#L is plotting and scheming

[danimals666]

I made this gif while blazed off of my ass and I've been giggling at it for the past few hours

[funkycoloured]

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: joel miller x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: joel gives you a special treat after noticing the extra care you give to his horse at the stables in jackson.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (obviously), very little plot, probably bad cause i wrote it in fifteen minutes, fingering, f!reader, semi-public sex, implied age gap, old man joel, not proofread we die like sarah. mdni.

joel caught on to your little scheme fairly quickly. at first, he'd ignored the extra peppermints that you slipped to his horse. maybe you just favored him over the others. joel wasn't going to complain, anyways, not when you groomed the steed so well that his dark coat nearly shined, not when you went above and beyond to make sure that his horse was cared for, pampered in comparison to the others. the longer the special treatment continued, the more joel noticed about you. the looks you'd send his way, the way you grew a little flustered whenever he spoke to you in that sickeningly sweet texan drawl. and he most certainly didn't miss the way your thighs pressed together tightly when he was close by, or the way your teeth dug into the plump flesh of your lower lip and a faint furrow creased your brows. you didn't favor his horse. you favored him.

you wanted joel's attention, and you got far more than you'd anticipated. he had let your little game play out for a few days more, until he could no longer take it. the way you looked hat him, the way you spoke so sweetly, the curves of your beautiful body... it all drove him mad. his chapped lips were on yours the moment the two of you entered the tack room - pinning your back to the nearest wall, whatever fleeting conversation that passed between you had evolved into heated tension. your jeans had been hastily unzipped, shoved down just below your hips.

joel's hand was warm and firm as it cupped your cunt through the thin fabric of your panties. it rested there for a few moments, neither of you daring to break the kiss that enveloped you both, but joel noticed the way you subtly rocked your hips, trying to grind against his palm. he groaned, breaking the kiss as his free hand cradled your face, his skin rough against the apple of your cheek. he angled your face, thumb gently tapping your jaw until your eyes fluttered open to meet his own.

"there's my pretty girl," joel murmered, voice low and hushed. his fingers grew a little more adventurous, two sliding down your clothed slit. the slight pressure elicited a pitiful whine from your lips, and you didn't miss the way his lips parted ever so slightly, barely holding himself back. "already so wet. how long have you been wantin' this, huh?"

"too long," you practically gasped when his fingers found your clit, circling it sharply, the fabric making the friction even more delicious. your hands tensed on his shoulders, fisting at his jacket.

"shh, don't anyone to hear now, do we?" he replied, lips brushing against the shell of your ear before he dipped his head down to suck at the skin below it. "should've told me sooner. would've done anythin' you asked of me, sugar." you whined when joel pulled his hand away from your core, but he was quick to gently shush you and press a kiss to your throat. his free hand clutched your hip as the other tugged your panties aside. he allowed himself the pleasure of looking down, and even in the dim lighting of the singular bulb in the tack room, he could see the glistening of your pussy.

his fingers delved back in, one gliding through your folds tantalizingly slow. gathering your slick with two fingers, he brought it back up to your clit, his calloused fingertips teasingly circling the bud.

"joel-"

"i got ya, darlin," joel reassured, voice slightly strained. his own breaths mirrored your own as they grew a bit heavier. "you'll get what you want, don't worry."

without teasing you further, joel lifted his head from the column of your throat to look at you. he watched the way your brows furrowed, and the way your lips parted, as he brought his fingers to your needy hole. his fingers circled once, then twice, before his middle finger slowly slid in, pushing through your velvety warmth. the moan you let out was heavenly, and despite the risk of being caught, joel didn't try to quiet you. your walls throbbed around his finger, and he took that as his cue to add another. the whine that left your lips was even more wanton than the one before, but he gave you the time to adjust to the feeling of his fingers in your cunt. he scissored them slowly, feeling your arousal drip down to his knuckles. if it weren't for his grip on your hip, your knees would've buckled.

"this what you needed huh?" joel teased, gradually beginning to pump his fingers in and out of your cunny. "this why you kept giving old beardy so much extra attention? cause you wanted me?"

if joel's fingers weren't shoved so far up your cunt, you would've grimaced at the name of his horse. however, all you could do was keen and nod, hips jerking when he curled his fingers, the calloused tips bullying the spongy spot within you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. your knuckles turned white from the ferocious grip you had on his jacket, one of your hands darting up to clutch his hair instead. your grasp was tight, tugging on his gray locks. the moan he let out was almost enough to send you over the edge, and you tugged on his hair once more just to hear that sound again.

"joel, fuck!" you moaned again, biting down on your lower lip to try and keep yourself quiet. your head fell back, resting on the wall behind you as you squirmed in joel's hold. his fingers sped up, sensing your oncoming orgasm. the incessant plap, plap, plap, of your cunt only grew louder and louder, overshadowing the little whimpers and gasps that escaped your lips. "i'm close. i'm close," you repeated like a broken record, eyes squeezing shut as your whines grew more frequent.

"i know, darlin, i know. just let go f'me," joel growled, jaw clenching as his eyes studied your blissed-out expression. his thumb found your clit, rubbing the sensitive pearl and bringing you to finish. he was quick to smash his lips against your own to muffle your cry of pleasure, fingers slowing down to work you through your orgasm. his grip on your hip shifted, arm looping around the small of your back to hold you close and keep you on your feet as you came down from your high. he broke the kiss so you could gasp for breath, his beard tickling your jaw as he trailed a few kisses down it. his thumb never left your clit until you whined again, thighs trembling from overstimulation.

joel pulled his hand back, quickly sucking your juices off of his fingers. next time, he'll definitely need to get another taste of your pussy. he was quiet, letting you open your eyes to look at him. the lazy smile that grew on your lips made his heart clench. he had no idea why someone as young and gentle as you was interested in a rough old man like him, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

"thank you, joel." you spoke, voice far more breathless than you'd hoped. you didn't know what else to say. your mind was still clouded in the aftermath of pleasure, heart still racing, but your doubt lingered on him. "what about... you?"

"don't thank me, sweetheart," he shook his head, carefully letting you go once he was certain you weren't going to topple over without his help. calloused hands found your jeans, pulling them back up and zipping them for you. "y'don't have to worry 'bout me. this is a... special treat for all the extra care you give to that old horse."

joel paused for a moment, lifting a hand to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek. when he spoke again, his voice was hardly above a whisper. "next time you want my attention, just ask."

[inotakumagf]

look out for the little guy

✶ jason todd x gn!reader

word count ✺ 6.8k

summary ✺ there are three times you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, and one time that Red Hood is late.

warning ✺ blood, death, murder, corruption, etc etc in a level that is appropriate for Gotham. Jason is in vigilante limbo here. soooo angst heavy, you might hate me. there’s hurt/no comfort & character death so proceed with caution. also Gotham is in NJ i will die on this hill

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Your mother always tells you that your nose will lead you right into trouble. You’ve always been too curious as a kid, and that hasn't changed at all as you got older. It’s worse, even, because you’re a journalist in Gotham of all places. There’s always trouble brewing just under the skin of this city, and the corruption, the evil…it all drives you crazy. Every rich asshole in this city has their teeth dug into some drug ring or money laundering scheme or world-ending villain plot. And it's personal, because one of those rich assholes is the reason why your family fell apart. 

They’d wanted to bulldoze the apartment that you grew up in to turn it into some million dollar project and your mother had been adamant that you stay put. Rich people don’t like taking no for an answer, and they’d made it their mission to tear your family to shreds, like you were ants under their gold-plated boots. No one cared, no one ever stepped in to bring justice to your family, because the corruption ran so deep. It pushed you to journalism, so that you could document and show people the truth. It’s not your fault that the stories you were chasing went from regular corrupt assholes to superpowered and Arkham-worthy ones.

Like the story you're pursuing now, about the uptake in missing person reports across Gotham. The pattern of the kidnappings has been…weird, and—as your contact at GCPD was hesitant to reveal to you—it’s left the detectives stumped. But you’d been studying the disappearances and the victimology, and you think you’ve tracked a lead. Really, it only took a bit of effort—effort that the GCPD can’t bother to spare. Rather than hand this information over to the very incompetent and lazy police department, you’d decided that you were just going to find out what was happening to these people on your own. 

An evident similarity between all of the kidnappings is that each missing person had reportedly last been seen on fairgrounds or in parks, and you’d found similar missing reports out-of-state. In your research you’ve discovered a travelling circus group that had very conveniently travelled and performed at these locations, and it explains the pattern in which these people are going missing. And the circus leads right back to Gotham, because all things do. The Circus of Strange is very illusive on Google, but you’d found one name in association with the group. The owner of the circus, Lazlo Valentin, owns a boarded up beauty parlor right in Gotham, and—against your better judgement—you’re going to do some sleuthing.

You stare up at the sign that’s falling apart, that claims that this building is the Pretty Dolls Parlor. You take an unconscious step back. This building looks like it walked right out of an R. L. Stine book, and you’re starting to regret your “run in now, ask questions later” mentality.

“You look lost.”

You jump, fumbling with the pepper spray in your coat pocket. “Get back, or I swear I’ll…oh. It's you.”

Red Hood is a terrifying sight, and you should be more scared, but he’s kind of reformed? Maybe? It’s shaky territory, but between the creepy building and an anti-hero/vigilante/Bat-associate, you’d prefer to stay on his good side. 

“You sound very excited to see me,” he says in a deadpan. “Is there a reason we’re standing outside Stephen King’s wet dream, orrrr…?”

You straighten your back out. “Actually, I’ve been tracking the missing persons case that the GCPD has been neglecting, and I think it has something to do with this building. Lazlo Valentin…does that name mean anything to you?”

“Might,” he says. “How did you connect him to those missing people?”

You explain your theory to him, and to his credit he listens to your whole spiel, even though you’re totally rambling. When you’re done, you spread your hands out to the still-very-creepy building. “Ta-da! That brought me here. You know what, your timing is actually perfect, ‘cause this place is really freaking me out.”

He huffs and steps forward towards the building. “That’s great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a deranged scientist to stop.”

He gets up to the entrance before he notices that you’re trailing behind him. “What are you doing?”

You give him a side-eye. “I’m coming with you.”

He turns so that he’s facing you head-on. “Uh, no the fuck you’re not. Look, I don’t know if you’re looking for a thrill or if you think you’re Sherlock Holmes, but you are most definitely not coming with me.”

You frown. “I’m a journalist at the Gazette, and this is my story. Everyone thinks I’m making this up, but if you’re here then that means this is real. I want to help.”

He sighs. “You can help without putting yourself in danger.”

“But I need to know what happened to those people. If I walk away now, I’ll never find out. Please, I’ll be so quiet, you won’t even know I’m with you.”

“Not happening. But,” he says over your sounds of protest, “if you give me your contact information, I’ll give you my report of events. How does that sound?”

You want to argue, but that actually sounds like a good deal. You get your story and you don’t have to go into the creepy building? “Deal. Here.”

You dig through your wallet and pull out one of your business cards. “This is my email. And I swear your source will stay anonymous. Scout’s honor.”

He nods in appreciation and pulls off the wood plank that keeps the door boarded up. “You should head home now. Oh, and before you go…”

“Yeah?” You ask.

“Stay out of trouble.”

You grin and give him a two-fingered salute. “No promises, but I’ll try.”

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You do try to hold yourself to his request. Especially because the report that he’d emailed you had been flawless, and it had gotten you a stand-out story. Terrible for all the people that had been turned into Valentin’s deformed puppets, but at least it got the GCPD to get up and do something. Although it had really been Red Hood that brought him in to Arkham. So, how else do you thank a vigilante that you’ll never see again, other than ensure that you never have to bump into him while following a sketchy lead?

Well. 

You swear you did try. But sometimes...life happens. It’s not like you were trying to get caught in the middle of a robbery.

You were minding your business grabbing some crappy late night “dinner” from your favorite bodega, when some guy decided that this was a great time and place to interrupt your very precious schedule to rob the store at gunpoint. You’re tucked behind in the candy aisle as this is all going on, and you can probably sneak right out the back if you had a pinch of self-preservation. But this is your favorite store on this side of Gotham,, and you'd feel really bad if you just left Angel to fend off the robber by himself when he always turns a blind eye if you're a few cents short.

You sneak up behind the guy as Angel is emptying the register into a pillowcase for him. “So…are you expecting me to roll all these coins? Because it'll take forever if I do. And this has already made my day ten times worse.”

The guy is getting impatient. “I don’t care, just put the money in the damn bag.”

You can hear Angel grumble his complaints as he complies, and that’s the distraction you need to tip toe behind the robber. Once you’re close enough, you jump onto his back. You take advantage of the loose grip he has on the gun to smack it away. It clatters as it lands somewhere near the entrance. The guy turns, trying to knock you off. Aside from getting the gun away from him, you hadn’t really thought this far. He almost knocks you off balance, and you have to tighten your arms around his neck. You kick and bite and scratch where you can, screaming up a storm. 

You and the robber tumble to the ground as he loses his balance, and you roll around so that he’s face down and you’re sitting right in the middle of his back, facing Angel at the counter. He tries to push you off, but you’ve finally pulled out your pepper spray, so you give him a taste of it to placate him. You huff and puff, trying not to look as much of a mess as you feel. Angel is already on the line with 9-1-1, and he shakes his head as you stare up at him. 

“Man, you’re fucking crazy. You sure you’re not one of those circus freaks that are always swingin’ around this city?”

You laugh. “If I was, I think that would have looked a lot cooler.”

The bell rings as the front door is pushed open. You can hear heavy boots stomping your way. 

“Wow. GCPD actually showed up to an emergency, and we didn’t have to wait an hour. Got any lottery tickets for me, Angel?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” a strangely familiar voice says.

You turn your head. Of all the vigilantes to intercept this call on the police radio, it had to be Red Hood. Goodbye to that lottery ticket.

“Oh. Hey,” you try for a casual greeting. Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

“Was I talking to the air when I told you to stay out of trouble? Or are you crazy?” He walks around so that he’s right in front of you. He disarms the robber’s gun and tucks it away in a quick movement. He crosses his arms, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s disappointed in you.

“That is not fair, man. I didn’t ask the universe to put me right in the middle of a robbery. Do you think I do this to myself for fun?” You’re still sitting on top of a pepper sprayed robber, so you don’t exactly sound sane right now. 

He extends a hand down to you, and you take it. You let him pull you off the guy, and Red Hood is quick to handcuff his arms behind his back, leaving him on the ground to groan and moan about your roughness. 

You peer up at Red Hood. “Look, I wasn’t just gonna sit back and let him rob the place. Also, he was taking change. Do you know how stupid that is? I really don’t think he was going to do serious damage.”

You don’t wait for his response, grabbing the microwave dinner, the can of Arizona, and a few snacks that you had left on the ground and placing them on the counter for Angel to ring up. You drop a few crumpled bills on the counter to pay, but before you can grab your things and head out, Angel stops you.

“You’re short a dollar seventy-five.”

You look down at the counter and wince. “C’mon, Angel, cut me some slack here. I just saved your ass.”

He snorts. “You call that saving? You looked like a cat getting sprayed with water. Besides, I’m already gonna be on thin ice from this, I don’t need to give my boss any other reason to nag me. Sorry, kid.”

You groan and dig through your bag for some more change. You grin when you find a handful of quarters in a pocket, but a very muscled arm reaches in front of you as Red Hood places a folded 5 dollar bill on the counter.

You open your mouth to thank him, but he grabs the plastic bag that Angel has placed your things in and guides you out of the bodega. 

“It was nice knowing you, kid,” Angel calls out as you leave. Very funny.

“It doesn’t matter if you thought he wasn’t gonna hurt you. You can’t throw yourself into danger based on what you think someone will do. Especially not in Gotham.”

He hands you the plastic bag, and you take it hesitantly. “Isn’t that hypocritical, though? You jump into trouble all the time.”

He shakes his head. “I’m trained, and I know what I’m getting into. You either have a death wish, or you think none of this can touch you.”

“I…,” you trail off, not sure what he wants you to say. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to wait for the GCPD to do something. I just knew that if I didn’t do anything, it would be my fault if Angel got hurt.”

Red Hood’s shoulders drop, and he lets out a soft sigh. “It’s not your fault when people like that do what they do. Just…don’t put yourself on the line like that. That’s what I’m here for.”

You laugh. “Well, you can’t exactly be everywhere, can you?”

“You never know. C’mon, let me take you home.”

You let out a low whistle. “Woah, how ‘bout you buy me a drink first?”

But you tell him your address anyways, and he walks with you the whole way back. You spare glances at him every now and then, straightening your head forward when he catches your eye.

“So,” you start, unable to stand the silence, “why do you do this? I can’t imagine it pays well to run around in spandex.”

He snorts. “First of all, I don’t wear spandex, I’m not a freak. I’m…I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”

You roll your eyes. “This is where you tell me you’re a dark soul and you hurt everything you touch. I’ve had enough ex-boyfriends, I don’t need that speech from you too.”

“This isn’t a joke. I’m not a good person. I don’t do this because I think I can change Gotham. Everything I do is out of anger and spite.”

You shrug off his words. “Well, yeah, I did report on your…debut as Red Hood. It was pretty fucked up. But I also wrote about your impact on Crime Alley. I’ve interviewed people that live there and in other parts of Gotham that rich assholes won’t go near. Whether you like it or not, people do look up to you. We—they see you as a symbol.”

Red Hood stares at you, shaking his head. “A symbol of what? That murder is always the answer?”

“That we can—should fight back. Maybe not to such extremes, but you’ve shown us that we don’t have to roll over and beg when rich men tell us to. I think that counts for something.”

“I don’t know if you're the best judge of character, trouble. Not if you think there’s any good in me.”

Your face scrunches up. “Trouble?”

He laughs. “That’s what you are. I think it's a fitting name.”

You grumble, but you can’t exactly argue against his point. You get to your apartment building then, and you turn to Red Hood one last time. “Thank you for walking me home. I’ll try not to run into any burning buildings or chase after cats in trees.”

He nods in approval. “That’s a good start. Let me see your phone.”

You comply, and he spends a few minutes on it before handing it back. “I added a number you can reach me at. It's a secure line, but if you share it with anyone I will know.”

“Oh, you like me so much you had to give me your number, huh?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing tone. “If you think you’re about to do something stupid that I’ll yell at you for, just call or send me a text, and I’ll handle it, okay?”

You blink up at him. His shoulders are tense, and you get the feeling that he’s being very vulnerable right now. “Thank you. I’ll be sure not to abuse it.”

You scurry off into your apartment building, clutching your phone like a lifeline.

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A part of you hopes that you never have to contact him, but this is Gotham and you’re a journalist. Without intending to, you sniff out trouble like a bloodhound. You keep your messages to Red Hood as professional and concise as possible, laying out just the most basic information so that he doesn’t get annoyed with you. And you know he takes everything you say seriously, because you either write or hear about his activities all the time. 

It makes you happy to know that he takes your words and your concerns seriously. You haven’t had a lot of that all your life. 

Over time, your messages to Red Hood allow yourself to get more casual with how you message Red Hood, and as the months go by, you get to know him a bit better. His favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, though Frankenstein is a close second. He grew up in Gotham, and he’s spent almost all his life here. And the most surprising thing you’ve learned is that he likes to cook. You’d learned that accidentally. 

The first time he’d returned to your apartment since your initial meeting, he was injured and he’d hesitantly asked if you could help patch him up. After making sure he wasn’t going to die on you, you were reluctant to say goodbye. You’d just finished making your first actual meal all week, and you invited him to join you. You hadn’t expected him to say yes, but you’re glad he did. Because now, he stops by to make dinner with you every now and then. He still occasionally stops by for the purpose of getting your subpar medical attention, but most of his visits are specifically so that he can hang out with you. Red Hood might deny it, but the two of you are friends now.

You tell yourself that you’re friends, at least, because sometimes you don’t think you can chalk up how you feel about him as platonic. You stare at him far longer than is polite, but he doesn’t ever make fun of you when he catches your eye. And sometimes, he sits or stands so close that you think he might lean a little bit closer, before he realizes your proximity and pulls back.

You never thought you’d ever be close to one of Gotham’s vigilantes, least of all Red Hood. But despite all of his self-loathing, you see the sweetness that he hides under all that gruffness. He cares so much about this city, and it kind of scares you to see how much of his heart is laid out so plainly. To you, his anger and violence are evidence of how much he cares.

It makes you feel more guilty for what you’re about to do. You can’t get his face out of your head as you research and plan your current story.

You’ve heard chatter about something that the power-hungry billionaire Max Shreck is planning. It’s been very tight-lipped, especially to someone like you who is so far removed from what concerns Gotham’s elite. But you’re good at blending into backgrounds unnoticed, and billionaires sure get talkative at all the galas and charity events they attend. It sounds exactly like the kind of scheme that Red Hood would tell you to stay away from. If you bothered to tell him the hole you were digging yourself into. 

You should tell him what you’ve heard—that Shreck is working with the Penguin to drain Gotham dry. You don’t know enough about what they’re planning, but you know it will hurt regular Gothamites the most before it touches the rich parts of this city. And Red Hood would definitely take your concern seriously if you told me. But he would never in a million years let you be involved, and you won’t be able to walk away from this without doing something to help. People like Shreck are the reason why your childhood was so unstable, and you don’t want to stand by and let it happen again. 

Shreck visits the Iceberg Lounge every Thursday evening, and tonight is as perfect an opportunity as ever. Red Hood is busy dealing with an outburst from Condiment King, so you’re not worried about getting caught. 

The queue to get into the Lounge is long, and by the time you get to the front, your shoulders are shaking anxiously. You straighten out when the bouncer gives you a look over.

“Sorry, can’t let you in tonight,” the man says dismissively.

You falter for a moment before putting on your best condescending glare. “You can’t be serious. Do you know who I am? The Valestra family supports your boss quite generously, and I would hate to weaken our ties.”

But the bouncer just shakes his head. “I understand. But there’s business to be taken care of tonight at the Lounge, and we can’t let just anyone in.”

You gasp. “Just anyone? Who do you think you are? This is utterly ridiculous, and I–”

There’s an arm around your shoulder, and it distracts you enough that your entitled rant trails off unfinished. You stare at the man that has joined your side. He looks familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize that this is Thomas Elliot, the head of one of Gotham’s richest families.

“This is my guest for the night,” he says smoothly, pulling you closer to his side and walking through the entrance. He doesn’t even wait for the bouncer to let him in, he just…does what he wants. Is it that easy for people like him?

He gives you a sideways glance and a vicious grin. “You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you? Valestra, you say? Are you one of Salvatore’s pups?”

It takes everything in you not to shrivel at his words. “Third cousin actually. Sal promised me I’d have a grand time at the Lounge, and he said I must try the drinks here. If you’ll excuse me, I want to–”

The hand at your shoulder holds you close. “No need. I’ll get us a table, and the help will bring it to us. Come.”

He all but drags you to a table with velvet-cushioned seats. You curse your terrible luck for leading you right into deep shit, again. You look around for an exit from this ego-inflated idiot, but everyone is so wrapped up in their own worlds. You can see Shreck standing on the mezzanine above, having a very intense discussion with Cobblepot himself. You look away before they can notice you. 

Elliot draps a soft hand over your own as you wait for a waiter to bring over some drinks. “So tell me, dear, do you live in Gotham?

You laugh as obnoxiously as possible. “Oh, please, I wouldn’t be caught dead living in this rat-infested city. No offense, darling. I have a penthouse in Metropolis. I’d much rather be home, but you know how it is with Sal.”

He nods absentmindedly. “Hm, yes. Valestra has always been a sentimental man hasn’t he? I can’t blame you for not wanting to stay in Gotham. It's good land, yes, but as you said the rats make it so hard to enjoy it. Always complaining about their lives as if they haven’t dirtied the streets with their crimes. It’s disgusting, what they’ve done to this city.”

Your fist clenches under the table. Your vision goes white with anger, but you let out a breath to calm yourself down. You try to laugh with him, but it comes out half-hearted. Thank god, your drinks arrive, and you immediately lift the flute to your lips.

Elliot leans forward, running his finger along the rim of his glass of whiskey. “You know, you might actually be able to move back to Gotham soon.”

You smell an opportunity. “Oh? How so?”

He glances up at the pair still talking on the mezzanine. “I shouldn’t tell you, but…Salvatore’s a friend. Shreck’s investing in a pipeline through Gotham. It’ll get us a lot of money. And all those rats?” He chuckles.

He leans in closer, a weird, sultry tone in his voice. “They’ll do what they do best, and scurry far, far away. It’ll be impossible for them to afford even an inch of this city. Gotham will go back to what it was meant to be.”

Your heart thrums. You know that Elliot’s view is very misguided, because this city could never thrive without the working class. And with Arkham so out of control nowadays, landlords couldn’t afford to raise their prices. 

Still, building a pipeline through Gotham is worrisome, especially with all the toxic waste that has already been pumped into this city by the Joker and Scarecrow. The city couldn’t survive another biohazardous disaster. You need to know more if you’re going to tell Red Hood.

“Oh, that’s a relief. So this pipeline…”

You don’t continue, because a large shadow dwarfs your figure. You don’t know if you should be relieved or worried to see Red Hood standing over your table, beefy arms crossed over his chest in intimidation.

“Hood–”

“We’re leaving. Now.” He is pissed. So, worried it is.

Elliot tries to stop him, but he doesn’t stand a chance. Red Hood nudges you out of your seat. Before Elliot can protest, he places a gloved hand between your shoulder blades and guides you through the busy room until you’re out through a side door.

You try to say something, but you can feel his seething look through his mask as he holds a hand up and jerks his head towards his bike. He tosses a helmet to you, and you climb on behind him after securing it to your head. The entire ride is silent, and you know you're in for a lecture. But your mind is still so focused on what Elliot had told you. 

Red Hood lets you brew in your thoughts until he’s led you up into your apartment.

“What,” he seethes, “the hell were you thinking. Scratch that—clearly you weren’t thinking, because you were in the Iceberg Lounge. Are you serious? Is this what you call staying out of trouble?”

You try to calm him. “Hood, come on. I was fine.”

“Fine? The Penguin was there tonight. If he knew you snuck your way in—if he knew why you were there—he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you. And if I hadn’t been there–” he cuts himself off to shudder out a breath.

“This is my job, Hood. You can’t ask me not to follow a lead like this! The people need to know this, and if I can get it published in the Gazette–”

“No. You’re done. I tried to guide you away, but clearly you’re not going to stop. You will never stop putting yourself in danger.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I? I must be doing okay.”

He stares at you in disbelief. “And how long are you going to be okay when you’re acting like this? Do you know what they’ll do to you if you publish that story? They will find you, and they will tear you apart. I can’t lose you!”

You try to shrug off his confession. “This is my choice, Hood. You do what you do because you want to help people, and this is how I help people. You can't ask me to stop.”

He hesitates for a moment. “You’re right, I can’t ask you to stop. But I can make you, if you’re fired.”

You recoil, like he’d slapped you. “What? You can’t do that.”

He can’t even look you in the eye. “Wayne Enterprise owns the Gazette, and Bruce Wayne happens to owe me a favor. I can. But I don’t want to do that. I’m begging you to drop the story, to stop putting yourself in danger. Or I’ll be forced to make you stop. Please.”

You scoff. “Get out of my apartment.”

He calls out your name softly, taking a step closer to you. 

“Get the fuck out! Or I’ll call the police and tell them you broke in.”

“Thought you said the GCPD is useless.”

“They are, but I’m sure there are a few vigilantes who want to bring you in. You’re still a criminal.”

His hands hover before him, and he clenches his fists tight at your words. You hate to even say something like this to him, but you want him to leave, and this is the only way you can think to make him. 

He walks over to your window, pulling it open in a quick motion. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Please just tell me you’ll drop the story.”

You turn away from him to hide your tears. “I never want to see you again.”

He doesn’t say anything. When you turn back, the window is sealed shut and he's nowhere to be seen. It's like he was never here.

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

GOTHAM, NJ — The Martha Foundation raises a startling 3.5 billion dollars at last week’s charity gala. Mr. Bruce Wayne, the Foundation’s primary benefactor, has spoken with the Gazette about where these funds will be invested. Notably, a large portion will be used to repair the Gotham Public Library, which was destroyed in a recent explosion that has left all of Gotham shaken. While authorities have yet to confirm the source of the explosion, rumors indicate that

You groan and backspace the entire paragraph. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everyone knows who caused the explosion, but you can’t go around accusing people in the paper, not unless you want your head on a stick. Red Hood was right, you just can’t stop looking for trouble, can you? 

The thought of the masked man makes you lean down and press your forehead against your desk. You haven’t seen him since you kicked him out of your apartment, and you can feel the loss of his presence. You can feel the pang in your heart every time you think of him and remember how you ended things. You know you don’t have the right to, because you were the one to push him away. Still, it hurts to think of him, and you want nothing more than to see him again. Maybe you’re petty for not seeking him out, but you can’t bring yourself to call him. Next week, you promise yourself. Next week, you’ll apologize and promise not to do anything stupid ever again. 

When you spare a glance at your computer’s clock, you realize just how late it is. Your work day should have ended an hour ago, but here you are, wrapped in your thoughts. You save the scrap of a story that you’re working on and shut off the dingy computer. You’ll just work on it tomorrow. Or rather, you’ll write and rewrite it a million times over tomorrow. 

The streets of Gotham are strangely empty right now. Sure, people usually stay in when it gets dark earlier, but its especially quiet. It feels like the city is holding its breath as it waits for the ball to drop, and you don’t want to be out when that happens. After living in Gotham all your life, a person gets to know when something is undeniably wrong.

You don’t notice the men following you until you’re a few blocks away from your apartment. You knew, you knew something wasn’t right. And yet here you are, alone in Gotham at night. You ignore the sound of their fast approaching boots, staring straight ahead. But another man is walking in your direction, staring right at you. They pinch you in on either side, forcing you to stop at the lip of an alleyway. You know they’re from the Penguin. You’re sure you’ve been on his radar since Red Hood had to pull you out of the Iceberg Lounge, but also the penguin themed ski-masks kind of give it away. You hope it's not the last thing you see before you die, because that would really suck. 

You weigh your options really quickly. You wonder if you can make a quick escape. But a scan over the men surrounding you makes it clear that there is no way you can take a single step without getting shot in the back of the head.

“Hey, fellas. I’ve had a really long day, so if I could just be on my way–”

They step even closer. The man in front smiles at you with cruelty in his eyes. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about messing with the Penguin.”

Before you can think, say, or do anything, he shoots you right in the stomach. You gasp involuntarily, as if surprised that a bullet was actually able to hurt you. It's a sharp pain that starts suddenly and then just doesn’t stop. You press your hand to your stomach, flinching at the contact your hand makes with sticky, hot blood. 

One of the men kicks the back of your ankles, sending you down to your knees. You wheeze, staring up as the man in front steps closer. 

He snorts. “Let’s see if your Big Bad Wolf can save you this time.”

You don’t want to just sit here and take this. You want to scream, kick, or curse them to hell and back. But it’s too late. They’re gone, and you’re bleeding out in an alley of Gotham.

Your brain scrambles up enough energy not to give up right away. What had the man said about a wolf? No, not any wolf—your wolf. Your Red Hood. You pull out your phone, trying to ignore how badly your hands shake. You find his contact on autopilot, heart clenching at the contact photo you have set of his brooding mask.

It rings once. You worry for a moment that Red Hood won’t answer, that he’ll ignore you like you did him. But he picks up after the first ring.

“Trouble?” You hate to hear the hope in his voice. You hate that you’re going to rip it away from him again.

“Red,” you say, trying not to choke on your own breath, “I need you. I can’t–”

You squeeze your eyes, trying desperately to block out your fatigue. You don’t want him to notice your pain. But of course he hears it.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

You try to remember what street you were on, but all sense of logic has slipped your mind. You sob out, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, I’ll find you, just hold on for me, okay?” His voice calms you, and you lean back against the wall. You vaguely register that he’s speaking again, but not to you. You can tell, because his voice is now erratic and demanding.

After a moment, his voice returns to its soothing rasp. “Okay, I have your location. I’m only a few minutes away. Can you talk to me? I need to hear your voice.”

You nod, then realize he can’t see you over the phone. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause on the other side before he says, “Don’t. Don’t apologize.”

“But you were right, I should have listened to you. I was too stubborn.”

“Then apologize when you see me.”

“I miss you.” The blood loss must really be getting to you, if you’re admitting something like that so easily. But you do miss him. You wasted so much time being stupid, and you regret it so much.

“I’m almost there. Please stop talking like you’re gonna die. You’re going to be fine, you hear me?” He sounds so confident, and you desperately want to believe him.

You press your head back against the brick wall behind you. A light drizzle of rain paints your face, and you shut your eyes and pretend that nothing is wrong and that you’re not scared that Red Hood won’t come.

You don’t wait long, and it feels like only a second before a gloved hand is cupping your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, and you stare into familiar, blank eyes. Red Hood is crouched down in front of you, staring right at the hole in your stomach.

You cough, which only causes you to hack up more blood. You wince as it splatters all over Red Hood’s mask.

“S-sorry,” you gasp out. You reach a shaky hand out to wipe away the blood, but you’d forgotten the small fact that your blood is already stained on your hand. You end up spreading more blood over his mask. It makes you want to cry. “Fuck. ‘M sorry.”

You pull your hand away so that you don’t make even more of a mess, but Red Hood grasps your hand in his, keeping your palm pressed against his cheek.

“Don’t you dare apologize, trouble. EMS is en route, can you just keep your eyes on me?”

You shudder out a breath, but do your best to nod. “Please don’t leave. Don’t wanna die alone.”

You can feel his grip tighten. “You’re not going to die, I’m not gonna let that happen.”

The fervor in his voice makes you smile. “You’re my favorite person, Red.”

He dips his head low for a moment. Then, he does something you never thought you’d see. He unclasps his half-mask and lays it beside him. Next goes his domino mask. You study his face, brows furrowing at the pain in his eyes.

“My name is Jason,” he says softly, and the sound of his voice without the modular voice-changer makes you shiver. How you have the time to be lovesick as you’re bleeding out, you’ll never understand.

“Jason,” you repeat, trying the name on your tongue. “Thank you. I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your eyes crinkle at your own terribly-timed joke, but you regret it when his face falls apart in anguish. It is worse, to be able to see him laid out before you like this.

He shudders a breath and leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry.”

You run your palm over his smooth cheek, brushing your fingers against an oddly shaped scar that cuts into his lips. “It’s not your fault, Jason. You were right. There’s so much in my life that I wish I could change. But meeting you? I wouldn’t change that, even if it kills me. You are–”

You cough weakly. You’re so tired, and your body is begging you to shut down, to give up. But Jason asked you to stay focused on him, and you don’t want to take your eyes away from him. “You are the best thing that has happened to me.”

Tears flood your eyes. The thought of leaving Jason all alone makes your heart clench.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me, okay?”

Your eyes readjust, finding his face back in your view. You hadn’t even noticed that your head had dropped. You feel the fight in your body drain. Your hand flails out in desperation. “Jay–”

He takes your hand in his carefully. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

When you don’t respond, he cups your cheek in his strong hand. “C’mon, talk to me. What was that book you were telling me about last month?”

He searches your eyes desperately. Your face has gone blank, and your eyes have glazed over.

“No. Sweetheart, please look at me. Please.”

He cradles your face between both of his hands before pulling you into his chest. He sobs without caring if anyone will see him like this, on his knees and hunched over your limp body. He mutters apologies into your hair, running a careful hand over your back. 

He can hear his earpiece crackle to life, and Babs starts speaking on the other line. “Red Hood? EMS is nearing your location now.”

He lays you gently against the concrete, making sure the back of your head doesn’t hit the ground harshly. He stands and retrieves his domino and half-mask shakily, making sure they’re secure before addressing Babs. “Oracle,” he gasps out. “Tell EMS it's a 10-45D. The coroner…the coroner needs to be here.”

Her keyboard stops clacking. “Ja–Red Hood? Are you…should I call in Nightwing? I’m going to–”

Jason turns his comm off. He knows she means well, but Jason cannot listen to her right now. He doesn't want anyone to see or speak to him. He just wants you. He kicks a discarded bottle of booze further down the alley, causing a pack of rats to scurry away. He screams into the air. He doesn’t care that it won’t achieve anything. 

Jason sinks to his knees beside your body. “I told you to stay out of trouble,” he says weakly.

There’s no comeback from you this time.

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

[muzansfangs]

OMG I HAVE AN IDEA!!! What about Aizen Sosuke SFW alphabet??? Aizen with f! reader

SFW alphabet (letters ‘c, h, j, k, l, z’) – Aizen Sosuke.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader;

Format: head canons;

Warnings: fluff, domestic life, married dynamics, territorial behavior, possessive tendencies, pregnancy, a sexual innuendo in letter z;

Plot: sfw head canons about Sosuke and his relationship with his female significant other.

PART ONE.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?).

Sosuke is not a cuddler. Naturally, a relationship implies physical touch as a fundamental part of a healthy connection. Hand and forehead kisses are what he delivers to you, but he would never turn down your offer to give him a massage, or simply lying beside you on his king sized bed.

What he appreciates the most is your proximity. Your reiatsu lingering on his body after you leave is comforting, detecting it around him when he is making plans or talking to his subordinates strikes his ego. Having you sitting on his lap while he writes is probably his favorite way to deal with affection. Sosuke is an attentive man and, albeit he does not need much physical contact, he knows you may suffer for his algid nature and therefore he finds himself tangled into a bear hug with you during private moments.

Mostly, it happens during the night in the privacy of your bedroom.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?).

His large frame grants him the ability to wrap you in his arms pretty easily and make you feel protected. Sosuke is a busy man, most of the time troubled by projects, his mind trained on scheming to outfox his enemies. To have you in his arms might provide him some solace during small breaks.

He rarely initiate an hug, but when he does you know this is his silent and polite way of asking for your attention. You do not have to necessarily converse. All you have to do is let him cradle you in his arms, perched on his lap, his slender fingers combing your hair.

There is more emotion that he would like to show in them, but you never push it. It would most likely spoil the moment and you cannot afford him to cast you away.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?).

Jealousy does not suit him. Sosuke is territorial, but does not see other men as threats to his domain on your heart and body. He knows you belong to him, he sees the way you still get flustered in his presence as you did when you first met.

The choice of not showing jealousy, but opting for a display of power and possession over you instead tickles his ego. He just wants everyone to know you are his life companion. Nothing else matters. Why? Nobody in his right mind would ever consider approaching you, if you wore Sosuke’s scent over you with pride, or if you showed the ring on your finger.

A way to let the world see how deeply he loves you and how much you value him is draping his coat over your shoulders, whilst you walk together, or you attend an event alone. Let’s be real: he would never allow anyone to touch his belongings, unless this person is you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?).

Sosuke gives you possessive and demanding kisses, but there is tenderness in the way he moves his lips over yours. He usually grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger and cranes your neck up to capture your lips in a smoldering kiss.

His hands need to touch your face, cupping it in his hands, holding you still against his body. Besides your lips, Sosuke loves kissing your knuckles, as a sign of reverence. The valley between your breasts is one of the favorite spots he lavishes with small, open-mouthed kisses. He needs you to feel loved, especially since he does not have much time to bask into your arms.

If he has to choose a place where he likes to be kissed, this man is pretty simple and solely asks to feel your mouth over his. It is intimate, sweet, personal. Your taste drives him insane.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?).

Sosuke never felt the desire to have a child, or an offspring to leave his reign to. His vision of the world and power is pretty much selfish, firmly believing he is the only one who could ever establish peace and balance as a ruler of the three kingdoms.

However, despite that, he has no reason to mistreat kids. On the contrary, if he sees potential in them, he begins to instill doubts and his on ideals in their young minds. He might even humour them. He is not very fond of such weak creatures, who spend most of the day playing and weeping, but he values life.

Sometimes, he finds himself wondering how it would be if you got pregnant and blessed his life with the miracle of a child. He would never ask you to get rid of them. Yet, he would definitely plan the day when you get pregnant.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?).

Before going to bed, Sosuke needs to take a bath and sip on a cup of tea. Since you two started dating and became a couple, however, he added some other habits to his routine. Having you in his arms is one of them. There might be nights where he only desires the warmth of your smaller body in his arms, not minding being the big spoon, as you silently rest in the darkness.

There are times, though, when he is too stressed to find comfort in a peaceful moment of untainted tenderness. He ripped more than a gown of yours to lavish your body then. Albeit he rarely tells you what has been bothering him, you accepting him and making him feel loved make bad thoughts dissipate.

Falling asleep with you resting your head on his chest is how he would choose to sleep for the rest of his life.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I missed writing some fluff and this request was staring me down in a mean way… So enjoy this scrap! I am in the middle of writing a few long one-shots and it is taking me a little while. I apologize, but the sense of fulfillment I get from finishing a request is immense!

Likes, comments and re-posts are always welcomed!

Love,

Luce

[juniper-clan]

Moon 22: Thoughts, Dreams, Plots, Schemes

PREVIOUS l NEXT

Featuring @stitchwraith-stingers character as the AsterClan messenger!

[7s3ven]

WHAT HAPPENS IN VAGAS STAYS IN VAGAS. simon riley

( just an idea)

I recently watched a movie set in Vegas that had the title (what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas) as its motto and I thought it’d be a really funny plot. I’ll use Ghost as a placeholder for now.

But yeah, imagine reader and Ghost (total strangers) get married in Vegas and they’re like “wtf” and they don’t officially divorce so, hey, Ghost actually has a wife on paper. And then Laswell introduces TF 141 to a transferred worker and what do you know, it’s Ghost’s Vegas wife.

Ghost wasn’t known for drinking past his limits. In fact, he barely had any. He wasn’t a light weight in the slightest. He could drink at least twenty large pints of beer and still be fully sober. But, it seems Vegas had fucked him over. He blamed Jonny for convincing the team to take a holiday to America.

He could still taste the fruity cocktails on his tongue as he sat up, rubbing his face. His mask was discarded to the side, lying on the floor. The room was surprisingly tidy as he leaned over the body beside him to retrieve his mask- wait, that wasn’t right.

Ghost let out a grunt of surprise, staring at the person beside him. His gaze immediately landed on the wedding ring that glinted in the dim light. His heart lurched. Had he slept with a married person? His brows creased as he tried to remember what had happened. Who even was this strange woman? He had never seen her before.

Ghost racked his brain for clues until he realized that the woman beside him was the one he had been eyeing all night in a drunken state. He thought she was pretty and he hadn’t seen the ring before.

He looked down at his own hand, eyes widening even more at the sight of a matching wedding band. It didn’t take a genius to piece everything together.

Ghost hadn’t slept with an already taken person, he had fucking married a stranger instead. Well, in the grand scheme of things, that seemed a little better than ruining a marriage because he drank too much.

You stirred and Ghost froze as you opened your eyes, blinking in confusion. “Where am I?” You were just as confused as he was. “Hey, did we sleep together? You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” Your words slurred together. You glanced at the ring on his finger, lurching back. “Oh my gosh! Are you married?! Did I fuck a married person?! I’m so sorry!”

“Look at your own finger.” Ghost grumbled. “Wasn’t married before I met you.”

At least you were a smart one. “Oh… we married each other… um, what’s your name?”

“Simon Riley.”

“Y/N L/N.”

The two of you shook hands, still tangled in the white bedsheets.

“So… what happens now?” You mutter.

“I gotta get to work. Give me your number so I can call ya and we can… figure whatever the hell this is out.”

You hand him a piece of paper with your digits written on it. It doesn’t take you long to get dressed and walk out of the hotel, already texting your friends on what you had woken up to.

Hours passed and then days and finally months. And there was no call from the handsome man you had accidentally married. And there was no chance of even divorcing if you couldn’t get in contact with him.

So you endured it. And whenever your friends asked about the ring, you told them the story of how you had managed to get drunk and marry a total stranger. They found it hilarious.

Kate Laswell was the woman who entirely changed your life, in more ways than another. When you were a teenager, she helped you out of a slump. You owed her a great deal for saving you at your worst. So when she asked you to transfer from your secretary line of work in the military to a special operations unit as their new intelligence operative, you agreed.

She had given a meaning to your life, a well-paying job that could support you, and unintentionally reunited you with the man who was bound to you on paper.

“This is Y/N. Treat her nice.” Laswell says to the four large men towering over you. But you only have eyes for the one with the Skull mask. You could recognzie those vivid eyes anywhere.

He wasn’t wearing gloves, giving you a perfect view of the wedding ring still sitting on his finger. You couldn’t blame him, you still wore yours too for some reason.

“Ey, LT, yer gon’ a burn a hole in the poor lassie if ya keep starin’ like that.” John Mactavish, aka known as Soap or Jonny, said, laughing. “You like ‘er or somethin’?”

“Yeah, I guess. She’s my wife after all.” Ghost grunts. You want to pinch the bridge of your nose. How could he say such a thing without context?

Gaz is the one who makes a fuss over Ghost’s statement. “Wait, you’re married?! And you didn’t invite us?!”

“It was in a dingy church.” You say to fill in the gaps.

“Where?” Gaz presses on.

You and Ghost exchange a look, embarrassed about your reckless actions. “Vegas.” You both say in unison.

You can practically see the cogs working in Soap’s head as he gasps. “Is that where yer disappeared off to? Ya got married to a pretty lass without tellin’ us? How long have y’all known each other?!”

You clear your throat as you hear the quiet sound of Laswell chuckling. Glad to see she finds your predicament amusing. “We don’t.”

“So you married a stranger?” Soap’s eyebrows furrow. “Ey, how come you got married before me?!”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Ghost reminds his team members.

It’d be really funny if, even after that, you and Ghost still don’t divorce. And y’all actually start treating each other like lovers.

Like, yeah, we were strangers and got married in a church in Vegas but we won’t divorce because the married life is actually better than expected. What about it?

Ghost literally brushes off the fact that you guys were strangers. He treats you like his wife, bringing you food and wiping your makeup off when you’re too tired to do so. And eventually, you guys just accept it.

[blueninjablade3]

Psssst I got the goods… aka… HOW THE DISNEY MEN REACT TO IT BEING YOUR BIRTHDAY! It’s my birthday in March so I wanted to write this and indulge myself. This was run through Grammarly once so it’s probably not that good. This is also partially my answer to requests from two lovely Anons! I apologize to this anon as I don’t currently write for AMAB unless it’s important to the plot. For example like reader has testicular cancer. Or AFAB birth having issues with their periods! But thank you so much for your sweet words and ask! I really home you enjoy this little section of romantic headcanons 💖

How Do The Disney Men React to it being your birthday!

Jafar

A chance to spoil, show pony, and get in even better graces with his partner? Sign him up! He adores it when he shows off how he’s better than everyone! He gets you flowers, expensive high-quality jewelry, and a few other expensive gifts. He treats you on your special day! He does his best to get work as Grand Vizer done early so he can spend time with you. Also, Iago makes it everyone’s business that it’s your birthday. It’s how he shows his love.

Frollo

After two Google searches, I concluded that birthdays weren’t widely celebrated in France. HOWEVER! This is my house, and I do what I want. Frollo, as always, brings Christianity into the conversation and praises the lord out of left field. He gets you some nice gifts though! A bunch of grapes, wine, and other French delicacies. Also, really wanna cannon young Quasimodo makes you either wooden carvings or l cute little kid's birthday cards. He has a certain glimmer in his eyes as he does so.

Gaston

Honestly? He’s a mix of Frollo and Clayton. He’s like Clayton in that he does all the stuff to celebrate that, ie teaching you to hunt or getting you a nice gift. But like Frollo in the sense birthdays weren’t commonly celebrated yet. But it becomes the ENTIRE village’s problem when it’s your birthday. Not that anyone was really complaining. Nobody celebrates birthdays like Gaston

Alameda Slim

This man makes you breakfast in bed with the Willie Brothers! Just… don’t ask how long it took and how much screaming took place for this to happen. It’s not important anyway! The boys also make you those cute little cards that kids make 🥹. Alameda seems like the type to give you flowers and a handwritten note to his S/O for their birthday. He may or may not have also yodeled Happy Birthday with a huge grin plastered on his face.

Hades

I refuse to hear ANYTHING but he spoils you rotten. He’s a god. He has the funds and when he sees that cute and adorable look on your face?! Priceless! He treats you to anything and everything you want! Doesn’t even have his daily scheming meeting with Pain and Panic! He wants to spend every last hour and drachma on you.

Clayton

Okay, no one can tell me that he won’t at least ATTEMPT to teach you how to hunt for your birthday! Not big game or anything! He tries so hard to convince you but you don’t budge. He still gets you something pretty nice that you would like. I personally like to think he got you both matching rings, he likes to wear his on a necklace chain while hunting. You get your choice of dinner, alcohol (if you're into alcohol), and venue.

Y’all. No Captain Hook this time. This ALMOST feels like a crime. Almost. Anyway have a wonderful remaining scroll

[angelremnants]

A TALES OF... l Tangled Desires

OR.. Loki has not forgotten your previous taunts from the time you had found him trapped in chains—an event you often bring up. Now, he plans to exact revenge by getting even, as a means to remind you who truly holds the reins in your tumultuous relationship.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), suggestive content, power dynamics, mild bondage, flirtation and teasing, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 2.5k

author's notes : As always, insomnia is my greatest friend and I chose to spend the few hours I have left until my law exam to write about my beloved.

At the request of @mischiefmaker615 , here is a continuation of A Tales Of Bound Intentions—you can also read this separately. You ask, and I shall deliver; I hope this is to your liking, I made it a bit spicier than usual for the occasion.

Buckle up, because what I have planned for a few of the upcoming A Tales Of will get progressively more and more explicit. Stay tuned. <3

(ao3 version)

The two of you had been on the run for a few days since their escape from the dungeon. Although he couldn't bring himself to admit it, the rough treatment and teasing that you had subjected Loki to during their time there had taken a toll on his God complex.

He couldn't accept that he had been treated like a toy by someone whose skill level was comparable to a fawn learning to walk for the first time. He didn't appreciate the smug look you would sometimes direct at him or the subtle hints you dropped, masked as comic mockery and playful threats whenever he didn't "behave," as you put it.

No, he couldn’t let it slide. He would teach you not to mess with a God, let alone the God of Mischief and Trickery.

And so, he did what he does best—scheming.

Loki began his plotting by planting the idea of having a solution to collect more information about the catalyst of your powers that sat around your neck, saying that he knew more about the artifact’s connection to you than he initially let on. He insisted that he has the knowledge to uncover the truth but that you must trust him completely—“blind faith,” as he so smugly put it.

Should you not be as naive as he thought you were, you should have detected the treachery in his words. “Blind faith”, coming from the God of Lies? What a ridiculous request.

But despite your better judgment, you agreed. What a feeble mind, he thought cunningly. She must be really desperate.

Loki then led you to a forgotten place, deep within an uncharted realm where the air felt heavy with magic, thick and suffocating. He inwardly thanked the countless hours he was forced to study the realms up to the mere small bush; after all, without his grand knowledge, the plan he had concocted would be for naught.

As you arrived at the morbid ground, Loki insisted that retrieving the artifact’s “answers” would require you to pass a series of “trials.” He conveniently left out the fact that these trials were entirely fabricated. Each trial was designed to challenge you physically, mentally, and emotionally—pushing you to your limits while giving Loki the chance to watch, guide, and subtly toy with you. He watched your reactions closely, his amusement barely hidden as you grew more frustrated.

At last, you approached the ruins lying beneath a sky frozen in twilight, violet and gold hues bleeding together like an endless dream. Towering columns crumbled under the weight of time, covered in twisting vines that shimmer faintly as if alive with latent energy.

“This is where we’ll find the answers,” Loki said, his voice velvety yet distant, gesturing dramatically to the morose entrance. “Or rather, where you will.”

You glared at him suspiciously, brushing dirt off your hands from the last “trial” he had made you endure. “And you’re absolutely certain this parchment of truth of yours will explain why I have these powers?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, without question, mortal.” The twinkle in his emerald eyes suggested anything but sincerity.

You moved deeper into the ruins, his every step deliberate and graceful, while you stumbled slightly over uneven stones. The faint sound of dripping water echoed through the cavernous space, each drop like a drumbeat in your ears.

“Are you sure we’re not lost?” you muttered.

“Do try to keep up, mortal,” he teased, glancing back at you. “I’d hate to see you eaten by some lurking beast before we reach our destination.”

You muttered a string of curses under your breath, and he chuckled, the sound low and rich.

At last, you reached a vast chamber at the heart of the ruins. In the center, bathed in an ethereal light, was a pedestal. Atop it lies the artifact—a small piece of paper, pulsing faintly with a soft green glow, as if alive. The sight of it sent an inexplicable shiver through you.

“There it is,” Loki murmured, his voice dipping into something almost reverent. “The key to all your questions.”

Your eyes narrowed as you studied him. “Why do I feel like you’re enjoying this a little too much?”

His smile widened, sharp and dangerous. “Because I am.”

Ignoring his suspicious smirk, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you would gain some answers as to why your peaceful life was to be tragically moved. The closer you got to the artifact, the more it seemed to hum, its light growing brighter as if reacting to your presence. You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the surface—

And then it phased through your hand, the glow extinguishing like a snuffed-out flame.

“What the—” You spun around, your confusion quickly morphing into anger. “Loki, what’s going on?”

His laugh echoed through the chamber, cold and mocking. “Oh, my dear, sweet mortal. Did you truly think it would be that easy?”

Before you could respond, glowing golden runes flared to life around you, their intricate patterns weaving through the air like serpents. In an instant, multiple shadows mimicking hands shot out, coiling around your wrists and binding your arms behind your back. You gasped, struggling against the hands, but they only tightened, holding you in place.

“Loki!” you snapped, fury blazing in your eyes. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Well, well, well. Look who’s all tied up now,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as he sauntered closer.

“You bastard,” you snarled, straining against the bodiless binds. “I should’ve known. You planned this.”

“Of course I did,” he said with infuriating calm, his emerald eyes gleaming. “You messed with the God of Mischief, after all. Did you truly believe I wouldn’t take the opportunity to get a little… payback?”

Loki sauntered toward you, his movements languid and calculated, the glow of his seiðr spread around the room illuminating each of his steps. Your arms were pinned to the wall of rocks behind you, and despite your best efforts, your struggle only seemed to amuse him further. He approached, and you felt the weight of his gaze.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself this time, Loki,” you snapped, your voice taut with anger as you glared at him. “Was this all some sort of twisted joke to you?”

“A joke?” His grin widened, sharp and merciless. “Oh, mortal, don’t flatter yourself. This is far more entertaining than a mere joke. Consider it… your next lesson.”

Your breath caught, your eyes narrowing as he circled you slowly, the sound of his boots echoing in the cavernous room. He moved around you, his presence a tangible force. “You think this is funny?”

He stopped right in front of you, his breath brushing against your neck as he leaned in, his voice a low purr. “I think it’s hilarious. Watching you stumble so earnestly toward a truth you were never going to find.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you growled, tugging at the glowing restraints. You strained against the magic holding you captive.

“And you’re predictable,” he countered smoothly as his expression shifted, the mocking tilt of his lips turning darker, more dangerous. “But I’ll admit, you do have your charms. It’s fascinating how someone so determined to appear strong can look so utterly vulnerable when bound like this.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you refused to look away. You met his gaze, defiant. “If you think you can intimidate me—”

“Intimidate you?” He laughed, the sound rich and biting. “Oh, no, darling, you misunderstand. I’m not trying to frighten you.” His fingers trailed lightly along your jawline, sending an unbidden shiver down your spine. He touched you, a feather-light caress that sent a jolt through you. “I’m simply… admiring the view. What was it you said? “A sight to behold”, I believe. I’m sure mine is far better than yours was.”

Your eyes widened slightly, your composure slipping for the briefest moment, and Loki seized on it immediately. His grin sharpened, his hand tilting your chin upward. He held your face, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re wondering what I’m thinking, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more dangerous. “Shall I tell you? Or would that be too much for your delicate sensibilities?”

“I don’t care what you’re thinking,” you spit out, though your voice betrayed you, trembling just enough to embolden him. Your voice wavered, giving him the advantage.

“Oh, but you do.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. He whispered, his nearness unsettling. “You’d burn to know, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re disgusting,” you snapped, your voice trembling with fury—and something else you refuse to name. You felt a confusing mix of emotions, anger warring with something else.

He laughed softly, the sound curling around you like smoke. He chuckled, a sound that seemed to envelop you. “Am I? Or are you simply flustered because I’m saying the things you’d never dare to admit to yourself?”

“Let me go, Loki!” you demanded, your voice breaking slightly as you struggled against the binds. You renewed your efforts to escape, but the restraints held firm.

“To let you go..” His laugh is low and mocking as he circles you like a predator, his presence overwhelming in the empty, echoing chamber. He moved around you again, his presence suffocating. “Now, why would I do that?”

He stops in front of you, leaning in until their faces are a breath apart. He stood before you, so close you could feel his breath. “Do you know how breathtaking you look right now? Bound. Helpless. Furious. You wear indignation so beautifully.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your cheeks betrayed you, blooming red under his intense gaze. Your face flushed, despite your attempt to remain composed.

He chuckles, the sound warm and dark, wrapping around you like a velvet ribbon. His laughter surrounded you, a dark and seductive sound. “Oh, darling, you wound me. Do you truly think I’d go through all the trouble of setting this little trap if I didn’t enjoy myself? But please, anger yourself all you want, you're only becoming more and more enticing."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "What do you want from me, Loki?"

His grin widened, wicked and knowing. "I shall tell you, since you insist." His voice dipped lower, smoother, like the purr of a cat that’s cornered its prey.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his fingers ghosting over your jaw, tilting your chin upward so that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "For starters," he began, his tone almost soft, "I couldn't help but notice how deliciously you squirmed when I had you at my mercy. It’s… distracting, in the best possible way.”

“I’m imagining what it would be like,” he continued, his voice silk-soft but laced with wicked intent, “to see that defiance crumble. To watch you plead—not for freedom, of course. No, that’s far too mundane. But for something else entirely. Something only I could give you.”

Your breath hitched, your entire body going rigid as his words sank in.

“I wonder,” he drawls, his tone almost conversational, as though he’s discussing the weather, “how many ways I could make you squirm. Would you bite your lip? Whisper my name? Or perhaps,” his smile turns cruel, showcasing razor sharp teeth, “you’d try to fight it. Deny what you’re feeling. But your body would betray you in the end, wouldn’t it? You would try to hide the squeezing of your delectable thighs together, in hopes it wouldn’t catch my eye. But oh, dearest, the scent of you would be enough.”

Your breath hitched, and you tried to turn your head away, but his grip was gentle yet firm, keeping you in place.

“You see,” he uttered, his thumb brushing faintly over your lower lip, “I also can’t help but imagine what other delightful expressions I could coax out of you. Like when you’re truly flustered. Or desperate.” His smirk sharpened, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Would you let out profanities? Would you curse my name, or worship it? Or perhaps…” His voice lowered to a whisper, rich with heat. “…you’d beg?”

Your eyes widen, and your face turns a deeper shade of red. “Loki!”

“Mmh, how I love the sound of you screaming my name. Yes, darling?” he purrs, feigning innocence as his thumb slides just beneath your chin, his touch barely there but maddeningly deliberate.

“Y-You’re—I’m gonna kill you when I get out of this,” you stuttered out, your voice trembling with fury—and something else you refuse to name.

“And yet, here you are, at my mercy.” His smile softened slightly, but the glint in his eyes remained. “And I think you’re rather enjoying this little game of ours.”

“I—what? No!” You struggled against the binds again, more to distract yourself from the heat crawling up your neck than any real hope of escape.

He laughed, low and smooth. “Relax, darling. I’m only jesting… for now.”

Your jaw tightened, but he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Though I must admit, the thought of you like this—so at my mercy—does spark all sorts of wicked ideas. If only you could hear the things I’m thinking. The things I could do to you.” His voice dipped into something darker, more intimate, each word sending a shiver down your spine.

“Stop,” you snapped, though it came out weaker than you intended, your resolve wavering under his relentless teasing.

He pulled back slightly, his expression one of mock concern. “Am I making you uncomfortable, dearest? Or is it something else entirely?” His smirk returns, sharper than ever. “Because if I’m not mistaken, you’re blushing.”

“I am not!” you protested, but your reddened cheeks betrayed you once more.

“Oh, you are,” he insisted, leaning back in as if to inspect you more closely. “And it’s absolutely adorable. It makes me want to eat you up.”

Your glare intensified, but he only laughed again, clearly relishing every moment of your frustration.

With a flick of his fingers, the shadows retreated, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself. You glared at him, but he merely watched you, his expression unreadable now.

“Consider this a lesson to remember,” he said, stepping back and watching you with a smug grin. “You may have power, but I not only am I far more capable, I also have… an extensive imagination. Next time, darling, do try to keep your wits about you. It’s unbecoming to be so… defeated.”

“You’re a pain in the ass when you want to be,” you muttered, your fists clenching at your sides.

“And you’re too irresistible when you’re angry,” he purred back without missing a beat, his smirk softening into something almost fond before he turned and started walking away.

As you watched him go, your heart still pounding, you swore under your breath. Loki, you decided, is a menace—a brilliant, infuriating, dangerously charming menace.

You briefly wondered if your heart could handle the road, knowing this was what to expect repeatedly until your journey ended.

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[aventurineswife]

May I please request Aven playing with his twin babies??? (I always imagine him having boy and girl twins)

Like, imagine their tiny hands trying to grab his expensive trinkets and use them as teething toys (idk what they're called LOL) 💖💖

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart”

Summary: Aventurine finds himself caught in the simplest yet most precious game of them all: fatherhood. As he watches his twin babies playfully fight for his trinkets, he is overcome by a rare sense of joy and love and forgets his usual guarded ways. The twins bring out this part of him, an element of play which he has kept hidden for so long, reminding him that the gamble may not always be about wealth or power but about love and family and sometimes just the little things in life.

Tags: Dad!Aventurine, Family, Parenthood, Humor, Mischief, Love, Emotional Vulnerability, Joy.

A/N: searched it up and it's called teething toys (for babies), so you're correct! Don't worry :3

Aventurine had always been a man of risk—whether it was navigating the volatile corridors of power or placing a bet on an impossible con. But today, the stakes were far more personal, and far more precious.

He sat on a plush velvet armchair in the lavish sitting room of his estate, his usually composed features softened by a rare, unguarded smile. His children—his twin babies—played at his feet. The boy with his bright eyes and unruly hair laughed as he reached out for the small trinket that rested on the low table in front of his father. The girl, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously, was already doing her best to grab at the same piece of jewelry, her chubby fingers curling around the delicate gold chain.

They get him with a teasing, affectionate smile, the careful mask slipping in their presence. Aventurine thought himself a strategist: one reads the room and predicts the next move. This game of life has changed, though, when it comes to these two; his heart runs in an uncharted course.

"Ah, no, no," he crooned softly, reaching down to pull the gold necklace from their jaws, "That's not for you to chew on."

The boy whimpered softly, his huge eyes looking up at his father, while the girl beamed up at him as if plotting her next move. It was as if they were already working together—hard not to laugh at this. He had a feeling of something between alarm and endearment at the mischievous streak that mirrored his own.

"You two are already scheming," he said to himself, shaking his head. His eyes remained on their small hands, still reaching for anything they could grab. The girl grabbed the chip coin, clutching it in her chubby little fist. Aventurine's heart fluttered at how such small hands could hold such weight in his life.

"You know," he started, settling back in the chair as he absently fidgeted with his bracelet, "your parent would have a fit if they saw you two playing with my trinkets. They're far too expensive for you to be using them as teething toys."

But the two of them did not give up. The boy, not wanting to lose, managed to tug at a delicate gold ring on his father's wrist with a surprising strength in those baby fingers.

With a theatrical sigh, Aventurine carefully took off the ring, his voice playful yet firm. "If you keep this up, you'll ruin my reputation as the greatest gambler in the universe," he teased. "People will hear about the time I lost my ring to a toddler."

The twins giggled in perfect synchrony, their little voices harmonizing in the most innocent way yet having in their expressions mischief written. Perfect, the gamble paid off in the most wonderful of ways—though Aventurine would never admit how much a gamble fatherhood was truly.

As the boy squirmed closer now to pull at his father's choker, Aventurine couldn't resist. His usual wariness was forgotten in the glow of the moment, and he let them have their play. For the universe held no treasures to rival the joy he felt in their company.

"You little thieves," Aventurine laughed, hoisting the girl up onto his lap, her face breaking out into a grin that was at once his charm and her parent's warmth. The boy crawled up to his side, reaching for his father's face, as if trying to claim him entirely.

Aventurine’s heart fluttered again—this time, he didn’t even try to stop it. He was theirs, every last bit of him. And for once, he didn’t need to calculate the cost of that connection.

For this gamble, there was no risk at all.

[princimutasays]

DRAMIONE FIC-REC

Since I’ve got a lot of things to do but zero interest in doing them, I’ve decided to share a few of my favorite Dramione fanfics. Some of them are NEVER mentioned among the various recs I’ve seen and I’m here to rectify the situation.

Here are the first five, let me know if you want more.

1.  The Politician's Wife by pir8fancier : This is one of my absolute favorites. I LOVE this dandy, machiavellian middle-aged Draco and I adore all his scheming and plotting. Every single time I re-read this fic, I find myself giggling at the fact that he’s so smitten with Hermione while she remains completely OBLIVIOUS and convinced that he has an agenda for EVERYTHING he does (she may be right…?)

2.  Things We're All Too Young to Know by eevans : It’s Polyjuice time babessss! I L O V E this trope! Here, our badass Hermione has to wear the face of one Daphne Greengrass in order to infiltrate a Death-eater controlled Hogwarts. Turns out, she’ll have to share quarters with our favorite death-eater head boy… who knows nothing about it and will soon start to develop certain feelings for a witch he’d always considered JUST a friend...

3.  The preferred Hour by uselessenglishmajor : Hermione is Minister of Magic and Draco has not been seen in public since the death of his wife. The relationship between her daughter and his son will bring them together but letting go of the past is never easy. Sometimes, help can come from the exact thing that you can’t seem to move on from.

4. familiar faces, worn out places by LovesBitca8 : Hermione’s lost her memories and the only person she feels at ease with is her «doctor» . But what if he’s someone from her past? Someone who has changed for the better but who no one but her seems to trust? And what happens when she starts to remember but she still can’t find comfort in her boyfriend’s presence, while her attraction for the doctor grows every day ?

5.  Catalyst by RoseHarperMaxwell : What can I say ? Ron knows how to bowl, Draco knows Aristotle. Nah, just kidding, what he knows is how to fall in love with his best friend, who’s engaged and will soon be married to one Ronald Weasley. Way to go, tiger!

Like I said, I’ve got more… ask and you’ll get it

[hereis50buckskillme]

First years + Reader as things me and my friends have said aka sleepover shenanigans

I have a strong feeling Epel is unhinged and comfortable to say the most absurd things with the first years 🧍‍♀️and this is my first actual post..

Everyone is in the common room, sitting on the floor

Epel: In the future, gender reveals are gonna be like, “Balls or jaws?”

Ace: Oh, I’m so doing that!

Jack: What did you do, fuck an Orphan?!

Reader: And what if I did? What are they gonna do? Tell their parents?

Deuce: Bro I swear to the Sevens, the next time a fly buzzes in my ear I’m going to scream in its ear.

(After he screams at the fly and the rest of the first years are trying their best not to laugh, ace failing tremendously)

Deuce: mm a midnight snack 😋🤤 ima use the tiny little fork and plate from a Barbie house to slurp him up😌

(Ace teaching Sebek to use bad slang)

Sebek: Shut the front door😡, shut the back door🤨? OPEN THE BACKDOOR😨!!

Epel: you can open my backdoor😏

Epel: Cock with an L: CLOCK!⏰

(This is a strong head cannon I have with Jack btw, he’s traumatized by it)

Jack: A fate worse than death……A BOWL CUT😰

Ace: I may be stupid…..but at least I notice the A in diamond 😌🫢

(The first years wandering ramshackle, going through random rooms)

Epel: it smells like Granny coochie in this bitch Ngl

Reader falling to their knees wheezing: HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT SMELLS LIKE!?

Sebek incredibly mortified: YOU LIKE THE ELDERLY!?

Ace plotting a devious scheme during PE

Reader: 😡CONTROL.😡YOUR.😡ASS.😡OR.😡I.😡WILL 😡

Epel taking to Jack about Vils diabolical routine he made for him: I am bout to switch to Prefects dorm

Jack: No,you’re stuck with the potato cutter😒

OK THERE, THAT’S JUST A SNIPPET, TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THINK 😭

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts X

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Fearing for the lives of his wife and children, Aemond decides its time to return to Westeros.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Plots/Schemes, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Allusion to Smut.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4950

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena sat by Lirri's bedside, her head resting on the edge of the bed, exhausted after days of worry.

Her hand was wrapped around Lirri's, never wanting to let go. She had fallen into a light sleep, her body and mind worn thin by the weight of everything that had happened.

Suddenly, she felt movement beneath her fingers. Valaena stirred, blinking awake, and looked down to see Lirri’s hand twitching in her grasp.

Heart pounding, she lifted her head and saw Lirri's eyes flutter open, the faintest hint of life returning to them.

“M-My l-lady” Lirri wheezed, her voice barely a whisper.

Valaena leaned closer, her own hand trembling as she gently squeezed Lirri’s.

"I’m here," she whispered, relief washing over her. "I’m right here."

Lirri gasped weakly, trying to speak through the haze of her slumber. "Mira-want husband-she-try to kill you."

Valaena leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the back of Lirri's hand. “It’s alright,” she whispered. “Mira’s dead. She won’t harm anyone ever again.”

A ghost of a smile touched Lirri’s lips, though she was still too weak to do more than whisper. “You-cut throat?”

Valaena’s expression softened, and she shook her head gently.

“Not exactly. There were-many cuts.” Her voice was low, but there was a sharp edge of darkness to it.

Lirri’s eyes filled with a hazy recognition. “I-drank wine-to save you,” she rasped, each word a slight struggle.

Valaena froze for a moment, her mind catching on what Lirri had said. “Wait-you knew it was poisoned? Yet you drank it anyway?”

Lirri gave a slight nod, her hand shaking as it squeezed Valaena’s in return. “I have-great love for you, my lady. I-I keep you safe.”

Tears welled in Valaena’s eyes, spilling over as she choked back a sob. “Oh, Lirri. How can I ever repay you for what you’ve done?”

Lirri’s weak fingers trembled in her grip, but the strength of her heart was clear as she whispered, “You-make me feel part of family. I-not alone-when I’m with you.”

Valaena’s chest tightened, her breath hitching as she looked at the woman who had risked everything to protect her.

"You are family, Lirri. You always will be." She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "But surely, there’s something I can do for you. Anything."

Lirri’s tired eyes flickered with a faint, fragile light, her grip loosening slightly as she whispered, “Just-live-my lady.”

Valaena nodded, her heart breaking as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Lirri’s fragile body.

She held her close, careful not to cause her any more harm, and felt Lirri's arms tighten weakly around her in return.

For a moment, they stayed like that—silent, holding each other—sharing the unspoken bond that had grown between them.

Valaena felt an immense sense of gratitude, knowing that no matter what the future held, Lirri would always be a part of her heart and her family.

"I will live, Lirri," Valaena whispered through her tears. "And I’ll make sure you always have a home with us."

Lirri closed her eyes, resting in the warmth of Valaena’s embrace, her breaths shallow but steady.

They were both tired, but for the first time in days, there was hope again.

Over the next few days, Lirri slowly regained her strength, though she still looked fragile, her movements careful and deliberate.

Valaena visited often, always accompanied by the children.

One morning, little Elaena toddled into the room, her tiny hands clutching a small bouquet of wildflowers.

Valaena followed close behind, her eyes warm as she watched the scene unfold.

“Fowers for Lirri,” Elaena declared proudly, holding out the flowers with a beaming smile.

Lirri, who was sitting in an armchair near the window, smiled tenderly as she took the flowers from Elaena’s outstretched hands.

"Thank you, sweet girl," she said softly, bringing the flowers to her nose. The simple gesture brought a brightness to her eyes.

Rhaegar then stepped forward, holding a small honey cake. His cheeks flushed slightly as he offered it to her.

“It’s honey cake,” he said, a little shyly. “It was bigger, but-I ate some.”

Lirri chuckled, her voice still weak but filled with affection. She reached out to take the cake, smiling as she asked, “Did you make it yourself?”

Rhaegar looked down at his feet, clearly embarrassed. “I did-but mama helped.”

Touched by their kindness, Lirri reached out and wrapped her arms around both Rhaegar and Elaena, pulling them into a gentle hug.

Her voice was soft as she whispered, “Shekh ma shieraki anni”

Elaena pulled back slightly, blinking up at Lirri with curiosity.

“What that?” she asked, her little face scrunched up as she tried to make sense of the unfamiliar words.

Before Lirri could answer, Rhaegar spoke, his voice quiet yet confident. “My sun and stars,”

Lirri’s eyes sparkled with surprise and joy. “You learn my language?” she asked, her voice tinged with emotion.

Rhaegar gave a small nod, still a bit shy. “Only a little bit. Mama helps.”

Lirri smiled warmly, her gaze shifting to Valaena. “That makes me very happy,” she said, her eyes softening.

Valaena, standing by the door, smiled gently. “I’m not very good at it, but it’s a start.”

Lirri shook her head slightly, her voice filled with quiet affection. “You are very kind, my lady,” she repeated, “You make me feel great joy in my heart”

As time passed, Lirri began to tire, her energy fading despite the warmth she felt from the children’s presence.

Valaena noticed and gently helped her to her feet, guiding her toward the bed. She pulled the sheets up and tucked them in around Lirri, making sure she was comfortable, with enough water by her bedside.

“I feel bad-you look after me,” Lirri whispered, her voice a little ragged but full of sincerity.

Valaena shook her head, her voice gentle. “It’s what family does. We look after one another.”

Lirri’s eyes filled with emotion, her breath hitching slightly. “My lady, you are-special. You make my heart-go very fast,” she confessed, her cheeks colouring ever so slightly.

Valaena chuckled softly, smoothing the blankets over Lirri’s frail form. “Get some rest,” she whispered. “I’ll have Arro pop by later if you’d like.”

Lirri’s blush deepened, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I would like that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Later that night, Valaena lounged on her bed, a book resting in her lap, the warm glow of candlelight casting soft shadows across the room.

She was lost in the pages when the door burst open with a violent force, making her jump as Aemond strode in, his eye wide with urgency, his face tense and flushed.

"Get dressed and get the children," he demanded, his voice sharp and frenzied.

Valaena sprang to her feet, alarmed. "Why? What’s wrong?" she asked, her heart pounding as she hurriedly put the book aside.

"We're leaving," Aemond snapped, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now"

"L-Leaving?" Valaena’s voice trembled. "But Daenys is too young to fly, and Lirri has only just recovered—"

"We're not flying," he interrupted, his tone curt and final.

"But—" Valaena began, her mind racing with questions.

Aemond cut her off, his patience clearly fraying. "-Damn it-Do as you’re fucking told, Valaena!" He all but shouted, his frustration boiling over.

Swallowing the sting of his words, she nodded quickly and moved to dress. As she did, two maids hurried into the room, swiftly packing her belongings into trunks with frenzied hands.

Valaena watched them, her anxiety mounting. She glanced at Aemond, his figure rigid, his jaw clenched.

"What’s going on?" she asked again, her voice softer this time, almost pleading.

Aemond didn’t look at her as he barked, "Get the children and Lirri. Arro will escort you to the dock."

"T-The dock?" Valaena echoed, confusion and dread swirling in her chest. But before she could ask any more, Aemond pushed her out of the room, urgency radiating from every movement.

Arro was waiting for her outside. "Come, my lady," he said, his deep voice calm but insistent.

Valaena wasted no time as they hurried to the children’s nursery. She gently woke Rhaegar, who rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep.

"Mama, what’s happening?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

Valaena stroked his hair, her own nerves barely contained. "We need to go, sweet boy. Come on."

Rhaegar struggled to keep his eyes open, his small body still heavy with exhaustion. Seeing this, Arro scooped him up into his arms.

Meanwhile, Elaena had begun to cry, clinging to Valaena’s gown with her tiny hands.

She refused to let go, her sobs quiet but heart-wrenching, making it a struggle for Valaena who was trying to reach for Daenys.

Arro stepped in again, offering to carry Daenys, who was still fast asleep, undisturbed by the commotion.

Valaena nodded, grateful for his help as she shifted Elaena into her arms, trying to calm her daughter’s whimpering.

Rhaegar, now more awake, looked up at her with wide, anxious eyes. "Where are we going, Mama?" he asked.

"I’m not sure," Valaena admitted, her voice tight with worry.

"B-But m-my toys!" Rhaegar protested, looking around the nursery as he clutched his stuffed dragon teddy.

Before Valaena could answer, the same two maids from earlier entered the room, hurriedly shoving the children’s belongings into trunks.

“Bankey-” whined Elaena.

Valaena pulled back the covers on Elaena’s bed and took the stitched bedraggled blanket and handed to her daughter who rubbed it over her face and held it close.

Arro, always calm and collected, urged them, "We must go, my lady. Hurry."

“Where are we going?” asked Rhaegar his arms clasped around Arro’s neck.

“Have no fear little dragon-everything will be ok” replied Arro softly.

Arro cautiously led the way out of the nursery with Rhaegar and Daenys held securely in his arms, pausing every so often to check that it was safe.

Valaena followed close behind, cradling Elaena, who had stopped crying but still clung tightly to her.

They made their way through the quiet, dimly lit halls to Lirri’s chambers. When they arrived, Lirri was already waiting on the bed with a leather satchel, dressed and alert despite her weakened state.

"Come quickly, Lirri," Arro urged. "We must go-"

Valaena quickly reached for Lirri’s hand, helping her to her feet, the satchel slipping from her grasp until Valaena caught it and handed it back.

“Thank you my lady” whispered Lirri.

Together, they followed Arro out of the manse and into the dark streets, moving swiftly but cautiously.

Valaena’s heart raced, her mind spinning with unanswered questions.

"Where is Aemond?" she asked Arro, her voice filled with rising panic.

"Do not worry, my lady," Arro replied, his tone steady and reassuring, though it did little to ease her growing fear.

The streets of Qarth were eerily quiet, the moonlight casting long shadows as they hurried toward the docks.

Soon, they arrived to find a single ship waiting for them.

Valaena quickly grasped Lirri’s hand and pulled her out of the way as a horse and cart sped past, only for it to come to an abrupt stop, the coachman jumped down and men from the ship immediately began loading the trunks and supplies onto the ship, moving with a sense of urgency that only deepened Valaena’s dread.

Arro, carrying the children, led them aboard.

Valaena looked around, her thoughts racing. "What about Vhagar, Silverwing, and the hatchlings?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Arro paused, setting Rhaegar down and gently handing Daenys to Lirri. He pulled back a tarp to reveal the hatchlings, each in wooden cages.

"Already aboard, my lady," he said.

Valaena felt a wave of relief wash over her, but it was fleeting.

 "Just what exactly is going on?" she pressed, her voice tense with fear and frustration.

But Arro didn’t answer. Instead, he moved swiftly to the captain, giving instructions to make ready to sail.

"No! I’m not leaving without Aemond!" cried Valaena, her heart pounding in her chest.

But then.

"Daddy!" Elaena said, her tiny voice cutting through the night.

Valaena turned to see Aemond boarding the ship, his eye scanning the deck before settling on them.

He strode toward them quickly, taking Elaena into his arms. "Tell the captain to set sail," he ordered, his tone firm.

Valaena watched him, her fear momentarily soothed by his presence, but the gnawing dread hadn’t left.

"Aemond, will you tell me what’s going on?" she asked, her voice low and urgent.

"Let’s get the children and Lirri settled below," Aemond replied, avoiding the question for now.

He gave the command to unfurl the sails, and the ship began to move away from the dock, the sails catching the night breeze as they set out into the dark waters.

Once the children were settled with Lirri in a quiet cabin below deck, and Arro stood guard outside, Valaena’s nerves had not settled.

She glanced at the sleeping children and then looked to Lirri, who gave her a small, reassuring smile despite the exhaustion still evident in her eyes.

But Valaena couldn’t find peace. Aemond had been tense, evasive, and now her mind raced with unanswered questions. She stood, determined to get answers.

She found Aemond waiting for her outside the cabin, his posture rigid, as if he were still preparing for a fight.

He didn’t speak, simply reached for her hand and guided her to their assigned quarters. Once inside, he turned to her.

"Wait for me," he said in a low voice, his gaze intense but revealing little else.

Valaena opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, he quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

She stood there, stunned for a moment, before she began pacing. The rocking of the ship beneath her feet only heightened the unease brewing inside her.

She moved to the small port hole and peered out into the night. Above the dark waters, she could just make out the silhouettes of Vhagar and Silverwing flying overhead, their forms cutting through the sky.

Valaena closed her eyes and reached out through her bond with Silverwing, and in return her dragon gave a loud roar, the sound almost soothing as it echoed through the air.

It felt like an eternity before Aemond finally returned. The moment he stepped inside, Valaena rushed him, her words coming out in a frantic tumble.

"What’s going on, Aemond? Why did we have to leave so suddenly? You need to tell me—"

Aemond closed the door, cutting her off with a quiet, yet firm finality. He moved to the bed, his face serious, and sat down.

"We needed to leave," he said softly, but there was a weight to his words. "I couldn’t risk anything happening to you or the children."

Valaena blinked, her confusion only deepening. "What are you talking about?" she asked, crossing her arms in frustration.

Aemond let out a long breath before he began. "For the past few weeks, Arro and I have been quietly looking into Mira’s background. Where she came from-" His voice held an edge, like he was still unravelling the pieces in his mind.

"Mira?" Valaena frowned, her mind going back to the maid who she had killed. "I was sure she said she was an only child, and both her parents were dead."

"That much was true," Aemond confirmed. "But what we found out was that she was part of a cult."

"A cult?" Valaena's voice rose with disbelief. "What do you mean, a cult?"

Aemond stood and began to remove his weapons and cloak, his expression darkening. "They believe those who ride dragons are gods and they worship them as such."

Valaena’s mind spun with the implications. "Targaryen’s have always believed themselves closer to gods than men, but what does that have to do with Mira?"

Aemond sat down heavily, his eye sharp as he spoke. "Mira wasn’t just a servant. She was some kind of chosen one. Her purpose-it seems, was to bear a dragonseed."

Realization dawned on Valaena like a cold wave crashing over her. "She wanted you to give her a child," she whispered.

Aemond nodded grimly. "As far as we know, only a Targaryen can ride a dragon-”

“But there are no riderless dragons” replied Valaena.

“Well, if she had succeeded in killing you, then Silverwing would have been without a rider."

Valaena felt her heart sink. "You said you feared for the children?"

"Yes," Aemond said, his voice tight with anger. "Mira was part of a cult. Which means there are other members. Any one of them could have taken her place. And if they couldn’t, they might have resorted to other methods-"

"-Like taking one of the children," Valaena finished, her voice hollow as the gravity of the situation hit her.

Aemond nodded, his expression hardening. "Our children have more dragon's blood than a dragonseed. They could have taken one of the children for sure-"

Valaena began pacing the room, her thoughts spinning faster. "No," she said after a few minutes. "They wouldn’t have taken one of the children. It would be pointless."

Aemond’s brows furrowed. "Why?"

"They would have had to wait years for a child to grow up. Why wait when there’s someone else of a more appropriate age?"

Aemond stared at her for a moment before the realization hit him. "You mean me."

Valaena sat on the bed and nodded. "You’ve already sired children, proving yourself fertile. It takes a woman nine moons to birth a child, but a man can sire as many as he wants, as often as he can. They could have sent Mira to seduce you, then they might have taken you—forced you to become some kind of sex slave to seed multiple women."

Aemond sat in stunned silence for a moment, processing what Valaena had just said. "Did you just say I’d have been made into a sex slave for multiple women?" His voice was incredulous, but there was a glint of amusement behind his eye.

Valaena, realizing how absurd the thought sounded, couldn’t help but smile. "Yes. Why?"

Aemond grinned wickedly as he lay back on the bed, pulling her down with him. "I think it might have been a mistake to kill Mira you know-" he teased.

Valaena swatted at him playfully, rolling on top of him. "Oi! Cheeky! This is serious!"

Aemond laughed, his arms wrapping around her. "You know you’re the only one for me," he whispered.

Valaena smirked, leaning down to kiss him. "Oh, I don’t know. You seemed to like the idea of being chained up and used for your seed."

Aemond hummed thoughtfully. "Only if you’re the one chaining me up, my love."

She kissed him again before moving off him and lying beside him, her head resting on his chest.

"But why did we have to leave so suddenly?" she asked, her tone more serious now.

Aemond’s hand rested in her hair as he spoke. "I can’t prove it, but it’s possible that the Prince of Qarth knew about the cult or was involved in some capacity"

Valaena’s eyes widened in disbelief. "You’re kidding."

"I wish I was," Aemond said darkly. "But I’m not, you remember how generous he was when we first arrived-"

“-In exchange for the dragons guarding the city”

“No one is that generous, not without purpose anyway-” said Aemond firmly

Valaena let out a frustrated laugh. "We’ve lived here almost five years, and we’ve never had an issue with him."

"A snake in the grass, waiting to strike," Aemond said, his voice low with suspicion.

Valaena chuckled softly. "That’s what Daemon used to say about your grandsire."

Aemond rolled his eye. "How original of him."

"You should have heard what else he called him," Valaena teased. "He had a whole litany of insults reserved exclusively for Otto."

Aemond smirked. "I can only imagine."

“He had a fair few for you and your brother’s too” said Valaena thoughtfully.

"The point is," Aemond said, his voice turning serious again, "I couldn’t take the risk. We had to leave before something happened, so me and Arro started planning, just in case we needed to make a hasty get away-"

“Could have told me about it first” exclaimed Valaena.

“I did not mean to worry you, but I couldn’t risk anyone finding out about it-”

“Are you sure the people on this ship are trustworthy, how do you know their not part of that cult?” asked Valaena furrowing her eyebrows.

“Because there is a way to identify them”

“How?” asked Valaena curiously.

“They each have a small tattoo, an upside down triangle, with a line through it that connects all three points, they called it a dragons eye”.

“Mira had one, on the inside of her wrist, she told me she got it when she used to be a slave” said Valaena thoughtfully.

“If she ever was one-” muttered Aemond.

“If what you’ve told me is true then I’m glad were out of there”

Aemond propped himself up on his elbow and gently stroked Valaena’s face “If anything had happened to you or the children, I swear I would’ve turned Qarth into the next Harrenhal-”

“-And if anything would’ve happened to you then I too would lay waste to the entire fucking city-lets see the cult worship dragon riders after that-”

Aemond nodded. "-They may have wanted the blood of the dragon, but they’d be ill-prepared for the fire that would have reigned down upon them-"

The journey back to Westeros stretched on for over four long, arduous months. The sea was often unforgiving, with unfavourable weather forcing the ship to take a number of detours.

After navigating away from the coast of Qarth, the first major stop came at New Ghis, where they resupplied for the next big leg of the voyage.

The captain, cautious and superstitious, refused to sail through the Smoking Sea, forcing them to make the long sail around the ruins of Old Valyria.

As the ancient, ominous shores passed in the distance, the sense of history weighed heavily on both Aemond and Valaena.

As they both knew their ancestors had come from those same lands, which were now reduced to ruin and stories of legend.

At Volantis, they spent a few days ashore, grateful for a chance to stretch their legs and rest. The massive Black Walls of Volantis were an imposing sight, but the city’s exotic bazaars and culture offered a welcome distraction.

They resupplied once more and continued onward, stopping briefly at Lys, where the children marvelled at the turquoise waters and brightly coloured buildings, and then at Tyrosh, before heading to Pentos, a place where Valaena knew Daemon had spent much of his time.

The sail was tough on everyone. The children, though excited at first, quickly grew restless on the ship. Aemond and Valaena did their best to keep them occupied.

Rhaegar, despite his young age, showed an eagerness to train, so Aemond often spent time sparring with him and Arro on the ship’s deck whenever the weather permitted.

Elaena and Daenys were harder to manage, though their toys provided some comfort. Daenys, who was thriving as a lively and curious babe, babbled constantly and squealed with joy whenever her father or mother came near.

Her chubby hands would often reach for Aemond, who would lift her up high, her giggles filling the salty sea air as well as copious amounts of drool as she was teething.

The long journey proved beneficial to Lirri as by the time they reached Pentos, she had fully recovered from her poisoning, the colour returned to her cheeks, and her energy restored.

She was a strong presence in the children’s lives, often playing with them or telling them stories from her homeland.

Above the ship, Vhagar and Silverwing patrolled the skies. The dragons frequently skimmed the sea’s surface, hunting young whales and sharks, before retreating to distant shorelines to feast.

They would always return, their shadows passing over the ship in lazy circles, providing a constant sense of protection.

Of course, there were ways to pass the time aboard a ship as Valaena and Aemond often found themselves sequestered away in their cabin together, as they indulged in their shared pleasure, with Aemond often fucking Valaena into the mattress, his cock pounding inside of her in a series of deep penetrating thrusts.

Gods he was ravenous, his desire for her unrestrained and relentless, reaching for her multiple times in a night or any time the mood struck him, not that Valaena was any better, especially when she would watch him train and the sight of the sweat running down his lithe muscled frame made her cunt throb with need, so she would often drag him off to their cabin and ride him like an unclaimed dragon.

With moontea in short supply on the voyage, it came as no surprise that by the time they docked in Pentos, Valaena’s belly had begun to swell with another of child of Aemond’s.

Aemond was quietly proud, and the thought of his seed taking root again drove him feral with need while Valaena pretended to be outraged but secretly she was pleased, the mother in her already loving the child growing within her.

Pentos, with its majestic palaces and beautiful canals, was a sight to behold, though it didn’t take long for Valaena to become displeased with the city's reliance on slavery.

"I want to free them all," she confessed to Aemond one evening, her tone resolute as she watched the slaves toiling under the warm Pentosi sun.

Aemond listened, understanding her desire, but he gently reminded her, "It’s an admirable goal, my love, but it’s not something we can accomplish now. Mayhaps in the future, one of our descendants will rise to such power, and they’ll be granted the title of Breaker of Chains."

His words calmed her, but the fire of rebellion flickered in her eyes.

Still, their time in Pentos, surrounded by luxury and beauty, reinvigorated them all. After several days of rest, it was finally time to board the ship once more for the last leg of their journey.

As they stood on the deck, with the Pentosi sun setting behind them, Valaena looked out toward the horizon, her hand resting protectively on her growing belly.

The next stop was King’s Landing. It had been years since she had been home, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much had changed in their absence, and if her mother and brothers would be happy to see her or furious at the circumstances of her disappearance.

Aemond stood beside her, his hand finding hers as the ship began to pull away from the dock.

The familiar sense of duty settled over him as they sailed toward Kings Landing, the unknown future stretching out before them like the endless sea.

Rhaenyra sat at the head of the council table, growing increasingly frustrated as the voices of her advisors filled the chamber with bickering.

They argued over which petitions from the smallfolk deserved the most attention—some clamouring for a reduction in grain taxes, while others argued for relief from the high cost of bread.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms had been listening for what felt like hours, though her patience was waning.

Across the room, Daemon stood lazily against one of the stone pillars, his invisible eyebrows furrowed in irritation as he picked at his nails.

He seemed just as uninterested in the squabble as she was.

At the table, Jace amused himself by spinning his council ball in its plate, barely paying attention to the ongoing arguments.

Lord Corlys Velaryon, sitting beside him, tapped his cane impatiently, the rhythmic sound echoing in the chamber.

Rhaenys, the hand of the Queen, was absentmindedly fiddling with her rings, only half-listening as Thaddeus Rowan, the Master of Laws, and Isembard Arryn, the Master of Coin, continued to debate heatedly.

Across the table, Daeron Targaryen, the Commander of the City Watch, adjusted his golden cloak with idle hands, clearly bored as was grand maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra could take no more. Slapping her hand on the table, the sound reverberated through the council chamber, silencing the arguments instantly.

"Enough!" she declared, her voice sharp with authority. "The realm has known nothing but peace for nearly six years under my reign, and I will not risk the ire of the smallfolk by increasing taxes on food and grain. There has to be another way to save coin."

Isembard Arryn, always quick to speak his mind, leaned forward with a wry smile. "Perhaps you should start with your brother, Prince Aegon, Your Grace. The money you'd save from rationing his wine habit alone would fill the coffers three times over."

A few of the lords around the table, Staunton and Darklyn among them, coughed to cover their amusement.

Even Rhaenys cracked the barest hint of a smile, though Rhaenyra only sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration.

Before she could respond, the large double doors of the council chamber burst open. Ser Erryk Cargyll strode in hurriedly, his expression tense.

"Apologies for the interruption, Your Grace, but Vhagar and Silverwing have been sighted."

The room fell into stunned silence. Rhaenyra, rising to her feet, stared at him, her heart quickening. "W-What did you just s-say?"

"Vhagar and Silverwing, Your Grace-" Ser Erryk repeated, out of breath. "They are flying over Blackwater Bay, above a lone galleon—flying the banner of a three-headed red and black dragon-"

TBC

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

If the 3k event is still open ( congrats on it regardless ), could I please request C, X and L for Satan ? I've just recently discovered your page and I love your writing, very detailed and accurate !

☽ ◦ ◦ ◦ ✩ ❤ ✩ ◦ ◦ ◦ ☾

c - courtship, what do they do to hint at wanting to get together? is it obvious they’re courting you or subtle?

Satan is realistic. There's a chance that everyone else has caught on to what's happening here, except he doesn't care. If his brother's have realised he's courting you. Good. Then they should back off. "I've brought you a new book to read." You however, don't seem to be aware, that he's using new books recommendations to monopolize your time. "Given you liked the last one of a similar genre I thought this would be perfect for you." Instead, you always smile and thank him. An action that makes him feel almost uncomfortably warm.

"I have a recommendation for you." You fire back at him this time around, handing him a book with a simple title. He reads the blurb that is essentially a star-crossed lovers plot between a human... and a demon. Hm. "You should tell me what you think, this book is everywhere at the moment." While you're facial expression seems to be earnest, he can't help but try to read into your intentions by recommending this to him.

"Have you read it?" From the smile that threatens to form into a smirk on your features, and the glint in your eyes after he questions you further.

"Of course, I was very drawn to the plot." He thinks that maybe, just maybe, you are aware of what he's up to.

l - love potion, you’ve accidentally drank a love potion that causes you to feel like you’re dying if they don’t touch you, what is their reaction? 

Asmo had handed the potion to Satan, going on about how one of his beloved fans had tried to charm him through the use of the potion. Satan only took it off of Asmo's hands, thinking it could be perfect for a new scheme against Lucifer. Not really thinking about how if left lying around, the potion could be mistaken for just another beverage.

But then again, why would you drink it to begin with?

Not that it matters now. The thought of using it against Lucifer a distant memory as he looks at your flushed features, as your face nuzzles into his palms. "Don't stop touching me, please." The soft pleas for him to keep his hands on you almost enough to hold him in place for eternity.

He'll scold you later. He thinks. Running his fingers through your hair, and pondering how he might be able to undo this before the effects of the potion gets worse. Of course, time is getting low as you start directing his touches to get lower and lower.

x - x-ray, what are some of their thoughts when with you that they don’t say aloud? 

Satan thinks he's fairly honest when it comes to you. He likes to share with you what he's thinking, most of his thoughts and feelings are yours to know. He just asks in return that you do the same with him, and share whatever might be lingering on your mind.

But despite what he thinks, sometimes despite not saying some thoughts aloud you can see it plain as day. For example, the closer you get with him the more prone to jealously he becomes. Strangers particularly set him off. People who get in your space, who have no regard for him even being there and will speak to you as if there isn't anyone else present. It angers him.

Not because of an innate fear of losing you. Oh no. He knows some stranger couldn't take you away from him. It's the audacity of these people who don't even truly know who you are to think they even have a chance with you. And if the stranger even dares to use something distasteful. Satan will almost lose it. Animosity pooling in his belly as he considers making this person disappear.

You can feel his anger swelling and are quick to make an escape with him.

He is quick to combat your questioning by watering it down to jealously. Even though it's more that he finds you so special, so important that other people are just beneath you in his mind.

☽ ◦ ◦ ◦ ✩ ❤ ✩ ◦ ◦ ◦ ☾

[cheriladycl01]

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader Part 1

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid.

"And we here at Audi on our debut into Formula One are happy to announce our line up for this year. We have taken on Alexander Albon, and a new driver from the last F2 season to keep the youth of the grid, Y/N Y/L/N, the first female Formula One driver of the century" Andreas Seidl announces and cameras flash all around the press conference.

"So Alex is moving from Williams to an Audi, after not having a great seasons from 2021 in his reserve roll in Red Bull to him moving down as a Williams driver, why have you put your trust in a driver that hasn't been performing?" the interviewer asked. Andreas shuffles in his seat a little leaning closer to the mic.

"Well Alex's performance in Red Bull were phenomenal especially for a rookie. Unfortunately Red Bull decided to pull their finances into one car and one driver which led to Max over-powering many of his team-mates, which was one of the reasons Ricciardo switched to Renault. We want to give Alex the chance to prove his skills in a well-made car that once on the track will rival the Red Bull, Mercedes and Ferrari's" Andreas says looking towards Christian Horner who didn't look pleased at all.

"It's good to see Albon given the chance, as we saw George Russell improve the minute he joined Lewis Hamilton in Mercedes. There's also talk that there was an offers for Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc what happened there" another question is thrown out.

"We sent offers to anyone we thought would benefit from a contract with us, so Leclerc and Norris were both on that list"

"And you ended up choosing Albon, or were the offers rejected?"

"We chose Alexander before Norris and Leclerc turned the offer down. Norris is out-performing in his McLaren and as part of their young drivers scheme, he wants a win for them before ever moving on if he does. For now he is comfortable there. As far as Leclerc goes, he has dreams in Ferrari that they unfortunately aren't helping him pursue, which we hoped we could. The Volkswagen Group is an open arms family and our relationships with all drivers are ones we hold a lot of respect for" he explains nodding at the man who was asking the questions.

"Obviously Audi have now not only kept up with the youth of the grid but have added the first female since Lella Lombardi. Where did this choice come from, and did the other drivers know before today?" he pushes and Andreas smiles looking over towards you at the back of the room, hidden by your Audi cap.

"Well, she won the last F2 championship and she's a very promising driver, she has a degree that she completed three years ago in Aerodynamic Engineering and has some great opinions on her car and knows it very well. I'm sure her rookie season will be one nobody will want to miss" he smirks and the cameras click for more photos, you could already see the amount of headlines.

Now it was time for your first race of the season. Your first race was Bahrain and you were extremely nervous, you could see the camera on your left filming you as you pulled up the fireproof race suit over your shoulders. The mix of red and white fabric had your sponsors over it, as well as the four rings of your teams logo.

You eventually got into the car rubbing your hands together waiting to be handed the wheel by an crew member. You check that you radio is working with your engineer and give the pit crew a nod.

"Okay lets make this a good lap! Looking to try and get P12 or up" your engineer voices as you as you come out of the pits.

You had a good start, going into turn one slower, wanting to just test the waters. Turn two and three were similar, the car was wider and more powerful than that of an F2 car and even pre-season testing didn't help settle your nerves.

"Need to speed up on this straight to make up the time from the turns, stop overthinking and just drive. We believe in you" you hear your engineer and release a breath that you didn't even realize you were holding. You fly down the straight managing to still keep up quiet the speak into the sharp turn 4.

"Coming into sector 2 now, your currently in a predicted 14th place so we really need to catch up in Sector 2" he explains again.

You speed round the turns up until the hairpin on 8, breaking later and managing to overtake Russell who was slightly ahead of you on the track.

"Nice Y/N, you've got Lawson and Ocon ahead of you, if you can catch up to them you'll be in the top 10. Lets get you flat out on that straight in sector 3 yeah?"

As you get through the second hairpin with a little skidding from your misjudgment and managed to make up for time in turns 11,12 and 13 before putting your foot down so you sailed down the straight.

After another go you were called back to the pits.

"Well done, you got P9. That's amazing for your first drive"

"What position was Alex in?" you ask, hoping your team mate was getting on well in his new car.

"He was P4, Hamilton, Leclerc and Perez all infront of him, Verstappen P5 along with Norris, Piastri and Alonso just a few seconds ahead of your time. Wonderful driving" he says as you pull into the pit. You jump out the car, looking to see who was now out and didn't make it into Q2.

"Well done Y/N, you did do well! P9 is crazy!" Alex said rushing up to you pulling you into a teammate hug.

"Let's go get a drink, you wanna go toilet?" Zahara one of the crew asks. I nodded immediately realizing how i hadn't gone to the toilet before hand.

Q2 went a little worse, you crawled in P11, not making it into Q3. You'd made the typical rookie mistakes which is what angered you the most. You slapped you hands onto your halo in annoyance as your engineer tried to explain that P11 was amazing for a rookie, and if you had a good pace tomorrow you'd be able to get within the top 10.

You watched Alex compete for his position headphones on and seeing his overtake Norris who was currently in P5.

Eventually tomorrows start was set, Leclerc P1, Hamilton P2, Perez P3, Sainz P4, Alex P5, Verstappen P6, Norris P7, Russell P8, Piastri P9 and in P10 ahead of you was Alonso, he wouldn't make it easy for you tomorrow.

You hug Alex, congratulating him on a great start to the weekend and a great start to this season. You headed to your drivers room, changing out of your suit and into your Audi shirt and shorts. You head out and get to your R8, a benefit of working for the Audi team.

"Hey, Y/N right?" a voice calls you before you can even open the door to the car. You whirl round, worried it was a fan that had somehow managed to follow you to the carpark. In turn you actually saw the racer who finished in P1 today, Charles Leclerc.

"Oh, hello" you smile nodding you head down awkwardly in greeting.

"I just wanted to let you know, you did well, this wasn't my first race in F1 Australia was but you finished ahead of where i was in 2018, so take this as a win" he smiles placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Oh, thank you. I didn't even think I'd be here this year, I was shocked when Audi reached out to me. I'm just annoyed at the mistakes i made in Q2, I could have made it to Q3 if I had just ..." you admitted softly, until he interrupts you.

"You've already had your debrief and you know what you did wrong, move on from it and come back tomorrow and get into the top 10" he smiles at you. He starts to walk away but stops when your hand wraps round his wrist.

"Thank you Charles, i needed to hear that. Congrats on P1 today, see you on the track tomorrow" you smile, letting go of his wrist before jumping into your car. You sighed revving the engine, thinking of the kindness you'd just been shown. You knew that people would probably be looking for you from other teams, as most people were still there but everything was a little overwhelming for you right now.

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

loml

*Taylor Swift inspired*

Glen Powell x popstar!ex!reader

WC: 1.8k

WARNINGS: breakup; angst; swearing; jealousy

.

.

The Awards Show crowd is buzzing. I take a deep breath backstage and stare at the lone piano sitting before me. Would Glen be in the crowd? Would he realize I didn’t write this song for the movie? It’s about him, but it just so happened to fit perfectly with the biggest movie released this year. So here I am, getting ready to perform it live in front of a room full of Hollywood’s greatest. The lights begin to rise and the announcers voice booms over the speakers, “Ladies and gentlemen please welcome Y/n Y/l/n to the stage. She will be singing her hit song ‘loml’ from the movie ‘Fragments of Us’.” I steady my breathing while I walk to the piano, smiling out at the crowd. I am careful to not look closely, too afraid I will find his green eyes. Adjusting my dress, I sit down at the grand piano. My nerves settle as soon as my fingers graze the keys. I close my eyes for a moment, then I begin.

“Who's gonna stop us from waltzing

Back into rekindled flames?

If we know the steps anyway

We embroidered the memories

Of the time I was away

Stitching, "We were just kids, babe"

I said, "I don't mind, it takes time"

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed

I felt aglow like this

Never before and never since”

The crowd is locked in to every word falling from my lips.

“If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary

You and I go from one kiss to gettin married

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery

Never quite buried

In your suit and tie, in the nick of time

You lowdown boy, you stand up guy

Holy Ghost, you told me I'm

The love of your life

You said I'm the love of your life

About a million times”

There are teary eyes throughout the room. I quickly turn my gaze back to the piano, fear bubbling up inside of me.

“Who's gonna tell me the truth

When you blew in with the winds of fate

And told me I reformed you

When your impressionist paintings of Heaven

Turned out to be fakes

Well, you took me to hell, too

And all at once, the ink bleeds

A con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme

But I felt a hole like this

Never before, and ever since

If you know it in one glimpse

It's legendary

What we thought was for all time

Was momentary

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery

Never quite buried”

As the song progresses, I play with more intensity than before. My voice follows suit. Every emotion I felt while writing this song is hitting me 10x harder in this moment.

“You cinephile in black and white

All those plot twists and dynamite

Mr. Steal Your Girl, then make her cry

You said I'm the love of your life

You shit talked me under the table

Talking rings and talking cradles

I wish I could un-recall

How we almost had it all

Dancing phantoms on the terrace

Are they second-hand embarrassed

That I can't get out of bed?

Cause something counterfeit's dead”

I look out at the crowd during the piano part. My eyes meet the green ones I have been trying to avoid. I thought they’d be clouded with a look of anger or resentment, but instead I see genuine worry and sadness. Tears well up in mine, filled with the pain of seeing him. He looks polished. Perfect. Hollywood’s favorite movie star. The cracks that formed in my heart months ago spread rapidly. I sniffle and stare down at my hands playing the keys subconsciously. A single tear spills over and runs down my cheek.

“It was legendary

It was momentary

It was unnecessary

Should've let it stay buried

Oh, what a valiant roar

What a bland goodbye

The coward claimed he was a lion

I'm combing through the braids of lies

"I'll never leave" ...

"Never mind"

Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire

Your arson's match your somber eyes

And I'll still see it until I die

You're the loss of my life”

The final note simmers and the crowd erupts. Everyone is out of their seats, applauding and wiping tears. I stand up and bow. A quick glance at Glen tells me he is standing as well, applauding. His eyes are usually so bright and happy, but there is a cloud threatening to turn into a storm at any moment. I turn around quickly, heading back to the green room. Seeing him hurt isn’t easy. I want to comfort him, but I can’t. He left. He left me and maybe my song was a bit harsh, but it was the truth. Maybe I am overthinking it all and he thinks it is just for the movie. I sigh and throw myself onto the couch. My brother/head of security, Scott, opens the door, “Y/n, that was great. Have you decided which after party you want to go to?” I shake my head and wipe a tear that fell before he sees it, “I’d like to just go home, please.” He nods and steps into the hallway.

Glen rushes up to find Scott texting the driver to bring the car around. “No.” Glen sighs, “Please Scott. I need to see her.” Scott shakes his head, “Not a chance.” My brother hears my voice from inside the room, “Scott, I’m ready to go.” He turns towards Glen, “You need to let her move on. She’s been coming back piece by piece. I can’t see her broken again.” Glen is speechless, walking back to the main room. He continues about his night. All of the schmoozing and smiling for photos doesn’t distract him from the feeling in his stomach. He needed to see her. Glen calls his driver, praying that old apartment is still her hideout.

Scott kisses my head, “Call me if you need me, okay?” I nod, “Be safe. I love you.” He smiles as he shuts the door, “Love you more.” I look around my apartment. It’s nothing crazy, just a studio with the same furniture from when I first moved here. I’ve kept it all these years because it reminds me of… me. I doze off on the couch surrounded by my favorite candles and cuddled under a cozy blanket. A knock on the door makes me jump up, rubbing my eyes before looking through the peephole. I sigh. Glen clears his throat, “Please Y/n, I just want to talk.” Opening the door, I motion for him to come in. He follows me to the couch. I yawn, “Do you want tea or something?” Glen shakes his head. There’s a stretch of silence. I look at his green eyes, “You wanted to talk?” He stares down at his hands in his lap, “Is that really what you think of me?” His voice is barely above a whisper. I nod, “Yes, Glen. It is.” Tears flood his emerald eyes. He turns to me, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” A dry chuckle escapes my lips. A wave of hurt crashes over me again and I can’t hold it in any longer, “You said I was the love of your life. You showed me a kind of love that I wasn’t sure even existed. You promised me a lifetime. You told me you would never leave and then you left. Don’t sit here and tell me that you didn’t mean to hurt me, because you did. You hurt me, Glen.” He is silent as tears run down his cheeks.

In the stretch of silence my mind races. I need to know why he did it, it’s haunted me for months. I muster up the courage, “Tell me why. I deserve to know.” Glen’s eyes meet mine, “You wanted a husband. Kids. The house in the suburbs. After each big premiere I thought okay this is the time, but then another movie would come along. How can I be the husband you deserve when I am never home? I wanted you to be happy, even if that meant it wasn’t with me.” I bury my face in my hands and he leans in, rubbing my back. His touch is comforting, but I wish it wasn’t. My voice cracks through my sobs, “I don’t just want a husband and kids. I want you to be my husband. I want to have our kids. I don’t care if we are all around the world working, I just want to know you’ll always come home to me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He gently pulls me into his chest. His scent surrounds me, warm and inviting. We sit in the silence for a few moments. “Y/n, do you believe me when I say that I never stopped loving you?” I take a minute to think. In the past few months, I haven’t seen any photos of Glen out. That was one of my biggest fears after the breakup, seeing him with someone new. I look up at him, “I believe you.” He takes my hand in his, “Did you stop loving me?” I shake my head, “No. I wrote that song the night you left. I was so angry and confused.” His look of understanding starts to melt the ice that has accumulated around my heart. He runs his hand through his hair and chuckles, “I can’t lie, when I saw you doing the press tour for the film… I got jealous.” I giggle, “Of Chris? Or Pedro?” Glen sighs, “Both. But mainly Pedro.” We both double over laughing. Once I catch my breath I look down at my hands, “He was actually a really good friend to me. I cried on his shoulder… a lot.” A wave of sadness washes over Glen’s eyes. He gently grabs my chin, pulling my face up to him. His voice is soft, “Will you give me one more chance to be the man you deserve?” I take a deep breath, “You have to promise me something.” “Anything.” I search his green eyes for insincerity, but I can’t find any. My voice is shaky, “You have to promise me forever. No running away. Just you and me.” His smile lights up his entire face, “Deal.” “Just like that?” He nods, “Y/n, I have been lost without you. Seeing you up there tonight… hearing how you felt about us… it broke my heart. I tried to find you right after, but Scott wouldn’t let me.” A chuckle escapes my lips, “I spent a lot of time crying on his shoulder too.” Glen pulls me in close and his arms feel like home. I listen to his heartbeat, strong and steady. He takes a deep breath, “I know I’ve said it a million times, but you are the love of my life.”

[i-smoke-chapstick]

hiiii! I hope you’re doing well!!

I saw the post about Gotham X readers and I was wondering if you could write a Dom!riddler x fem!sub!reader smut where he doesn’t let reader finish until she gets his riddles right and it leads to her being overstimulated?

Thanks in advance!

‘THE HILLS,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Since killing oswald, ed’s at a breaking point and needs to get his mojo back.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!riddler x female reader. smut!! pure porn, no plot. sub/dom dynamics. orgasm denial. degradation, dumbification of reader. Eddie needs to let some frustrations out. First time writing penetrative sex so hopefully it’s good! Also, thank you anon, i love this idea.

♫ “When I'm fucked up, that's the real me” The Hills by The Weeknd

Oh, he's been an absolute wreck. Ever since the falling out with Oswald, hyped on those god forsaken pills. You catch him mumbling to himself often, yelling and screaming at his reflection at night. You can hardly sleep.

He's absolutely fucked up. You can tell. You've known him forever, and you know the signs. The sweat on his brow, disheveled hair, loose tie. His hands rub together insistently, babbling on to you. He needs a nemesis, a stress reliever. He tells you about the hallucination of Oswald- he needs a replacement. Something to fuel him, make him the Riddler he knows he is.

So, you offered your...technique. It was simple- just distract him for a moment from his desperate scheming. He looked at you like you were absolutely crazy at first.

"...You want to what?" He growled out, slowly, legs sprawled across an arm chair, rubbing his temple. He looked like a mess. A hot mess.

After elaborating, he still looked at you incredulously. His mind was racing with thoughts, about how this could fix him. Before you knew it, he was gradually standing up, wrapping a hand around your throat and gently kissing you.

The soft and gentle kisses turned more and more raw. His hands gripped tight around your throat, sure to leave a mark, and he groaned as he held your leg up. You messily and hastily kissed your way to the bedroom; which is where you are now.

His suit jacket thrown on the floor, your blouse unbuttoned. You lay bare beneath him, gasping for air between hot open-mouthed kisses he lays everywhere.

"Ed-" You struggle out, feeling his fingers plunge inside you. It's a bit painful, and he only mumbles incoherently, he's in a hurry.

"SHUT up." He growls out against you, "I'm thinking."

His fingers rapidly work on you, prepping you as fast as possible. You whimper and he doesn't seem to pay any attention. When the sounds of your wet slick finally fill the room in messy, sopping noises- he looks up at you with his glasses on his face.

He raises himself up from your thighs, staring at you with a vague look of intrigue. It's a small gesture to ask if you're ready.

When you nod, he buries himself in to the crook of you're neck.

"...Wonderful." He whispers.

He finally breaks out in a shit-eating grin, giggling maniacally at your pleading writhing form.

Removing his fingers, his grin stands still, and suddenly rams his cock inside your slit.

You both let out an embarrassingly loud noise at this, his low groan filling the room as he grimaces in pleasure. You feel your eyes roll back as he rams himself into you, filling you up to the hilt. His hand grasps your neck once more, slightly choking you.

He mumbles theatrically in your ear, and you realize just why he wanted to do this.

"I can fill a room with just one heart. Others can have me, but I can't be shared," He begins, thrusting into you. He struggles to speak himself as he feels you clench around his member. "What am I?"

You want to scream at him, damn riddles. You swallow when he drags his cock along your cunt and chokes you a bit more, as to prompt an answer.

"L-love?" You stumble out, only to yelp when his face contorts into rage. His movements stop and you whine.

"What...? No." He snarls at you, and looks down on you- like your the stupidest, weakest, most pathetic thing he's ever seen. "No!?...The- the answer is loneliness?!"

He rolls his eyes, jaw clenched. He continues his degradation with another harsh squeeze to your throat and an agonizingly slow thrust.

"How do you not know that?" He taunts you, anger on his face. But you can see it in the glint of his eyes. He's enjoying this.

He huffs as his thrusts gradually slow down.

"Second." He mutters, feigning exasperation- as if dealing with you, fucking you- is the most tiresome thing in the world. As if he's so above you in every way.

"I can be a member of a group, but never blend in. What am I?" You feel your orgasm building up beside yourself- the way he's choking you out and has you going dumb around his cock.

When you feel the knot building up inside you, you don't answer- and he stops in his tracks.

"I give up!" You whine, incoherently, trying to bounce for any friction, but he has you pinned in place. Tall frame hanging over you. "I give up," You plead- and something in him snaps.

His hand shoves your neck even further in the mattress, and a loud slap rings out. You feel the burning on your cheek and look up at him stunned. It doesn't hurt too badly, and all you can do is struggle to regain your breath. You let out a deep inhale and feel his dick slip back and forth between your pussy lips.

He looks at you, a bit pitifully, and a bit disappointed- wrathful. His teeth are bared and he looks desperate.

"Answer me." He growls out in your ear, and you rack your brain for an answer.

His cock is teetering inside you, teasing you- fucking you at whichever pace he decides. It's leisurely and steady, and you swear you can feel him stretching you out beyond you thought was possible. You need more.

"An individual." You finally settle on, having vaguely read it in a riddle book when you were younger. Your words come out in a whine; and look to him for approval.

He seems a bit upset that you've answered correctly, stopping the fun. But in a huff, he praises you.

"...Good." He hisses, and decides to finally give you what you want. He gradually speeds up and your orgasm builds repeatedly, and you feel fulfilled.

Until...he stops, one last time.

You grab him by his hair, frustrated beyond belief, before he whispers.

"Call me the Riddler." Is all he says, and you look him in the eye. He's lost in pleasure too, and you can tell he's fighting for control as well. It's strangely vulnerable, and comes off as more of a plead. Desperate for release himself; as if he isn't the architect for his own frustration.

"Please," You decide to let him win, "Riddler, please...!" You breathe shakily, whining the words.

And with that, he finally lets himself go.

His hips slam into you relentlessly- chasing his own climax. It's hard and rough and fast, and his fingertips dig into your neck. He's baring his teeth again and grunting, pushing you both into the mattress. He captures your lips and tongue in a kiss when he finally spasms inside of you, both of you reaching your peak. The aftershocks hit you hard, and he buckles overtop of you, cock still twitching inside.

He collapses into your shoulder, and he's mumbling and muttering and ranting unintelligible "thank you's" and apologies for hitting you.

Funny enough, it's the most relaxed you've seen him in weeks.