends?”

“Um…yeah. Sort of.”

“Remember that show in Kansas City last summer?” Aegon tells Daeron. He’s supernaturally gifted at making everything sound blissfully casual, like there couldn’t possibly be more to the story. “I met her at the bar we went to afterwards.”

“Totally,” Daeron says. “Great city. Awesome barbeque.”

Criston asks him: “So, uh, how’s your mom doing?”

Daeron is puzzled. “Fine…?”

“Criston, please stop asking about my mom,” Aegon says. “It’s getting weird. It’s been weird. It was weird four years ago and it’s weird now. She has a husband.”

“Yeah, but is that…you know…is that still going well?”

“Yes, Criston.”

“Fantastic,” Criston mutters, pouring himself a Scotch. He uses the glass to gesture to you. “So what the hell am I supposed to bill her as? Aegon’s friend?”

“She’s a…” Aegon considers this, waving his Peroni around in the air. “Human resources mental health consultant.”

“She’s a what?”

“She helps resolve both intra and interpersonal conflict.”

“That sounds imaginary.”

“Well then you figure something out!” Aegon says, exasperated. “Isn’t this what you get paid for? To make problems go away? To keep us happy? To stop us from killing each other? You figure it out.” He saunters off to grace the drunken masses with his presence. Criston sighs and goes to stand by the wall with a herd of stone-faced businessmen in suits, record label guys, guys who only know how to see the world in terms of contract clauses and account balances.

Rhaena goes to stand by Jace’s companion, who—as you conjure up vague recollections of celebrity gossip sites—is named something like Bella or Bailey. Daeron is commandeered by a gaggle of adoring Italian women. Luke is showing Aemond something in his notebook: black pages, sparkly white ink. Aemond is nodding and giving critique, not that saccharine, generic, brainless kind of praise but authentic encouragement: try to think of a more specific word here, move that line up to the first verse, I love the use of this metaphor. Aemond’s voice dredges up memories you didn’t know you had of him on talk shows, in YouTube compilations, in songs you’ve been streaming on Spotify for years. Smoke drifts from his lips. Ice jangles in his organ-pink cocktail. And again, he looks up at you, inhaling poison as Luke makes his opal-ink edits.

“What’s that drink called?” you ask the bartender, and he squints across the room to where Aemond is seated on the snow-colored leather couch to discern it.

“A Bramble,” he says. “It’s named after blackberry bushes.”

“Can I get one?”

“Sure.”

You procure your drink and when Luke leaves the couch, you whizz past him like a meteor as you walk towards it.

“Hey,” Cregan flings impassively, not knowing why you’re here, not caring either.

“Hey,” you return.

And then you sit down next to Aemond, deliberately on his blind side. He glances over at you, his brow crinkling with confusion. Because—surely, undoubtedly—no one ever speaks about his injury, but it’s veined through everything they do, it’s a perpetual undercurrent that steers his life and yet cannot be voiced without breaching those vigilantly constructed levees of propriety. It’s the elephant in every room. It’s a ghost rattling doorknobs and tapping on windows. And sometimes the only way to free yourself of something is to throw the cage door wide open and set it loose.

“I accidentally wore your competitor’s merch,” you say. “I didn’t want you to have a good view.”

Aemond laughs, and the strangest thing happens: everyone in the room turns to look. On their faces are expressions of shock, bafflement, relief, wonder. Aemond shifts so he’s facing you, one elbow propped on the back of the couch. He sips the Bramble in his right hand, puffs on the cigarette in his left. And there it is, what people like to call a spark, but it’s something deeper than that: organic chemistry, neurotransmitter plumes, wells of marrow that sing to each other from beneath the darkness.

You nod to his cigarette, Benson & Hedges according to the shimmery gold pack that lays open on the glass coffee table. “You think that makes you cool?”

“I know it does,” he says. His gaze flicks down to your Louis Tomlinson hoodie…or what’s under it, perhaps. “Wouldn’t work on you though. Too far gone.”

You hold out your hand. After a few seconds, Aemond passes you his cigarette. You—very stoically, very nonchalantly—take a single drag and then erupt into a coughing fit, eyes watering, lungs gasping, surrendering the cigarette emphatically. Humiliating! Irredeemable!

“Told you,” Aemond notes. But he’s rubbing your back with a hand that is large and strong and yet careful. You smile at him. Aemond smiles too.

Criston pulls one of the suit guys aside and says: “Get her on the payroll.”

[waughymommy]

Once again this story was completely revised and edited by myself with the help of online tools to do so. I decided to take this road because finding someone to proofread it is really complicated and apparently my last story was pretty well-written. It is probably too far from being perfect but I promise that I try to improve my writing skills every day. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading.😘😘 Waughymommy

Another… night… Another workday.” Princess Luna said while she stretched walking to her bedroom preparing herself for the daily duties of an alicorn princess like her.

“Hello, sis. Everything ready for the night?” Princess Celestia said while she walked across the corridor to take a well-deserved rest after a long day of duties.

“You bet! The moon is raised and let me tell you that tonight’s stars are few of my best ones…” The dark blue alicorn said proudly.

“Great! Dreams realm patrol then?” Celestia asked.

“Dream realm patrol,” Luna affirmed. Soon both sisters said goodnight and left. Princess Luna, had, like every single night, to lay down on her bed while she used her special magic powers to patrol the dreams realm to find dangerous nightmares and help ponies with all their troubles and nighttime fears. After all, that was her main task as the princess of the night and it was pretty important to keep her subjects safe and sound. Sadly, this task was getting more and more boring with time. For some reason ponies were sleeping less, dreaming less and having more boring dreams each night.

“Time to work.” princess of the night after all. She had to find out something related to the sacred part of the day that she guarded, not just being the sidekick of the princess of the day. That'd be humiliating...

Luna thought that if she was going to change her way of working, she had to find out how and soon. She returned to her bedroom and turned on one of those new machines recently installed in the whole castle. Every worker there apparently has one. Those were called computers and were getting pretty popular in recent times. They could help the ponies without magic writing faster and better. It was possible to read books on it without visiting a library. But maybe most important, thanks to the technologies team of the Princess Celestia School for gifted unicorns, it was possible to navigate on a thing called Magic Network of Machines or MNM… Usually just called MagicNet to abbreviate. The same theology that connected the dreams or magic of unicorns from long distances was now able to transmit information through the air. Amazing, huh?

Princess Luna used then her magic to turn on and control the strange device. In the first weeks, it was hard to control, but with the time it was easier than levitating feathers in magic kindergarten. Luna entered in the MagicNet with the hope of finding a good way to make the nighttime job more interesting. At first, she was looking for recent researches about magic. There was a curious study about the effects of changing the horn’s shape in unicorn's magic powers. Suddenly, moving across different sites, she found something completely unexpected in one of the ads.

“Canterlot Legends? What is that?” Luna said to herself surprised when she found that screen with several shiny colors and a detailed description. “Create your own powerful pony and fight with your team against other players in tremendous battles. Completely free!” She read. Luna had heard about this too. Apparently, there was also some kind of games in this MagicNet. Like those arcade machines where you could beat your own score in silly games like jumping across lateral maps or eating small balls in a maze. In other circumstances, the princess of the night would be probably not even close to being interested in this foals' stuff. But the boredom was at an extreme level, there were still three hours before the sunrise, and she had to do something.

“Okay, let’s try out this thing.” She said to herself. Clicking on the start button quickly brought her to another screen where she could create her own pony character. Apparently, she was able to choose the whole appearance of the virtual creature. She wasn’t too creative and simply created a pony as close as possible to herself. Once that the character was completely customized, she was able to choose a class.

“Attack, defense, balanced, tank, health…” Princess Luna said as she tried to find the logic behind those words. She simply chose randomly the defense class and started to play. Her character appeared in the middle of a virtual battlefield and she had to move it and apparently attack other players tapping on them. Even if the game mechanics looked too simple, the screen was somehow full of numbers, bars, statistics and buttons to press. The princess though decided to ignore them and just continued attacking other players.

The low skill level of the newbie princess simply ended in an easy victory for the rival team. With the defeat letters on the screen, Princess Luna felt disappointed by the game, she was about to leave it. But before she could realize, another match loaded, and suddenly she defeated one character and another… And another one more. After five minutes, her team won the match, and before she could even realize that again… She was in another match… That night, without a doubt, the hours passed faster than ever.

[lamppost-t]

Miguel as a stereotypical Mexican dad

A/n: this was really fun to write and it’s based off of a lot of my experience growing up and it’s different for everyone so take it with a grain of salt

Warning: this was written in a universe where he’s not Spider-Man and Gabbis alive and well 🪿

this was really fun to write hope you guys enjoy (might write a part 2 if you guys like this) 😘

Always drinking LAs CHELAS 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥

Not really related but he obviously have trouble finding shoes that fit him, since his feet are so godamn big he has to travel out of the city to go to certain outlets 😭🙏

Is numb to the taste of hot sauce atp, his spice tolerance is fucking crazy

speaking of he brings hot sauce literally everywhere it’s like water for him

Eats EVERYTHING with a tortilla

Since we know cannonly he has a horrible wardrobe he definitely only wears plain one colour shirts that always have some sort of stain on them with basic ass jeans and once in a blue moon for special he’d have a unstained shirt and mabye a cowboy hat (it would take him 10 minutes to stain his shirt again)

He fixes literally everything technical by himself like if your dishwasher broke down he’d try to fix it himself even tough he knows nothing about dishwashers

He’s always hot. Even in the winter, if he’s not going out for long he’ll be wearing shorts

If you ever share a bed with this man he does the opposite of stealing the covers he gets so hot he throws all the covers onto you

Snores like CRAZY like not even typical dad snoring like the whole house can hear him and he’s definitely woken himself up because of that

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Tattooed kisses

<<<Prev (gunpowder). (Trapeze) Next>>>

Painting: Buggy x female mermaid!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1700

Content: You have to leave on an assignment so you give something to remember you by 😘

---

You stirred, the wood creaked as the ship swayed with the water gently. The chill of the night still lingered as the dark sky broke for dawn, the faint change in the colour of the clouds telling you to wake up. You had to leave before the sun was up, for your next surveillance task. But he had his arm draped over your waist like an anchor you didn’t want to pull away. His chin resting on the back of your shoulder, skin to skin that his warmth had enveloped you whole, a blanket you didn't want to escape from.

Having spent nights like these, leaving him the next morning grew incredibly difficult, especially with the nature of work you and him par took in. Any day could be your last, so these moments were more special cause it gave you something to hold on to.

You didn’t want to disturb his sleep, he never got to do it properly as is. Most nights he would be on the deck, watching the stars or observing the sea, all that paint on his skin hid the dark circles under his eyes, cause his silhouette would govern the ship like he was a part of its being, the phantom that protected the circus. He would spend the quiet hours of the night looking up at the moon for all the answers to his schemes and vengeance.

But seeing him like this, next to you, was a rarity. Bare without any defenses. No paint on his face, no great costume or cannonballs in his pockets, no need to detach himself into pieces for anyone’s amusement. He could just be, whole and weightless. His finger twitched against your skin as though he could detect your thoughts, he pulled you closer, making it impossible for you to run off now.

“Buggy.”, you whispered to which he gave you a groggy hum.

“I have to leave soon.”, you chuckled as you turned to face him, but he didn’t let you go. He placed his head on your chest, his soft hair tracing the underside of your jaw.

“Skip the assignment.”, he mumbled as he nuzzled into your neck, his weight pining you down comfortably.

You slipped your fingers into his hair, your nails scratching his scalp gently as you petted him affectionately.

“Stay here and sleep in with me.”, he continued with a sigh, his thumb drawing mindless circles onto your skin.

“I wish, but you do know this assignment is important. All that vital information could help us.”, you kissed his forehead as you pushed back his hair, he grumbled because you were right.

“One day, I would have gathered enough loot to buy an entire island and then I wouldn’t have to let you go.”, his eyes fluttered open to reveal his pale blue eyes that looked like the open sky.

So without anymore fuss, you placed your lips on his and he drew in a deep breath as though this was the trick to wake him up.

“You better work on that as soon as you can.”, you spoke against his lips and he let you go half heartedly.

You grabbed your clothes to go change behind the divider but when you threw a glance over your shoulder, he was laying there, his eyes tracing over your body with longing, one arm buried beneath his head while the other dangled over the edge.

“How long is this stakeout?”, he asked from the other end. You put on your shirt and fastened the buttons.

“Two days.”, you responded to his question as you pulled up your long skirt made out of a material that morphed onto your tail once you hit the water which then also acted like a protective layer.

But just as you were distracted, you caught a glimpse of his detached hand scurrying off with your utility belt.

“Buggy.”, you called after him to hear his low mischievous chuckle.

Appearing from behind the divider, he had your belt in his hands as he took in the details on it. A lot of the charms on it resonating with the circus but it also held the daggers he had made for you. He pushed away from the bed to stand up.

“Come back in a day.”, he said as he fiddled with the buckle.

“What’s gotten into you?”, you smiled as you placed your hands on his shoulder. You knew why he was like this. He was expressing it and you weren’t. It made leaving easier if you detached yourself from your emotions but the look in his eyes, his tousled hair, it was a strenuous task to not slink back into the wants and desires of your heart.

You gave in and hugged him, reveling in his warmth as he rested his chin on the edge of your shoulder but his hands were busy as he looped the belt around your waist. You pushed away but he held you steady as he fastened the buckle and fixed it in place. Tugging you closer by the loops on your belt, he frowned.

"Every second without you is going to drive me mad.", he placed his forehead on yours.

"You're mad already.", you chuckled as you pushed away to see his face when his face contorted with surprise at your statement.

But his eyes sobered a second later as he tilted your chin up to see him to see the worry in his eyes.

“Promise me no injuries this time.”, he said.

“Promise me you won’t get into trouble.”, you countered his request but he stayed quite as he bit his lip.

Neither agreed but it was in the air, in hung in the silence, that both of you cared for each other deeply.

So you moved away from him and so did he as he fished for his clothes. You found his pants and threw it to him, he caught it with a sly grin as he walked around with his boxers on. You sat by the vanity set to do your hair but your attempt at a proper braid wasn’t coming together and it frustrated you cause you were running out of time.

But it was the ease at which you cohabitated with him that also caught you off guard, that in some way this was where you belonged, anywhere with him.

He caught a hold your hair gathered in your hand. He stood behind you, his shirt only buttoned on half way, his pants put on in a hurry with his hat placed on a slant over his head that his blue hair peeked through from under. He was busy as he braided your hair and you were busy admiring him through the mirror. The sun wasn’t up yet, the sky was still dark so you had a little more time to spare, to soak up all this love before you entered the harsh world outside.

He fixed your hair and you mouthed a ‘thank you’, to which he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

You let go of the seat for him, he had to paint his face before he went about the chores and tasks for today. He popped open the paint lids but before he could take the brush, you did. His eyes found yours and he didn’t complain. He let you inhabit his personal space, to help him in a task that was almost sacred and as important as any other routine.

The one he started everyday with, to put on this mask. You took a comfortable seat on his lap, his hands held onto your waist as you dipped the brush into the paint sets and applied it to his face. But his eyes never wavered, they were on you, taking you in as much as he could.

Aware of his gaze, “I don’t want to hear about you staying up two nights straight.”, you said as you underlined his eyes with black liner.

“I’ll survive.”, he said quietly and your eyes snapped to his.

“Even if I did try, I will lay awake worried about you.”, he pushed the red paint towards you to finish up the final touches.

You painted the wide smile with red paint and sat back to admire your work, but now his mask was set and your assignment called your name.

Why couldn’t you tell him that your journeys made you restless too?

Worried that he would be caught or the ship destroyed in some battle?

That you worried one day you would come back to nothing?

He sensed your worry and to make feel at ease, he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here when you return.”, he said and it got you.

“Will you?”, you asked quickly, your eyes boring into his as though his promises were what that kept you sane. He nodded his head and you sighed, a smiled finally breaking up the sadness scattered on your face.

His finger held your chin as though he was plotting something, the watch running slower giving you a few extra minutes. You were going to make the best of it, he reached over your counter top to pick up your lipstick, steadying his hand on the edge of your jaw, he applied the pigment over your lips.

“Something to remember me by.”, he grinned as he wiped away the excess at the edge of your lips. Your cheeks grew warm as it flushed with blood, his sudden act of admiration making you fall head over heels once again. But if he had this sway over you, you held a certain power over him too.

You held onto his shirt collar and pulled away his shirt to reveal his chest, his eyes widened at your sudden urgency and authority, you didn’t have time but you had enough to leave a mark.

So you leaned down to pepper his skin with kisses, leaving behind the shape of your lips in red rouge. You looked up at him to see that he looked drunk over this attention you drenched him in. He caught a hold of your chin as he reapplied the pigment and you did it again. And again till there was no place left for his skin to hold another pigmented stain.

Your lips thrummed, his chest rose and fell as he breathed faster, his eyes glued to yours like magnets. You looked back at the window to see that sky had begun to turn lighter.

“Come back to me as fast as you can, so you can pick up where you left off.”, he laughed, you pulled down his hat to bury his laugh as your blush grew deeper.

“All you had to say was you’ll miss me, baby.”, he continued as you hopped off his lap. He didn’t wipe away your lipstick stains, instead buttoned his shirt over it as though he was going to get them etched on his skin.

“Well now you have the proof of my love hidden beneath your shirt, Captain.”, you placed your hands on your hips.

He straightened his hat as he winked at you, all his love sickness satiated, holding the door open so you could run off before the sun was high up, he told you to be safe again.

“I will.”, you whispered as you placed a final kiss on his cheek before you exited. The circus was beginning to grow on you with every passing day.

[candycandy00]

CANDYYY!! Congratulations on 2k followers!! You deserve every single one of them!! 💕💕

I saw the build your own fanfic adventure and you know I have to get in on this soooooooo:

Character: Dabi (what a surprise there 😂)

AU setting: Honestly I'm so stuck between Gothic Mansion and Monster Forest, I'll let you decide!!

Spice level: screw it let's go all the way, NSFW bb

Mood: I'll leave it up to you! You know me, I could go either way!

Kink: ugh I'll indulge a little today, Breeding/Daddy kink (sometimes I like being taken care of, you know?? 😂😂)

Have fun my love! 😘 Can't wait to read Choso's chapter!!

Waxwork - A Dabi x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Dabi as a werewolf. Dabi as a vampire. Light vampire-related blood. Rough sex. Breeding. Oral sex. Heavily inspired by the 1988 horror film “Waxwork”.

This ended up a lot longer than I planned but I hope you like it, babe!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback is loved! Dividers by @benkeibear.

You’ve always loved wax museums, so when a new one opened up in town, you just had to visit on opening day. You walk through the doors, noting sadly that there isn’t a very big crowd. After looking through the “historical figures” and “celebrities” sections, you wander into the “fictional characters” area. 

There are highly detailed wax figures lovingly made to recreate various famous scenes from novels and movies. A large portion of them are horror, and so you feel a chill down your spine as you notice you’re the only visitor in this section. 

Some of the wax figures look so realistic, you find yourself staring at them to make sure they’re not moving. You walk around, looking at the displays, before stopping at one that fascinates you. 

The scene looks like the interior of a cabin in the woods. There are even fake trees outside the windows. The “room” is lit by a fireplace. Near the door, there’s a young man bent backwards in what appears to be agony, in the midst of a transformation. He has messy white hair, and half his body is covered in white fur, giving the illusion that the fur is spreading. His dark clothes are ripped, and he’s clutching his head with his hands, one of them tipped with razor sharp claws. His eyes, so bright blue that they seem to glow, are staring upwards. You imagine he’s staring at a full moon.

Also in the display is a young woman in a ragged dress, recoiling from him in horror. Strangely, she resembles you. Her build is the same as yours, as well as her hair. But with her face so twisted by fear, you can’t really tell if that resembles yours too. 

Your eyes keep being drawn back to the man, to the fine white fur that looks like crushed velvet. You want to touch it, to feel it beneath your fingertips. And his eyes… so beautiful. 

Wait… did his eyes just move? For a fraction of a second, you thought his eyes flicked down to your face. But surely you imagined it. You laugh nervously, deciding you’ve been looking at this display for too long. 

You move quickly to the next display, this one looking like the ornate dining room of a gothic castle. Sitting at the table in a beautiful Victorian style dress is a young woman who looks almost identical to the one from the previous display. Which means she looks just like you. Her hair is pinned up in an intricate style, and her dress is way too immodest to be historically accurate. It’s an off the shoulder design that is extremely low cut, exposing way more cleavage than was probably common in the Victorian era. 

The young woman is holding a steak knife in her hand, and has apparently cut her finger on it by accident, as a shiny drop of red “blood” is made to look as if it’s dripping down her hand. But the most interesting part of this display is the man standing behind her, like a predator. 

You draw in a sharp breath as you look at him, realizing with a tinge of alarm that he’s the same as the man from the werewolf display, with slight differences. This one has black hair, and is wearing a black Victorian suit with a cape. He also has scars covering the lower half of his face. But those eyes… those lovely blue eyes… they’re the same. There’s a look of hunger in them as he leans over the woman, staring at the drop of blood. You look at the blood too, trying to imagine why he finds it so compelling. 

Oh, he must be a vampire! You almost laugh at yourself for being so slow to realize it. You casually glance back up at his face, and your breath catches in your throat. 

He’s looking straight at you. Not at the drop of blood, but at you. 

Your heart pounds furiously as you stare at him, locked in his gaze. This time you’re certain. His eyes moved! You know for a fact he was looking at the woman’s hand before! So why is he looking into your eyes now? 

This must be some kind of trick or gimmick, you tell yourself, trying to calm down. Maybe the wax figure has some sort of mechanized feature that makes his eyes move, as a way to excite the visitors. Or, judging by how realistic he looks, maybe he’s an actor! The possibility makes you feel quite silly. 

You back away, suddenly eager to leave this section of the museum, but your back collides with something and your body bounces forward, causing you to stumble over the velvet rope cordoning off the display and fall directly into it. You close your eyes and brace for the impact of the floor, but instead you black out. 

When your eyes snap open, you’re sitting at the fancy table in the dining room. There’s a plate of delicious looking food in front of you and a steak knife in your hand. A single drop of blood is sliding down your index finger. You look in front of you, where the rope should be, but it’s not there. In fact, the rest of the museum is gone! You really are in a complete dining room! 

All at once you remember the other occupant of the room, and you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder. Leaning over you is the very beautiful, very alive, vampire with the black hair and the scars. 

“Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” he asks. You expected his voice to be more smooth and formal, given his attire, but he sounds like any random guy you go to college with. 

You’re not sure what to say, wondering if this is a dream or not. Did you hit your head when you fell? 

The man grabs your hand, firmly but not harshly, and pulls it up to his face to examine it. “Looks like a small cut,” he says, then wraps his scarred lips around your finger, his tongue lapping gently at the blood. 

You’re so transfixed that you don’t think to pull your hand away until he’s finished. His eyes move over you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how obscenely low cut your dress is. You stand up from the table and look around, still hoping to see the rest of the museum somewhere. But it’s just not there. 

“Not running off, are you?” the man asks, a hint of a grin on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone for dinner.” His tongue runs over his lips as he says it, making your face flush with heat. 

“Um, I’m not really sure where I am,” you say, your back against the edge of the table. 

He steps closer to you. “You’re in my home, doll, and we’re about to have dessert.”

You feel paralyzed as he gets closer and closer, until his body is pressed against yours. He’s taller than you, probably a little older, but he’s fucking gorgeous. 

Maybe this is a dream. Maybe it’s a concussion-induced hallucination. But whatever it is, you might as well enjoy it. 

You reach up and wrap your arms around him as he lifts you up and sits you on the table, the plates and silverware magically gone. His mouth is on your neck, licking along a vein before you feel a sharp pain. He’s biting you! The pain is intense for a few moments, and then disappears, replaced by a feeling of euphoria. You can feel his teeth tearing at your delicate skin, can feel his tongue gliding along the wound, but it doesn’t hurt at all now. You only feel warm and aroused, listening to the sensual sucking sounds as he devours your blood. 

He lies you back on the table and pulls away from your neck. His mouth is sticky and red. He pulls the top of your dress down, freeing your breasts, and then his hands and mouth are upon them, squeezing and licking. 

You moan, clutching his shoulders, opening your legs ever wider as his body presses to you. Eventually he reaches down and rips the skirt of your dress right up the middle, clearing himself a path to your panties and exposing your white garter belt and stockings. He tears the panties away and bends down, running his tongue along your heated, damp flesh. You arch your back, ridiculously turned on by the idea of a vampire eating you out. His tongue, still wet with your blood, circles your clit, driving you to madness. 

When you’re right on the edge of climax, he stops and pulls away, opening his pants to the sounds of your panting. “Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks, sliding his hand up and down his hard, pleasingly large shaft. 

“Yes! I’ll be so good!” you breathe out, locking your legs around his body, pulling him closer. 

He grins as he shoves himself into you, licking your blood from his lips. His thrusts are deep, intimate, and hit your sweet spot just perfectly. “Ahh… feels so good…” you cry. 

You want to moan his name, but you have no idea what it is. 

“That’s it,” he says with a grunt, thrusting deeper, “taking me so well!”

Fuck it. Just go with the vibes. 

“Harder, Daddy!”

He looks down at you, momentarily surprised, but then he laughs and fucks you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before. 

You were already on the edge of cumming, and now you’re pushed over the edge by the way his tip hits your cervix, making you bounce off the table. You cum while clenching his cock. 

Just before he releases his seed inside you, painting your womb in his color, he leans forward and bites your neck again. There’s that brief searing pain again, contrasting so deliciously with the pleasure rippling through you as his cock pulses in your body. 

He pulls away, licking his lips again and pulling you up to your feet by your hand, like a gentleman. You’re in a daze as he leads you to the door of the room. “Thanks, doll. I haven’t had any visitors in a long time. Hopefully I’ll see you in the next one.”

“Next one?” you ask, confused as you walk through the door. 

You find yourself back in the museum, standing in front of the vampire display. But it looks different now. The woman sitting at the table doesn’t look like you anymore, instead having plain, almost blank features. And the man, the vampire, is standing up straight, looking right at you, a subtle grin on his bloody lips. 

Startled, you step back and touch your hand to your neck. You can feel the puncture wounds, the slick blood trickling out. 

Was… was that real?  

Somewhat delirious, you stagger away, and end up stumbling right into another display. This time you blink and you’re in the cabin in the woods. You’re the girl in the torn dress, cowering in fear of the white haired man who is turning into a werewolf before your very eyes. 

He looks at you through his agony as his body transforms, and you can see the recognition in his eyes. 

“Oh fuck, not this one!” he says, trying to move away from you. “Run! Get… to the edge… of the forest! Hurry!”

“What’s happening!?” you scream. “How did I even get here?”

“It’s the museum!” he shouts, clutching his head in pain. “Listen, you have to run! I can’t… control this form! I go fucking feral!”

You stand there, frozen, watching the soft white fur spread across his lean body, the claws on his hands get longer, the teeth in his much wider mouth become large and sharp. Two white furry ears even grow out of the top of his head. 

“Feral, you say?” The question rolls off your tongue. Watching him writhe in pain as his body changes is… actually kind of hot. 

He looks at you, blue eyes wild, and he seems to understand what you want. The transformation is complete. He stands before you much taller than before, covered head to toe in that lovely white fur. There’s a primal feel to the way he looks at you. Animalistic. Predatory.

Either he’s going to rip you apart or fuck your brains out. You really really hope it’s the latter. 

He lunges forward and tackles you to the floor, pushing you face down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. His movements are fast and aggressive, but not too rough. He easily could have killed you already. 

With one swipe of his powerful claws, your dress is in tatters, barely clinging to your body in tiny strips that cover nothing. Behind you, he lifts your hips and spreads your thighs, and almost immediately plunges into your slick pussy. 

You cry out, gripping the rug in your hands as he begins fucking into you, your bare chest and stomach rubbing against the rug with each thrust. Ah, his cock feels incredible! It’s long and hard, covered in a thin layer of soft velvety fur. As he takes you from behind, he uses one hand to lightly scrape his claws down your back. 

“Oh god!” you scream out when one clawed hand reaches around and finds your clit, rubbing and pinching it, making your body tremble. You don’t have to tell him to fuck you harder. You don’t think he possibly could. Your knees are wobbling, barely supporting you, your face is pressed into the rug, your tears seeping into it. You’ve never felt this good in your entire life. 

You feel him twitching inside you, and just as you feel his scalding hot cum shoot directly into your womb, you feel your own orgasm wash over you. Moaning and panting, you stay there on the rug, your face buried in it, until he eventually pulls out. By the time you have the energy to roll over and look at him, he’s reverted back to human form. 

He’s standing there naked, his white hair damp and hanging in his eyes. He drops down onto the rug beside you, and you scoot closer to him, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

“What is this place?” you ask him. “Is this really still the museum?”

The fireplace is roaring behind you, and you can hear the wind blowing through the trees outside the cabin. 

“I think every display is its own pocket dimension,” he says. “But fuck if I know how it all works.”

You look at him intently. “Who are you?”

He shrugs. “Just a guy who got stuck here. I came to the museum with some friends a few years ago, stumbled into one of the displays, and got stuck. I stayed inside too long, so now I can’t leave.”

“Why not?” you ask. 

“When I finally found the border, the way back to the museum, I stuck one arm out and it instantly turned to wax. As long as I stay in the displays, I’m flesh and blood. But I can move my consciousness around the different dimensions.”

You suddenly feel panicked. “What about me?”

He grins. “You’ll be fine. You haven’t been here nearly long enough. Certain rare people get pulled in, and I always lead them out.”

You meet his gaze for a few moments, then say, “I’ll come back! I’ll visit you as often as I can!”

He gives you a somewhat sad smile. “The museum moves around to different towns. We probably won’t be here for longer than a year.”

“Then I’ll track it down!” you say forcefully, causing him to blink in surprise. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you!”

“I hope so,” he says, then he stands up and heads for the door, opening it. He tosses a blanket to you to cover yourself with and says, “You better get going. Head to the edge of the forest and you’ll be back in the museum.”

You wrap the blanket around yourself as you walk through the door. You stop and look back at him. “What’s your name?”

He smiles. “Touya.”

Minutes later, you’re back in the museum, standing in front of the werewolf display. The man who was once bent back in pain is standing calmly in the cabin now, looking at you without moving. You wave to him before turning to leave. “See you later, Touya!”

[thelambliesdown1974]

Okay but like walking across 🚶‍♂️ the sitting room 🐒🪑 I turn the television 📺 on 🔛 sitting beside you I look into your eyes 👁️ as the sound 🎼 of motor cars 🚗 fade in the night time 🌝 I swear I saw your face change 😲 it didn’t seem quite right 🤔 and it’s hello babe! 👋 with your guardian eyes so blue 👀 hey my baby 👶🏼 dont you know our love ❤️ is true 🫂 coming closer 👬 with our eyes 👁️ a distance falls around our bodies ⬅️➡️ out in the garden 🪴 the moon 🌙 seems very bright 💡 six 6️⃣ saintly shrouded men ✝️ move across the lawn 🏡 slowly the seventh walks in front 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️ with a torch 🔦 held high in hand 🤚 and it’s hey babe! 👋👶🏼 your suppers waiting for you 🍝 hey my baby! 👋👶🏼 don’t you know our love ❤️ is true 🫂 I’ve been so far from here 🌄 far from your loving arms 😘 it’s good to feel you again 🥰 it’s been a long long time ⏳⌛️… hasn’t it🤔…………………… I know 🤓 a farmer 👨‍🌾 who looks after a farm 🌾 with water clear 💧 he cares for all his harvest 🥕 I know 🤓 a fireman 👨‍🚒 who looks after the fire 🔥… cant you see he’s fooled you all 😈 yes it’s him again 🤯 can you see he’s fooled you all 😢 share his peace ☮️ sign the lease 📑 he’s a super sonic scientist 👨🏻‍🔬 he’s the guaranteed eternal sanctuary man 🙏 look! 👀 look into my mouth 👄 he cries 🗣️ and all the children 👧🏼 passed down many paths 🛤️ I bet my life you’ll walk inside 🚶‍♂️ hand in hand 🧑‍🤝‍🧑 gland in gland 😵‍💫 with a spoonful 🥄 of miracle 🕊️ it’s the guaranteed eternal sanctuary 🙏 (we will rock you 🪨 rock you 🪨 little snake 🐍 we will keep you snug ☺️ and warm 😊…………………… wearing feelings 😁 on our faces 💁‍♂️ while our faces took a rest 😴🛌 we walked across the fields 🌾 to see the children 👦🏼 of the west 🧭 but there was a host of dark skinned warriors 🤺 standing still below the ground 👇🏻 🌎 waiting for battle! ⚔️ fights begun they’ve been released 😡 killing for for peace ☮️ bang bang bang! 💥 bang bang bang! 💥 and they’ve given me a wonderful potion 🧪 but I cannot contain my emotion 😭 and even though I’m feeling good 😌 👍 something tells me 🧐 I better activate my prayer 🙏 capsule 💊 todays the day 📆 to celebrate 🎉 the for have met their fate 🪦 the order for rejoicing 🥳 and dancing 🕺 has come from our warlord 🤴…………………… wandering through the chaos 🥾 the battle has left ⚔️ we climb up the mountain of human flesh 🗻 to a plateau of green grass 🏞️ and green trees 🌳 full of life 🕊️ a young figure 👦 sits still by a pool 🌊 he’s been stamped human bacon 🥓 by some butchery tool 🔪 he is you 🫵 social security 🧑‍⚖️ took care of this lad we watch 👀 in reverence as narcissus 😌 is turned to a flower 🌸 a flower? 🌸 …………………… if you go down ⬇️ to willow farm 🌳 to look for butterflies 🦋 flutterbyes gutter flies 🪰 open your eyes 👁️ it’s full of surprise 😲 eye one lies like a fox 🦊 on the rock 🪨 in the musical box 🎶📦 there’s mum and dad 👨‍👧👩‍👧 and good and bad 😇😈 and everyone happy to be here 😋 there’s Winston Churchill dressed in drag 👠 he used to be a British flag 🇬🇧 plastic bag 🛍️ what a drag 🙄 the frog was a prince 🫅 the prince was a brick 🧱 the brick was an egg 🍳 the egg was a bird 🦅 have you heard 👂 yes! We’re happy as fish 🐟 and gorgeous and geese 🦢 and wonderful clean in the morning 🧼 we’ve got everything 🤑 we’re growing everything 🌱 we’ve got some in ⬅️ we’ve got some out ➡️ we’ve got some wild things 👹 floating about 🕴️everyone 👦👩🧑 we’re changing everyone 😧 you name them all we’ve had them here 👈 and the real stars are still to appear! ⭐️🤩 feel your body melt 🫠 mum 👩 to mud 🪱 to mad 😡 to dad 👨🏻 dad diddly office ✏️ dad diddly office ✏️ you’re all full of ball 🏀 dad 👨🏻 to dam 🦫 to dumb 😛 to mum 👩 mom diddly washing 🧽 mom diddly washing 🧽 you’re all full of ball 🏀 let me hear you lies 👂 we’re living this up 🆙 to the eyes 👀 mama I want you now! 😩

[immisshope]

This year 2023 is one of my best ones yet 😍. HE has blessed me so much personally. And my love affair with books have been fiercely ignited once again, thanks to Red White & Royal Blue movie, the book, Nicholas & Taylor, Casey & Matthew ♥️🤍💙.

Have you ever seen someone that is sunshine in human form? That is Nick & Taylor!The moment I laid eyes on the chemistry of Nicholas & Taylor, I was defenceless against the spell of love being cast upon me. They’re amazing talents that have breathed life and colour into Alex & Henry is truly over the moon, they are destined to be our Alex & Henry.

I’ve never imagined that I would be insanely enamoured in love with them. I wonder how these two did not fall in love with each other with their wonderful chemistry, and how intimate this movie is. Aahh, they have one of the different types of love: perfect for each other, but friends.

I want to thank ♥️ Nicholas & Taylor for coming into my life and lightening up my days . They’re my forever, haha 😉. I’m being dramatic here, LOL, please bear with me.

On a serious note, I want to thank my fellow RWRB lovers here on Tumblr and IG for sharing with us all their amazing works. I love you guys 😘!

HAPPY NEW YEAR to all…

[saphirered]

Dancing Legends

I seem to have misplaced some of the requests (or tumblr has eaten them) but here's Full Moon and Witches from my prompt requests! Let's dabble into some Illyrian legends and longing. 😘

Last light approaches. The solstice is approaching and first festivities have started, the preparations sparking that excitement. Nevertheless the people of Velaris make haste. These are the last days of darkness growing ever darker. The longest night approaches and that alone is reason enough to celebrate. Many tales surround the solstices, the darkest days too. Parents tell their children about kindred spirits in the night when nightmares haunt them as often as they share the legends of monsters lurking in the shadows. Not all that looms in the shadows is good-willed. Over the centuries many of these monsters were given names and faces in the horrors Prythian endured. Some still haunt the dreams of those who endured. 

Azriel. Another name whispered in these stories. Another demon in the shadows, and one who has snatched away many a victim never to be seen again. Azriel, not but a visage through shadowy tendrils, the glow of a sharp weapon reflecting in eyes so wicked, they promise death. The tales have certainly grown, the perspectives too. Rarely is he deemed the hero of these grand tales but if anything it’s become amusing. The opinions of others matter little to him and as long as he has a reputation to keep so he shall. Only those close to him will hold the light to his face and see his truth. Those are the people he loves and cares about. They see kindness in the flicker of light. They see the blue glow in the darkness illuminate a soft half-smile and unquestionable affection. He will let them lead the path through darkness lantern in hand and know they have nothing to fear, even when the shadows dance and whisper around them. One such lantern-bearer follows a different path cast in silver light of moon and stars. 

Azriel didn’t mean to follow you. He wasn’t. Not really. You’re just very quick and it’s very busy and far away when his shadows sung so sweetly of your presence but a few streets down. They’d taken to that in the past months; always notifying him when you were close. They like you, almost as much as he likes you, almost as much as you like him. Cauldron… when you told him of your affections he might as well have been swallowed by the darkness but you found your way to him. Since that confession on your midnight walk across the Sidra, things have been good. A graze here, a longing look there, a couple of kisses too but as life does, he was whisked away longing for your presence, your touch, your very soul every passing second, it made it all so much more difficult. Not that he’s used to doing things the easy way anyway. When he saw you across the street finally, basket in arm, talking to people, moving from market stand to shop. He draws nearer still weaving through at a leisurely pace, simply to absorb your grace, the way you go about your day without a worry in the world. Finally the crowd recedes and he’s able to catch up. 

“Took you long enough.” You say to the air. Azriel is confused. You seem to be talking as if someone walks next to you but there’s no one there. No one but him. His shadows sing such lovely songs; of your glee, the way you raise an eyebrow and turn on your heels. When you face him he notices one resting in your palm. The tiniest sliver of shadow, coiling and dancing with joy. Traitors. Azriel bites the inside of his cheek for a second; a poor attempt to control those micro expressions you’ve caught onto. 

“They like you. I don’t blame them.” The way your smile shines like a thousands stars and beckons him closer, he but follows along these urges coming to cup your palm. Your skin is cold to the touch but you don’t seem bothered as you subconsciously lean closer, your shoulders slackening just a little. You make it seem so easy. Even more so when you stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to his cheek ever so gently. 

“Regardless, I hope my wandering doesn’t keep you from whatever you were doing.” Completely unbothered you loop your arm through his. The sliver of shadow joins the others happily now you’re close to him, to them. They trail alongas much to you as they do to him. Whatever he was doing seems so insignificant now he’s here with you. You have taken up every single thought passing through his head. The full moon is your guide and had Azriel not been so honed in he might as well have lost track where or when he was. At least he’s aware enough you’re taking him to the shores. The breeze tells him so because it tussles your hair ever so lightly like only an ocean breeze can. He should be thanking the sprites of nature for this gift. 

“I think you care as little about my previous destination as I do.” There’s a smugness in his voice, one you’ve learned to chalk up to him being a know-it-all, when he knows he’s right. He is right. You won’t deny it. While you would love to hear him talk about his day, you care very little about what you’re keeping him from if it means he’ll remain at your side a moment longer. Azriel had been whisked away from you for far too long already. If it truly was urgent he would have said so. Perhaps that makes you selfish. If it does so be it because if it means he remains at your side willingly, if he chooses you, who are you to deny the both of you?

“Perhaps so but that does not make it less polite to ask.” You all but scold him. While your voice reads offended, your eyes gleam with playfulness; the shine in them, the lines at the corners growing more prominent all a sign of your amusement. 

“Manners and niceties are not my strong suit.” You scoff at his retort and quickly cover your lips to hide your smile. 

Azriel gently stops and you follow suit, looking up at him when he takes that hand from your face and reveals your lovely lips. First he kisses your knuckles; not but a graze. You let out a soft breath, a gasp if he dares assume. That’s when he steps in closer, fingers dance across your cheek and as if clockwork you tilt your head lean up and press your lips to his. A sweet kiss. And another follows. When Azriel pulls away and sees the look in your eyes he knows he would never refuse you anything. He will certainly not refuse you this. His hand settles on the small of your back pulling you to his body, the other tangles into your hair and when you look at him the way you do he leans in again, this time revealing what he had kept under lock and key: the true desperation of his longing for you. You deepen the kiss, fingers dancing across his shoulder, settling on the base of his neck, playing with the hairs at the back of his head and moving up, trapping him within your loving. 

But all good things have to come to an end. A clearing throat not too far away makes you pull away. He would have preferred to ignore it, to abuse that dark reputation just enough to spark hesitance upon approach but it’s too late. You mutter an apology, lace your fingers with his, pick up the basket you must have dropped he knows not when and pull him along the streets closer towards the shore. 

“You and your manners.” He laughs. “So where are we going?”

“We are going to the shore because it’s nice and quiet- don’t look at me like that-“ You once more scold him but stop, placing your palm flat against his chest. “You’ll have to be more patient.”

“If that is your promise I’ll do as you say.” He goes to lean in but your palm keeps him just out of reach. You don’t have to say the words because they practically echo through his head; desperate much? The answer is yes. You quicken your step and thus he has his answer too. 

You know how to pick your spot. It’s a climb down some rocks and while you could have asked Azriel to fly the both of you to stable grounds, you choose not to. Be it stubbornness or simply the look in his eyes whenever he sees you step from one jagged rock to the next, basket in hand and balancing with the other. You’re no trained warrior from the Illyrian mountains battle worn to keep your step and while he is sure he could catch you, is always close enough, there is this fragment of doubt. What if you hurt yourself? What if he’s not quick enough? What if he fails? Doubt flashes through his eyes but then he sees your smile and knows; you’re safe with him. He is safe with you here on your way to the waves at night. The crashing, push and pull of the water echoes through his mind as it does through the sand banks and hollows between stone. You’d once called it the song of nature; beckoning as it is dangerous. You compared it to him jokingly, claiming his song very much similar to this one. 

Once your feet touch the final edge of the rocks, where the sand blends in and the shallows meet, you take of your shoes, set them besides your basket on an elevated level. You without much of a splash or complaint about the frigid cold step into the ankle deep water. You suck in a breath, casting your gaze to the sky. You’re divinity embodied, the radiant moonlight telling the story of your beauty, your grace. Had Azriel not the restraint he had he might as well have fallen onto his knees in front of you ready to worship your very being, your every whim and whine and want. You have truly enthralled him. Then your gaze casts to him and he is frozen until you stretch your fingers towards him. An offer to join. Slowly he follows suit. You watch his every move with inquisitive eyes as much as he did you before. 

“There’s stories you know, about witches of old dancing in the shallows of rivers and oceans. They asked for favourable tidings, for the waves and tides to wash away all that stains and settles rot within the soul. They ask the stars to light when they see the paths no more. It’s said they danced to a song none but them could hear under the last full moon of the year.” You explain as Azriel unlaces his boots, sets them aside next to your basket. You have to hide your amusement when he was none too prepared for the freezing water. He steps closer to you until you lace your fingers with his, letting the others brush along the line of his shoulders. Your warmth is inviting as ever and the desire to be close to you grows ever stronger. 

“Stories of witches. Tall tales and superstitions to keep Illyrian warriors in line.” The beat of his heart echoes like the strings of a waltz or perhaps it is your heartbeat. Azriel grew up with the stories too. He’s not one to settle for tall tales as truth but he knows every myth and legend holds some grain of truth. You’re no witch though. You are not a thief in the night to steal the newborns and use their bones for your dark machinations. You’re simply just you; perfect and glowing and beautiful. You’re enchanting in your own way and might as well lure him to his death. He would not question it. Perhaps you are the witches from the fairytales after all. 

“I never took you for the superstitious type. If these dark magics frighten you so, feel free to abandon me here and I shall see to my grand witchcraft myself.” You jest and turn on your heels, taking a stride away from him but by your interlocked hands you are spun further and back into Azriel’s embrace, your entwined hands between the two of you, his free hand settling upon your hip softly tracing the curve. While the move was a surprise and left you to catch your breath eyes wide, you recover quickly. You curve your spine to look up at him with defiance. 

“Send me away and I’ll leave you here. Say the word and I’ll be gone.” His lips are awfully close to yours. You can feel the breath of his every word on yours like a breath of life itself. He dips, your cheek to his barely grazing as he whispers. “Answer me.” 

Shivers run down your spine. You know he can feel it too. Your fingers slide up the side of his neck until they lace into his hair grasp tightening just enough to make him aware, and then you pull. He catches his breath as you force him to look upon you. Your lips part and so do his. That beat grows louder. You hear it too because when you step back he steps with, if not forced by that very beat, then by your hold on him. Another step and another, bare feet moving through the water with the push and pull of the waves. It matters not if he knows the dance. You do and whatever pulling force that guides him keeps you close to him. Your grasp on his hair loosens and you brush aside a stray lock from his face before you guide his lips closer to yours. So close yet not close enough. Each step that follows takes you just out of reach, but then finally with a twirl he pulls you back in. Finally your lips find his and you do not hold back. You welcome him fully. That dance continues interlocked, hands wandering, lips clashing, and tongues dancing that ancient waltz you’ve been waiting for for far too long. It is yours now.