#I can excuse it when it’s not in my house

[propertyofwicked]

FIRST - LN

lando discovers his bestfriends little sister is a virgin, and will stop at no lengths to change that (and ruin her for anyone else)

warnings: smut!! MDNI!! virgin reader, fewtrell!sister, mostly soft smut with a small innocence kink

✧ it's officially assignment szn and ur girl is STRESSED. my posts wont be as frequent for a while but i am currently creating a backlog of things to post! ✧

masterlist the playlist

“ok, y/n - truth or dare?” ria asked the girl from across the circle they sat in on the floor of max’s living room.

being so close in age to her older brother, y/n fewtrell fit in well with his friendship group, often preferring to hang out with them over her own friends. a few others were dotted around the house, P and a couple girls using the kitchen. they were all due to head to a club soon, only using max’s house to pre drink as he lived closest.

“truth,” she responded, giggling slightly as the alcohol began to turn her tipsy - not drunk, just jolly she had told max when he last checked on her.

“where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” ria asked, giggling to herself at the rest of the group laughed, turning to face y/n for her answer. she went silent, heat rising her face gradually. her eyes scanned the group, everyone staring expectantly at her - only max avoided her gaze, looking at his phone to queue songs to the playlist.

“i- uh, well i guess i…haven’t?” she replied, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. she didn’t know why she was so embarrassed - she was 19, almost 20, and it seemed that everyone around her was coupled up, or at least active in that department. and, it hadn’t been through lack of trying, every man she had almost been with had found out and used it to get to who she was related to - and subsequently, lando - or gave her the ick before they got the chance to.

“what do you mean you haven’t?!” niran had laughed out, he hadn’t meant to laugh, he just couldn’t believe it.

“i ju-”

“ok can we stop quizzing my little sister on her sex life? please,” max interrupted, y/n sighing out a breath of relief when they finally moved to the next person. her eyes scouted across the group of people, glad to see them all distracted and no longer giving her the sympathy eyes over her pathetic excuse of a love life.

in her embarrassment, however, y/n missed the way lando’s eyes had darted to look at her when she had answered, missing the way they darkened slightly at the revelation. he shook the thoughts plaguing his mind away, focusing on keeping his face neutral as he watched the blush rising her cheeks.

she didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her as she snuck out the room, however. she’d hope no one would notice her sneaking into the kitchen, smiling at P before swiping a bottle of something and heading to the garden, legs landing gracefully to sit on a step.

this was not the first time she had dwelled on this, but this time, she could at least comfort the blow of her overactive brain by drinking - or so she thought. as not a moment after she’d removed the cap, the bottle was being snatched from her hands and closely inspected by a man towering above her crouched body.

“this smells like ass, y/n - are you sure you wanna drink it?” lando asked her, lowering himself to sit on the step next to her. the sky was darkening, stars filling the vast blackness.

“yes im sure, thanks dad,” she mocked him, arms reaching over to snatch the bottle from him, but once again, he moved his arm out, stretching the bottle further from her reach.

“nuh uh!” lando said, shaking his head, “only when you tell me why you intend on drinking what im sure is the finest bottle of… £3.99 vodka - jesus, £3.99?”

“sorry mister ‘owns-2-mclarens-and-a-lambo’,” she replied, leaning further into his side in a desperate bid to get the bottle back - she wasn’t even sure she wanted to drink it anymore, she just wanted something to fiddle with when lando eventually forced her to talk to him.

“didn’t answer my question, darlin’” he told her, placing the bottle besides him as he removed one of his threaded bracelets, placing it in her exposed palm.

oh he knew her a little too well.

“i jus- no it’s so stupid,” she conceded, the bracelet twisting around her fingers. she stared directly at it, refusing to meet lando’s intense gaze.

“bet it’s not,” he told her, moving an arm to wrap around her when he felt the chill air brush his own skin.

“you know what’s worse than having to announce to your friends that you’re a lonely little virgin that no one wants? being the lonely little virgin. it’s so fucking embarrassing - i’m 19, hell i’m nearly 20 and when everyone around you has someone in their life, it’s so hard not to feel so behind in your own life, to feel completely unlovable, to constantly feel like there’s something wrong with you,” she breathed out, still refusing to make eye contact with the man besides her.

lando took in a deep breath, choosing his next words so carefully. his hand reached up to her chin, turning her face to look up at his.

“y/n, you are not unlovable, you’re not falling behind in life and there is certainly nothing wrong with you,” he told her, his tone harsh in attempt to knock some sense into her. she shook her head at him in disbelief, his hand dropping back to his side.

“see, i really want to believe you but the evidence isn’t really stacking up in support of your argument. if that was true, i probably wouldn’t be sat in my brother’s back garden throwing myself a pity party.”

“i think your brother might’ve had a part to play in this, if im honest y/n,” lando said, slipping up slightly. she paused at his words, before her head shot round to look at him again.

“what? what do you mean max has something do with the fact no one wants me?”

“it’s not that no one wants you, y/n,” he sighed at her again before giving in, realising he’d already said too much to stop now, “it’s just that max has a bad habit of… threatening anyone who even mentions you in that way?” he added, his tone making it sound like he wasn’t even sure himself.

“threatening them?” she repeated, anger beginning to bubble up in her stomach.

“he’s only actually hit 2 of them - hell even ive had a close call with his fist a few times,” lando laughed, before realising what he’d indirectly admitted to. luckily, neither of them had time to dwell on it before the man in question popped his head round the door.

“what are you two losers doing out here?” he joked, before sensing some tension being thrown his way, “whatever, we’re leaving in a minute if you wanna get ready?”

“no thanks,” y/n told him, pushing herself up and beginning to walk past him.

“huh?” max replied, confused.

“i said, no thanks. wouldn’t wanna risk you punching anyone who shows the slightest interest in me,” she added, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. she turned quickly on her heel, walking off, ignoring the group as she trailed up to the spare bedroom.

the two boys shared a look between them, lando’s face holding that of apology whilst max’s was gradually moving to infuriated.

“what did you tell her?” max asked him, jaw clenching slightly.

“i didn’t mean to,” lando replied, throwing his arms out slightly as he stood up, “i just thought she ought to know that the reason boys don’t go for her is not because she is completely unlovable.”

“she said that?” max asked, startled slightly at the comment, “she thought she was unlovable?”

lando said nothing, throwing a simple nod at him before brushing past him and making his way to the front door.

y/n laid in her bed, her mind racing through the conversation with lando, like a record on repeat. she’d heard the rest of them leave the house almost an hour ago, leaving her to lay with her own thoughts once more.

there was nothing wrong with her, max just threatened anyone who came too close to her.

max had punched 2 guys who had tried to get with her.

max had tried to punch lando - wait, why had he tried to punch lando?

the sound of the front door opening, then quickly shutting again drew her from her thoughts, a natural panic spreading through her veins.

“hello?” she called out, confused as to who could be walking in the house right now. there was no response for a moment, the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs filled the silence.

“it’s just me, baby,” a voice called out, the childhood nickname letting her know it was lando approaching her bedroom. the name used to be max and lando’s attempt to tease the girl, calling her a baby when she cried after dropping her ice cream. that was when she was 7, but 13 years later, the nickname still stuck. somewhere along the line, the name had turned from mimicking to a term of endearment, blurring the lines of their friendship every time he called out to her.

“oh thank god, i thought you were a murderer,” she joked, her breathing easing as his head poked around the door, eyes meeting hers.

“you thought i was a murderer and chose to shout ‘hello’? brave, or stupid?” lando joked back.

“never let them know your next move,” y/n replied with a shrug, before noticing the way one of lando’s hands remained hidden behind the door, “whatcha got there?” she asked him, the way one would ask a dog who had something they shouldn’t.

“depends, are you gonna be nice to me?” he shot back.

“me? im always nice to you, lan,” an innocent smile built on her face.

“tell that to the scar on my back.”

“tell the scar on your back to get over it, it was 10 years ago,” she snorted as he moved further into the door frame.

“no ice cream for you then,” lando replied, smirking at her as he shrugged.

“you got ice cream?” she asked, eyes widening at him.

“thought you might wanna watch a film and forget about tonight with a flurry.”

“gimme,” y/n said, making grabby hands that would’ve been embarrassing had she not already had the worst night of her life.

“nuh uh, not until you’re nice to m-”

“oh get over here you drama queen,” she groaned at him, patting the spot next to her on the bed. lando would never say no to her, giving in so easily as he climbed under the blanket, an arm falling naturally behind her head as he did.

he began fiddling with the tv remote, scrolling through netflix for something to watch. y/n leant further into his embrace, her head settling lightly on his chest as she looked up at him.

“lan - why didn’t you stay at the club?” she asked quietly, fighting the urge to fiddle with her fingers, nervous at the thought of insinuating that he’d want to spend his evening with her instead.

“clubs are only good when you’re drunk,” lando replied with a shrug, eyes still focused on the tv, “id rather just be the designated driver and still be able to get up for training in the morning.”

his eyes flitted down at her quickly, glad she’d returned her gaze to the screen as if he’d seen her wide eyes staring up at him, lando doubted he’d be able to control himself. what she’d revealed earlier still flew around his brain as he fought desperately to shake away any thoughts of taking her innocence, ruining her for anyone else. god, he felt like a creep.

the two fell into a comfortable silence, both of them appearing to focus on the film playing in front of them. lando’s hand remained tightly around her waist, his hand moving beneath her shirt slightly for his fingers to trace circles into her skin. her head remained on his chest, each breath taking in the lingering smell of his aftershave.

“lan?” she broke the silence again, looking up at him once again.

“yes, baby?” he replied, eyes never straying from the screen.

“what did you mean earlier when you said max had even tried to punch you?”

his head shot down to look at her, feeling himself crumble slightly as her eyes stared widely up at him, her tired voice drawing him further into the trap. he could lie, tell her it was a misunderstanding. or he could tell her the truth, and pray it didn’t destroy his entire friendship with the fewtrell siblings.

“when you told me i wasn’t unlovable earlier, you really meant…” she asked, filling in for his silence. she trailed off at the end of her sentence, unwilling to get her hopes up.

“yeah.. so about that,” he said, trying to regain his confidence. she hit at his chest lightly, pushing herself to sit up and look at his face clearer than ever.

“how long?” she asked him with unwavering eye contact.

“longer than i want to admit,” lando replied, smiling at her awkwardly, “and i understand if you don’t fe-”

“kiss me.”

“wha-”

“you heard me,” she told him before joining their lips apprehensively. it started off slow, both testing the waters before falling into a steady pace. his tongue swiped her bottom lip softly, deepening the kiss as his hand raised to hold her jaw. she stifled a moan, embarrassed at the way her body was reacting to the slightest touch.

“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he told her, hands dropping to her waist, “come ‘ere.”

lando’s hands settled on her hips, fingers gripping at them slightly to guide her onto his lap. as she settled into the new position, he kissed her again, gentle in the way he pulled her in closer, his free hand disappearing under her shirt to draw circles into her skin once more. her hips instinctively rolled into his at the feeling, and he gripped at her skin harder, a small groan escaping his mouth.

“fuck, keep that up and i won’t be able to stop,” he warned her as she rolled her hips again. his head dropped to her jaw, pressing soft kisses along the skin.

“what if i don’t want this to stop?” she asked him, causing him to pause, looking up at her softly.

“are you sure?” he asking, checking her face for any sign of hesitancy. she nodded at him before speaking.

“there’s no one i trust more.”

with her reassurance, lando flipped the top of them over, trailing kisses down her neck as he hovered above her.

“we’ll go slow,” he told her as he pulled at her t-shirt, tugging the fabric up her torso, “wanted this for so long. gonna take my time with you,” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her stomach. her back arched into him slightly, helping him remove her top fully. y/n felt exposed, more so than usual. had it not been for lando’s large hands snaking up to grab at her breasts, she would’ve used her own to shield her nudity.

“so gorgeous,” he mumbled again, before dipping his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, tongue flicking at it, his fingers tugged at the other. he pushed himself back up, re joining their lips in a sweet kiss.

“gonna make you feel good, alright?” he asked her, watching the way her head nodded at him, “yeah? need you to use your words from now on baby.”

“think you should take your top off now,” she told him, her confidence returning slightly, “seems a bit unfair,” she added, jokingly pointing at her own exposed chest.

“so it is,” he agreed, sitting back on his knees as his hands gripped the bottom of his own t-shirt, lifting it over his head. the material landed on the floor, but y/n couldn’t care less - she was much more focused on the way his muscles looked, a combination of his tan and the soft fairy lights illuminating his features in a way that had her stomach rolling for him.

“oi! my eyes are up here,” he joked, settling himself between her legs. lando’s hands trailed up the exposed skin of her thighs, dragging his fingers slowly. her hips jutted up slightly at the sensation, a satisfied smirking fighting its way onto lando’s face.

“this ok?” he asked her, hands toying with the waistband of her shorts.

“yeah,” she breathed out, anticipation beginning to get the better of her as he began pulling the material away from her heat.

“tell me to stop and i’ll stop,” lando told her, discarding her shorts with his top, before adjusting his gaze to her, “just relax f’me. breathe,” he added, noticing the way her chest had frozen, breath caught in her throat. a finger ran through her folds softly, her hips rolling slightly at the sudden feeling of his rough finger pad circling her clit. his movements stopped for a moment as he moved back up her body, kissing her softly as he gathered her slick along his fingers.

“so wet for me,” he told her, kissing at her jaw, “gonna get you ready for me, ok?”

“please, lan,” she begged, panting slightly as his fingers circled her heat again, pressing into her slightly. it’s not like she hadn’t done this before on herself, which was potentially her downfall the moment he pressed a finger into her, the stretch unexpected. lando’s face pressed into her neck, kissing a trail along the skin as he pumped his finger a few times. he could hear every noise she made for him so clearly, drawing him to push a second finger into her, feeling the way her walls clamped around him.

“im ready, lan, please just fuck me,” she begged him, panting in between her words. he could’ve passed out her words, blood rushing from his brain and straight to his cock. his body pushed back up, standing quickly to remove the rest of his clothes. her hands halted him as they reached out and grabbed at the waist band of his joggers, pulling them down slowly as the pressure of his cock strained against the tight material. he helped her remove them fully, her spare hand adding difficulty as she palmed him through his boxers.

“fuck, angel,” he groaned, careful not to overwhelm her as she pulled at his boxers, tugging them down as she had his joggers. however they soon established his noises were not as overwhelming as the size of his cock - her eyes widening as she came face to face with it, her finger running down the thick vein that travelled his length.

“like what you see?” he joked in attempt to ease her nerves.

“how-? is that gonna fit?” she stuttered, gaze travelling down to her stomach as if she were trying to size herself up.

“im sure we’ll make it work,” he replied, hand reaching to her chin, forcing her to look back up at him, “remember, we can stop whenever.”

she nodded at him, before reaching up, looping her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. he used the leverage to lay her back down, hovering over her once again as he rested on his forearm. without breaking the kiss, he reached down, guiding his cock through her folds a few times before settling the tip at her entrance.

“you sure?” lando checked again, searching her face for any last minute apprehension.

“are you sure?” she retorted, her smile illuminated by the moons glow, “can’t imagine fucking a virgin is high on your bucket list.”

“you’d be surprised,” he responded, mumbling slightly, his cock throbbed in his hand. he began lowering his hips, pushing into her slowly, low grunts falling from his lips as he disappeared further inside her.

“breathe baby, breathe for me,” he told her, feeling the way her body had tensed, her chest stilling as she inhaled deeply, “feel so good.”

lando waited a moment, watching the way her face softened, his necklace dangling dangerously around her lips. he started moving at a gentle pace, careful to listen to her responses.

“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his.

“yeah? ‘my the first person to make you feel good?” he asked, baiting her slightly.

“yes, fuck lan. only you.”

he close to lost it, his brain short circuiting at her words. he began to move faster in her, relishing in the way she moaned his name, her walls contracting around his cock. his hand reached between the two of them, fingers flicking at her clit before drawing pressured circles around her heat.

“faster, lan, please,” y/n begged him, her hand raising to tug at his curls.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers at a brutal pace, his eyes focused on the way her breasts moved in unison with his thrusts.

lando felt his high coming quicker than he could ever remember, feeling the way her grip on his bicep tightened and her breathing became more sporadic letting him know she was close too.

“you wanna cum with me?” he asked her, his tone soft whilst his pace remained rough, his fingers beginning to trace his own name on her clit. it gave him a sense of ownership over her, an invisible trace of him that would linger on her sensitivity forever - and she loved it, whining at the feeling of his skin on hers.

“please, fuck. wanna cum,” she told him, eyes shutting as her head rolled back. lando’s head dropped to her exposed neck, his teeth nipping at the skin before he titled his head further, mouth landing on the flesh of her breast. he’d quickly realised that leaving visible mark on his best friends little sister was potentially not the smartest idea, choosing to nip at the skin of her tit, mouth sucking the flesh into his lips as he did. his raised himself up again, admiring the way blood ran to the surface of her skin, only imagining the way she’d look when a bruise formed on the spot.

“only me?” he asked her, hand moving to grip her jaw, dark eyes locking with hers.

“only you,” she replied in a breathless moan.

“good girl,” he said, feeling the way her hips rolled up into his, heat running through her entire body as her climax washed over her. y/n shook around him lightly, her stomach spasming as she rode out her high, but lando couldn’t stop and admire the view. he pulled out quickly, feeling his own high rising in his cock, both of their eyes glued on the way his cock shot out ropes of cum that landed on her stomach.

“so….” she started, trying to fill the somewhat awkward tension in the room.

“we are so doing that again,” he said with a chuckle and he moved to locate his joggers on the floor.

“oh absolutely,” she replied, laughing with him as the fear of him leaving her washed away, though her eyebrow quirked up at him as he shuffled to the door.

“just grabbing a cloth. gotta get you cleaned up so we can finish the film,” he added with a smile.

minutes later, they were both sat back in the bed, her legs thrown over his lap as one hand grazed the skin of his back lightly, lando’s hand running up and down her thigh in a similar fashion. they sat in a comfortable silence, knowing that eventually they would need to discuss the future of this, the future of them, but for now lando relished in the way her hand continuously stroked at the same spot on his back. the same spot - he internally questioned.

“watcha doing?” he finally asked, curious to her supposed fixation on his left shoulder blade.

“apologising to the scar on your back?” she retorted, circling back to their earlier conversation.

“never apologise for anything ever again,” he mumbled into her hair, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“what if i murdered your entire family?” she piped up.

“i support women’s rights and their wrongs.”

“preach.”

-

✧ inbox/requests are open ✧

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Let's Have a Talk, First"- Stereotypes, pt 1

Come sit down. You and I, before we get into any of the things I'm sure you're impatient to know: we need to have a come to Jesus talk, first.

There are some things that I've been asked and seen that strengthens my belief that we need to have a reframing of the conversation on stereotypes in media away from something as simple as "how do I find the checklist of stereotypes to avoid". Because race- and therefore racial stereotypes- is a complex construct! Stands to reason then, that seeing, understanding, and avoiding it won't be that simple! I'm going to give you a couple pointers to (hopefully) help you rethink your approach to this topic, and therefore how to apply it when you're writing Black characters- and even when thinking about Black people!

Point #1: DEVELOP THE CHARACTER!! WRITE!!

Excuse my crude language, but let me be blunt: Black people- and therefore Black characters- will get angry at things, and occasionally make bad choices in the heat of the moment. Some of us like to fuck real nasty, some might be dominant in the bedroom, they may even be incredibly experienced! Others of us succumb to circumstance and make poor decisions that lead to crime.

None of those things inherently makes any of us angry Black women and threatening Black men, Jezebels and BBC Mandingos, and gangsters and thugs!

Black people are PEOPLE! Write us as such!

If all Black characters ever did was go outside, say "hi neighbor!" and walk back in the house, we'd be as boring as racist fans often accuse.

I say this because I feel I've seen advice that I feel makes people think writing a Black character that… Emotes negatively, or gets hurt by life and circumstance, or really enjoys hard sex, or really any scenario where they might "look bad" is the issue. I can tell many people think "well if I write that, then it's a stereotype" and to avoid the difficulty, they'll probably end up writing a flat Black character or not writing them at all. Or- and I've seen this too- they'll overcompensate in the other direction, which reveals that they 'wrote a different sort of Black person!' and it comes off just as awkwardly because it means you think that the Black people that do these things are 'bad'. And I hate that, because we're capable of depth, nuance, good, evil, adventure, world domination, all of it!

My point is, if you write your character like the human being they are, while taking care to recognize that you as the writer are not buying into stereotypes with your OWN messaging, you're fine. We have emotions, we have motivations and goals, we make decisions, and we make mistakes, just like anybody else. Write that! Develop your character!

POINT #2: YOU CAN'T CONTROL THE READERS!!

Okay. You can write the GREATEST Black character ever, full of depth, love, nuance, emotional range, all those things…. And people are still going to be racist about them. Sorry. There is absolutely nothing you can do to control a reader coming from that place of bias you sought to avoid. If it's not there, TRUST AND BELIEVE, it'll be projected onto them.

That passionate young Black woman who told the MC to get her head out of her ass? Yeah she's an angry Black bitch now, and bully to the sweet white MC. Maybe a lesbian mommy figure if they like her enough to "redeem" her. That Black gay male lead that treats his partner like he worships the ground he walks on? Yeah he's an abusive thug that needs to die now because he disagreed One Time with his white partner. That Black trans woman who happened to be competing against the white MC, in a story where the white MC makes comparable choices? Ohhhh they're gonna be VILE about that poor woman.

It really hurts- most especially as a Black fan and writer- knowing that you have something amazing to offer (as a person and creative) and people are gonna spit on that and call it "preference". That they can project themselves onto white characters no matter what, but if you project your experiences onto black characters, it's "pandering", "self insert", "woke", "annoying", "boring", and other foul things we've all gotten comments of.

But expect that it's gonna happen when you write a Black character, again, especially if you're a Black writer. If you're not Black, it won't hurt as personally, but it will probably come as a shock when you put so much effort in to create a lovely character and people are just ass about them. Unfortunately, that is the climate of fandom we currently exist in.

My favorite example is of Louis De Pointe Du Lac from AMC's Interview With The Vampire. Louis is actually one of the best depictions of the existential horror that is being Black in a racist White world I have ever seen written by mostly nonblack people. It was timeless; I related to every single source of racist pain he experienced.

People were HORRIFIC about Louis.

It didn't matter that he was well written and what he symbolized; many white viewers did NOT LIKE this man. There's a level of empathy and understanding that Black characters in particular don't receive in comparison to white counterparts, and that's due to many of those stereotypes and systemic biases I'm going to talk about.

My point is, recognize that while yes, you as the author have a duty to write a character thoughtfully as you can, it's not going to stop the response of the ignorant. Writing seeking to get everyone to understand what you were trying to do… Sisyphean effort. It's better to focus on knowing that YOU wrote something good, that YOU did not write the stereotype that those people are determined to see.

POINT #3: WHY is something a stereotype?

While there are lists of stereotypes against Black people in media and life that can be found, I would appreciate if people stopped approaching it as just a list of things you can check off to avoid. You can know what the stereotypes are, sure, but if you don't understand WHY they're a problem and how they play into perception of us, you'll either end up writing a flat character trying to avoid that list, or you're going to write other things related to that stereotype because "oh its not item #1"... and it'll still be racist.

For example: if you wrote a "sassy Black woman" that does a z formation neck rotation just because a store manager asked her something… that's probably stereotype. If you thought of a character that needed to be "loudmouthed", "sassy", and "strong" and a dark-skinned black woman was automatically what fit the profile in your mind, ding ding ding! THAT'S where you need to catch your racist biases.

But a dark-skinned Black woman character cursing out a store manager because she's had a really bad, stressful day and their attitude towards her pushed her over the edge may be in the wrong, but she's not an "angry Black woman". She's a Black woman that's angry! And if you wrote the day she had to be as bad as would drive anyone to overstimulation and anxiety, the blow up will make sense! The development and writing behind her led to this logical point (which connects to point #1!)

I'm not going to provide a truly exhaustive list of Black stereotypes in media because that would ACTUALLY be worth a college credited class and I do this for free lmao. But I am going to provide some classic examples that can get y'all started on your own research.

POINT #4: WATCH BLACK NARRATIVES!

As always, I'm gonna push supporting Black creators, because that's the best way to see the range of what you'd like. You want to see Black villains? We got those! Black heroes? Black antiheroes? Assholes, lovers, comedians, depressed, criminals, kings, and more? They exist! You can get inspired by watching those movies and reading those books, see how WE depict us!

I've seen mixed reviews on it, BUT- I personally really enjoyed Swarm, because it was one of the first times I'd ever seen that "unhinged obsessed murderous Black fan girl" concept. Tumblr usually loves that shit lmao. Even the "bites you bites you bites you [thing I love]" thing was there. And she liked girls, too. Just saying. I thought it was a fun idea that I'd love to see more of. Y'all gotta give us a chance to be in these roles, to tell these tales. We can do it too, and you'd enjoy it if you tried to understand it!

POINT#5: You are NOT Black!

This is obvious lmao, but if you're not Black, there's no need to pretend. There's no need to think "oh well I have to get a 100% perfect depiction of the Black person's mind". That's… That's gonna look cringe, at its best. You don't have to do that in order to avoid stereotypes. You're not going to be able to catch every nuance because it's not your lived experience, nor is it the societally enforced culture. Just… Do what you can, and if you feel like it's coming off hokey… Maybe consider if you want to continue this way lol. If you know of any Black beta readers or sensitivity reviewers, that'd be a good time to check in!

For example, if your Black character is talking about "what's good my homie" and there's absolutely no reason for him to be speaking that way other than to indicate that he's Black… 😬 I can't stop you but… Are you sure?

An egregious example of a TERRIBLE way to write a Black character is the "What If: Miles Morales/Thor" comic. I want to emphasize the lack of good Black character design involved in some of these PROFESSIONAL art spaces, because that MARVEL comic PASSED QA!! That comic went past NUMEROUS sets of eyes and was APPROVED!! IT GOT RELEASED!! NO ONE STOPPED IT!!

I'm sorry, it was just so racist-ly bad that it was hilarious. Like you couldn't make that shit up.

Anyway, unfortunately that's how some of y'all sound trying to write AAVE. I promise that we speak the Queen's English too lmao. If you're worried you won't get it right, just use the standard form of English. It's fine! Personally, I'd much rather you do that than try to 'decode AAVE' if you don't know how to use it.

My point is, if you're actively "forcing" yourself to "think Black"… maybe you need to stand down and reconsider your approach lmao. This is why understanding the stereotypes and social environment behind them will help you write better, because you can incorporate that Blackness- without having to verbally "emphasize how Black this is"- into their character, motivations, and actions.

Conclusion

We need to reconsider how we approach the concepts of stereotypes when writing our Black characters. The goal is not to cross off a checklist of things to avoid per se, but to understand WHY we have to develop our Black characters well enough to avoid incorporating them into our writing. Give your Black characters substance- we're human beings! We have motivations and fears and desires! We're not perfect, but we're not inherently flawed because of our race. That's what makes the difference!

And as always, and really in particular for this topic, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[mariasont]

Date Night - A.H

a/n: i have been so obsessed with the nanny recently so this is kind of based off that

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

summary: you get home from the world's worst date

warnings: none i think, IDK IM SO BAD AT THESE

wc: 0.9k

To put it quite frankly your date sucked. He was disrespectful to the waiter, made really unsettling noises while eating, talked incessantly about his ex, and worst of all, he didn't let you get a word in edge wise (a major issue because you really like to talk).

Saying you were disappointed would barely scratch the surface. The rarity of your dates, thanks to your demanding role as a live-in nanny for Viriginia's most occupied FBI agent, made your free time all too precious. Mr. Hotchner was home this weekend, which granted you some time off, well-deserved you might add, but you had wasted it on some sad excuse of a man who made you believe that chivalry really was dead.

You had a clear mission when you entered the house: to drown the evening's disappointment in a generous pour of red, slip into your comfiest pajamas, and indulge in trashy reality TV, which, by comparison, casted your night in a much more flattering light. You were beginning to accept that maybe, you were meant to be alone, only because men sucked.

You all but threw your jacket into the closet, kicking off the pumps that had spent the night punishing your heels, and bent to rub the throbbing pain, releasing a sigh steeped in disappointment.

"You're home early."

Your heart leapt to your throat, hand flying to your chest on reflex as you whirled around to face the sight of Mr. Hotchner lounging in the armchair, a whiskey glass cradled in his hand. The light from the lamp beside him served to accentuate the shadows beneath his eyes, no doubt caused by his job. So, what he was doing up was beyond you.

"Geez, Mr. Hotchner, are you trying to give me a heart attack here?"

A mock frown creased your face, and you sauntered over to his chair. You settled on the armrest beside him and smoothly relieved him of the glass, taking a small, savoring sip. Annoying him was one of your favorite pastimes, one that was all too rare with his usual absence.

"So, what's the occasion? Waiting up for me?"

He wasn't amused, clearly, his face unchanging. With a deliberate motion, he took the glass back, taking another casual drink, and despite his stern look he didn't move away from you. His eyes shot you a sharp glance, withholding any spoken response.

With a light tap on his shoulder, you hopped down from the arm of the chair.

"It's okay, you don't have to say it. I can read you like a book," you tossed him a wink, your dress flirting with the edge of modesty at the quick action. His eyes briefly betrayed him, moving towards the expanse of flesh now on display. "Ahem, Mr. Hotchner, my face is a little higher."

You gently nudged his chin upward with your finger, guiding his attention to your eyes. You loved his eyes, a cocoa brown color that reminded you of rich, velvety chocolate truffles, a comparison you were pretty sure had slipped out when he interviewed you.

"Careful," he cautioned in a low murmur, easing himself from the chair and setting his glass aside. "As your employer, it's reasonable for me to be concerned about your well-being, you are the woman who raises my child."

"Oh, absolutely, sir. Your concern is most reasonable and duly noted," you replied with an exaggerated formality, lightly tapping his cheek before neatly tucking your hands behind your back.

He traced his brow with his fingertips, as if to smooth away the beginnings of a headache, undoubtedly brought on by you. A sigh of exhaustion followed. "I trust I don't need to remind you of who signs your paycheck."

With a beaming smile, you sing out, hands moving to rest on your hips. "Totally clear on that, sir!" You turn and head up the stairs, your mumble just loud enough for him to catch, "A little raise wouldn't hurt though, just saying!"

He's close behind as he warns in a low voice, "Don't push your luck."

You stop so suddenly he almost stumbles into you and you feel his hands steady you on your hips, dangerously close to the curve of your ass as you glance back at him.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare, sir."

A slight shake of his head and those perceptive eyes convey all he doesn't say as his hands fall away, the space they leave behind feeling oddly empty. 

"So, the date didn't go well?" he asks as you reach the top of the stairs.

"No, I didn't say that. It was wonderful, perfect actually." You'd always been a terrible liar, and naive for thinking he'd fall for it. "He might just be the man of my dreams."

He gives you a look that tells you he sees right through your bullshit. "Let me guess, he probably ordered for you without asking, talked over you, and didn't even bother to walk you to your door."

"Uh, no, that's not--," you start, voice squeaking slightly. His unimpressed look makes you fold--something you found yourself doing way too often around him. "Okay, fine. But really, using those weird FBI skills on me? That's playing dirty, Mr. Hotchner."

"No 'weird FBI skills' required," he replies, the slightest smirk gracing his stupidly handsome face. "Your taste in men is just... consistently interesting."

"Interesting is better than non-existent, which I believe is the current state of your dating life, Mister."

He moves closer, the narrowing space nudging you against the wall. "Well, considering my days are filled with work, parenting, and apparently, babysitting you, dating isn't exactly a priority."

He was kind of hot when he was mad. His eyes narrowed at you. Okay, not kind of, definitely hot when mad.

"Oh, Mr. Hotchner, it sounds like you need a night off from all that babysitting," you purr, placing your hands on his shoulders as you grace him with a smile. "Why don't we discuss your options over dinner? My treat?"

A sigh of exasperation escapes him, a telltale sign that he's done with the conversation, which actually is how a lot of your discussions end. He steps back and opens the door to your room. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner, see you in the morning," you say, your hand pausing on his arm just a beat too long. "Sweet dreams--though I'm sure I'll be in them."

taglist: @hotchhner

[danikamariewrites]

Can you do another clingy reader x rhysriel

Likw, princess treatment, and maybe like babe give reader piggyback rides/carry her when her feet hurt and they do her hair and like they are also extremely clingy to her so it’s definitely not one-sided especially as he needs like so much reassurance which is perfect for reader because she also needs a lot of reassurance and has also a lot of like insecurities just like az but you know, so is rhysand so they are both extremely clingy with reader

You Are In Love

Rhysriel x reader

A/n: this is part 2 to attached at the hip. I hope you guys don’t find this too repetitive, I tried to make it different and add more details from previous hc’s.

Warnings: mentions of cock warming, sex, and oral fixation

You’ve always been a touchy clingy person. You need that reassurance from your mates that they are there with you, never leaving you. It had been a problem in pervious relationships that partners found very annoying

Rhys is the more touchy one and does more acts of service or you and Azriel

One of Rhys’s favorite acts of service/bonding things with you is doing your hair. He likes washing it and brushing it out for you since he is much gentler with it than you

One time he caught you tugging with the brush on a knot and he was horrified

“Why would you do that to your head, darling?” He asked in a chastising tone as he took the brush, sitting you at your vanity to finish your hair

Rhys can braid thanks to his mother and sister, so when he’s feeling adventurous and you’re sick of hair clips you have him do these lovely, intricate braids

When Rhys is done he always leaves a long, soft kiss on the back of your head and whispers, “Perfect, my darling.”

Rhys is always giving you piggy back rides and always finding an excuse to sweep you off your feet (Az doesn’t usually because of his wings and you don’t want to hurt him)

But Rhys will carry you any and everywhere, especially if your feet hurt after a night of dancing at Rita’s. Az carry’s your shoes while you cling to Rhys on the walk home

Azriel is more quality time with you

He likes having you near and will always find a reason to have his hands on you

You are very touchy with them and you make sure to show Azriel the most physical attention like rubbing lotion on his hands when they’re dry, letting him lay on your chest after a long day and you play with his hair. He practically purrs like a cat

Azriel likes to keep you on his lap, your touch keeps him grounded and helps his mind from running wild

When they’re both gone you feel so empty inside

You have no idea what to do with yourself

What, do they think you’re supposed to entertain yourself with? You want them to entertain you, give you things to do

If it’s just to the Hewn City or Windhaven you go with them. They hate taking you to Windhaven but you would rather die than be left alone in the house when they aren’t that far away

Even though they don’t like taking you around the camp you don’t let them tell you no. You attend meetings with Rhys and walk around holding hands. Rhys keeps you glued to his side until you get back to his mother’s old house

After care is so important for you (and them of course), especially if they were both rough with you. You just needed to know that they’d stay even though the three of you share a bed

Even though you each have your own spot in bed you always insist Rhys and Az basically share a pillow with you. If they’d let you, you would just lay across the two of them. They told you no because you would be uncomfortable and they don’t want to deal with a grumpy you in the morning

Feeling the need to be extremely close after a slow and sensual session where they poured all their love into you was also important to you

You just felt so much love you didn’t want to let go of it

What you want is for them to be stuck to you forever but you’ll take these moments where they’re holding you close, drifting off to sleep, making it feel like forever

Az and Rhys are always cautious when you want to cock warm them after sex. Especially when you’re about to fall asleep

You insist that you want it but they make sure you have a clear head before sliding back into you

[envysparkler]

Of all the people Bruce expects to see on his doorstep on a Sunday morning, Talia al Ghul is very, very low on the list.  Frankly, he’s surprised she bothered to knock.

“Oh,” Talia says, lips pursing in disappointment as he looms in the doorway, “it’s you.”  She rocks on her heels, like she’s attempting to peer around him.

“This is my house,” Bruce says, half-offended and half-bewildered.  She’s not alone, there’s a child scowling up at him—they’re making League assassins smaller and smaller these days—but Bruce ignores him and focuses on the greater threat.  “I’ve already told Ra’s al Ghul that Gotham is off-limits—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t about him,” Talia waves him off and saunters forward, stepping over the threshold and into the house like it belongs to her.  The child follows her, only pausing to sneer at Bruce, and Bruce is left standing on his porch, thoroughly dismissed.

Talia always did have a way of getting what she wanted, and damn anything in her way.  It takes a moment for Bruce to shake the old, lingering fondness and remember that a deadly assassin is inside his house.

Alfred is going to kill him.

“Wait!  Talia!”  He catches up to her near the kitchen, where she is surveying the cereal boxes on the counter with palpable distaste.  The child looks like he’s trying to test them for poison, or possibly poison them himself, but Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about that, because she’s found—

“Uh, Bruce?” Tim’s voice cracks high, out of his chair and holding both his cereal bowl and his spoon ready to throw.  “Did you forget to tell me you had company?”

“Timothy Drake,” Talia says, cold enough to create icicles.  She studies him for a long moment, skipping from his Superboy pajamas to his bleary face to the overfull mug of coffee on the table.  “You are one of Lady Shiva’s.”

The child’s scowl deepens.

“Yes?” Tim looks at Bruce desperately, like it’s a test and he’s looking for the answer.  Bruce shrugs.

“She mentioned you were passable,” Talia sniffs.  “For a boy.”

Tim looks a mixture of outraged and pleased, but Bruce is more concerned with why Talia is here, standing in his home years after she gave back his mother’s ring.  Talia only reveals whatever she wants to reveal, and while she does only ever tells the truth, she lets him draw incorrect conclusions from those truths all on his own.  It means Ra’s isn’t involved in whatever brought her here, but that could mean anything from the old schemer being dead to Talia being on the run, and Bruce is not nearly awake for an imminent League invasion.

“Where’s Alfred?” Talia finally finishes her survey of the kitchen and rests her cool gaze on him.

That would be the reason Bruce is barely awake.  He only managed to drag himself from bed with the reminder that there was an unsupervised teenager in his house.  Unfortunately, he’d got there too late to save the coffeemaker.

“What do you want with Alfred?” Tim asks, on the verge of hostile.  The child draws himself up like a hissing, spitting snake, and only stays still by virtue of Talia’s hand on his shoulder.  Talia, for her part, merely looks inconvenienced.

“Well, this would’ve been several times simpler had he been here,” she sighs.  “I could’ve dropped off Damian for a spot of tea and gotten on with my business.”

“And what is your business?” Bruce presses.

Talia heaves another sigh—this time dramatic and put upon.  It’s an act, Bruce can tell, but that doesn’t help him, not when Talia turns to him and widens her eyes, looking up through her lashes.  “Unfortunately, Beloved, your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills, and I’ve finally managed to track him down here, so I really must get going before he infiltrates that sorry excuse of a prison and finishes decapitating that clown you keep alive for some unfathomable reason.”

There’s a lot packed into that statement, and Bruce is still untangling ‘your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills’ with the knowledge that Nightwing is supposed to be safely inside Bludhaven and the growing horror that Dick might’ve accidentally started a war with the League of Assassins, so it’s Tim that inhales first, staring at the child in sharp shock and then up at Talia, before finally turning towards Bruce.

“You have a kid with Talia al Ghul?!”

~#~

Talia, of course, does not bother to explain anything.  She merely instructs the child—Damian—to behave before vanishing back out the front door, and Bruce’s attempt to follow her is met with a katana and a high-pitched demand for a duel.  It becomes apparent that Talia’s version of behaving doesn’t match Bruce’s, because it takes several minutes and one shallowly bleeding slice before Bruce can extricate himself.

The child—his child—Damian leaves him alone then, looking disappointed in his swordsmanship skills, and turns instead to badgering Tim, who despite favoring a bo staff—“a clearly inferior weapon unsuited to anything but sloppy pulverization,” comes out crisp and clear-edged, much like Bruce himself when he was younger and his only point of reference was Alfred—is judged a suitable opponent on the basis of Lady Shiva’s reference.

Bruce is maybe a little sulky that a child—his child—has dismissed him in favor of a teenager with a pillow crease on his cheek, but he suppresses the emotion to dart to the Batcomputer so he can ask Nightwing what the hell he’s been up to.

Unfortunately, Dick’s response is both confused and irritated, which means Bruce has to waste time explaining the situation lest his eldest give him the silent treatment again, and Dick signs off with a promise to drop by, clearly excited at the prospect of a new sibling.

Bruce doesn’t warn him that this one is more apt to stab him than hug him.  Dick can figure that out for himself.

But with that distraction out of the way, he’s left to ruminate on Talia’s words.  She wasn’t talking about Dick, and clearly not about Tim, and not Damian, and Bruce has no other sons.  The thought drives a pang through him, a loss he will always carry, and he finds himself in front of the case with Jason’s uniform, as though it can help him solve the puzzle.

Is there another child out there he doesn’t know about?  He’d swear that he doesn’t have another with Talia, but he has no idea when or how Damian was conceived, so it’s the most likely explanation. 

[atlasnessie]

hii i saw ur requests were open and i decided to make one :3, how the bsd men would act when they are lovesick? Like not yandere and those twisted things, but they just feel like a teenager boy in highschool with their first love, nothing else than pure fluff =w=" i honestly dont care which characters you add, but id really like to see fyodor in there ;P.

Bonus points if the reader is just so gentle, kind and pure with everyone ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა!! You can ignore this request, take your time. I hope you have a good day and thanks for reading me :DD

GOD, IM SO LOVESICK. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME ?

osamu and chuuya slowly realizing that they’re in love with you.

an: FINALLY FINISHED THIS OMG anon im so sorry it took so long also i’m … still unsure of how to write fyodor ughh ikk embarrassing !! hope this is okay nonnie :((

OSAMU DAZAI never had the chance of falling in love. everything ended one sided, a side that would benefit him and him only. he’s lived long enough to know that he was not worthy of such a delicate feeling; everything he has and wishes to have will all disintegrate as soon as he has it. dazai was not willing to risk it. not now, not ever.

at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

dazai can’t shake off this feeling when being around with you. he stands by the roadside of the sidewalk when walking with you, voluntarily giving his coat when the weather gets chilly, and surprisingly have enough money to buy you some good coffee (and not put it on a tab). he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, it’s not like he’s into you, but his thoughts wander off to wanting to feel your hands on his, to know how his first name would sound from your lips instead of his surname. and once he realizes he’s in love, he’s gone.

lovesick isn’t something dazai had ever felt. romance and osamu dazai should never be in the same sentence, they don’t belong together.

“you’ve been avoiding my texts, my calls, and now ignoring my knocks on your door ?” you stand in front of the paint chipping door, a bento in one hand and a finger pointing at his chest with the other. dazai looked terrible, his eye bags more apparent and the stench of alcohol from inside could make a lightweight drunk at the smell.

“ah, whatever do you mean —”

“you know what i mean, dazai. i’ve gotten calls from kunikida telling me that you haven’t shown up to work for a week ! he can’t even enter your apartment and he calls you every morning to check that you’re okay.”

you pushed your way inside his apartment before he could speak. this wasn’t the first time you’ve been in here, and was definitely not your second. or third. or fourth, or fifth, or however amount of times you’ve been here. dazai can’t remember.

placing the bento down on the cheap wooden table, the color of the lunch box was the only bright thing in the whole house. dazai quickly closed the door, almost tripping on your shoes before speed walking behind you. if he’d known you’d come in, in which he probably did, he would’ve cleaned and tided up a little beforehand. your eyes darted around the room before unboxing the bento.

“sit down. i made you something to eat.” your voice was quiet, but a little higher than a whisper. the aroma of fresh, real food made dazai’s mouth water.

“at your command, then.” dazai responded back, pulling a creaky chair and sitting, his eyes shining dull as he heard the sound of wooden chopsticks break.

“here, you eat. i’ll clean.”

“awh, i was hoping you’d feed me.” chocolate brown eyes met with yours, faking tears to brim out of his eyes as he lazily held the chopsticks, holding it as if he had never seen them before. an excuse. this was an excuse. not for you to feed him, though, he’d most certainly love that, but for you to not clean up the mess he had made. the cluster of sake bottles and canned crab made his apartment look less pleasing to look at.

“eat. i’ll clean.” your voice was persistent as you pushed the bento closer to him. grumbling, dazai pick up an egg roll and inspected it. how stupid, he thought. a toothpick shaped as a cat stood idle in the middle of the roll, its dark void eyes staring at his. it looks a lot like you, naive and ever so …

shit. thoughts like this shouldn’t be running in his head. you’re just a co-worker, afterall. right ? though … dazai has to admit; the food that’s on the bento tastes better than anything ever, and the soft hum of your voice lulls his worries away.

to be loved is to be known, he thinks.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA has no time for feelings outside of the port mafia, but you’re an exception. the sun sets slowly on the horizon of yokohama, and the wind is just right for a nice breeze. the picnic cloth is laid on the ground as chuuya swirls his glass of wine, watching as you talk about your day. you weren’t anything special, hell, it was total coincidence that you two even met.

a civilian and an executive of the port mafia. what a story to tell. but you weren’t aware of chuuyas profession, no, why would he break the trust that built up and took so long to gain ? he wouldn’t dare, he couldn’t.

“and then, while i was walking home today, i bumped into some guy and he was all like, ‘double suicide’ this and ‘double suicide’ that. scared the hell out of me ..!” you laugh and take a sip of your own wine and out of the corner of your eyes, you can see chuuyas shoulders tense up.

“he didn’t … he didn’t have some weirdass bandages all over … did he ?” chuuya grumbled as he pressed the wine glass to his lips, hiding his irritation.

“oh, he did. it was really weird.”

fuck ..!! chuuya though, grinding his teeth together just at the thought of that disgusting man. his thoughts of killing dazai were interrupted as you point at the sky.

“look, isn’t it pretty ?” you sigh, placing your hands behind you and leaning back. the sky was painted a radiant orange, complemented by pink and yellow. chuuya blinks and stares into the horizon, the corner of his eyes shifting back to you subtly. his chest tightens and—

oh, how he’s smitten. maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the gentle rays of the sun, but his face feels hot and he leans closer to you, bringing up a hand and tucking in longer strands of hair behind your ear. you turn your head as chuuya stops midway, your hair falling out of his fingers. leaning back, chuuya coughs and plays it off, pouring himself another drink.

“sorry. looked like it was bothering you.” he mumbled, biting the rim of his glass before taking a sip, his gaze avoiding yours.

it’s the little things, but to him, he wants to do more than subtle hints of love. this is a start, at least.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (XI)

XI. A ray of sunlight

MASTERLIST

Summary: You never thought you could feel like this 

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, might miss some warnings, brestfeeding on this chapter

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3,4 k 

Notes: Alright… sorry for the confusion… There were three ravens, Reader first wrote to Cregan to confess to him that she was pregnant and she wanted him back and whatnot… that raven GOT LOST, got eaten by a snake… idk… she then received a raven from Cregan, who, as he never received anything, he wrote to her telling her he was fine and he would like her to visit him up North, reader thought he received the letter, and didn’t care, and it was answering to it, so she just wrote a letter telling him she couldn’t make the journey, that’s it!

“Look at him”, you whispered, “he is perfect”, you admired his beautiful round face, his perfect little nose, his long eyelashes, his round squishy cheeks

“He is”, Cregan whispered, kissing your temple, “you had done so beautifully, my sweet Queen”, you looked into his eyes and you found content, and pride

But your eyes returned to your baby, your dragonling.

He had silver hair, beautiful silver hair, just like yours, and then when he barely open his eyes, he revealed them to be icy gray, like his father

He was so perfect, a perfect Targaryen Prince

The blood of Old Valyria and the blood of the first men run through his little veins.

You were so, so proud of him, of yourself, you had every maester check his health, and they all agreed, that the New Prince of Dragonstone was healthy, strong, and, as he had proven to you, had a strong set of lungs in him.

“My love”, called Cregan, but you only hummed, not letting your eyes wander from your newborn son, “there is people wanting to meet him”, he said softly, it was the middle of the next day, and you wanted to savor your alone time with him a little longer.

“Later”, you said simply

“They had been waiting since yesterday”, he said, kissing the top of your head again, “and we need a name”

“I just gave birth, can’t they please leave me alone for a bit?”, you asked, softly but angrily 

“This baby is the next ruler of the seven Kingdoms”, he said softly, “there are protocols…”, you looked at him severely

“Bring in my brother and Jahaera”, you conceded, he barely nodded, and went away, giving you a breath of relief. You didn’t want anyone else but your family in here

The children entered with big, curious, scared eyes, when they landed on you, they came to your side quickly, Aegon was sure to be right there next to you, to catch the closest and first look at his baby nephew

“He is a bit red”, it’s the first thing he mumbled, making you giggle

“He was just born”, you whispered, “it’s normal”, you explained softly, Jahaera didn’t say anything, but looked at the baby with big ghostly eyes, and for the very first time, you thought you catched a glimpse of a smile

“Jahaera? want to hold him?”, she seemed truly surprised, you just patted the bed right next to you, and she climbed to your side, when she was settled, you placed your baby in her arms, she seemed content, only watching him in her frail arms

“He is small”, she murmured, you only smiled, he was a bit small, and… “made of ice and fire”, she whispered

“What?”, you asked, but you were interrupted when Cregan opened the door, he stood there, with a warm smile on his face. 

You didn’t even know how you were going to name him, I mean, you had some ideas, and you were not even going to ask your husband, he, your firstborn, was of the realm, of the Iron Throne, he had to have a name of Old Valyria

Jahaera excuse herself, she had a lesson with her septa, but Aegon stayed, sitting there in the bed by your side, Cregan had left to gather the court

“Can I ask you something?”, your baby brother asked 

“Anything”, you answered truthfully

“Now that you have a son… will you… will you still love me the same?”, he asked, and his big eyes told you he was extremely worried. That truly surprised you, but you smiled softly nonetheless.

“Of course!”, you said with a big smile, “you are my baby brother, I will never stop loving you, and I will never stop caring for you, you heard me? you are stuck with me, and your little nephew for life”, you giggled

“Really?”, he asked, hopefully

“I promise”, you assured him.

Cregan came back, thinking he had given you enough time, Aegon as he saw him, he excused himself from the room, and left

“A name, wife”, he demanded. He was the father, but he is letting you name your child, the prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne

“Aerion”, you said with your son back in your arms, “of House Stark, until he ascends the Throne, as Aerion Targaryen”, you said firmly

“Good”, he said, “the small council is waiting”, he said, and again, he did not expect a no for an answer

“Very well”, he received your son, as you stood from the bed, the maids had placed you the “looser” dress you had, but not less impressive than any others, it was soft red velvet, with black and gold details. Your hair is barely arranged by two small braids arranging it off your face.

You barely let the maids touch your child, but they had dressed him too, in a simple golden attire. He was sleeping in his father’s arms, and you held onto him too, as you walked the hallways.

You had to present your son to the court

Not letting them see him, would awaken all sorts of gossip, that maybe there was something wrong with him, or he was weak, or any nonsense like that, this was going to make it clear to everyone…

The House of the Dragon stood strong, with you, your son, your brother, and your niece.

Especially with the silver hair on his head.

“You have done beautifully, wife”, Your husband said, as he saw you pondering, with your eyes lost in front of you

“Thank you husband”, you answered simply

You were already tired as you reached the huge doors, you hoped you didn’t have to sit on the throne today, you didn’t think you could handle it. You were still really sensitive.

“Lady (y/n) of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Roynar and the first Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the Realm, and her Lord Husband Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Hand to the Queen, would like to present to the court, Aerion, of House Targaryen and Stark, Prince of Dragonstone!”, you might as well announce it now, the shocked faces appeared before you, your son was the heir, and next King of the Seven Kingdoms.

The huge doors of the entrance of the throne room opened in front of you, you tried to smile as the entire court, your court, tried their best they could to catch a glimpse of the sleeping Prince in Cregan’s arms

You walked slowly to the front, smiling and nodding to everyone on their way

All the Lords and Ladies nodded at you, muttering words of kindness

“Congratulations my Queen”

“What a fine Prince your grace!”

“You had been blessed, and you had blessed us all”

And more

So much more

Your council had been waiting for your approval, to start the celebrations, feasts, tournaments, parties, the first ones since the end of the war

“Behold! Prince Aerion of House Targaryen and Stark!”, chanted Arryk, you faithful Queen’s guard. 

It was a tiring affair, you should be resting, and Cregan thought so as well, but you you a Queen, and if you wished to prove those who wouldn’t see your mother on the throne wrong, you have to stand there, with your newborn son, in front of the court as you barely gave birth the day before as the sun was setting 

“In the celebrations of the birth of my son, I announce a big tournament, to join all countries as one, and also, a big feast to go with it!”, you said loudly, and the entire room bursted in cheers and applause, making Aerion cry angrily, as he was startled by the loud noise

Cregan smiled grabbing him carefully with his strong hands and showed him to the entire room, shortly, then he cuddled him into his strong chest, he looked so proud 

The tournament was going to be held in two months time

This was a new era, you constantly had to be remained of

The kingdoms were still healing, you were still healing… you need this, you did

You were finally “allowed” to go back to your rooms, you dismissed the nannies who had offered to take your baby.

It was normal and customary, that you had a small army of women ready to take care of your child, but you didn’t want to let him out of your sight

Is not that you didn't trust them, it was just…

It felt odd

To be apart from him

You had them bring a crib by the side of your bed, as you watched him asleep tears fell down your eyes… oh how you wished your mother was there with you

You had cried for her in the middle of labor, how you needed her warmth, her maternity, her advice, all of her. She was an excellent mother, she adored each and every one of you, and you didn’t know how you were going to do this without her

You were so lonely

You had dismissed your ladies, and the nurses were unfamiliar to you

Because Aegon the Usurper killed your mother’s nurses when he took Dragonstone

You felt so lonely.

The all familiar pain that had installed on your chest came flourishing back again, and you realized it had never left, you just grown accustomed to it

Would she be proud of you?

You imagined your brothers coming to see your son, Jacaerys picking him up from his crib and raising him in his strong arms, you imagined Luke grabbing onto Aerion with gentle hands, accommodating him on his chest with his beautiful smile looking down at his nephew 

The guards outside your room presented Cregan who entered the room with scrolls on his hands

“Letters, from your cousins Baela and Rhaena, and one from Lord Co…”

“Dispose of them”, you demanded, you didn’t care

“But…”

“I don’t care what those traitors have to say”, you said bluntly, he had caught you in a wrong moment

“Wife…”, he started carefully, “may I ask why…?”,  he asked simply, you guessed he wanted to hear your version of the facts

“Corlys Velaryon served my mother, until it suited him, when the ship was sinking, in the moment my mother needed him the most, he betrayed her, then served the usurper!”, you said bluntly

“He probably was the one who poisoned the usurper”, he said softly

“I guess, it didn’t suit him to keep serving him, I don’t care”, you said angrily, “if he had stayed at my mother’s side like he promised perhaps she would still be here”, you said, you could not forgive him, you wouldn’t allow yourself to

And Baela and Rhaena?

It just hurt too much

At one point they were like your sisters, like real sisters, you had lived together since your mother married Daemon, and… now it just hurts too much. They say Rhaena managed to hatch a dragon, a pink little thing

Good for her

But it just… it hurts… of all the people that could have survived… 

You felt guilty for only thinking about it

They were more Corlys Velaryon’s granddaughters that they were your sisters

“Can I read them?”, he asked, you looked at him

You wanted to say no, you did, but you were also terribly curious

Of what they might want or say… What if was indeed something important? and really, it was Cregan, he was the only one you trusted fully

“Yes”, you said shortly, “let me know if there is something important”. He sat by the window, to read the letter by the sunlight, Aerion began to get fuzzy, so you grabbed him gently and started to feed him

Something very frowned upon

Not even your mother had breastfeed her babies

But to your understanding… who better to feed a future King… than a Queen? his mother? You paid it no more mind as he latched onto you, Cregan didn’t even batted an eye

He was frowning a he read the missives 

“Is there something they need?”, you asked dismissively, “a threat to our Kingdom?”

“No”, he said simply, “just a call for you, their sister”, he said, he folded the letters and put them away, then he opened the one of Lord Corlys

“They wish you the best regarding the birth of your child and Prince of Dragonstone, and they wish to know that if there is anything they can do for you”

“No requests… that’s a new one”, you said sadly 

“Please, help me understand”, he pleaded once again, “what are you thinking?”

“They just keep wanting the fucking throne”, you said bitterly, “that is all this whole thing had been about, the Hightowers and Velaryons alike, each for their own side, sunk their teeth into the targaryen of their choice and bit, ripped and tear them apart for their own convenience, for the fucking throne, killing my entire family in the process, I am done with them”, you sentenced. 

“Very well”, he said, “I will stand by you”

“Thanks”, you said smiling softly, not wanting to discuss the issue further

Even if they were true, that they only were calling for you, their “granddaughter” and sister, how could you ever trust that? if you were not seated on the throne, would they still care for you?

You were convinced they only wanting to fall back into your good graces, the graces of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and everything that meant

And the very fact that they knew about the birth of your son so soon unnerved you.

Of course they had spies inside the castle

Perhaps you should burn the letters publicly so words get to them

But it was of no consequence, because that very day, Cregan received important news

His son was arriving

He was in the Crossroads Inn, and he was dying to go and meet him

You allowed him to go with a small force, you had never seen him so happy and excited. He was on his way to meet his son

And taking advantage of that fact, that was going to take him a few days… You realized, thinking about Rhaena… 

Your son needed his egg

You had felt Vhaelar restless, and you needed to know if she had laid her clutch of eggs, or, egg

Singular

The very thought frightened you, what if it didn’t hatch? She as well could be the last Dragon, a grown, fertile dragon. You called in a Dragon keeper immediately, and he presented in front of you, the one that went inside the cave with you, the only one who could get close to your Dragon

“This is long overdue, your Grace”, he said with a soft smile

“I cannot go down there myself”, you explained softly, his face then changed. “What's the matter?”, you asked him

“Vhaelar laid eggs, we didn’t know how many, when the prince was born we adventure into the cave to find… one is gone”, it seemed like everything froze around you

“What?”, you asked

“One of the nests was… broken into”, he said

“Why wasn't I informed of this!?”, you asked angrily

“We found it this very morning”, he said quickly

“Raised alarms!”, you said

“The one that stole it… didn’t realize, she laid two eggs”, he gave a signal to Erryk who was at the door and he opened them to reveal two more Dragon Keeper, that brought with them the heating chamber

A sight you never thought you’d see again

They revealed the egg to you, and tears were brought to your eyes, it was golden, golden like the sun

Was it an Omen? Golden like Syrax… Golden like Sunfyre

Who could have possibly stolen my dragon’s egg?”, you asked him

We don’t know your grace, it must have been someone who knows the area, that its been heavily guarded, even though its against the sea, you had maintain guards around it, and over it, so we can’t understand…”, you kept quiet, you could barely go up stairs, you couldn’t go personally.

That is why she was so restless

Somebody stole her egg

“What if it hatches?”, you asked him, fright in your eyes, he didn’t know what to answer

“A dragon will only answer to a Targaryen your grace, in the worst case, it will grow wild, until we can finally know where it is”

“And in the best case?”

“It’s not normal for two eggs to hatch in the same clutch”, he said softly, “if the Prince’s egg hatches… then… someone still had a treasure in their hands but at least, it will not be a dragon”

It did not settle your nerves

You saw the beautiful egg, it seemed to move, you could feel it, the life within it

“Thank you”, you said finally, and they left you alone.

It wasn’t until a week later, as you fixed the skirt on your dress, that you finally realized how important this was.

Rickon Stark, Cregan’s son, was entering the city

Your husband’s child

Your own child, by marriage

A sweet boy of eight

Soldiers entered in front of the comitive, mounted men with the Stark sigil, and then, right after them, Cregan in all his glory, and at his side, on his own horse, a young boy, that even from afar, you could tell he looked exactly like Cregan, same shade of hair, and as they dismounted and walked towards you, you realized, he had his eyes

“Your Grace, my I present to you, my son and heir, Rickon Stark”, presented Cregan

“Your grace”, the boy greeted politely, his big eyes looking at you widely, even though he bowed. Cregan was by his side, looking at his son proudly

“My Lord, you are most welcomed to King’s landing, and to the Red Keep”, you greeted, amused, he smiled shyly.

“Thank you, your grace”, he looked at you with mistrust, and you could understand him, all of this was new for him.

You of course invited them in, the entire household he had brought with him was large, but, the more the merrier, and if having more of his people with him was going to make Cregan and RIckon feel more comfortable, they were most welcomed.

“There is someone I want you to meet”, you said happily, he only nodded, you looked at Cregan as you walked back to your chambers, and he seemed content, “Can I call you Rickon?”, you asked him softly

“Yes your Grace, of course”, he said simply

“Are you my new mommy?”, he asked bluntly, and you looked at Cregan, alarmed, he was amused, but didn’t say anything, you then looked back at the boy who was looking up at you with his big ghostly eyes

“I don’t have to be if you don’t want me to”, you said gently, and that seemed to relax him a bit, “but there is a place I’d like you to fill”, you said with a solemn voice, like you were requesting of him, you opened yourself the double doors to your room

“Which one, your grace?”, he asked solemnly

“How about.. big brother?”, you asked, inviting him to look inside the cradle where his baby brother was sleeping peacefully

“I’d like that”, he said, pleased, but frowned at further inspection of your baby, “why is his hair white?”, he asked, you giggled

“Because he got it from me”, you said softly

“I thought you had white hair because you were old”, he said simply, and you laughed, hard

The sound of your own laugh seemed so foreign to you

You haven't laughed in…

In…

In a long time

“No, no my dear, I was born with my hair like this”, you explained softly, he only nodded, understanding clearly, “so… are you going to be Aerion’s big brother?”, you asked, and he looked at you with a true smile for the very first time, and nodded excitedly

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos @brakingboundaries @duds31 @@persophonekarter @missusnora @aleemendoza2425-blog @aesthetic0cherryblossom @arrozyfrijoles23 @sacredmachine @wintfleur @kitkat-writes-stuff @green-lxght

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐒.

💞 — in which jamil realizes that no matter how hard he avoid the oasis, the thirst will not disappear till it is quenched.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: hurt/comfort type fic. some descriptions of gore to emphasize yearning (the arabs be dramatic, what can i say)

💞 — 1.7k words. inspired by "sawwah" the song by abdel halim hafez. you should listen to it while reading tbh. first in a series of me assigning old school arabic songs to various characters. and yes, arabic speaking jamil is back. the translations are italicized with the arabic, and i changed some lyrics to fit third person, instead of first.

Wa ana mashi fil bilad, sawwah.

And I walk through countries, a vagabond.

Jamil had a job. He was bound to eternal servitude to the Al-Asim family—practically property to Bait (house/clan) Al-Asim. He had a job, and yet he spent his nights away in his mind, wandering like a vagabond. Purposeless, jobless. 

All those nights toiling in the kitchen of Scarabia made him forget purpose and work were different things. He would never call working for that spoiled boy his purpose. He was made for more—to be praised, to rule and command. He deserved more. Jamil deserved more than having to push away his moon, his qamar (moon). 

You were like an oasis in the desert expanse that he called his mind, and yet he walked away from you. He walked away when he desperately needed a sip. When he desperately needed rest and dates from your palm.

“Qad jinint? (Have you become crazed?) I have too many things to deal with. And you’d be better off without the burden of my title. Imshi (Go on/walk off).”

Jamil saw it. He saw the way your expression faltered, the softest twitch in your brow, the smallest tremble of your lips. It was cruel, he knew it, and it hurt him to say it. But in the end, he knew there was nothing else he could say. There must have been a better way to delicately reject your confessions, and yet he took the harshest route. Jamil plucked the dates from your palm and trampled over them.

He hurt himself by doing so, denying himself the one thing he desperately wanted. In the end, it was simple. Mishwar baeed, wa hu gareeh. His life was a long journey that only injured him. He did not want it to injure you as well.

Still, his charcoal eyes would seek you out. He would still ask Kalim about you, wanting to know how the distance was affecting you. Did you become a vagabond as he did? Were you avoiding oases?

Did you ask about the brown-skinned boy who broke your heart? He just wanted to be reassured—tamainu (reassure him)—that his qamar was doing alright. Wa in la’akum habibi, salamuli alai, he wanted to tell Kalim. If you see my love, wish them peace from me.

He would never ask you himself, nor did he get the chance to since you would scurry off whenever he passed by. The one place he could not avoid you was the kitchen of Scarabia, his domain, during one of Kalim’s parties. You were hiding away from the madness, and he had been trying to hide away from you. It was the same spot in which you cooked with him, listened to him, and were eventually rejected by him.

Jamil froze after walking in, and you turned your head up from your phone once you saw him, “I’m sorry,” you said, pushing yourself off of the counter and heading for the other door. You could not face him, not after that rejection. Not after he told you that your feelings were that of a crazed djinni (genie/jinn).

He shook his head and walked to the stove top, turning it on, “Stay. I’ll make chai,” he muttered. He did not even look at you.

You still wanted to leave, but instead, you just nodded. Honestly, you were a fool for the man, for that long dark brown hair which he braided so perfectly, and his aquiline nose which you desperately wanted to trace your finger along, “I don’t want to trouble you—”

“It’s no trouble. It gives me an excuse to get away from Kalim.”

You swallowed and nodded.

The silence was horrifically uncomfortable. The only sounds in the kitchen were the boiling water in the kettle and the sound that the mortar and pestle made while Jamil began to grind the herbs for the tea. Chai, cloves, cardamom—he added cinnamon this time. The scent always made everything more cozy.

Ya qamar, ya nasini. Oh moon who forgets me. Jamil hoped you would have gotten over your feelings for him and forgotten about the rejection, but he could tell it stung. The way you looked around the kitchen proved that enough. He poured the evaporated milk into the tea, let it simmer with the racing of his heart, and then poured both of you cups. He was gentle as he set your cup in front of you, unlike the savagery that he handled your heart with. 

Jamil leaned against the island, his eyes trailing over your face, “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you blurted, holding the cup of tea. Waseitak, waseiya, ya shahid aleiya, “I promised you—you heard. You saw,” you elaborated, “I’m fine.” Tekilu ala beiyak. You could have told him of the state you were in after the rejection, but you opted for lies veiled by a fake grin.

He understood. He did not let you see past his veil either, “I see.” 

“The tea is great.”

“Thanks.”

There it was, another uncomfortable silence. His eyes said it all, though. Had you looked close enough, you would have seen how they ached to sacrifice themselves for you. He wished his worries for you would leave him alone—he would have gouged his eyes out just to make the aching in his heart disappear. It was curling in on itself, threatening to burst with the violence of a desert storm, sand filled his lungs, suffocating him. The weeks felt like years, and he was just a nomad in the night.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he set his cup down.

You immediately frowned and put your teacup down as well, scared you would drop in, “You don’t get to say that now,” you mumbled.

Jamil nodded in agreement. It was cruel, rejecting you so harshly just to turn around and claim he did not mean any of it. Especially when he still did find you crazy for loving him as ardently as you claimed, “It’s wrong. I know,” he said, looking away from you and to the door where all the commotion was. The music was muffled by the shut doors, making the kitchen feel like an entirely different building, “But I… I feel the same.”

That was another lie. He did not just feel the same, Jamil longed for you. He yearned, his heart ached and his veins begged to be torn out for your sake. Every cell in his body called for your name, his hands begged to grasp your waist, kiss your neck—his hands which artfully painted henna, wished they could trace every curve and every dip on your body.

“Jamil…” you trailed off.

He merely shook his head, “It is because I feel the same that I must reject you. You—you have so much more waiting in your life without me. My suffering should not be yours,” he said, and he said it as if it were the law of the universe. He was a vagabond eternally bound to avoid the oases because the oases were not meant for him. They were meant for Kalim Al-Asim.

Despite all that, he did not push you away when you cupped his face. He did not protest as he drowned. He did not thrash, he did not fight. His body did as it wished, leaning into your hands, “Ya qamar… you are making this more difficult than it needs to be,” he muttered, the disdain dying before it could embrace the quiet air of the kitchen.

You frowned at him—sevens, he wanted to kiss that mouth of yours—and your brows furrowed, “Let me, Jamil. Just let me,” you said. What did you want him to let you do? You had no clue, or perhaps it was just too broad to describe.

Nawarli, wararili, seitak al-habayeb.

Enlighten and show me the path to the beloveds.

He was so weak when it came to you. Before he knew it, his hands were at the small of your back, pulling you closer and forcing you to arch against him as his lips met yours in a fierce kiss. He sighed into your mouth, his tongue slipping in when you gasped in surprise.

Jamil needed you even closer. His hands made their way down to your hips, his thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel your skin. It was just as nice as he dreamed it would be. What made it all the better was how you kissed him back.

One of your hands gripped his shirt, right at his chest, right above his cruel racing heart, and the other held the back of his head. The quietest of whimpers escaped you as he bit your bottom lip, causing him to groan. 

He pressed you against the counter, causing your hand to slip from his chest and move to hold onto the surface behind you. You kissed him till you could not breathe, “Ja—Jamil,” you stammered when your lips parted from his. 

Greedily, he went in and kissed you some more. Jamil had taken a sip, and now he wanted it all. He only pulled away when your hands pressed against his chest to push him away. His eyes widened and his hands fell back to his sides. He pulled the hood down to hide his face from you as he turned his head, “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s—It’s fine,” you replied, fixing your clothes and hair, “Are we…” you let the question hang like a date on a palm tree.

He nodded, “If you’ll still have me,” he replied. What he wanted to do was get on his knees and beg you to use your lips to end his suffering—beg that you use those hands to pull the sand out of his chest.

“Of course, I’d still have you, Jamil,” 

Your words were like a soothing balm. It was the salve that you spread over his burns, over his scars, and over the bruises that his yearning created, “Okay,” he said, and it was all he could manage to say for now. 

He picked up the kettle of tea and poured you some more. No matter what he did, he could not run away from you, his purpose. You forced the vagabond to stop and pulled the title right off of him, before pushing him into the waters of the oasis.

“We have some ma’amoul (semolina biscuit stuffed with date filling),” he says, after some silence.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare at your phone. It can’t be. After everything else going wrong, you can’t deal with Floyd. It suddenly makes sense why he was messing around with your phone. Ew, he’s kind of a creep.

You don’t answer and put the phone away. Well. You have no money, you’re about to have no home, and your milk is spoiled. Don’t panic. You can figure this out. You’re an adult, aren’t you?

First, go to the bank. You need milk. Once you have a coffee, you’ll worry about the whole eviction thing. You leave the convenience store and open Maps to look for the nearest bank kiosk. Not too far, one block. At least you’re getting your steps in.

You follow the directions on screen and turn to cross the road. You’re so distracted, you forget to look both ways and nearly get hit by a gleaming bumper. You wave a head but don’t look up. You need to get to the bank.

You come up to the pulsing blue dot and glance around. Huh. You don’t see a bank. You turn around and face the ATM built into the side of the building. Oh goddang! You walked to a bank machine, not a bank. Is it you? Are you the problem?

You drop your shoulders. Alright. You’ll just try again. You scroll to the next location and spin around, nearly colliding with a new wall. Oh, not a wall, a person.

You look up at Mr. Henson as he watches you with a line between his brows. Somehow, you’re not very surrpised. This guy is everywhere. It’s almost like he has no hobbies.

“Oh, hi, sorry, excuse me, I’m just on my way to the bank--”

“Ah, running short? Need me to spot ya?” He raises his hand, showing a black credit card.

“Um... noooo,” you utter in confusion. The other day, you ran off after calling him names. You really don’t believe he’s changed his stripes. He’s still a snarling tiger getting ready to feast. “Thanks, but I--”

“Things are tight. Job market’s trash, housing isn’t any better, and those banks,” he whistles and puts his card away, “they like to fuck around, don’t they?”

You look at him, scrunching your face up.

“Y-yeah. Weirdly, I did just get a notice to...” your voice trails off. “Why are you bugging me?”

“Bugging you?” His brows pop up and he guffaws, “oh, sweet lips, you’re funny, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know few jokes but--”

“Think a little harder, cupcake,” he lowers his timber and stares at you.

You blink and wet your lips, pushing them together. Think about what?

“Look, about yesterday--”

“I’m talking about today,” he insists.

“Sure, uh...”

“Do I really need to spell this out for you?”

“Spell what out?” You cringe, clawing for some hint of what he means.

“Your bank card isn’t working, right?” He asks, you nod. “You’re getting evicted.” Another nod. “You have no job.”

You make a face, “yes, okay. Rub it in. Alright. I get it. You’re some important guy and I’m a loser. Don’t worry. You own this city but I think I’m on my way out.”

He sighs and presses his fingers flat on either side of his nose. He drops them and opens his eyes again, “it was me. I’m the reason you—Don't you understand what I can do to you? I got you fired, kicked out, and poor in one day. What else do you think I could do?”

Your chest hollows out and your stomach lurches. What? Him? He just doesn’t stop.

“Sir, what—why would you—I'm sorry I called you a meanie. I was upset and the coffee, I tried--” You sniffle and shudder out a half-sob, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well, you shoulda shut those sweet lips and opened those ears, huh?” He grins, “look, cupcake, you’re not going anywhere. You try to run back to your family, I’ll find you. Your mom’s a good lady, you shouldn’t trouble her. She doesn’t make enough teaching brats to put up with another one.”

“My mom—how--”

He spins his finger in the air, “catch up, honey bun. Alright? This is it. I’ll lay it out real clear for you, right now. You have no money, no home, you have nothing. You are nothing.” He jabs his finger at you, “so, I can solve all your problems and make you something.”

You look around. There’s really no way out. He’s a psychopath. You think. You don’t really know the difference between that and sociopath.

“Are you like CIA or something?” You ask.

He scoffs and flinches, “oh man, you are something else. Really, each time you open that mouth, I’m blown away by the idiocy. Rather just get blown, you get it?”

You shake your head and pout.

“Look, I think we can sort this out, Floyd. Really, I’m really sorry and I understand now. I get it. You’re very important and I messed up. I’m nothing and I did everything wrong. And from the bottom of my heart, I apologise. So, can I please have my life back?” You say, “I think we’d both be happier if we just went on our way and never saw each other again.”

His eyes dart away and he stares into the distance. Exasperation wrinkles above his brow and he looks back to you, hands on his hips, “too late, buttercup. So, let me put it as plain as I can. You don’t get a choice. You belong to me now. Just like everything else in this city. You are mine.”

“You can’t... do that.”

“I am doing that,” he insists. “Another thing,” he raises his hand, showing his palm, “it’s Lloyd.” He emphasizes the consonants of his name, “Lloyd Hansen. You can call me sir or Mr. Hansen. Hell, if we’re getting frisky, you can call me daddy.”

“Ugh,” you groan in disgust and curl your lip.

“Ugh?” He mimick the noise, “I’m about to--” He shakes his hand and sucks in the end of his sentence, “fine. Show, don’t tell. Got it.”

You cry out as suddenly he lunges at you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you forward down the sidewalk. He marches beside you as you writhe and paw at his large hand. You whimper, helpless as pedestrians move out of your path.

“Your mouth got you into trouble, now let’s see if it can get you out,” he growls.

[vantekoos]

Thought of a cute yet angst kind of drabble so here it is!

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

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: angst, smut

Word Count: idk I forgor 💀

Summary: Jungkook made you mad so what's better than trying to communicate with his girlfriend? Bringing a huge boombox to her house to beg for her forgiveness.

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

Okay. You have to admit.

Maybe you were being a little bit extra with what's going on, but who can blame you?

Your boyfriend of five years wasn't exactly ugly and you were a little insecure with how any woman throws themselves on him. So when you both went on a date weekend to the movies and he did absolutely nothing to stop his ex from hugging him and flirting, it irked you a little.

Well, a lot.

Enough to argue with him the whole ride home and block him on everything because he doesn't see his wrongs.

However, Jungkook did manage to find ways to try to talk to you by making fake accounts and stealing his friend's phones to text you.

You just needed space for a bit and that was okay, right?

Wrong.

So wrong because you missed him so much.

His smile.

His laugh.

The way he treated you like a princess out in public and in bed.

Because of your actions, you had to suffer the consequences.

Beside your bed was your newly charged vibrator that you bought before your fight with Jungkook so he could use it on you.

Before you have a chance to even think of using it, a knock is heard at your window along with two thumps that sound like pebbles. Your brows furrow when you leave bed to look outside your window to see your boyfriend standing outside.

"What are you doing?" You sigh when you open your window.

Jungkook looked tired and confused, but he had to get you back in his good graces. He brought flowers, candy, and a huge boom box sitting on the grass.

"I'm sorry baby. I've tried to call you and do everything but you got so mad at me-" he rambles before sighing loudly.

This was killing him to fight with you and it breaks his heart.

"I got mad because you let your ex hug you and flirt with you while we were together," You state rather bluntly. Thinking about the fight made you upset again.

"Baby, look. I love you and only you. No one else!" Jungkook tells her desperately.

Of course, you were convinced, but who knows if he'll do it again.

You cross your arms and sigh at his excuses.

Though, Jungkook wasn't done.

He places the flowers and candy on the ground before picking up the boombox and pressing play. He holds the boombox over his head and you could tell that he was nervous.

Playing on the boom box was Breaking My Heart By Mint Condition which had to be a song you two would always love to sing together.

You couldn't help but bite a laugh back and cover your smile.

It's cute because he most likely saw this in a movie or had the idea from a friend. You look down the street to see if your neighbors could hear and sure enough, their porch lights were turning on with the dogs beginning to bark from how loud it was.

You couldn't hold back your laugh anymore and broke from the serious glare you gave him.

"Jungkook, turn it off," you chuckle but Jungkook persists.

"Forgive me then."

Oh, he was insane.

"You're forgiven! Now come in before the cops get here," you shoo him over to you with a grin on your face. He turns the boom box off and grabs the flowers and candy before heading to the front door.

You welcome him inside with a soft kiss to his lips almost as if you've been craving his touch. He drops his bags to the ground with a loud thud before engulfing you in his embrace.

"You missed me a lot, didn't you?" He mumbles against her lips, pushing her back to her room to lay her on the bed. He doesn't even wait to tear apart his shirt, grabbing your hand so you could feel his chest.

"Shut up," you roll your eyes with a chuckle to follow. You sit enough to pull your shirt off so Jungkook can take off your bra for you.

One thing about Jungkook was that he loved your boobs.

He leans down to latch his lips along your nipple. sucking and nipping your mounds while he sneaks his hand lower down your stomach, getting closer to your pussy.

He pushes past your panties and rolls his fingertips through your lower lips. You couldn't help but release a sweet moan of his name in a whisper.

“Don’t tease me,” you whisper but he didn’t really care to listen. You made him suffer for a whole week. He was going to do whatever he wanted with you.

He trails his tongue from her nipple to her neck, biting her skin at her neck enough to leave a purple hue on her skin. He knew how much you liked to be known to other girls as his girlfriend so why not mark you up?

He presses his fingers to her clit, rubbing slow circles against her sensitive pussy just to get her wet enough for him. He needed to fuck her tonight. He craved it.

“How should I have you tonight?” He whisper before sliding his hand from her pussy to taste her on his fingers.

His eyes shift to the nightstand that held the vibrator and it was like a light bulb when off in his filthy mind. “Get undressed,” he pats her thigh before leaving the bed to take his pants off.

You didn’t waste any time pulling off your pajama pants to be left completely bare for him in the bed. How was he going to have you tonight?

Cowgirl?

Missionary?

Doggy?

Fuck, you needed him asap.

You reach down to touch your sensitive bud, rolling your fingers slow enough to get any satisfaction from this wait.

Jungkook tosses his boxers and pants on the ground and prys your legs open when he kneels between your legs. His dick was hard, long, and curved that you knew you wouldn’t last.

He grabs the base of his dick and spits on his length to rub it along his length.

“Come on,” you sigh, grabbing your boob with one hand.

Jungkook bites his bottom lip and alines himself to you before sliding in slowly.

A moan of content is shared when he rolls his hips in and out. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth when he finds his rhythm that you both loved.

“Grab the vibrator,” he instructs, but that addition would make you fall even more apart.

You whine and grab the toy, turning it on medium before pressing it to your clit. You squirm a bit in his hold, clenching onto his length at the new sensation,

“Oh baby…” you cry.

“Feels good Hm?” He grins. God, he was deep. Enough to hit that sweet tender spot over and over again to make you see stars.

And Jungkook seemed to feel the same when his thrusts grow sloppy and his breathing grew quicker. The vibrator was tosses to the ground when you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him close, gripping the bedsheets when you finally climax.

“Oh fuck!” You squeal before exhaling in relief from cumming.

Jungkook slows his hips until he comes to an abrupt stop, having him groan from his throat when he cums. His body was sweaty but he wore a smile on his face nethertheless.

“Fuck, I love you. I’m so sorry for everything,” you apologize softly.

“Don’t be sorry. I won’t hurt you like that again,” he shakes his head.

He leaves the bed to start a bath, but you couldn’t help but to think how lucky you were to have a crazy yet romantic boyfriend who would get a boom box to win his girlfriend back.

—————————————————————————————————

I couldn’t figure out how to end it but all well! This isn’t my best so best with me💀

Exciting news! I graduated college and I’m going to grad school now (yay harder school)

I will be around during the summer so more drabbles in the future

[loneliestluvr]

𝑻𝒐 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝑰 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑮𝒐, 𝒊𝒊𝒊.

i. ii. iii.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron OC

Synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

Warnings: beron😒, abuse in general(like triggering af please be warned), me being a rhysand hater, brief suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4.1k— this took me all day to write(from 7-9 am and then 3-now please be thankful😞🙏🏼)

taryn thinks: YES I DID CHANGE THE NAME. IT FITS BETTER. I HAD NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS WHEN I STARTED. HUSH. i would like to choose this very moment to tell you there will be a happy ending and to say they WILL end up with babies. still unsure how many parts this will be though 💃🏼 im just a gorl. @readychilledwine this is my payment for that tamlin baby and domestic fluff(smut if you’d like) bonus chapter for lost bonds 🤗

There was glass shattered on the floor by the windows.

Eris’s head was down as he stood before his father, pieces of deep auburn hair hanging by his eyes as he tried not to move and tried not to let any emotion pass over his face. Just as Beron expected when he took his lashings— whether that be from a whip, his tongue, or his powers.

However indignant, the fact his father had chosen his tongue today was a mercy.

“You are insignificant,” Beron seethed, spit spraying from his mouth as he yelled. The deep, cruel, voice booming off the walls of his fathers study. “—a bastard, truly. A bastard because you surely can not be this stupid and be born of me. A worthless excuse for a first son.”

Eris kept his stature wane, making himself small for his father despite the fact he was a few good inches taller than the male.

Sometimes, he thought the High Lord’s need to belittle and denigrate everyone around him, raise his voice and grow violent, was driven by some sort of lust. For power, respect, whatever it may be. Something he lacked.

That maybe the fact he put energy into minimizing his court, his family, his wife even, was because he didn’t even respect himself. That he needed to create room for his anger and hatred by pushing others down.

What had happened to him that made him so cruel? Is this how his father had been to him? Was this love to him?

“How is it that we’ve only just learned there’s a fourth sister, Eris? Tell me,” Beron’s voice grew lethally quiet as he spoke and Eris forced himself to breathe, bracing mentally. “—tell me so I know who better to put on the throne instead of your pathetic fucking excuse of life.”

His words grated against his ears, voice tight and angry and again growing louder as he spoke.

Another glass was thrown, and shattered. Hitting the wall so close to Eris’s head that a piece flew at him, slicing across his cheek lightly. He barely moved.

The crystal thin enough, knife-like enough, that he felt the warmth of his blood start to slowly seep from his skin.

Like moisture collecting on the petal of a white poppy in the early morning dew when he sat in the meadows by the Forest House, Saydee’s head in his lap as he talked to the earth. A small reprieve from the chaos of the palace.

Eris was there, in his mind.

Petting his hounds grey coat as he whispered, just as he always did when the sun came over the horizon and woke for the day. Like he had since he was just a faeling sitting in his mothers lap as she did the same.

His mother had explained it so gently one morning, sat in the grass, about when the sun comes over the skyline to say good morning. Not to speak too loudly or too brash so that he didn’t startle the earth, because she too deserved kindness. The Mother.

So almost everyday for as long as he could remember, he sat in that meadow, lazing in the tall grasses as those vibrant hues of blue and orange and pink and yellow streaked across the sky— and he whispered to Her.

About his hopes and dreams that would never be fulfilled or sought after, talked of the life he wished to have. That he wished his own mother had. Asked for her days to be gentler, kinder, prayed on every wild dandelion he found, for someone to share his days with, to talk to— however boring.

And he had. He had his dogs, and he had the fields surrounded with the creeks that ran through their property, and he had the sky.

He wished he was there most of the time. So he created a place in his head, to escape in moments like this.

Acres of meadows, full of flowers and taller grass than he could dream of. Up to his hips, his bloodhounds disappearing beneath the blades as he strolled leisurely. Hands wading through the soft thicket. Sometimes he dreamed of others with him, his mother, Lucien, someone else.

Locked away that piece of himself to disappear into whenever being in his body became too much.

It’s where he had spent nearly fifty torturous years Under the Mountain, spending every waking moment protecting the female who had raised him for his father didn’t care to. Spending fifty years away from those grasslands and that beautiful savoy grandeur. His meadows.

Throwing stick after stick out into those pastures as he walked further and further, his best girl running every time he threw— chasing bunnies and jumping into the streams. Getting lost in his mind. When he knew it was morning, which was so very rare down in that dark and decrepit nightmare, he prayed. He prayed for some divine force to step in, for Her to save him and his family. To be kinder. The first time he cried and spoke his despair aloud, Feyre Archeron had come three days later.

Eris was deep in fern grasses as the blood dripped down his face, but he still did not move.

He hadn’t even taken his coat and finery off from Hewn City yet, having told his father he was coming from the lookout on the northern border. He didn’t bring attention to it.

He heard his fathers deep breath and the creaking of the chair behind his desk as he sat, maybe seeing reason now that the heady scent of his sons blood filled his study.

“You will go to Rhysand as soon as possible,” Beron started, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eris still didn’t look up, just blinked at the floor. “—do what you must. Find a way in, figure out what else those wretched girls took from us. I do not care if you kill or maim or whatever else takes your interest these days.”

His voice trailed off as if remembering something significant and Eris heard the wood groan again and then footsteps, his heart remaining steady despite the screaming that filled his head. Then he saw the polished toes of Beron’s shoes.

“You always were the smartest of my sons. So much like me, so brutal.”

Male pride laced those words. Eris wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, and he did want to kill. He wanted to kill the man before him, wanted to kill the ruination that circled this court. That ripped its beauty from her chest, chewed it up, and spat it out.

But he did not move.

A hand gripped his chin, turning his face to the side and up. Eris let his eyes flick to his fathers face and saw the warning there.

“Where did you get this.” It wasn’t a question, Eris knew.

“I was playing with Saydee and tripped too close to a jagged rock, it cut me. It didn’t hurt.”

Beron released his chin if only to land a sharp slap on his other cheek and then immediately grabbed his face again. His grip burned, like molten ire, making the flesh of his cheeks dig into his teeth.

“Where did you get it.”

“I was practicing my swordsmanship with Brenton and he sliced me with his rapier, it was an accident. He got the proper punishment for hurting me.”

Beron released his son’s face and stepped back.

“Get out, don’t let your mother see you.”

Doubtless that the reason he wanted him gone was because he didn’t want his sons blood to drip onto those precious carpets.

Eris didn’t need to be told twice, so he walked. As calmly as he could until he got to his rooms, making sure to take the long way around and avoid where his mother was no doubt waiting by her own door to hear Eris’s footsteps walk by.

To know he was safe, or to know what his father did. Either way, he didn’t want her to see him like this.

Closing the door behind him, he finally loosed a breath, opening his eyes as he shucked off his jacket and draped it over the chaise by the hearth. Walking to his tray of decanters, lightly touching the blood on his face with one hand as he picked a bottle up in the other.

His scarred fingers came back crimson.

A slow boiling rage, like simmering sugar, filled his body. His muscles, gritting his teeth silently. Grip growing tight as he looked at that blood.

And then that was all he saw as the glass bottle shattered into the brick fireplace, sending the flames roaring and him stumbling back a few steps into the post of his bed.

He hadn’t noticed it was lit, vision glazed over.

He was breathing heavily, eyes wide as he watched the flames fulminate, casting an orange glow on his room and his face. So bright and wild he felt the heat from feet away as he watched the fire roar and gutter back down.

Eris thought that maybe he really wasn’t any better than the man that sired him at all.

Spring in Velaris was beautiful.

The mid-day sun warmed the air around the River House, a gentle breeze kissing Blair’s skin and ruffling through her curled hair.

She’d let her little sister braid it back this morning, a thin coronet that made a beautiful pleated flower on the back of her head. Though her loose bangs tickled her eyes, Blair thought she had looked rather pretty.

She wasn’t so outside of her body when she sat in the open air. And she felt… alright.

Though she would have preferred a fir to scale, as they allowed for easier climbing, but the willow she had found herself in made for a good view of Elain working in Feyre’s garden.

It was a welcome change from her window. Like there was no need to run away and hide in the forests of her mind, digging her own hands into the soul of the earth just to make sure her mind didn’t numb away.

She was almost laying down against the bark, the large trunk and spindling branches wide enough two people could have sat up here side by side. As uncomfortable as it may have been, the rough corking crust digging into wherever it touched through her pale yellow gown, it felt like home.

It’d been a week since Starfall at the House of Wind, almost a month since that all too brief introduction she had made to the world in Hewn City on Winter Solstice. Of Prythian’s world, at least.

Blair hadn’t expected anything for it, she had been there for a short half hour and had been… occupied the whole time.

Sometimes her skin still burned when she was alone. In the bath, when she stirred honey into her tea, late at night in the too cool sheets of her bed.

She’d felt her own since Hewn City, able to think and manage conversations, elating to Feyre and Elain and she quite enjoyed conversing with her little sisters now. But she still laid by the fire, night after night just to feel that warmth fill her.

But after that, after the surplus of gifts from their small gathering that followed, presents hadn’t stopped when the Solstice holiday ended— but they weren’t coming from her family.

Baskets and boards and chests and boxes were sent to Rhysand’s palace and then were brought to the House. Welcoming’s and courtiers from every place in Prythian it seemed, branching out to welcome her.

Well wishes, mostly. Some off-notes and letters, claiming that Blair Archeron’s beauty could be used to fix the rifts in this continent and between courts. That had been the most absurd one, a letter for Rhysand asking for her hand in marriage. He laughed as he read it to her, sitting by the window— knees tucked into her chest.

It angered her more than anything. That she was already a prize to be had, or that it was Rhys they were asking.

Slowly, as days passed and she spent more time outside breathing clear air, the anger grew. The realizations came in waves, of things she had missed, times where she should have spoke up and didn’t.

Resentment, frustration, shame, guilt.

She didn’t let it show, bottling it up and shoving it down. Killing the urges inside her to scream at everyone, to bellow and seeth and grow violent. Something so awake in her, gnashing and bloody teethed. The need to give into that voice in her head that told her to let it go.

That she needed to in order to go on, in order to have a sense of normalcy. That exploding was the only was to settle her bones. She felt particularly nasty towards Rhysand.

The betterment he had to achieve and grovel over, should grovel over, was stacked against the High Lord.

The anger was what took her the most, forcing her fingers to loosen the grip she had on her fork at dinner nightly as she listened to him ramble and laugh. Watched Feyre go on like she would not die having his child, closer and closer to being due.

She wanted to watch him bleed as her sister was going to.

Wanted to scream for all he had made Nesta do.

The entitlement.

But Blair buried it.

So she would glare to herself when he wasn’t looking, lip pulled back slightly and passed off as a twitch, before she took in what was sent as an attempt to woo her.

Blair had thought they were for Feyre in all honesty, before Cassian explained that it was bad luck. A few days ago when he walked with her along the Sidra— Elain had dragged her out and in return she made the Illyrian come with her— he had said it was a grim omen and wish of terrible luck to send an expecting mother gifts for a babe that hadn’t yet been born. To the fae at least.

She listened mindlessly. Noting the scent of her older sister that came from him in waves. She needed to talk to Nesta, and soon. A conversation was owed on both ends.

The thin parchment of the book she was reading scraped against the soft pads of Blair’s fingers as she leaned back against the large trunk of the willow.

Vines of cream wisteria flowing in the soft wind that sent the caps of her bell sleeves fluttering, watching Elain out of the corner of her eye as she dug her bare hands into the soil. Choosing not to use the enchanted gloves Lucien had gifted to her as she tended to the flower beds at the back of the house.

Despite the cool air surrounding Blair from the river flowing a few paces away, a warmth bloomed past her skin, not from the sun, but from something else, and her chest melted or sparked or roared as she saw a flash of deep auburn hair— walking towards where she was in the tree.

The second oldest Archeron’s brow furrowed so slightly. That scent— that heated mahogany and citrus, burning embers, floated to her on a soft wind and brushed through her hair in a soothing caress.

Eris’s hand skimmed along the brush of a white rose hedge as he strolled, his gait loose but strong. Blair kept her focus on the pages she was reading, but a sudden pounding in her heart had her unable to focus on any of the words.

She heard him approach, feet light and careless, she wouldn’t have heard it if she were still human. But with her new ears, the new senses she was still getting used to, she could.

The feet stopped, just under her, and Blair flipped the page. The thin and gauzy skirt of her dress draped and hung down the branch she lounged on, leg crossed over the other.

Eris cleared his throat then, and Blair could see his tall stature blurred in the peripheral of her vision. Hands tucked appropriately behind his back.

“I’m shocked Rhys let you come here, especially with my baby sister in her condition.” Blair said without lifting her head to look at him. Eris hid his smile by lowering his head. “Or should I be worried you’ve come to steal Nesta away? She’s not here, by the way.”

The words poured out of her mouth so quickly that Elain lifted her head in wonder, the same furrow as her older sister’s she’d seen play out in her face so many times. Rhys was standing with his arms crossed on the stone walkway when Elain looked to the back doors. Not pleased, but something willing.

“Now, smart, beautiful thing.” He tsked his tongue, amusement lacing every word. “I wanted to see you, and I told you that Nesta was not what I wanted anymore.”

Blair lifted her head at that, looking down at his wretchedly beautiful face and he smiled that wicked smile at her that spoke of pure sin. The level of her belief was in her eyes.

Whatever he offered that was big enough for Rhys to allow him to come to Velaris, she didn’t believe it would be just for her. Eris had given something to gain something— that’s what they all said of him.

“I told him I’d spoil our fun and tell my father of our plans or he could let me see you and I’d send a legion tomorrow for him to direct.” Eris added, as if reading her mind or face or body. She forced herself to keep looking at him.

“I could have met with you somewhere else.”

“Would you have? Left this place?” A raise of his brows.

Blair didn’t know, she didn’t know why she said it. Why her tongue just moved before she could think with him. Her eyes said as much and then a sudden, unknown, panic filled her and the life guttered so quickly from her eyes.

“It is safer here anyway.” Eris said lightly a few seconds later, followed by a quiet sigh.

There was a thin white gash along his cheek, almost healed, but it wasn’t there the last time she’d seen him. Blair remembered every inch of his face whether she wanted to or not. A face that followed her.

“No gift to try and sweep me into a marriage with you?” She said as gently as she could, face a bit flat.

“I thought I gave you one.” Eris smiled and at Blair’s squinted eyes, he continued. She closed her book and tossed it to the ground, narrowly missing him as it thudded to the ground. “Our dances, I did give you three I believe. Is that not the correct number in the mortal realm when a male is courting a female?”

The female blinked down at him, pausing as she swung her legs over the side of the branch, face drawing ever tighter and then she couldn’t control it.

It was the wording that sent her laughing she supposed. The sound rich and full of life, not empty and deserted or even strained, a song that skittered over Eris’s skin. Soft and silky as a fawn’s coat, gentle and easy as a gliding dove.

“I suppose,” Blair started, grunting slightly as she slid on her stomach— using the little strength she had in her arms to hold tight to the trunk she was dangling from. “—if we were in the mortal realm.” Blair panted slightly and Eris’s mouth formed a tight line as he watched the female struggling to climb back to the ground.

Her palms quickly formed indents from the grooves and bumps and ridges she clung to, nails digging into the wood.

“But,” Slipping slowly, trying to find a place for her dangling bare feet to land or stick to so she didn’t drop seven or eight feet right to the grass. The thin sleeves of her dress catching and snagging on sharp ribs in the bark. “—I so graciously have the rest of my immortal life ahead of me,”

“Would you…” Eris’s hands trail off as he watched, hands behind his back and head tilted.

“I have choices, to make—” Blair interrupted, toes splaying as she reached and reached for the next thing down but there was just nothing. “So I think it fair I take,” She huffed, hands slipping and sweating as she tried to grapple. “My,”

Eris raised an amused brow to her backside, arms crossing over his chest as he just watched. Her full body dangling there and then Blair yelped, right hand slipping and then she was falling with a gasp.

Eris was there a second later, large hands firmly gripping her waist as her knees bent over something. Scratching up her hands as she went, skin ripping on the rough bark and she grappled for anything. Body twisting.

It was Eris who caught her, who she tangled herself onto so she wouldn’t slam against the ground. Panting, heart beating, arms around his neck before she looked at him.

Blue, rust-flecked eyes met amber ones.

“Time.” She whispered, staring at his face. He’d caught her. She couldn’t tell if it was her pulse she could feel inside her hand, or his, as it held to the junction between his neck and shoulder. His eyes flicked down.

“Yellow was a choice, my dear Blair.” She scrambled from his arms, dropping another foot before touching the ground as she stood on her own again.

“I like yellow.” She spoke quietly, brushing her hands along her dress and halting when it streaked the fabric with a dirty red. Looking up at him with a breath, she crossed her arms instead.

“Beautiful as a rare star, then.”

Blair rolled her eyes.

“What is it you want, Eris?”

The male nearly fell to his knees at the look in her eyes, the sound of his name on her tongue for the first time.

Out loud, that is. He’d rewatched her beautiful lips play with it in his head for the past month, over and over. Kept it for himself, for when he was alone or bored or…

Eris feigned a pout.

“No polite courtier? I just saved you, my fair damsel.” He said, face serious until he smiled again and Blair started walking back towards the house. Rhys mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk as he watched.

“I do not need saving, the worst that would have happened was a few scratches or a bruise. I would have lived.” Even if she didn’t particularly care to. She didn’t say that out loud, though. But the despair seeped into something, she didn’t care enough to stop and think about the feeling.

“Mm,” He hummed, following behind her. “I suppose so.” He wanted to grab her, to touch and feel her beneath the flesh of his hands just because. Something inside his chest dragging him along behind her, he was not himself.

Blair just kept walking, right up the stones and the marble stairs off the back of the house, feet padding to the doors. Eris stopped at the steps where Rhys made him halt.

“Don’t let them hold you.” Eris called and she looked over her shoulder just briefly before flinging the doors open and disappearing inside the house that was warded off. Eris couldn’t follow after her if he wanted to.

“You saw her. For whatever reason you needed, she clearly did not have an interest in the same.” Rhys sighed, stepping in front of Elain subconsciously as Eris stood there— still looking into the House. “Now leave my city before I kill you, you know not to speak of this place to anyone.”

Eris was still staring after her when he disappeared in a rush of wind and warm light.

Elain looked back at the tree where her sister and the male had come through moments ago, only to find a particular trail of higher grass where Blair had walked and suddenly grown dandelions were blooming.

From the slam of the back door seconds later and the vacant yard that Elain was now left alone in, nobody else had noticed.

🏷️: @prythianpages @readychilledwine @impossibelle @anuttellaa @aelincaddel @umgatochamadopercyval @mirandasidefics

[a2a2a2-1]

Back in Town Part 3

Part 3 (Dave) Check out Part1 (Back story) and Part2 (Megan) As noted before Disclaimer: This is my first story so please forgive any typos and Errors. This is fiction. Dave: I was starting to undress as it walked in the door. “Honey I’m home to fuck your brains out!!” I yelled. “In here honey.” I heard Megan say from the living room, My shirt was off, and I was starting to unbuckle my belt as I entered the doorway and was shocked to see a beautiful teen girl seeing next to my wife… I froze. Wait, was that the girls I saw this morning? Shit, this was the girl with the camel toe… What was she doing in my house? I in deep shit now I thought. “Oh, look who’s ready for some action!” Megan said pulling me back into the Room. “Dave this is Ali. I was her nanny when she was younger before she moved away. She is back in town now can came over to say hello and reconnect.” My Mind was racing as I tried to excuse myself to get my shirt, I had dropped somewhere. My words trailed off. “Well, I can I get a kiss first?” Megan said I walked over and Megan stood up to greet me. She was clearly not shy around Ali and I quickly relates I was defiantly in the good kind of trouble. Megan asked for a follow-up kiss but clearly had more on her mind. Before I know it she was teasing my dick thought my jeans right in front of Ali! She then turned and asked “So, is this what you wanted to learn Ali? “Yes, that was amazing” Ali said “but I can go if you guys want me too.” “Well, that will be up to you Missy.” Megan said sitting back down and placing her hand on her knee. I felt my dick straining against my jeans as Megan said “I know Dave and I are very excited to see each other, but we are ways happy to teach and eager student. Megan was sliding he thumb softly along Ali’s inner knee. “You can just watch if you like for you first lesson.” Looking up at me she asked? “Dave, do you think we can help Ali learn the finer points in life?” she reached out and grabbed by belt. My mind was racing as I watched Megan slowly tease Ali while she released my dick from its confines. As she walked thought the process of a proper cock worship, I could feel by balls building. I looked over and Ali and could tell she was enjoying the show as well. I could tell Megan was ready very worked as well. “Why am I the only one naked?” I asked as she slid her hand up by body. I look this as my time to recover slightly and pulled her shirt off. Megan then stood up and dropped her shorts. I noticed a glimmer in Ali’s eye as she did. I pushed Megan back down on the couch and noted to Ali “Megans not the only one that can tease.” She Smile and I could tell she was debating what to do next. I pulled Megan’s hand over her head and slid my hands down along her arms then neck, then started my own lightly teasing around her nipples. They came to attention in no time as I as swirled my fingers around them. I could feel her body aching for me to move further down. I gave her nip a slight tug and ask, “Now what are the rules?”

“No. Cumming. Without permission” Megan said clearly enjoying the fine edge of pain and pleasure. “This’s my Girl” I said leaning forward to letting my hard dick slide up her thigh slightly as I kissed her now tender nipples. I worked down, kissing her abs then belly button then right above the hood of her clit. I looked to Ali and ask “Do you like girls too Ali” “I.. I think so” she said looking for her words. “Well this is how you tease her and make her go crazy” I said while I teasing Megan’s inner thighs. She started to wimp with the slow buildup. I slid my fingers around her lips already wet with excitement. I spread them slightly and looked over to Ali who was struggling a little to see. “Here lets make this a better view” I said sliding Megan down then pulling her leg wide. “Ali, you can join me on the floor if you like.” She sat down next to me as I walked thought each part of the Megan’s smooth and sensitive flower. I slowly and seductively walk Ali around each part of the wet pussy. Taking my time to build the tension. Megan was growing increasingly anxious as I teased her clit. As I rubbed to top of her hood I looked at Ali “See how sensitive this part is? Even with her hood still cover our model is here is already eager to cum for us. I pressed a little harder and watched as Megan started to squirm. I pulled back she was starting to ask. “but not just yet,” as she whimpered with frustration.

I slid my finger along her wet slit and continued down and teased her tight anus as I leaned in and kissed her inner thigh working my way to her aching pussy. Sliding my tongue up her lips before hovering over her clit. Megan moaned as I finally kissed her throbbing clit. Sucked her clit in and flicking with my tongue. Megan’s moaning grew more intense “I need to.. I need… Fuckk..” she moaned trying to holding back her building relace I abruptly stopped and Megan let out an even louder whimper. Looking over at Ali she smirked and ask “Do you want to see Megan cum for us?” Ali Smiled and said, “hummm Its fun watching her squirm like that.” While reaching up and Sliding her hand along Megan’s inner knee. Megan let out a out a whisper of frustration, then moan clearly not expecting the soft touch from Ali as it slid up her legs. “Yeah I think she’s ready” Ali said as she caressed Megan’s leg. I leaned forward and give Megan’s clit another kiss as I slid 2 finger in her wet void. Then moved my thumb up to her clit. With practice, precision and rhythm Megan was writhing in no time. Her willpower was losing control as he cried out “ cumm.. Ca. can. I Cumm?” Right on queue Ali slid her hand closer and moved in to get better view. I reached up with my other hand to Grab her tender breast. “Cum for us baby. Cum for Ali!” I responded increasing the pressure on her clit as well. Looking up I watched Megan’s eye’s roll back as she released the 3 weeks tension. Her abs tightened as she the pleasure rolled over her. Pulling her legs up I could tell she this was a good Release. Her hand soon moved down to pull me way. “Oh, I don’t think you really want me to stop?” I joked. As I pulled my head way. “Now for the real sex” I said as stood up slightly, and turning Megan long was on the couch. I pushed both her lets up against her chest for her to hold. Getting into positing half on and half off I tested how sensitive she was with a few smacks of my mostly rigid cock right on her clit. She jumped and moaned with pleasure. I slid my swollen mushroom along her lips then back up to her clit for one last Smack. I then slowly slid in her wet pussy as her muscles squeezed around my shaft. “Who wow that fits all the way in?” Ali said half questioned as she adjusted for a better view. “And it feels so good!” Megan added as it started to thrust faster. I adjusted my position and picked up the pace. I looked over to Ali and noticed she was smiling from ear to ear, clearly enjoying the show. My swollen balls were starting to get tender, and I knew I would not be able to take much more. I pulled out and had Megan lean up on the end on all 4s’. Ali moved back next to me and was in the perfect position to not only to watch me started pounding her pussy and my enlarged sack pounding her clit, but also joy the watching Megans boobs move with each thrust. I was getting close and gave could tell by Megan’s moan’s she was ready too. I was thinking I was going to flip her back around and cum on her chest, but then Ali moved up and reach forward. Her small dainty hand cupped Megan’s breast and felt Megan clamp around my Shaft. Ali then shifted her weight and put her other hand on my leg. That soft delicate touch sent me over the edge. Megans moans grew louder as I thrusted faster and deeper. The delicate scent of sex filled the room as I collapsed on Megan, pulling her close to me with one final thrust. We both took a moment to catch our breath, my dick still inside. Ail was smiling and had a mischievous look on her face. Knowing how much I had unloaded I asked Ali to get a towel from the closet. We both watched her cute butt as she left the room. Ali came back in with the towel and watched closely as I pulled my now slightly soften dick out of Megan’s filled pussy. She gasped our juices flowed at first then slowed to a drip.

“So did you both orgasm?” Ali asked. “Yes” we both said in exhausted unison. "And I think you helped" I said with a wink. “I did?” Ali asked “Yes, you did” Megan response sitting up further clean up a little. “Your boob as soo pretty, they are nothing like mine” Ali said as she ran her hand up her body and started to touch them. I felt life returning to my soft dick. “Oh Sweety, yours are perfect” Megan said sliding her hand on Ali’s bare shoulder. “But you haven’t seen them.. how can you tell?” Ali asked. “Well that is good point!” realizing where Ali was trying to go, Megan played along and said “If only I could see under your shirt…humm” Megan said sliding her hand along Ali’s toned arm then back up. Pulling her closer between her legs, then, sliding a finger under each wide strap then down along her smooth skin revealing a hint of tan line. “You know this tank top is a bit thin” Megan continued as she slid each index finger down turning her hand so each thumb was hovering just over each of Ali’s Nipples. “I can almost make out your areolas” she continued move each thumb close, circle Each, of mounds. Ali let how a half moan half giggle. At the touch of her sensitive chest. Teasing Ali with more circles it was clear Ail was enjoying the attention. Her hand moved up and started to tug on her shirt clearly wanted to take it of already. Megan moved her in cupping each both breast and giving them a squeeze. She slid hand around pulled Ali in for a beautiful kiss. Ali looks like a natural I thought as I watch Megan’s hands slid under and pull off her top revealing 2 perfect little breasts. I felt my dick twitch as I watched my wife cup one of Ali’s orange size breasts, then lean in and kiss her puffy nipple. I watched waves of pleasure roll over Ali as Megan worked her tongue around the puffy areola. It did not take long before the nipples came to attention. I admired the sharp distinction between her ghostly breast and tan arms. I adjusted my posited as I watched Ali’s hand slide up Megan inner thigh. Megan was invited the touch and spread her legs wider. As Ali’s hand reached Megan's wet pussy. Megan moved up and kissed Ali again. I watched Ail’s other hand move in between her leg to adjust her tight shorts that were likely soaked by now. Megan leaned back inviting Ali’s hand to explore further. Megan was quite sensitive by now and it did not take long before she was getting close. Ali was doing surprisingly well for her first time. Her smaller hands now teased Megan’s clit, rubbing with increased speed and vigor. I couldn’t help but tease Megan and reached over pinched Megan’s nipple. Megan started to reach out for my dick to play with but slowed as she was enjoying Ail’s hand. Delaying Megan’s 3rd release for now I ask, “Is Ali gonna make you cum already?” Megan moaned as Ali continued and smiled at me. “I mean Ali is still half dressed.. Let get you but mor comfortable Ali” as I squeeze breast. “You can cum soon enough” I said smiling at Ali. “But I think Ali needs some attention.” I leaned forward and started to get behind Ali but instead she stood up. “So you think I should talk these off?” she asked, now aware she had our full attention. She slowly teased the top of her tight shorts down. I moved next to Megan so I could tease her clit as she watched to show. Megan returned the gesture as she cupped by balls then slid her hand up my growing shaft. Ali finally lowered and removed her shorts to reveal her beautiful slit. I slowed my hand as I heard Megan's breath flitter with excitement and restraint. She was trying to say something but the words were not coming out.

“My lord your beautiful” I said, admiring her prefect little body. Her tan abs were stopped by a sharp tanline, like her own body’s own bikini. I was in awe of her 2 perfect lips that hid the surprise underneath. The light caught a thin string of juice on her inner thigh. I could not hold back any further. Grabbing a pillow from the other end of the couch I got up and laid Ali down on the floor. I spread her legs to expose her stunning flower. Her beautiful lips parted slightly and glistened in the light. As before with Megan, I kissed her inner thigh and worked my way up to her now nectar-filled pussy. The intoxicating fragrance of sweet and sex filled the air and was perfectly matched by her sweet and tangy pussy. I was captivated as I licked and sucked. Teasing her clit with my tongue as I felt her moan with pleasure. Ali’s hands were running thought my short hair as she enjoyed the first of many new experiences. I was so lost in the process I jumped a little when I felt that warm moist sensation envelops my now rigid head. Megan had positioned herself under between my leg and was swirling her tongue around my head while a hand reached and teased my ball sack. The sudden stimulation had me ready in time and I did all I could to focus on Ali. I wanted to explode for both of them, but knew I need a bit longer to rebuild my supplies. I moved my tongue as deep as I could into her tasty slit then worked my way back up to her clit, sucking her clit into my mouth as flicked up and down. Ali moaned with pleasure as she tried to grasp my hair. I felt Megan release from my dick, as she moved to watch Ali enjoy her orgasm. She moved her hand up Ali’s firm abs and cupped her left breast. Ali hole body shuddered with pleasure as the waves of euphoria flushed over her. Ali’s legs were cliched by head like she was trying to pop a balloon. As I slowed my tongue, she released her legs, and moved up over her kisser her right nipple, then moved up and gave along loving kiss. Ali’s tongue entered my mouth with more force than I expected, as she clearly enjoyed herself in my kiss. Megan them moved up and joined us in 3 way kiss as she caressed Ali’s sexy body. I slid my hand down Ali’s body and over to Megan’s wet pussy. Megan returned the favor as I turned into position. Both of us on either side of sweet Ali. Megan had reached cross and grab my dick started stroking like there was no tomorrow. I kept pace with her as we brought each other to the edge. Megan pulled out of the kiss to try and hold back as Ali repositioned her hand to play with Megan’s tit. This sent Megan over the top. The smile on Ali’s and Megan's face as they locked eyes was all it needed. Ali leaned up show off to watch as I released my seed all over Ali flexed abs and chest. Ali giggled as the warm cum landed all over her. Megan wasted no time licking up the mess. First from my dick, then cleaning every drop off of Ali as she giggled. Megan then gave Ali a nice long kiss. Giving her a first hint of natures protein shake. Becoming aware of the time, we gathered Ali’s clothes and helped her get dressed. I offered to give her a ride home, but she didn’t want the grandparents to get too suspicious. Megan and I put on our robes. Watched as Ali got on her bike and ride down the road.

We'll pickup with Ali in part 4.

[heartsforvin]

perv vinnie hcs???

PERV!VINNIE who …

writing this a bit different than my usual hc’s but i hope you enjoy nonetheless !! <33

this is mainly like vinnie x bestfriend / friend!reader rather than gf!reader

• PERV!VINNIE who gets any chance he can get to sneak a peak at you in your tiny bikini, hoping you don’t notice his lingering eyes

• PERV!VINNIE who steals your panties before he leaves your house, using them for himself later that night

• PERV!VINNIE who sits you on his lap and intentionally moves your hips on him so you can feel him get hard

• PERV!VINNIE who grinds into you while your asleep just to feel some friction

• PERV!VINNIE who has pictures of you wearing your skimpy swimsuit on polaroid and cums to them late at night (bfb!reader)

• PERV!VINNIE who pulls you in closer so you can feel his hard on while the two of you hug

• PERV!VINNIE who just loves to hear when you moan / accidentally (i.e. eating something really good, or if you’re in pain)

• PERV!VINNIE who secretly hopes you’re just as disgusting and perverted as he is so he won’t feel ashamed

• PERV!VINNIE who tells you it’s normal for best friends to touch each other and that he’s “just making you feel better” (bimbo!bestfriend!reader)

• PERV!VINNIE who can’t help but stare a little too long at your ass when you wear small tight shorts

• PERV!VINNIE who excuses himself to the bathroom to jerk off while the two of you hang out because you kept being touchy and he couldn’t handle it

• PERV!VINNIE who tries to get you to go out with him but you’ve caught on to his antics so you decline

tags: @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @forevergirlposts , @bernelflo , @leqonsluv3r , @lovingsturniolo , @visualbutterflysworld , @st4rswrld , @louloulemons-blog , @violet0182 , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @laylasbunbunny , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @venuscameron , @slvthrs , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov

[barelylivingscholar]

Arlecchino with a daughter tw: unhealthy family relationships, manipulation, and gore(?), suicidal thoughts, unstable/mentally ill daughter. Not for the faint of heart, heavy angst, a somewhat positive ending in the last part(?) (Do not read if uncomfortable)

An: I am backkkkk, second semester and last semester’s finals kept me busyyyyyy but I’m here again to post some stufffffff!! Not hsr related but like I also write for Genshin now, apparently… Will post a part two, I guess? “Father. When am I able to hang around with the others? I have done everything that you’ve asked for.” A young girl asked, to which “Father” responds with, “You need to focus on the task in hand. I still have many more missions for you to do before I set you free.” The girl sighed, knowing very well that she may as well never be able to be allowed to play with the other kids… For a moment, the girl had wished that she wasn’t the only one to deal with this kind of burden. The burden being, the “successor” of “Father.” She wanted to play with the other kids as well, but alas, her father does not permit her to do so. Instead, excuses are made, and the standard Fatui discipline is instilled in her mind, always have to act proper and professional, not allowed to shed a tear, or to feel strong feelings regardless of what the matters are. I hate it here. I do not wish to stay here any longer. Every day feels like I am only made to be the person that “Father” wishes me to be. I am never truly happy. I am sinking. Father was not  family. This whole thing is and always was, a lie. Do I ever get to be free? Perhaps I can set myself free. There is a way.  ̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶e̶̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶i̶̶s̶, ̶a̶̶m̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶d̶̶o̶ ̶i̶̶t̶? --- After burning the corpse of their enemies, I return to the House of the Hearth, albeit bloody and face that is smudged of dirt, the smell of blood and gasoline lingers around me. With every passing servant, caretakers, and also children as well, unsettled and left shaken up at the sight of me. I stained the carpets red. I wonder if “Father” would notice as the carpet is in the same shade of the blood of her enemies…? Will she punish me and discipline me? Although words are exchanged, no form of physical harm done, I am still left isolated.  Like I am to be a monster kept away from people… I feel caged.

This time, I didn’t bother to clean up and went straight ahead to father’s office. Where I know I’ll be punished for such a careless mistake. “Father, I have returned.” I greet, looking to see her eyes staring straight at me. For once I don’t cower. I simply walk up to her and wait for her response. I have no reason to be scared, right? I don’t think I care anymore. Father’s eyes narrowed. The sight of blood that wasn’t mine, the smell of gasoline, in her eyes, I may as well be the filthiest child in the house. One that is simply, uncouth for the position of “successor.” “Why have you not followed protocol? Especially contingency 8? Have I not taught you well?” Her voice sharp, dissatisfied with my performance. It must be a surprise for her that her “successor” had become disobedient. What is she going to do to me, I wonder? Dispose of me? Or would she find someone else who is to succeed her as the “Father” of the House of the Hearth. “I… I have no other excuses.” I was unable to control my voice. It was shaky, wavering. I hate it. Father’s eyes seemed to had harden. I am interested with what is going to be the left of me once this is all over. I look forward to it. I want her to snap at me. Kill me. Foul words for a child like me, but this is what I planned. Maybe it is best that I sleep in eternal slumber instead rather than live a life full of misery. I have nothing to be grateful here. I am not thankful that I am still alive today. “…You are hereby stripped of the title “successor.” You are no longer worthy of the title. I am disappointed.” Is that it? No severe punishments? My mind raced; I was unable to comprehend why had she punished me in a way that is so… Little? Had she gone soft? I do not remember anything that made her want to punish me lightly. Don’t I deserve… More? My brows had furrowed. “Father” did not miss that. “Daughter… Are you, upset?” Her voice sounded confusing, to me. Why do you suddenly care? I don’t understand you at all. I do not feel safe at all. Are you really “family?” “…I’m fine.” I say, my voice a little tight. Unshed tears on my face, I am no fool. I do not need your love.

“You are now excused.” Never had I ever left her office so quickly after that. I had to get away…! I need to get out of here… I breathed heavily as I ran and ran… Until there is nowhere to go. The heavy snow had engulfed me. And soon… I was unconscious. I awoke to an unfamiliar place. This is not the House of the Hearth. I quickly got up, ignoring the sudden rush of blood shooting up due to how fast I went up. I ignore the throbbing pain on my forehead, I focused on my surroundings instead. Where am I? This place is… Different. I jolted as I felt a hand on my shoulder, immediately backing off and grabbing a hidden dagger in my boot. “Stay there! I will stab you!” I hissed. Glaring at the mysterious figure. They looked… Kind. I am not supposed to feel that way. There are no kind people in this world. Everyone I know will always lie to me, manipulate me for their gain. Just like “Father.” Just like them…

The stranger had knelt down and attempted to soothe me. I only responded with aggression and threats. They weren’t phased at all. “Who are you? I am no ordinary orphan! I am a murderer!” I shouted, clearly agitated. The man in a familiar coat had not reacted violently at all. I am confused. And angry. “I am Pantalone. “Regrator” from the Fatui. I assume you are one of the Knave’s lost children…” My eyes widened at the statement. He is no ordinary man… I should’ve known, I gritted my teeth and gripped my dagger tight. “I am not her orphan! I am no longer a part of that… I could care less if you are a part of the Fatui, I will die gladly in vain if I have to fight for my freedom!” I hissed. The man is amused. I can tell by the look in his eyes. “I have a better proposal for you, child.” “Regrator” inquired. I had not chosen to back down even at the prospect of an offer. “What makes you think I will take it?” I replied, gripping the dagger tight. “I will not surrender you to the Knave. Rather, I’ll take you in as my disciple.”

Disciple? Is this man sick in the head? Why would I agree to that? It seems “Regrator” had heard my thoughts, and so, he added, “Although, it is up to you if you would rather be surrendered back to the Knave… Or join me and I’ll give you a much better purpose, in life… Not that you have any choice on the matter if you decline my offer…” I had no sense of purpose to live for. I am merely an empty shell of what I was once. I have nothing to achieve… In the end, I don't have what it takes to truly end my life. So I will follow my new superior. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be easily obedient. I am rather mad.” And it was the start of something anew…  I had become, “Regrator’s disciple.” I wonder how “Knave” will react to such arrangements… An: Part two will include Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. There will be other characters who will be included as well but, part one's story was set before Lyney became the sucessor of the House of the Hearth. I am thinking of interesting ideas to write for this story and some alternate routes as well... We'll see once I whip up part two.

[deluweil]

Totally with you on the Tommy-thing. Fandom makes me dislike him so I am not reading things about him any longer. This entire storyline is good for representation, yeah but so fsr not really showcasing a good relationship. Tommy let Buck stand there because he was fed up but he knew Buck is new to this. What did he expect?

And yeah, Lou is a totally different story there. I like sseing his view on things.

Btw do you think JHL will get as much flack for following the transphobe on IG now as Ryan did a while ago? Guess not huh?

I have resorted to blocking all bucktommy groupies, they make me dislike the fandom experience.

I have no beef with the actors, I love all of them, my problems are ever with the writers and showrunners that handles themselves in a very idiotic way when it comes to Buck and Eddie.

It's like they only know how to develop characters that are in established relationships or how to develop a character within a relationship only, and even that they do poorly because they haven't even decided after 7 SEASONS where they want the boys to end.

And by the way, since the only way they know is how to develop the characters only inside a relationship is also why Buck and Eddie are so intertwined, because if you notice, they are only growing when they are written together! The writers wrote themselves into this corner.

Anyone watching other shows knows that best friends are not written that way, that they have their own individual stories and they come together for a good beer hangout or heart to heart, or relationship advices or rooming together (Casey and Severide) because their roommate and best friend died (Severide and Shay) or their house burned down chasing a story with the reporter LI (Casey and I can't remember her name atm but she was good for him).

There are so many ways to write best friends without them being mistaken for endgame, but that is not what is happening in 911 and Oliver confirmed it himself, neither Eddie nor Buck are written in a straight manner and the actors know that, the question is, will the showrunners catch up eventually?

Lou is awesome, I like him, I like him in any show I 've seen him, lately that was SWAT. He's a good actor and seems like he's fun to be around, in a way, they kind brought Ryan/Eddie 2.0 to the cast, I find it very amusing lol.

LOL no, Ryan has been controversial even before Chrysti-Ann brought him down with her, he's poc, he's not Oliver, he speaks his mind and he doesn't cater to stupid and demanding hetero-normative showrunners. How dare he? lol

People were #TeamEvan even before #buddie came into our lives, Lou being added is the perfect excuse to tarnish Eddie so they can put him out of the picture - the haters of course - it's pretty clear that Tim is very fond of him.

And Murphy brought him in without an audition because he knows how good of an actor he really is.

JLH, like Oliver, is a fan favorite, and a beautiful fun white woman, no way would she get any blowback as Ryan. Toxicity in this fandom brings about a lot of hypocritical aspects, but that is a lot of reflection of the lives we live today outside of the fandom.

All we can do is curate our dashes and filters and make for a fun and safe environment to enjoy our time in.

[justallihere]

The way I was grinning ear to ear reading this chapter (EXCEPT FOR THE SOBBING PART HOW DARE YOU)

This chapter was very Violet (black cat gf) x Xaden(doberman bf) coded, sleepy cat gf being guarded by her scary dog boyfriend

X will shirk their duties for as long as he needs to, who cares if they have a country to run, his wife needs good food and sleep!!!!

 "Xaden loomed over her shoulder" I can tell I'm already going to love reading this bit OVER and OVER again

“You go or I go.”  “You fight dirty,” he murmured.  I already know this is going to be a repeat offense between V and X -- consequences of your actions indeed Xaden

Liam held her even tighter. “It’s my honor,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “To be your friend. To be your guard. To know you. I would do it all over again, Vi.” 

absolutely sobbed when Liam started to cry bc Vi was crying 😭 (be ready to hear from my therapist). In this house, men cry and its healthy!!!!

Platonic squad naps/cuddling 😭 😭 😭 someone give Ridoc and Rhi an award bc I love them so much (sawyer too but he was w/ jesnia sooo)

THE HUG!! THE HUG!!!! and Xaden's hand always going to her hair

I swear Alli, if Xaden gets tortured... idk what I'd do. I'd probably eat it up bc Violet would literally rip ppl in half to get to her husband

Xaden feels so much more open with his emotions (smiling and laughing 😭) around violet and im here for it

“It’s an unlocking rune I'm so glad he tells her these things instead of leaving her in the dark like in canon (looking at you RY)

The potential and TENSION between Felix and Devera 👀👀👀

questions:

Why hasn't Mira slept 😭 also when/will we see Mira vs Brennan?

OMG WAIT - if the trade deal is off with Navarre... does that mean they have to make a deal with Teacurus??? Or does Mama Sorrengail come in clutch

Xaden literally does not CARE. Violet needs a nap so Violet gets a nap. End of story.

Their height difference makes his looming so much funnier because I imagine she maybe reaches his shoulder so he doesn’t even have to try to move or do anything out of the ordinary to glare at people over the top of her head. And Violet will absolutely be using his overprotectiveness to her advantage. Xaden needs to do something but won’t? Oh well she’s queen, she can just go! (Or not.)

The platonic nap!! I’ve had that scene in my head for so long 😭

It took 200k words but they HUGGED. Everyone clap. Also yeah Xaden takes every excuse he can get to touch Violet’s hair and she will have to call him out on that eventually.

Idk I can’t remember if Felix and Devera even so much as looked at each other in canon but I don’t care there’s potential. They would be so badass together.

Mira’s stressed as fuck and having a lot of emotions about life so sleep is evading her. Mira/Brennan showdown hopefully next chapter?? I promise you she’s not calm, she is vibrating with rage but holding it in for Violet’s sake.

Re: trade deals will be answered soon!!!