#Timezone Reblog

[buckybarnesfic]

Thank you for all the love thus far

So, I can't believe this is the fic that takes me from a reader and reblogger to author. @buckyys-babydoll shared a picture (below the cut) in Discord and this was born and really, I got nothin'. @azriona said it needed to be posted. So I blame her too. Y'all I'm sorry. This is something.

Using the read more otherwise I'd be a hypocrite. It's 400 words of chaos.

You really didn't partake in anything, just meandering through the aisles and exhibits. There were booths set up for games and people selling items. You had perused a few of the goods booths but hadn't purchased anything yet, you wanted to see what else was available. 

It had surprised you when Bucky asked if you wanted to go to a local county fair. He wasn't normally the type to mingle among crowds. It was a nice day, the temperature hadn't reached unbearable highs quite yet for the time of year, so the walk to the festival didn't leave you worn out. 

Bucky was talking about something when you suddenly stopped short in front of him, causing him to bump into you. You were sure the visual that followed caused humor for spectators as Bucky tried to prevent the both of you from falling. 

The small chaos you caused went unnoticed for the most part, even if you had a beefy Avenger plow into you., "Bucky, I want it!" 

Bucky looked confused. "Want what?"

"That!" you exclaimed and pointed to a games booth that had a giant plush penis hanging on the side with other innocent prizes like stuffed bears and plush avocados. It even had a tiny smiling face on it. 

When Bucky realized what you were pointing at, his face changed to a mix of horror and disgust. The plushie even had balls. "What the fuck. Why?"

"It's so cute!"

No one should ever describe dick and balls as cute. It didn't matter if it was plush or real. 

"C'mon, baby," you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of the booth. It was a shooting game no less. You had to remove the star with a BB gun. "Oh Bucky! You can win it! You're a marksman!"

Bucky wished he was anywhere but right here. "No. I'm not playing so you can win a dick." His voice lowered to only you could hear. "Why would you want a fake one when you get a real one regularly. Less than three hours ago."

You pouted. "Because I can't cuddle yours."

"The fuck you can't."

"I can't exactly take it out while we watch movies with the team."

"You're not cuddling that in front of the team."

"I can cuddle it when you're gone. More than one person describes you as a dick.” Bucky narrowed his eyes as he paid the vendor and picked up the gun. He'd find out who called him a dick. It didn't take long before Bucky Jr was on his way to his new home.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Chains of Bones: Chapter 6: Mirrors of Truths. dark! god!aemond x readerrr

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES.

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:7041 (WE'RE SO BACK!!!)

Rhaenyra’s pov.

Her heels tick against the stone tiles that have decorated the castle for an eternity. Her dress follows her around with every turn she takes, the scroll clutched in her right hand, with the burning tower sigil torn half open. The doors are pushed open, and her husband, Prince Daemon, the Dragon King enters. She longs to fall into his arms, to let him take her worries away. But she cannot. She readjusts her crown, the crown of light that has become a dim, soft shimmer. 

Daemon sees that his wife is distressed. The lights surrounding her aren’t as bright. Her eyes are puffy from the crying, as she presses a scroll of written parchment into his hands. Her voice tries to sound indifferent and careless, but it comes out as a squeaky, broken and tired sound.  “Alicent has defied me.” He carefully reads the letter, skipping most of the sentences as the word of Alicent does not interest him at all. When he notices the word Aemond, he finally stops skipping, and begins to read. 

‘’I genuinely believe that Aemond is in love with her, and capable of change, if only given the chance. You as his elder sister, you as the Queen of Light, must head his command and wish to marry the mortal girl.’’ In his head, Daemon’s eyes roll. Rhaenyra has never been fond of anyone, especially not men, commanding her.

Unsurprisingly, the Queen is fuming, watching and waiting for her husband to rage and to curse. It’s not that strange that Rhaenyra is upset. She thought she and Alicent had an understanding. Something that bound the two together. Friendship or something more tragic than that. Destiny and fate. Hurt and death. They both mourned their children. They both regretted how things turned out. At least so she thought. 

Daemon does not respond, but his smile says plenty. He expected such a response and had warned his wife plenty of times. Since she's his Queen, he cannot forbid anything. But he did warn her, as she is his love as well. He can't truly deny her anything. He would shoot the stars down from the skies if only she asked. “I warned you. She remains Aemond's mother. She wouldn't want to take his precious toy away.” Alicent described  what he saw as well. That Aemond is changing. The Goddess of Justice knows better than anyone what's in his heart. She gave birth to him long ago. She should see through him the way one looks through a shard of glass.

Rhaenyra does not take well to that answer, slamming a glass pillar to the ground, breaking it. The shards shatter around as she sobs, wailing. “He has taken enough from me. He killed Lucerys. I will take his love away. He will bleed like I did.”  Daemon had killed plenty of times before. For good reasons. He killed Jaehaerys when he became the God of animals so his own son could get the godhood. He killed his own wife because he simply grew bored of her. 

“You know I have vowed to love and follow you.” Daemon says. “I swore I would always defend you and the crown you wear. Defend you from any threats. Do the unspeakable if needed.”

“We don't need to kill her. We can simply take her back and decide her fate here.” Rhaenyra pleads with Daemon to convince him, sensing his rejection. Decide her fate. As if any of this is the girl’s fault. Aemond kidnapped her. She didn’t plan any of this.

Daemon takes a step back. “I won't have a hand in this. You haven't seen how Aemond looked. The black and blue spots were gone from his cheekbones…He almost looked like your brother you lost.” He hates how hopeful his voice becomes. Rhaenyra’s stare becomes cold, dark, and a mirror of Aemond’s eyes, in a way.

“The brother that I lost or you, Daemon?” She crosses her arms over her dark red gown. “You two were inseparable before the war broke out.” There is an accusation there. ‘’He clinged to you as if you birthed him yourself. It’s that I know you despise Alicent, or I would’ve questioned things.’’ Daemon feels his stomach turn, hurt by her accusation.

He buried Lucerys with her. He buried Visenya with her. And the Greens buried Jaehaerys. The Greens mourned, as the Blacks cheered, and the Black mourned as the Green cheered. And on and on and on it went, in a never ending dance until all players were eliminated. To what end? For what goal? Immorality, the greater good, being right? Revenge?“I've always mocked Alicent but she has a point. This war cost us Jaehaerys, and Lucerys, Visenya so far. Who is next? Me, you? Mayhaps one of our children? Baela or Viserys?” He must lure her to sense somehow. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes fall on the portrait of her children, hanging near her throne. Lucerys smiles at her, his sweet eyes staring at her forever captured in a painting. 

Daemon grabs her hands. “I beg of you, Rhaenyra, not as your husband and uncle but as your subject, do the right thing. Do not send Aemond down this dark path again. I am not sure he will come back out this time.” If she truly wants war, a war between light and death, he isn’t sure how many will die…

And worse, he isn’t even sure he can kill Aemond if the need would occur.

“You’ve changed.” She whispers, her heart heavy, as tears sting in her eyes. Heartbroken and betrayed, the young Queen of Light and Realms returns to her lonely throne. She takes a seat and ignores her husband.

The way she stares, it says plenty. She has made up her mind. It will be war. A bloody war. 

He is terrified. For the first time in his life, Daemon Targaryen is terrified. The war will cost millions of lives. “So did you. It's been years since Lucerys died. Jaehaerys was enough. Where does this sudden need for revenge come from?” He asks. ‘’You said you wouldn’t wish what I had done on anyone, and now you want to continue the bloodshed? What aren’t you telling me?’’

Rhaenyra understands that Daemon is onto her. He will figure out the truth sooner rather than later. And what lie is better than the truth? If he knows the full truth: He will forbid Rhaenyra for doing what she must do, to ensure her victory and her reign in this war. If he doesn’t know, or if she slightly altered the truth, in the end, he will choose her. He will forgive her. He always does. “I'm pregnant.” It is true. 

Daemon seems surprised by the announcement, shocked if anything. He stares at the Queen’s belly. “It's to be another girl.” Rhaenyra adds. ‘’Since you remember what happened to Visenya, you can say I’ve become extra watchful. Aemond is out for blood. He wants that mortal bitch to become immortal. You told me so yourself. And our new child would become a perfect little goddess, don’t you think? If we were to eliminate Aemond-’’

‘’You speak of upsetting the balance of nature.’’ Daemon whispers, shaking his head. ‘’I mourned a daughter too, that day, Rhaenyra-’’

She stands up, getting in his face, her body shaking with barely composed anger.

‘’You didn’t mourn her the way I did. You didn’t push her out of your body, bleeding and screaming as a slaughtered pig as I ripped her from my body, dead and scaled as a monstrous lizard! You only wanted to invade the Crownlands and punish Aegon. You once were the man who didn’t do what was good, but what was needed! What has changed?’’

“Aren't we better off, letting Aemond have this one victory? She's a human girl. She was kidnapped in our garden but he claims he loves her.” He mutters, but he feels she’s winning him over. He can feel his walls lowering, his shields fading….

And so can she.

Rhaenyra smiles, taking his hands into her own. “That is part of the issue. If Aemond gets his hands on a spare Godhood and allows his love to kill a God, she becomes a Goddess. You know all too well that our children are his intended and preferred target.” She tells him. ‘’You promised Laena you’d look after your daughters. Surely you don’t intend for them to die on Aemond’s chopping block?’’

Daemon is a god made of flesh and bone but he’s not an idiot, despite many claim otherwise. He can tell that Rhaenyra only tries to play him. “Jacaerys and his children with Baela are accounted for and safe. The Goddess of Salt and The Sea God have offered her refuge.” Rhaenys and Corlys will keep them safe. Rhaenyra knows they are powerful and far away at the moment. Aemond would have trouble reaching them. He would prefer a smaller, closer target. Which is why she’s sending her children far, wide, and spread out.

But Rhaenyra is not just a mother to her own children. Not since she married Daemon. There is the case of Rhaena. “Your other daughter, the Goddess of Alteration? Is she safe too?’’ She asks. ‘’If she needs any help finding shelter-’’

Daemon smiles, seeing a shimmer of the old Rhaenyra back. “Rhaena has seeked shelter too. We all lay low for now. We do as we must.” 

It is silent for some time.

Time goes on, moving forward.

Yet they remain, unmoving and silent as stones.

Until he speaks.

“I want him back, Rhaenyra. I want my nephew back. I want…Peace.’’ He adds, softly.

Rhaenyra snorts and she never looked more like Aemond then than she does now.

“He's your brother.” He says, trying to change her mind.

She shrugs. She has one brother. One sister. And two parasites. “Half brother. He and Aegon stole my throne. They divided the realm, usurped me and my father.”

Daemon chuckles at her deflection. ‘’And the son of your friend. I was heir once. Until you supplanted me. The way Aegon supplanted you.” He reaches out, touching her crown…

A bright light blinds him, as Rhaenyra holds him away from her, with her magic. Invisible hands hold and choke Daemon, warning him to not try that again.

“You touch it at your own peril.” She warns him. ‘’I won’t hurt you, but I don’t want anyone touching what’s mine.’’ She adds, her voice breaking as she sees how much pain Daemon is enduring. 

He glares the moment he is freed, aware not ever will he be her equal. He will always be the second son. “Yes, your Grace.” He grits out, preparing to leave the room.

The doors are once again, pushed open. 

Their mortal guard enters, led by ser Harrold. He makes a bow for Rhaenyra, his face white with fear and anguish. Rhaenyra and Daemon share a look, as they both seem to already read the situation from his face. They might fight as any couple, but they are not any couple. They are Gods, they have responsibility. The realm must come first. Always.

Harrold does not waste a moment. “My queen, I've come bearing terrible news.” Rhaenyra's hands somehow lay on her stomach already. The same stomach she harbored and protected six children in. A seventh soon.

Harrold has been her loyal protector ever since she was little. “The convoy carrying the young Prince Aegon.” Rhaenyra clutches her stomach.

Daemon takes the word for now.

“Yes?”

Two guards bring in two corpses, of two other mortal guards, slain brutally. Rhaenyra never saw anyone killed like this. Their eyes ripped from their skulls, their throats flayed open and their entire organic system visible. Her son. Her poor son. He must be so frightened.

“It has been attacked. The young god of animals…He is missing.” Daemon glances at his wife, and has a split moment to capture her before she would hit her head on the marble, fainting. ‘’We are almost certain it was Aemond’s doing. What do you want us to do, my King?’’ Harrold asks a dumbstruck Daemon. ‘’We all await your answer.’’

—

Petal’s pov.

“Do you approve of it?” You gesture to the strange bodice made of dark black lace, giving contrast to your red gown. You look like a Queen of death, in all ways. Ann helped you brush your hair and put it up in a beautiful knot. The King of the underworld is meanwhile changing the colours of petals of roses; as if he cannot decide between the two options you see.

Dark red petals the colour of blood, or a soft hopeful blush shade the colour of a sunrise. You clear your throat, trying to get his attention. He finally sees you, gawks, stops his magic, and nearly falls out of his chair by the sudden movements his body makes, shocked by your sudden appearance. The vase falls over spilling the flowers over the table.  

You chuckle, adoring it. He seems furious at first and embarrassed, as he puts the flowers back in the golden vase.

But you don't laugh at him or the vase.

You feel free. You feel as if you have power. For the first time in your entire life, you are the one in power. You made the God of the underworld nervous. The King of Death.

He sees your eyes. Your joy. Careful and composed, hidden and barely visible, the corner of his lips slightly rise, approving.  “I can change if you don't like it…” You offer, extending him an olive branch. He said he would tell you the truth at long last. You would do almost anything for it.

“You look so effortlessly eternal.” He stands up and within a blink he's behind you. You notice he didn't deck the table at the two heads, but instead decked the place right of him. “I thought about our little argument. It is silly. You want to wear pants, you say. Well, I allow it. You want to wear poofy gowns, I allow it. You are the person I love for you, not for what you wear.”

He loves you? He surely said it before. But now it feels…Real. You feel your face become warm, as you avoid his eye, staring at your hands.

“I-” 

He kisses your cheeks, caressing your horns gently, inspecting them. You allow it all.

“Have my horns grown?” You wonder. “Ann said they have changed when she was adjusting my hair.” 

He nods, and you expect him to be joyful about this development. Instead you see a stern unmoving line on his lips, the slight case of worry and the dread in his one eye.

“Slightly, just a tiny bit. You should know they are changing colour. They have become slightly grayish.” They were black before. What is happening? 

“What does that mean, please, tell me.” you nearly beg, worried and dread filling you by the sight of his fear. 

Aemond thinks on whether to cook up another lie or to finally give you the truth. He shakes his head and wants to pretend you never asked him, but you stop him in his tracks by grabbing his arm. “It's about your destiny. It means we don't have the time I thought we had.” That answer is so horrible, so suffocating that you wish he had told you a lie.

“Aemond, you are scaring me.” You confess, your voice soft. 

He sighs. “I am just being honest, unfortunately.” He doesn't meet your eyes, staring at his bloodied nails. “You wanted the truth. I deceived and lied for long enough. You are my love. My Queen. You deserve to know.” He adds. “I was worried, telling you would chase you away. Or worse…” A silence falls between you.

“Can I be honest as well?” You ask.

“Depends.” Aemond murmurs, uncomfortable all of a sudden. You give him some time. “Yes.” He says, eventually and sits down bracing himself for the impact of your words.

You start. “I didn't think you would even think about our arguments. I didn't think you would even be able to reflect, let alone change your whole stance. I thought your way was the way things would go.” You admit, softly. His head snaps up in your direction.

He chuckles, hiding behind his cocky shield.

“Oh, things still will go as I want, don't you worry. I just want…” the shield shatters before your eyes and all that's left is a little boy. “My parents never loved each other.” He says, and the way he says it sounds as if he deeply regrets it. It surprises you. 

You are an orphan. You don't even know who your parents are. You do imagine you would like it for your parents if they had not left you to be together.  “I am sorry.”

He seems to appreciate it. But it has been a while that this is torturing him. “Don't be. He was a wicked monster. Capable of great sins.” You frown. He's describing a monster.

“What was his greatest sin?” You ask.

Aemond doesn't waste a moment.

“...Sloth, no doubt. Just waiting around for things to fall in place. We were like a castle and our pillars were made of salt and sand. We were collapsing. We needed our father. My mother needed her husband. All he did was shit, drink, throw a ball and spend time with his grandchildren.” He becomes more and more vocal as he progresses, his hands repeatedly playing with his rings.

You have seen Rhaenyra do the same, countless times actually. It is one of the few things that seem to connect them. 

He makes his voice extra Soft and timid. “Most children would be grateful to be reunited with their dead parents.” He whispers. You nod. You feel a sting.

Because you don't even know if your parents are still alive.“I prefer not going to the place below, the hells, because I know he's there as well. Even in his death I'm not freed of the imbecile.” He rolls his eye, as if picturing his father burning below. “I was mutilated for my life and all he cared about was Rhaenyra.”

You feel something stir inside of you. “He didn't care what I lost. I never mattered to him. He never glanced my way. Not even when he was alive. Not even becoming a god could cause him to blink twice in my direction.”

He sounds as a terrible man. “Can you free yourself of him? Throw in a fire or something?” He laughs, a joyful happy laugh. Sincere and sweet.

You are glad he seems to lose his anger again. “I adore your wicked, vicious creative mind.” He whispers, softly pecking your lips. “But no, my darling dearest. There are rules. Rules of nature that even I sadly must follow. But once his time is up, he'll burn and scream so long. And i'll be there to watch every painful moment for him. Mayhaps, you too shall come with me, and we can revel in his suffering together.” He fantasises, smiling.

You try to understand the rules of this place. It sounds as if Aemond is not the one making them. Something else, something ancient has set up the rules and he is to follow it. It seems that he's not responsible for the suffering as you thought. 

He is not as terrifying as you thought.

“I thought death was the end. Something ungodly and something scary where there are no rules.” You begin, uncertain where you are going. 

Aemond sees it different, offering you your seat nearby. “Death is part of life. It's like a flame casting shadow. Light without shadow cannot exist. And neither can life without death. It is a matter of balance. Balance is of utmost importance. without balance, no peace.” He says, as if it's that simple. “I could break the rules. In truth, some might say I do so by keeping you here. But I'm not a big fan of cheating. I abuse the system and find loopholes; I'll admit it. But you can't say I ever broke a rule.” he chuckles.

You recall how he kidnapped you.

“Daemon sold me to you as well.” You huff, uncomfortable at the memory. Aemond’s smile vanishes and he looks guilty and upset.

He thinks and speaks, picking his words carefully. “He did not want to at first. He wanted to keep you. He was uncertain of what would become of your fate. Once I…I told him of our bond, he agreed.” So sudden. So kind. So unlike him. Unlike anyone you ever met. No one does anything for free.

“What did Daemon get out of this arrangement?” You wonder. Aemond’s quick frown and worry betrays he didn't wonder about that as well earlier. He just assumed Daemon would grant him this? But why?

He plays with his rings, lost in thought. Then he chuckles as it clicks by him. “Hm. Sometimes, Petal, we need to see the bigger picture before we can understand the smaller pieces.” He tells you. “I've got all the truth for you. Just ask and you shall receive, my beloved Queen.”

You think. So long, you wanted to ask him anything. And now when you can you almost lose track of all the questions. Where to possibly start?

You think of how he captured you. You, an orphan girl…

The children that witch killed. The orphans. You wonder how they are doing. Are they here too? Hidden in a room somewhere? Or are they perhaps somewhere worse?  ‘I know It seemed like I manipulated you. perhaps I tried. But I'd really like to know for my own sake and because of my own background: what happened to the children that witch murdered? Did you perhaps resurrect them?”

He is silent for some time. But not because he will lie again. Because he will tell the truth. And that truth is so horrible that it even makes the King of death pause. “I do have that power, Petal. To decide over life and death.” he avoids looking at you, at anything really. “But what these children went through, the horror of them being hurt or even being abused by their own families…” There is a painful hidden crack in his voice. “I could not care for them, myself. Keep them here, feed them here. It would be dangerous. I could not trust the world to not hurt them either. Souls of children are often so pure. I didn't even see a single one of them, here in the Underworld. I assume that after they passed, they went to the Better place.” 

You think of the dozens of innocent children.

“What will you do with that witch?” You ask.

Aemond smirks, telling you enough. It will be painful and terrible. For some reason, you like that. You enjoy the way he smirks. You enjoy him killing that terrible woman. Torturing her for every child she killed. “I haven't decided yet. You see, it's my duty to make sure every soul is punished for their crimes. But her crimes aren't…She didn't do it because she was hungry or in debt. She did it for her pure sickened heart.” So there is some sort of justice and good in him. Hidden. Very thin as a lake of water that just started to freeze. 

“Never mind she tried to kill my Queen and my future wife. That is also being considered when discussing her punishment.” He says remembering how you were attacked.

“I have no reason to lie to you so I won't. She's a monster.” He concludes. “I have no issue torturing her, don't worry about that. I do have to decide what to do with her soul.”

He took you here. He endangered you. You are aware of that. “Are all people here as that? Monsters?” You need to know for your own sake. You need to know who you're up against.

He shakes his head. “No. Some made wrong choices, some are here for unfinished business. I am your King, your God but also your future husband, Petal. I won't let anyone hurt you.” He says, as if he reads your thoughts. He even dares to grasp your hands and kiss your knuckles.

That makes sense. Then his mask returns. “So. You want to talk as a couple. Begin.” The King is back and gone is the man. He challenges you to uphold your part of the agreement. You have never been on any sort of romantic date before.

You need a moment truth be told. What do couples do on dates? Well, they get to know one another. “Uhm, well. What is your most positive trait or quality?” You say, after you had time to catch your breath and adjust to the comfortable chair. Aemond leans with his hand on his arm, staring at your bodice as he begins to smirk.

You assume a cocky answer. “I am the King of death, darling. I don't have any.” He says, as if it's that simple. Except it's not. He said it himself. 

Anyone can see the cocky smirk of the King. Few can see the pain in his eye. You can, however. He sees himself lowly. “Respectfully, someone told me that Light cannot exist without shadow. Therefore, Shadow cannot exist without light.” He groans at your answer but also cannot hide his laugh. You continue. “You have a very strong sense of justice. And a big sense of duty. You remain calm in hectic situations and you-” He stops smiling, and you stop talking.

The King of the Underworld is silent. He plays with the rings. Unhappy and afraid he is not good enough. “I don't see that as something positive. I don't remain calm, my love. I simply don't feel emotions the way normal beings do. My heart isn't…” he puts his hand on his heart to explain but you stop him, capturing his hands. You need him to feel how much you care.

“I disagree.” you say, unaware of him staring at your hand on his own. “You don't have your heart, maybe. But you can't hide it from me that you have feelings. You feel strongly.” Aemond doesn't reply to that, but he does stare at the roses. You understand it's not for gods and immortal beings to feel or to admit it. Let along for the King of Death. 

You want him to know he's not alone. “I am not a saint, Aemond. Before Rhaenyra took me in, I stole and I lied. I had to steal my food and sleep in houses promising money I never gave.” He nods, along with your words. He already knew that. 

Then he shakes his head. “You are fiercely loyal. Brave. You rebelled against me. Me, the God of death itself.” You roll your eyes, touched but also not that impressed by your own accomplishments.

You know. He would not harm you.

“You wouldn't harm me.”

He doesn't answer you, huffing softly. As if the irony has finally hit him. “All I did was to protect you. You can never forget that.”

You feel anxiety taking root. It buries through your stomach, hurting you as you realize you and Aemond are alone. “I'd like to ask you a few things, if you don't mind. For example, where you learned my real name. And I also like to know why Daemon would even want me back.” You say.

Aemond plays with the rings again. You see the smile die on his lips, and his gaze hardens as the King comes before the man again. You understand you won't get your answers at all. Not from him. “My sources must be protected, Petal. Even from you. I can't tell you more than that.”

You will throw something. “And Daemon? Care to tell me how and what he gets in return from me?” You ask, your voice becoming sharper too.

You picture the endless lies and ways he can lie around this. But he does not even put in the effort to tell you the lie. “No.” And just like that, the walls are back and so is the King.

You feel tears burn. You got your hopes up. For nothing. “I want answers. You promised me I would get them. I am entitled to them.” You say, for you won’t give up now.

He chuckles. “You wont get them from me, little Petal. You don't want to know the answers to your questions, trust me. You'll go upstairs now and to your rooms.”

You won't be chased away again.

You have run from the truth for too long.

It's time you faced it.

“And if I were to become your Queen?” He stares at you, caught as a deer staring at a forest fire. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out as you cup his face. You watch the blood that leaves his hair drip down his shoulders. You don't break eye contact and you won't leave for the world. “If you love me, if we truly are meant for one another, we will end up together. You know this as much as I do. I'll be your wife. I'll be your Queen. The Mother of your children?” That really drives him over the line.

He freezes, startled. You have him right where you want him. “I don't think you know what that entails.” He adds nervously. “Having a child is…a messy situation. And I don't think you love me. Not truly.”

You roll your eyes. 

“Like this?” You ask before kissing him on his mouth. Aemond briefly freezes but accepts your kiss, leaning in and caresses your face. He is so gentle. So unlike him. ‘’Maybe you are right. I don’t know what I feel, Aemond. I have never been in love before. I wouldn’t know it if it hit me in the face.’’ 

“Why have you changed your mind?” You whisper. He has changed his mind so suddenly.

He is close to breaking. His voice a soft whisper. “I don't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. And it's all I do. Everyone I love ends up hurt. Or dead.” You reach out. You are sure it's not true. But if Aemond cannot see it, how do you make him see it? Is it possible to create light when all he sees is darkness?

You need him to be strong now. You need him to be truthful.  “Tell me. I endured worse than cakes filled with worms and hellfire. I can handle it. Tell me or admit that you don't love me.”

He sighs. But he does accept. He tells you the truth. “The Crown. Do you understand how an amplifier works?” He taps on the crown on his head. You shake your head, confused.

You never heard that word even before…

Yet it somehow is familiar as your own hands.

“No.” You say, staring at the strange relic Aemond never seems to remove.

He gestures with his hands up, and you see impressive tales made of paint tell you and any other viewer history, painted on the ceiling. “Once a hundred years, we are told of our chosen. All gods have one person. A chosen. Something about those humans aligns with us gods. I barely sacrificed any chosen, so I don't understand what it does, truth be told. But it boosts our abilities. The chosen are crowned as stags. Horns grow out of their heads after a while.”

You feel him touch your horns. “And slaughtered brutally.” He adds. “The horns, the horns, is how we recognize them.” He whispers as you feel your entire world crumble to dust. You stare at him, crying. In tears. He is going to sacrifice you.

You choke on your own tears, the pain biter and true. “I am your chosen. That's why I am truly here. You'll kill me for more power.” You never imagined it. You thought he would have a line he wouldn't cross. That you were his love. That you were something precious and holy. That someone, anyone, could love you.

You were wrong.

You step away, your tears burning. You feel so stupid. Aemond captures you easily. And when you look at his eyes, glaring, you see he is crying too. You freeze as blood drips from his eyelid. One side red, one side black. 

“You aren't my chosen, my love.” He whispers gently. You frown, confused. 

He takes a deep breath. “But you are Rhaenyra's. That is why she's so eager to get you back. So she can slit your throat and tear the horns from your skull and thrive in your youth and blood. It's why I stole you from her. We are meant to be together, but she is an obstacle. A dangerous goddess out for your blood.”

You shake your head, refusing to believe it. “Rhaenyra has been nothing but kind.” You stutter. “You must be misinformed. She never would do anything to harm me.”

He chuckles. “Wouldn't she? Is that why she lied to you your whole life?”

But judging Aemond's reaction, judging the way Rhaenyra is so eager to get you back, and what Aemond told you, it is hard to ignore the signs. “You wanted answers, Petal. I shall grant them to you. Answers that will hurt. It will leave a hole. But in time; we will fill it together.” He holds your hands gently.

You shake your head, afraid as you sob.

“I don't think I want the answers anymore-”

Aemond sighs. “I must show you now. It's for the best.” He says, to himself. You watch as he creates a tall large mirror. When he waves over it, an image appears. 

It's a beach. A lovely beach where a family lives in a small hut. Two people take care of a crying baby. You never see their faces. But you do see the baby. You don't understand what you are watching. 

The parents take the baby out of the hut. They plan to take it somewhere. 

A wave comes out of nowhere, a wave unlike any wave you saw before. A wave so powerful and cruel that somehow you know it is not nature. It's immortality. It's the work of a God.

The hut is pushed back into the sea as the baby screams, alone on the shore as the parents drown. You begin to sob a little louder, as you begin to realize Aemond didn't show you a random baby. He is showing you a memory. Your earliest memory. 

You reach for the mirror, your soft sniffles becoming sobs. You cling to it, eager to see their faces. Eager to see your parents. You cursed them, hated them, resented them. And what did they do, besides love and protect you? You press your fingers against the glass as tears fall down, your body shaking with sobs. “Who was the cause of this? Those people…are those people…?”

Aemond doesn't speak a word but joins you near the mirror on the ground. He sits behind you and holds you, caressing your face.  When he speaks, his words hit like blows. His voice is gentle and that makes it only worse. He pities you. “You were the only survivor.” Somehow, that makes it feel real. His confirmation that your parents are truly gone, makes it real and …devasting.

They are dead.

Truly gone.

“Why didn't I die?” You whisper. A cruel question to ask in front of the man who went through so much trouble to protect you. He seems uncomfortable, as if placed in a for him unfamiliar situation.

You spent years hating them.

“I dont know-” Aemond mutters, but you don't believe him.

You spend years wishing they had died if they were alive, for leaving you.

“Why didn't I die with my family?!” You scream, glaring at him as if it's his Fault.

They loved you.

They never left you.

They never once didn't love you.

They protected you until the end.

You burst into sobs, covering your mouth as you replay the events over and over and over again. You always imagined how your parents looked. They look the same as you, in some ways, and different in others. 

Aemond rubs your back carefully, first trying out if he's allowed to touch you at all. Then he touches your back, and somehow it does not hurt you. It does not burn you.  “Its complicated. The storm you see was caused by a god. In all accounts; you should have died. Us gods can kill others chosen.”

He takes a deep breath, before rambling. “I recently killed Jace's chosen for one.” He tries to distract you. “Petal, I know the wound is fresh and deep. I beg of you, please stop hurting yourself for now. Put the mirror away, my love.” Your eyes finally leave the mirror, as the baby is crying again, alone.

Aemond offers you his hand.

You stand up, with his help.

You want to collapse the moment you stand.

“So a goddess is after me, and it's likely she murdered my parents?” You summerize.

He makes movements with his hands as he thinks, shaking his head.

“Something protected you. I know it wasn't me, I didn't know of you just yet. It's unlikely that Rhaenyra would kill you before your horns had riped, and even the god who caused the storm didn't even know you were there or that you would grow up to be a chosen. None of us knew yet. That's what makes this all so vague.”

You understand Aemond knows who did this.

Aemond knows who killed your parents.

Who made you grow up the way you did.

Unloved and unwanted.

Crying yourself to sleep because you wanted anyone, someone, to love you.

He knows.

“Who's the God who did this?” You ask, gesturing to the mirror. Aemond waves his hand over the glass, and the image disappears. You feel angry and thankful that he did that at the same time. Angry because he took away your parents, in a way. But thankful because you wouldn't have stopped torturing yourself.

A new one appears of a young boy, with dark black hair, wearing a smile, and playing with Rhaenyra and her children. You know him well. You often were allowed around the other royals. Your blood boils. You played with this monster, you protected it, told it bedtime stories. What did it do in return? Kill your parents.

The King sits back down, on the chair. You don’t notice his satisfied smirk and crossed legs as he enjoys watching you boil with anger. That would be Joffrey. I believe that’s the King of Storms. He was quite young. He threw a tantrum.” A tantrum.

A child. A child did that. Because a child cannot control their emotions. Aemond is an adult, and he barely can master the emotions and the power he wields. What is a child supposed to do with such ungodly powers? “A child has no use of a godhood nor the right to hold it. He's the reason I'm an orphan. Rhaenyra knew. She knew and she let me share bread and water with that murderer.” You say, glaring at the image.

Aemond chuckles warmly, wrapping his arms around you. When he presses you to his chest, you feel a faint spark. “Mhm.  You see, she has some troubling times. Her chosen is a hostage of her enemy, and her circle of trusted friends is growing ever smaller. She prefers having a spoon in every meal. Death, life, resurrection, nature. But it no longer works that way. That makes her desperate, that makes her afraid. And that makes her dangerous.” That’s why he took you when he did.

“You see now, there was no time to explain. I had to take you right away. My brother lately ascended to godhood. Daeron. He took the Godhood of the War with him. Rhaenyra put it under the care of one of her minions. Now that minion is dead.” He says cheerfully as if he is not discussing murder.

You frown, aware where this conversation is going. “How did Daeron kill the other gods? I thought you were immortal?” You remark, asking for Aemond’s input.

Aemond points to the crown on his head, smirking. “All of us have a talisman. You must destroy it, and drive a dagger made of pure silver through our hearts.” His crown.

He does something unexpected. He rises. And finally, he kneels. You are aware he’s holding his breath. “I don't want to lose you. I want you to become my goddess. My Queen. I want you to become immortal. Do you want that, Petal?”

You frown, unsure. Do you want that? To live forever? It seemed out of the question. It seemed as a fantasy. Something a child would dream of. Because only a child could dream of it, knowing you would watch everyone you love die. “I don't know. I'd have to kill someone. I never did that before. I'd have people to look after. Souls to guide. I don't know, Aemond. I'm a failure. I don't know how to manage my own life let alone help others.” You admit, sniffling.

He smiles, kissing your forehead, taking deep breaths as he calms you both down.

“You are anything but a failure.” He whispers. ‘’You saved me.’’ You don’t feel as a savor.

Aemond suddenly frowns, lifting his head, as he turns his head towards the windows overlooking the mountain tops. You follow his gaze. ‘’Something wrong?’’ You ask, as Aemond begins to smirk wider, broader, and bigger.

‘’Just a package that came in early. Nothing to worry about for now. Just think about what I said. I want to protect you, but if you were to become a goddess, you wouldn’t need my protection. You’d be able to explode people and to throw them from rocks.’’ He chuckles, adoring that image of you killing people. You, you are rather horrified by the idea. He seems to notice your hesitation and sighs, kissing your hands. ‘’Just think about it. That’s all I ask.’’ You sigh, understanding that he’s right. He cannot protect you forever. You have to decide…get killed, or murder someone.

fight or die.

..................................................

I'm so sorry it took some long but i rather I know what im doing nowadays than that i make sh*t up last minute and basically ruin it for 1. readers 2. me, because id be like ''well, thank you, f*cking past me, how the f*ck am i supposed to make this mess ok again?'' xD and now im like, excited, yes, so the cat is out of the bag. Rhaenyra wants to kill her. I saw someone who had a very close guess to this, saying it would be Aemond, but no, its sweet Rhaenyra.

also petal learning the truth about her parents...

thank you, if you're still around!!!!!!!

if you saw me copy the title/description from my past COB post, no you didnt.

[fabianvalencia561]

One more reblog

I was bored and I realized that I never really made Hurricane's and Frankie's designs for my au

I was just being a little silly

Just the colors

Frankie is a Tarantula Hawk

And Hurricane a stag beetle

And I guess you get to see James new design as well...

He's a European hornet :]

[dragonsorceress22]

serial killer case fic one shot!

As the cop jogged off, Shinichi glanced at the witness again. “It’s a nice thought but I’m not sure he’ll be able to keep anything down,” he murmured to the paramedic. “Seems like kind of an extreme reaction.” The paramedic raised both eyebrows so high Shinichi wondered if he was going for some sort of record. “It’s not,” he said flatly. “And just a sip or two will go a long way. I’m gonna ask that you don’t question him until then.” He seemed to have fixed his stance a little more solidly between Shinichi and the witness so Shinichi shrugged and agreed, stepping away from the ambulance again and back toward the crime scene. Megure immediately flagged him down. “Kudou-kun. Azuma-san found something.”

[a-j-s-the-only]

I had to let you go in all the small details

your timezone was saved on my clock

[holylulusworld]

Reblog for tags.

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Pussy Cordon Bleu

Summary: Lloyd is a naughty boss.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Private Chef!Reader

Warnings: flirty Lloyd, shenanigans, groping, Lloyd being Lloyd, a slap, implied oral (fem rec)

Being Lloyd Hansen’s private chef has its advantages. You’re living in his guesthouse on private property. You’re allowed to use the pool and sauna, have a company car, and the garden is your territory.

Your tasks include planning Lloyd’s daily menu based on his preferences. This includes grocery shopping, preparing and cooking meals, and maintaining a clean and organized kitchen.

You convinced Lloyd to let you handle the food storage, too. Before you took over, it contained alcohol and crackers.

Most of the time, you love your job. Lloyd isn’t easy to handle, but you found a way to get along with your boss and even enjoy living and caring for the man-child he can be.

The only thing ruining your peaceful life and job is the fact that Lloyd tends to bring strays home. And by strays, you mean girls he finds at clubs, or work, or even at a library. He screws their brains out and leaves you to bring out the trash when he’s done with them.

“Morning, pipsqueak,” he grins while stealing a strawberry from the bowl you prepared for him. “Ah, my favorite woman.” He moans, tasting the fruit you harvested from the little garden you created on his property. “You are so good for me.”

You wonder if you misheard. “You mean I am good to you,” you point out. “Now, have your breakfast and some coffee. We both know how you get if you do not get your favorite coffee in your favorite mug.”

Lloyd leans and suddenly stands behind you to sniff at your hair. “Cupcake, if I didn’t know better, I’d believe you tried to tease me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sir,” you smile to yourself while finishing Lloyd’s breakfast. “All done and settled for you. I’ll take a look at the garden now. There are more than enough strawberries for some homemade strawberry ice cream and maybe a smoothie for you.”

“I knew I got a good one when I hired you,” he chuckles before feasting on the food you prepared for him. Lloyd and you work like a well-oiled machine. If not for the lack of intimacy, people could mistake you for a couple. “You know me so well, Y/N.”

“That’s my job,” you point out. Lloyd wants to say something. His mouth opens as his eyes are glued to your face. The spell is broken when his latest fling steps inside the kitchen.

You huff, watching her steal the plate you prepared for Lloyd. You handpicked all the ingredients, only for that girl to eat it. Fine. If he wants to live like that, it’s not your problem.

You walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to watch Lloyd do unspeakable things in your kitchen. Last time, you walked in on him railing some bimbo on your freshly cleaned kitchen island.

“No, Y/N. It’s not your kitchen. It’s his fucking kitchen. You only work there for most of the day, all of your days.” You try to focus on the garden, its beauty, and the strawberries you want to harvest.

It’s peaceful out here. This is your haven. No one dares to step into your world, not even his security or the man you work for himself.

You square your jaw, seeing the girl from earlier step into your garden. She flashes you a fake smile before turning to pick one of your freshly planted flowers.

“Nice garden,” she dares to say while destroying your strawberries, stepping on them on purpose. “Oopsie!” She’s one of these women who wants to ruin the day for anyone else.

“What the fuck!” You place the basket you filled with strawberries on the ground to storm toward her. Before she can react, you slap the flower out of her hand and slap her across the face. “Do you always act like that on other people’s property? You can come to my garden, pick my flowers, and ruin my strawberries only because my boss fucked you a few times.”

“You better watch your mouth. I got that old dick wrapped around my fingers and…” She splutters seeing Lloyd step into the garden. “I…uh…”

“Y/N,” Lloyd, only ever saw you furious when someone messed with your food. He cups his crotch as you still yell at his latest fling. “May I ask you to bring the trash out?” He winks at you, making known that he is done with the bitch trampling on your strawberries. “I’ll have the situation fixed.”

He points at the ruined strawberries. “Name what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”

“You can’t fix my strawberries, boss,” you sigh. “These were some of the best and juiciest. She had to step onto them with her ugly feet.”

“HEY! I’m still here, duh,” she mutters. “It’s some strawberries, not the crown jewels or shit. Stop making a fuss.”

“Whoa, you shouldn’t have said that.” Lloyd watches you grab her arm with amusement. She curses you and tries to wiggle out of your iron grip, but it’s no use.

“Get out of here, bitch. He’s done with you,” you growl while dragging her out of the garden to toss the trash onto the street.

“What are we having tonight?” Lloyd strolls into the kitchen to watch you prepare dinner for him. He looks at all the ingredients on the kitchen counter, licking his lips.

“Chicken Cordon Bleu,” you say while busying yourself butterfly-cutting the chicken breasts for the menu you planned. “I prepare the chicken breasts at the moment. Do you need anything, boss?”

You open the prepared chicken breasts like a book, preparing them for the next step. You’re about to cut the ham when Lloyd steps behind you to look over your shoulder.

He snorts. “Cupcake, I didn’t take you for a naughty cook.”

“Naughty…what?” You look at the chicken breasts, frowning deeply. “What do you mean? That’s the chicken breast for the Chicken Cordon Bleu.”

“No, sugarplum,” he snickers behind you. “That looks rather like a Pussy Cordon Bleu, Y/N.” Lloyd presses his body against yours and places his hands on your hips. “See the beautiful outer lips and the little nub? That’s a pretty pussy, waiting for me to eat her.”

“Boss, you can’t lick raw chicken. That’s unhealthy, and you’ll get sick.” You mutter, remembering the last time Lloyd got sick.

He had the infamous man cold, shooing you from one end of his mansion to the other, whining and begging for attention and soup. In the end, you got him high on cold medicine and cuddles.

“Fine,” he purrs in your ear. “If you don’t want me to lick the raw chicken, how about…” You squeak when he twirls you around and easily lifts you onto the kitchen island, “You let me lick the original.”

You blink a few times. He can’t mean that… “What? Boss, this isn’t funny. I don’t want to lose my job!”

“Baby cakes,” he smirks, his hands already pawing at your thighs to part them, “we both know you are head over heels and butterflies in the stomach for me. You didn’t think twice when I asked you to move into my guesthouse. You wanted to be close to me all the time.”

“I agree to move into the guesthouse because you have a pool, a sauna, and a huge garden. Who wouldn’t want to live here?”

“See, you already live here like a girlfriend or a wife.” He leans closer, his lips almost touching yours. “If you want a lifelong right of residence, become my pretty little cupcake, Y/N. Not one of the other flings gets me as hard as you do.”

“Boss.” You lick your lips. “If you fire me after eating my pussy, I’ll stab you to death with my favorite knife and make it look like an accident.”

He smirks and says, “I wouldn’t expect less from you…”

[leandra-kinard]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Additional Tags: Road Trips, Vacation, Adventure, Hiking, Whump, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Established Relationship, Post-Season/Series 07, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Some Humor Summary:

Buck and Tommy have been looking forward to their romantic and relaxing road trip, hiking in the Sierra Nevada and finishing with a stay in San Francisco. Unfortunately, things go terribly wrong on the very first day.

~*~ Prompt-fill for 'road trip turned rescue'.

[rckyfrk]

It's here!

Just the thought of her had Daryl scowling deeper, and despite his best attempts all night, he still couldn’t understand exactly what had happened between them. It just didn’t make any damn sense. She trusted him to take care of her, to keep her safe and fed, but not to be faithful to her? He’d laid down his life to save hers, got the absolute shit kicked out of him trying to protect her. Wasn’t that enough to show her just how he felt about her? How much he fucking cared about her?

Click here to read Terms and Conditions on AO3

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[theageofsims]

Well -- this post just took off! 😂 I'm glad to see it!

I know 30+ doesn't seem like that big of a deal but I just started with that because I'm in my late 30s.

I really LOVE seeing the over 40 and into 60s/70s crowd though. ♥️

I don't care if you build, gameplay, story tell, create custom content -- or all of the above. If you're over the age of 30 -- reblog!

[rckyfrk]

Daryl jolted awake, and judging by the barely lit sky, it was still over an hour before dawn. He groaned and let his eyes drift back shut until he realized he had a lot more room on the mattress than he remembered. He bolted upright, smacking his head on the underside of the bunk above him, and muttered several choice words. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sore spot on his head when Beth reappeared, her face immediately showing concern when she saw him. “What happened?” she whispered.

“Smacked my head on the damn bunk,” he grumbled. Even in the dim light, he didn’t miss Beth’s tiny smirk as she sat down next to him.

“Poor baby,” she said with a pout that fought with her smile. She reached up and gently guided his head lower so she could plant a kiss, somehow knowing exactly where it smarted the most. “You gonna be okay?”

Daryl scowled half-heartedly at her. “I’m fine,” he said as he moved to lay back down. 

Beth followed suit, then brushed his shaggy hair away from his already drowsy eyes. “I dunno…maybe I shouldn’t let you sleep, in case you have a concussion.” 

Opening one eye, partially to glare at her, partially to see if she was being serious, he growled out, “Shut up,” before wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her into him.

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[tann-arts]

Gonna reblog some old art 'cause I can, deal with it

[sky-scribbles]

I forgor - Australian readers, physical copies should become available in September/October!

For everyone elsewhere, I'm afraid I don't know yet if/when the book will be available, but I'll try to get some answers from my publishers soon.

My book on asexuality and aromanticism, Love Expanded, is released today!!

When I first started writing, I thought it would just be a book explaining what ace and aro identities are. But the more I wrote, the more it became a book about how allonormativity hurts everyone. 

It encourages everyone to believe they’re fundamentally incomplete without a romantic partner.

It makes people think a romantic partner is the only intimate, nurturing relationship they need, leaving them without a support network if that relationship fails.

It can lead to people feeling obliged to consent to sex they don't actively want, because it's the "normal" thing to do.

It means anyone perceived as “abnormal” gets desexualised by society (disabled people, neurodivergent people, fat people, etc).

It makes people afraid to leave abusive relationships because they’ve been told ‘love conquers all’ or that singledom is even worse than abuse.

It makes everyone think the default way for humans to live is in self-contained family units… when there’s no reason we shouldn’t live with friends, or have friends co-parent our children, and many many more options.

So if you’re interested in a book unpacking all of this and talking about the steps we can take to fix it, please do check it out! And happy Pride and Aro day <3

(US readers: because of some complicated publishing stuff ™ , physical copies won’t be available in the US until next spring. Some US people have been able to order copies either by changing their location or by using Amazon, though I understand many of us. Do Not Want to do that. :'D Ebooks should be available now though, or at least very soon!)

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hi my name is Barbie and 💥 I GOT THE JOB 💥

[holylulusworld]

Reblog for tags.

Human Purse

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___

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@caplanbuckybarnes​

@meyocoko​

@thegirlnextdoorssister​

@automaticmiraclephilosopher

@babygirl-one-and-only​

@peaceinourtime82​

@black-rose-29​

@tenaciousperfectionunknown​

@lendeluxe​

@fischlvonluftschloss 

@satanatemymovies​

@wonderlandfandomkingdom​

@thefalconandthewinterwidowshield​

@raajali3​

@minervadashwood​

@evelyn-kingsley​ 

@wanheda-reia​

@danielle143​

@wittysunflower

@guenievresworld

@liloxclu

@djarinsstuff

@mochionly

@bubsonnobx

@pattiemac1

@supraveng

@minervadashwood

@somnorvos

@blackhawkfanatic

@justyourusualash

@buckybarnessweetheart 

@buckyburner 

@elenamoncadaibarra

@JeremyRennermakesmesmile

@kmc1989

___

All works tags

@yolobloggers

@shikshinkwon

@miraclesoflove

@mogaruke

@shatteredabby

@soryuwifeyxx

@letsdisneythings

@i-love-superheroees-blog

@thevelvetseries

@anaelsbrunette

@sabascio

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@that-place-called-middle-earth

@wally-darling-hyperfixation

@zxph-yr

@belovedcherry

@matsumama

@emoryhemsworth

@buckybarnesplumwhore

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​

@princesssterek​

@xoxabs88xox​

@wandering-spiritash​

@riathearora

@the-loml-got-nailed

@greeneyedblondie44​

@gh0stgurl​

@charmed-asylum​ 

@fallen-wolf22​

@thegirlnextdoorssister​

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187​

@black-rose-29​

@caplanbuckybarnes​

@wykkedwitch​

@sexicherri3​

@loki-laufeyson-1054​

@liloxclu

@km-ffluv​

@bubsonnobx

@katsav17

@itsbqueenthings

@sultryfandoms

@supraveng

@somnorvos

@JeremyRennermakesmesmile

@papichulo120627

@blackhawkfanatic

@b3autyfuld1sast3r

@kmc1989

@buckybarnessweetheart 

@mcira

Human Purse (5)

Summary: You meet a stranger, and he won’t let you go…

Pairing: Mobster!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Warnings: language, kissing, possessive Loki, mafia au, arguing, fluff

Human Purse masterlist

Catch up here: Human Purse (4)

Loki uses the ride to his brother’s party to get back in your good graces. He leans closer in the backseat of the limousine, his hand brushing your thigh.

“Do you know how often I imagined making you moan my name? I’d worship every inch of your body, lick, taste, and grope and caress.”

You shiver at his promise. Loki is the kind of man who easily wraps you around his finger. “Yeah, I don’t think you will touch, grope, or lick any part of me for the time being.”

“So, there is hope,” Loki concludes. “I know that one day, you’ll tremble beneath me, your cries of pleasure the only sound you’ll make.”

You turn your head to not show Loki how much his words affect you. He can never know that if he charms you only a little more, you’re done for.

“A nice dream,” you scoff, instead of giving in to his advances. “You should know the difference between fact and fiction. It’s called a wet dream.”

His lips almost touch your earlobe when he says, “Darling, believe me. What I have in mind is far from a dream. I want you, and you’ll soon realize I always get what I want.”

It takes everything in you not to melt in his arms. Instead of giving in, you say, “Dream on. You’re a liar, and I can never trust you after you stalked me for so long.”

“I won't give up so easily, darling. One day, you will forgive me,” Loki mutters under his breath. “For now, I’ll settle for you keeping me company at my brother’s party.”

He retreats, a smug grin on his kissable lips. Loki leans back and enjoys your struggle to remain calm. You shake your head and decide to ignore his presence. It’s your fault. You agreed to go to the party with him.

Loki didn’t exaggerate. His brother’s house is huge, almost like a mansion. The party is in full swing when you arrive.

“Relax, darling,” Loki drawls as he guides you around the room. His hand rests on the small of your back, his thumb drawing patterns into your skin. “You look beautiful in that dress.” Loki dips his head to press a soft kiss on your cheek. “Not that you do not look stunning all the time.”

“You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?” You try to sound casual, but your voice gives you away. “I don’t know if I fit in here, Loki. This was a stupid idea. All these women look like they belong, not me.”

“Y/N, you belong here as much as they do.” His arm wraps around your waistline. “Besides, none of them is half as captivating as you are. Do not underestimate yourself, darling.”

“You say that, but I do not feel as confident as you are,” you murmur, not wanting to draw attention toward you.

He looks around the room, his expression hard to read. Loki doesn’t seem to be impressed when most of the single women look his way.

“You see, they are all jealous of you for taming the untamable bachelor. Darling, you have what they only dream of.”

“Let me guess, your attention?” You sass. “They all only want you… I got it.”

His lips brush your ear-shell. “I meant grace, kindness, and honesty.” He chuckles when you start to squirm in his embrace. “And yes, you have my attention too.”

It’s embarrassing how easily Loki makes your heart race and your body weak. You try to sound casual when you say, “I bet you brought many girls here. I’m just the next one in your arms.”

“Loki! Brother!” A deep voice makes itself known. It booms through the room, making everyone stop in their tracks to look Loki’s way.

“Brother,” Loki curtly says, but his greeting is laced with something other than friendliness. “I see you invited half of town…again.”

Thor is tall and broad, with thick blonde locks reaching his shoulders. His blue eyes sparkle, looking your way. “Ah, you must be the chosen one.” He holds out his hand to take yours and presses a chaste kiss to your skin.

“Chosen…one?” You question, confused about Thor’s words.

“Loki never brings a dame to one of my parties. It’s a first,” Thor replies with a smirk. Loki’s grip on you tightens. He holds his brother’s gaze, making his claim on you known.

Thor laughs and steps back, holding up his hands. “Do not make yourself scarce again, brother. We all have missed you dearly. I will hunt you down if you plan on vanishing mid-celebration again.”

“Well, if the party is as dull as the last one, you cannot blame me for leaving.”

The friendly banter between the brothers continues as you watch them with curiosity.

Does Thor know his brother was following you? Does he protect people like his brother, or is he completely different?

“Shall we have a drink, darling?” Loki whispers in your ear, eager to get away from his brother. Thor asked too many questions about you, and his brother doesn’t like it one bit.”

“A drink sounds good…” Loki guides you away, promising to get back to Thor after you greet more people. You’re not sure, but you think it’s a lie…

[heartbeetz]

Happy New Year!!!! 🎆🍾🎊

Just a couple of guys getting drunk and setting off fireworks on the roof of an old apartment building. Surely nothing could go wrong 👍

[kaneki-week]

Kaneki Week, an event celebrating all things Ken Kaneki, is approaching!! Kaneki Week will run from the 16th to 22nd of December 2024. For those interested, please check the prompt list above and guide given below!

Guide:

1) Please tag this account (@kaneki-week) or use the tag #kanekiweek24 when posting work intended for this event!

2) Tagged submissions will be reblogged from this account from the beginning of the official Kaneki Week to February 1st 2025. Submissions later than this will not be archived here.

3) The prompt list is merely suggestions. If you want to follow your own prompts or inspirations, you are fully welcome to do so! And don’t be pressured to post something for every single day of the week - if that is unrealistic for you, that’s okay, you’re still welcome to participate!

4) You can create whatever art you wish for this event - whether it be writing of any kind, fanart, edits, crafts, a dish that reminds you of Kaneki, literally anything. Generative AI submissions will not be accepted.

5) Please include a line break before any nsfw submissions.