#and I had to tell her that Its a long story

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 3

part one | two | three - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

(requests open)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4921

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate (soulbound) & time travel au, english is not my first language, i took names of professor in harry's time (it's easier that way)

NOT PROOFREAD :D - thank you for 200 followers 😭😭🫶

you were walking through the hogwarts courtyard, bundled up in your robes as the wind carried a hint of the colder months that were coming. the sun filtered through the canopy of orange and red, it was a cold day without the sun. as you approached the gryffindor common room after breakfast, you spotted lucas - tall, with his messy black curls and easygoing grin, leaning casually against the wall

"there you are!" he called out, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you. "i've been look for you. fancy coming with me to hogsmeade? i've got some things to pick up, and i thought you could use a break from all the studying."

you raised an eyebrow, interested. "and by 'things', you mean what exactly?"

"important stuff!" lucas replied with mock seriousness. "like sweets from honeydukes and a new quill, since i keep losing mine. and, of course, we have to stop at zonko's - can't leave without some supplies for our next prank on maeve."

you let out a laugh, feeling the tension of the past few days years slip away. you figured you could use a shopping day - it was a saturday after all, you could just study after. "sounds like a plan, though i'm not sure if maeve would be happy with another one of your 'masterpieces'."

"she'll survive. besides, i've got a new idea that'll totally blow her mind, just wait and see," lucas nudged you, playfully.

as the you made your way down the long, winding path to hogsmeade, a sleek black cat caught your eye. it seemed to be lingering just out of reach, you'd seen the cat a few times today, always trailing a few paces behind, watching you with its bright, curious green eyes. it had followed you from the common room to the courtyard, through the grounds, and now as walking behind you and lucas as though it belonged with the two of you.

"look at that," you murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the cat. "it's been following me this enitre day."

lucas turned around, narrowing his eyes slightly at the feline. "huh, that's a little weird, don't you think? cats don't usually follow people around for no reason."

you crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. to your surprise, it didn't hesitate. the cat padded forward and nuzzled your palm, its fluffy and soft fur was warm, despite the chill in the air. you smiled, scratching it behind the ears.

"i think it likes me," you said, looking up at lucas. "maybe it's a stray. what do you think?"

lucas crossed his arms and looked at the cat with a suspicious look. "it's a little too good to be true, don't you think? a mysterious black follow you around hogwarts. you know there are loads of horror stories about witches using cats as spies, right?"

"you're paranoid," you rolled your eyes at him, but smiled.

"i'm cautious," lucas corrected, though there was a small teasing glint in his eyes. "but if you're set on keeping it, we should make sure it's not... i don't know, an animagus or something. better safe than sorry, right?"

"you think someone's been using this little thing to spy on me?"

lucas shrugged, but he was already pulling out his wand. "could be, perhaps. there's a simple charm to check for such things, it won't hurt the cat - you have my promise."

you stood up and took a step back, "okay, but i'm telling you, it's just a normal cat."

lucas raised his wand, pointing it at the cat as he muttered the incantation under his breath. a faint blue light shimmered from the tip of his wand. it surrounded the cat for a moment before fading away.

you both stared at the cat in silence, holding your breath, waiting for whatever that was about to happen. but the cat just blinked up at you, then licked its paw nonchalantly.

lucas let out a breath, "phew.. what do you know? it's just a regular old cat."

"told you," you smirked, "looks like you're now stuck with me and my new pet."

the cat - as if it sensed your affectionate words, let out a soft purr and wound itself around your legs once more. you knelt down and scratched behind its ears again. a bond was already beginning to form. the only problem was the lice and many more things that was scattered across its fur.

"alright, alright," lucas said, laughing. "i suppose it shouldn't be a problem."

with the cat in tow, you and lucas continued down the path to hogsmeade. the bustling village was already alive with students and locals, shops were gleaming with fresh stock and festive decorations for upcoming festivities. as you entered honeydukes, the warmth of the shop's interior enveloped you, along with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

"so, what's your go-to sweet?" lucas asked as he grabbed a basket; eyeing the chocolate frogs with heart eyes.

"maybe the peppermint toads?" you said with a grin, grabbing a small bag from the shelf. "they're the perfect balance of sweet and refreshing."

lucas pulled a face, "you're a maniac. it's all about the fizzing whizzbees."

both of you wandered through the aisles, piling your basked high with various candies - sugar quills, licorice wands, jelly slugs. at one point, lucas tried to sneak a handful of bertie bott's every flavour beans into your bag, but you caught him just in time.

"you're not tricking me into eating vomit-flavored beans again!" you narrowed your eyes at him.

lucas laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "fine, fine. i'll save it for someone else."

after stocking enough sweets to last long enough (almost a month), you and lucas headed to zonko's. the shop was just as chaotic as expected, filled with exploding fireworks, laughing gas, and all manner of joke items. lucas was in his element, darting from one display to the next with an excitement you hadn't seen since your first year at hogwarts when you'd go shopping with the weasley's.

it made you wonder if there was a weasley in this timeline, or a potter, surely there must-

"i've got it," lucas broke your trance, holding up a box nose-biting teacups. "we'll switch maeve's regular tea with one of these. can you imagine the look on her face?"

you shook your head, grinning, "you're terrible."

"hey! you're the one who agreed to come with me," he replied, winking. "makes you an accomplice."

after spending almost an hour in zonko's, you finally dragged lucas away before he bought the entire store. the two of you made your way back to hogwarts, the pockets of your robes stuffed with sweets, joke items, and - in your case - also a black cat nestled happily in your arms.

"already thought of a name?" lucas asked as you strolled along the path.

you looked down at the cat, who had fallen asleep in your arms, still purring softly. "i'm not so sure yet, maybe something like 'shadow' maybe?"

"shadow," lucas mused, "hm, not bad, fits the while 'following you everywhere' thing it's got going on."

you laughed, feeling the warmth of the cat's fur against you. despite the whirlwind of chaos that had brought you here, there was something so comforting about the small creature that had decided to be your companion.

and as you and lucas made your way back to the castle, joking and teasing each other, you felt like things were normal. like you were just a regular student at hogwarts, living in a time untouched by war and dark magic.

you went to sleep that day feeling better already with the small feline curled up at the end of your bed, purring, its little collar having a little bell that you bought in a shop.

the following morning you made your way down the main aisle, the familiar hum of chatter and clicking of cutlery filling the air. it was officially your second week at hogwarts, and though you were still getting used to the time period, you started to have a routine.

you reached the gryffindor table and spotted your friends, already gathering around a platter of toast and eggs, some of them had pancakes. they waved you over and made space as you slipped onto the bench beside them.

“morning y/n!” maeve greeted brightly, pushing a pitcher of pumpkin juice toward you. her curly hair was a little wild this morning, as if she didn’t care. “sleep well?”

you poured yourself a glass, “pretty well, all things considered. i think i’m getting used to these weird ancient beds.”

alicia snorted, her red hair falling into her eyes as she reached for a stack of pancakes. “weird ancient beds? try getting used to the weird ancient ghosts! i had nearly headless nick hovering over my bed last night telling some kind of story about jousting. i barely slept.”

“better nick than peeves, though. that poltergeist kept chucking ink at me during charms yesterday,” maeve giggled, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

you laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest that you weren’t expecting. these girls had made everything feel… lighter. the constant worry in the back of your mind lessened. here, in the morning sunlight with breakfast laid out before you, you almost forget the real reason why you were here.

“mm, speaking of charms,” mave said, glancing at her timetable. “we’ve got it again this morning. think professor flitwick will finally let us practice summoning spells?”

“i certainly hope so,” lilith spoke as quiet as ever, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “right? i’ve been dying to try action on something bigger. imagine being ahle to summon an entire plate of pastries!” lucas exclaimed.

“as if we need more reasons for you to get distracted during class, luca,” alicia rolled her eyes.

they continued to chatter about the day ahead, while you found your gaze wandering around. the students were busy with their own conversations, some were studying, others were yawing over cups of tea while some were also scribbling down last-minute notes for their morning classes. everything felt so normal.

when your eyes landed on the skye thing table, the illusion of normalcy shattered. you’d almost forgot about him.

tom riddle. he was sat at the center, surrounded by his usual group of admirers. he was composed, elegant even, as he buttered a piece of toast. speaking quietly to a blonde male next to him.

you looked away quickly before his group - or him, could notice you staring. “you’re awfully quiet this morning,” maeve nudged you with her elbow.

“everything alright?”

you gave a smile, hoping it didn’t look to strained. “yeah, just thinking about today.”

“don’t worry about it too much, it’s only the second week,” lucas smiled. “besides, you’re part of the group now, we’re in this together.”

“no backing out,” lilith added, and for a second you thought you’d melted

you smiled, relaxing. you felt it reach your eyes, a sense of belonging wandered around in the back of your mind.

breakfast continued and so did the conversation to more light-hearted topic. alicia’s and lilith’s excitement about the next hogsmeade trip, lucas’ plans for another elaborate prank on their dormmate, and maeve’s ongoing battle with peeves. you listened, laughed, and chimed in the conversation whenever you could.

maeve slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. “come on, y/n. let’s see if we can make it to flitwicks class before luca drags us to the kitchens for more pastries.”

“i resent that,” lucas called over his shoulder, “but i do want more pastries.”

you smiled and grabbed your bag as you followed them out of the great hall, trying to savour the last few minutes of peace before the day truly began.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡charms class:

when you arrived at the charms class it was buzzing with quiet energy as tired students filed in, quills and textbooks clutched in their hands. you took a seat next to maeve, on your left side - behind another desk with space in between you two, sat another girl - slytherin.

"good morning, everyone! today, we will be practicing summoning charms - accio!" professor flitwick said loudly, standing on a stack of books at the front of the class, as he clapped his hands to get the attention of all the students.

an exciting murmur passed through the room. you realised how in their fifth year they learn about summoning spells in this timeline, while in harry's timeline you learned more defensive spells, or memory spells. the difference was huge.

summoning charms were pretty basic, but growing up in times like you did, you almost had no time getting used to a simple spell like accio, while you could easily obliviate someone or use the patronus charm.

"partner up!" flitwick instructed. you turned to look at maeve, who was already grinning at you.

"i've been practicing this all week," maeve said, wiggling her eyebrows. "let's see if i can summon a bigger thing than a quill this time."

"alright, but if you summon a desk by accident, you're responsible ," you teased her, setting your wand on your desk.

meave pointed her and at one of the cushions flitwick had left for practice. "accio cushion!" she shouted, her wans slicing through the air.

the cushion zoomed toward her, though it wobbled slightly before landing in her arms. "not bad, right?"

you clapped lightly, "that was impressive!"

maeve jokingly gave a little bow to you, "your turn!"

you focused on a cushion that was lying a few feet away, envisioning it flying smoothly into your hands. after a flick of your wand, you called out, "accio cushion!"

the cushion shot toward you with more speed than you expected, hitting you on your chest slightly and it knocked you back slightly. you laughed catching it just in time. maeve bursted into giggles beside you.

"well, at least it's working," you said with a grin, putting the cushion down, you glanced around the room and caught sight of tom. he was practicing at the far end of the classroom. he performed the spell flawlessly, his cushion gliding into his hands with barely a flick of his wrist. his focus was intense, almost unnerving.

you quickly turned towards maeve again, not wanting to dwell on him.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡potions class:

the potion classroom in the dungeons was dark and cool, the only source of light was flickering. a mushy and earthy scent of ingredients filled the air as you sat down next to alicia at one of the tables near the back.

"right," alicia said, pulling out her ingredients. "i've got a good feeling about today's potion. we're supposed to make something simple, so there's no way i can accidentally melt my cauldron like last week."

you snickered. "simple or not, i still think you have a way to make the easiest potions chaotic."

before alicia could respond, professor slughorn's jovial voice boomed across the room. "today, my dear students, we will be brewing a calming draught. quite useful for, uh, stressful situations." he winked at the class. "i'm sure none of you feel stressed, though."

you could feel the irony of the assignment, given how much stress you were actually under without anyone really knowing. you could probably use a calming draught or two just to get through the day.

slughorn's face was surrounded with enthusiasm as he demonstrated the first few steps, his eyes darting over the class with interest. you gathered the ingredients you needed and carefully measured out the valerian root, hellebore syrup and the fluxweed oil.

"so, you think slughorn's going to invite you to one of his little parties?" alicia asked as she ground some peppermint into powder.

you shrugged, keeping your focus on your cauldron as you stirred it clockwise. "not very likely. i don't really know what those parties are even about," you lied. you went to one meeting with hermione, and decided to never go again. simply a waste of time.

alicia raised an eyebrow, "well, slughorn kinda 'collects' talented students. you're smart, plus you're new and kind. so, i'd say you're prime slug club material."

you smiled at her, "we'll see," you said quietly. "plus, i think riddle is in slug club," alicia whispered.

you almost spilled the peppermint that you were trying to add into your potion. "sorry, what?" you gaped at her. she scoffed at you and smiled, "don't act dumb, i always see you looking at him."

your potion turned to a soft blue - that was a good sign. "what??? no i don't.." you mumbled and glanced over at alicia's cauldron, which was bubbling a little too vigorously.

"uh, alicia... are you sure you didn't add to much oil?" you asked her, eyeing the bubbles. "you're not getting out of this conversation, y/n," alicia said while she kept adding oil.

"no, no, i'm serious, look at those bubbles."

"oh, oops," alicia gasped, and quickly turned down the heat under her cauldron. "well, at least it's not melting this time."

you laughed softly, helping her adjust the potion before it boiled over. potions was always a mix of stress and humor with alicia. seems like you're not as slick as you thought you were.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡transfiguration class:

in dumbledore's class there was a different energy in the air. the room was spacious and bright, high arched windows were letting beams of sunlight in that illuminated against the desks. dumbledore was standing at the front. "today," dumbledore began, "we will attempt one of the more advanced transfigurations. turning inanimate objects into animals. quite the leap from last week's matchsticks to needles, wouldn't you say?"

maeve leaned over to you, whispering, "what if we give a four-legged animal six legs by mistake?"

you snickered quietly.

dumbledore waved his wand, and a stack of stones appeared on each of the student's desks. "your task today is to transform this stone into small creatures to your choosing. a mouse, perhaps, or a bird. be gentle, and focus."

you pointed your wand at the stone, visualizing a small bird. with clear focus, you flicked your wand, saying the incantation softly.

to your surprise, the stone started shifting, wings sprouting from its sides as it transformed into a tiny sparrow. it fluttered its wings confused before hopping onto your desk.

"well, aren't you just the star pupil," maeve teased with a grin. she was still poking at her half-transformed stone, which looked more like a stone with some fur on it.

from the front of the class, dumbledore's eyes met yours briefly, and he gave a small approving nod. you continued helping maeve, when you caught a glimpse of tom riddle a few rows ahead. his magic was perfect - obviously. the stone in from of him had turned into a sleek, black raven that perched on his desk with eerie calm.

you sighed, forcing yourself to focus more on maeve and her furry rock. there would be plenty of time to think about tom later, but the time was ticking and you knew it.

shadow, the cat that you'd taken in, padded silently beside you as you made your way to the library. you smiled down at him, shadow had proven to be nothing more than a sweet, lovely companion. the cat had followed you everywhere except for classes.

"you like books, don't you?" you murmured to the cat as you entered the library, earning a few curious glances from other students. shadow flicked his tail and trotted ahead of you, his sleek form disappearing between two towering bookshelves.

the library was quiet and warm, even after dinner. the air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. you loved it in the library, it felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still.

wandering through the shelves you scanned the spines of he books you passed. every so often, you'd glance behind you to make sure shadow was still with you. reaching a shelf tucked in a quiet corner of the library, you found a book you'd been looking for - the founder's legacy: a history of hogwarts. it was a book you needed for your muggle studies.

you pulled it down and tucked in under your arm, turning to leave the aisle - but when you did, you noticed shadow was gone. "shadow?" you called softly, careful not to disturb the other students. the silence of the library seemed to grow louder, your eyes searching for the black fur you had grown accustomed to.

frowning, you stepped out of the aisle, looking around for any sign of the cat. only a few students were scattered around the tables., their heads buried in their studies. then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him.

at one of the far tables, seated in his usual spot near the back of the library, was tom riddle.

with shadow.

your breath caught in your throat. the sleek black cat had made himself comfortable on the edge of tom's open book, his paws kneading the pages as he purred contentedly. tom didn't seem bothered by the interruption. in fact, he was watching the cat with an odd expression - almost as if he was amused, though his features remained calm and composed as always.

for a second, you just stood there, contemplating all your life's choices. seeing shadow so comfortable made your heart race. tom riddle, the person you were meant to change, was casually petting the cat you had taken in and it made your situation feel even more surreal.

but only you couldn't keep standing there forever, staring at tom riddle.

so, you summoned up your courage, and slowly walked over to the table, forcing yourself to remain calm even though you could feel your chest preparing for a panic attack.

"looking for this?" his voice was soft but cold as he gestured to the cat with a slight raise of his hand. shadow meowed happily and stretched out his paws, pushing against tom's book as if he had claimed it for himself.

hearing tom's voice changed something in you, a warm feeling spread through you.

"yes," you said, your voice steady - trying to ignore all the feelings you were feeling at once. "i didn't realize he'd wandered off."

tom's eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying you with the same unsettling intensity you'd noticed in class. then he looked back at the cat, one hand absently touching behind shadow's eaer. the cat purred louder, pressing into the touch as though he had always belonged there.

"he seems to like me," tom observed. you had to hold back a scoff, so you forced a smile. "he's a friendly one."

"i can see."

you weren't sure how to respond to that. you cleared your throat and stepped forward, reaching for shadow. "well, i should get him out of your way, he's probably disturbing your reading. or studying, or whatever..."

tom didn't move at first, and for a brief second you thought he might not let you take back your cat. but the, he pulled his hand back. shadow, oblivious to the tension, stretched lazily before hopping off the table and rubbing against your leg.

you cradled shadow in your arms as you tried to steady your nerves.

you felt tom's gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his book, his expression unreadable. "be careful," he said, his voice low. "not everything that follows you is harmless."

you blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. was that a warning? or something more? before you could reply, tom had already turned the page of his book, his focus shifting away from you as though the conversation had never happened.

a chill ran down your spine as you hugged shadow closer. your heart was pounding in your chest and you turned around.

tom's cryptic words echoed in your thoughts. you were halfway to the library's entrance when you spotted lucas striding toward you, hands tucked in his pockets, that ever-present grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. he seemed completely at ease, as though the world was just a big joke waiting to be told.

"there you are!" he called out in a low voice, somewhat mindful of the library's strit silence policy. he walked right up to you, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face before flicking over to the spot where tom was sitting. "i saw you ever there, chatting with riddle."

"yeah.. shadow wandered over to him," you smiled slightly, still not fully calmed down, but lucas' presence helped a bit.

lucas smiled, "look, i'm just gonna say it: i've seen you stare at him with times, and you look like you've seen a ghost. whatever he's said to you-"

"he said something about not everything that follows you is harmless," you interrupted him, needing to get it off your chest.

"okay, stop. that's freakishly creepy," lucas gaped, stealing a glance at tom. "just.. try to ignore him. riddle's either got everyone thinking he's the hottest thing to walk these halls, or they think he's bloody weird."

your curiosity piqued, "and what do you think?"

lucas paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. his grin returned, "both."

you chuckled at his bluntness, "both?"

you walked out of the library, your book long forgotten on the table you were supposed to be studying at. "yeah, he's good looking. i mean, objectively speaking," lucas said. "but there's something about him that's off. like, he's too good at... well, everything. it's unnatural, people are drawn to him, but they're also.. i don't know, scared of him. you know? even if they don't want to admit it."

you nodded, thinking back how tom had looked at you - the way his eyes seemed to see right through you. there was definitely something unnerving about him. "he's strange. almost like he's always one step ahead of everyone."

"exactly," lucas agreed. "it's like he's playing a game no one else knows the rules to. trust me, best to keep your distance."

"i wasn't planning on making friends with him," you said, shifting shadow in your arms. the cat blinked lazily up at you.

"good, i've got enough trouble without having to rescue you from the dark and mysterious Tom Riddle," lucas replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

you let out a laugh, "thanks, lucas. i'll be sure to tell you first if i fet in over my head."

lucas grinned, "i'll be there, wand at the ready."

the two of you started to head toward the common room together, the tension that had been knotted in your chest since your encounter with tom slowly began to ease. lucas had a way of making things feel lighter, like no matter how complicated the situation got, he’d find a way to make it less scary.

“anyway,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked, “enough about riddle. did you get what you came for? or are we heading back in for round two of ‘tom the cat whisperer’?”

you smirked, shaking your head. “no more rounds with him for today, thanks. i think i’ve had my fill of mysterious brooding for the time being. but i do think i might've left my book in there."

lucas laughed again, his voice carrying through the halls. “we'll get it first think tomorrow. and if you do like him, just don’t go falling for that whole dark-and-mysterious thing. i won't judge you.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “please. you know i prefer my friends a little less brooding and a little more… fun.”

“see? that’s the right attitude.” he gave you a wink, his smile warm and genuine. “stick with me. i’m way more fun than some dark wizard-in-training.”

you couldn't help but smile back. as strange and intense as things had become, lucas was a constant source of light. maybe, just maybe, he’d help keep you grounded as you navigated the dangerous path ahead.

a/n: posted a bit earlier, but umm, i was thinking of naming the cat crookshanks first - so she has a reminder of hermione, harry and ron. but idk :( alsooooo, i'll probably update on sunday for this serie (loads of homework)

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Can you do this just with the Targaryens and Lannister? Sister!reader Targaryen vs Cersie Lannister 🫣🙏🏼

Fire and Gold

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Paring: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Note: In this AU Robert's Rebellion never happened. Rhaegar marries the reader, Ceresi still marries Robert after Lyanna dies in childbirth along with their child.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I hope this was what you had in mind, dear anon. The story is fresh from the oven.

You and Rhaegar have always known how to draw a crowd. The smallfolk line the roads, banners flapping in the breeze as cheers follow your every step. Rhaegar’s hand rests at the small of your back, his touch familiar and comforting. The two of you move through the throng with practiced grace, your smiles reflecting the adoration in the eyes of those gathered. The royal tour has been a triumphant journey so far, a celebration of unity and strength. Yet, beneath the surface, tensions simmer, particularly when it comes to the Lannisters.

It’s no surprise that Cersei Lannister would try to disrupt your journey. Tywin’s golden daughter has never hidden her disdain for you. You, the sister who Rhaegar chose over her, who embodies all that she desired but could never possess. Her presence is almost expected as you approach the encampment set up for the royal party. When you step inside the tent, the air is thick with unspoken tension. Rhaegar’s jaw tightens beside you, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere like a gathering storm.

Inside, Robert Baratheon looms, his massive form imposing even in stillness. Cersei stands at his side, her face twisted in fury, her eyes burning with a hatred you’ve known since you were both young girls at court. The very air seems to crackle between you. But your attention is drawn to your children and theirs, lined up in a tense, volatile standoff. Your eldest son, Aelor, stands tall, his eyes a mirror of Rhaegar’s determination. Blood stains the edge of his blade, and a long, angry gash mars Joffrey’s cheek. The boy’s face is contorted with pain and rage, his hand pressed against the wound.

“What in the name of the gods happened here?” Rhaegar’s voice is a sharp, commanding presence in the room. The knights and guards around you tense, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Robert spits, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your damn spawn attacked my son. Maimed him, Targaryen. That’s what happened.”

Aelor’s voice rings out, clear and unwavering. “He insulted us first. He insulted me, my brothers and sisters. He insulted you, Father, and you, Mother. When he drew his blade, I defended us.”

Joffrey, clutching his wounded cheek, shrieks in a high, grating voice. “Lies! He called me a Lannister bastard, and then he—”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze locking onto Cersei. It is an open secret in the court that her children bear none of the Baratheon traits, their golden hair and green eyes a reflection of the Lannister line. You’ve never spoken of it openly, but now, the accusation lingers in the air, unspoken but heavy. Cersei’s lips press into a thin line, her fury palpable.

“How dare you,” she hisses, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Your vile little whelps—”

“Enough.” Rhaegar’s voice cuts through the tumult like a blade. “They are children, Cersei. This matter is settled.”

“Settled?” Cersei’s face flushes crimson. She turns to Robert, desperation sharpening her tone. “You will let this stand, my lord? He has harmed our son!”

Robert’s eyes flicker between Rhaegar, your children, and his wife. His face is flushed, whether from drink or anger, you cannot tell. For a moment, the entire tent holds its breath, waiting for the King’s decree.

But Rhaegar steps forward, his presence filling the space. “This is over. Children quarrel. It will not be escalated further.”

Cersei’s expression is a mask of fury, her body taut with indignation. Her eyes meet yours across the tent, and for a heartbeat, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. There, in her gaze, you see the depth of her resentment, the wound to her pride that will never heal. You hold her stare, your silence as cutting as any word you could utter.

Cersei’s movements that soon follow are a blur, her hand snatching the dagger from Robert’s belt with a ferocity that sends a jolt of shock through the tent. She lunges at you, the blade aimed with a deadly precision that could only be born from hate. Instinct takes over, and you reach out, catching the weapon with your bare hand before it can pierce your heart.

The sharp steel bites deep into your palm, the pain immediate and excruciating. Blood wells up, spilling over your fingers and dripping onto the ground. Gasps echo through the tent, but no one dares to intervene. Robert’s roar reverberates around you, filled with anger and disbelief. “Cersei, what are you doing?!”

Your children’s cries pierce the air, frantic and terrified. Their small voices, shrill with fear, tear at your heart. The sight of their mother locked in a deadly struggle, blood pouring from your hand, is too much for them to bear. But you can’t look away from Cersei, can’t afford a single moment of distraction.

Her face is contorted with fury, a rage so intense it seems to consume her. “You ruined everything!” she screams, her voice raw. “You were supposed to be nothing more than a bargaining chip, another mad Targaryen girl! But instead, you took him—took the life that should have been mine! And now I’m shackled to this brute, trapped in a prison of my own making because of you!”

“You chose this,” you retort, your voice low, steady, despite the pain searing through your arm. “You and your father wanted too much. You thought you could seize the crown, twist the realm to your liking. But it was never yours to take.”

Her eyes flash, and with a snarl, she presses down, driving the blade further into your grip. The pain is blinding, but you refuse to let go, even as the dagger slices across your forearm in a brutal arc. You cry out, the sound sharp and involuntary, as the blade carves a deep, angry line from wrist to elbow. Warm blood streams down your arm, pooling at your feet.

The lords and ladies around you recoil, horrified, but none move to intervene. Fear holds them frozen in place, their eyes wide, their faces pale. The tent, filled with the sound of your children’s desperate sobs, seems to close in around you.

“Look at you,” Cersei hisses, her voice dripping with venom. “Bleeding for a throne you think you’re owed, just like your father. You’re no different from him. Mad, arrogant, and dangerous.”

“And you,” you bite back, your voice shaking with pain and fury, “are nothing but a bitter, power-hungry fool. You think you can cut me down? You think you can break me? I am not my father, and I will not be cowed by you.”

With a furious cry, she shoves the blade again, but you twist, forcing the weapon away. The dagger slips from her grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud. You stumble back, clutching your bleeding arm, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Pain throbs through every nerve, but you stand your ground, refusing to show weakness.

Rhaegar is at your side in an instant, his face ashen with worry. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice tight with concern, his hands gentle as he examines your injured arm. “Gods, what has she done to you?”

Robert steps forward, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. “Have you lost your senses, woman?” he growls, rounding on Cersei. “You draw a blade on the Princess of the Realm, on your king’s daughter? Are you so eager to invite Aerys’ wrath upon us all?”

Cersei glares back at him, her chest heaving, her hands shaking. “I don’t care!” she cries, her voice breaking. “All my life, I’ve been promised things that were taken away. I was promised Rhaegar, promised a crown, and now I’m nothing! Stuck here, with you, and this—this farce of a marriage. I’m trapped, and it’s all her fault!”

“Enough.” Robert’s voice is like a hammer striking stone, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’ve gone too far. This is beyond foolish, beyond dangerous. You think Aerys will turn a blind eye when he hears of this? His daughter bleeding at your hands?”

The name of your father seems to cut through her fury, a flicker of fear passing over her face. The threat is real—everyone knows the Mad King’s unpredictable wrath, his unquenchable thirst for vengeance. And you, his beloved daughter, lying wounded at her feet? The consequences could be catastrophic.

Rhaegar’s arms wrap around you, his touch gentle as he guides you away from the scene. “We need to get you to the maester,” he says softly, his voice tight with worry.

You nod, the pain throbbing with each heartbeat, but you keep your gaze on Cersei, refusing to look away. “Remember this, Cersei,” you say, your voice steady despite the agony. “You brought this on yourself. You chose your path, just as I chose mine. And you’ll find that you’ve made an enemy you can’t afford to have.”

With that, Rhaegar leads you out of the tent, your children trailing behind, their faces pale and tear-streaked. The lords and ladies part before you, their whispers already spreading like wildfire through the camp.

This skirmish is over, but the repercussions are only beginning.

[missmarveledsblog]

It's only pretend right? ( Bucky barnes x reader ) part one

summary : bucky (more so steve) agree's to be Y/N fake boyfriend for a week at her families ranch , he discovers his best friend left out some part that not all of her family is accepting of her but bucky is gonna be there every step to show them why she the best .

warnings : none well some shitty members of family , slow fast burn , idiots in love , mutual pining ,

A.N : this has been on back burner for so long so decided to let her out , sort of goofy love story some angst thrown in but mostly fluffy our dear bucky deserves that

The sun gleamed through  the sky as most of the team enjoyed the rare time off, that was until her screams rang out through the compound sending him to break out  into a sprint to the noise. He moved so fast it could have been compared to pietro maximoff  not that he cared for anything like that , not in these moments . Due to the universe and its cruel ongoing joke  , he was expecting the worst case scenario. Was she taken? , fighting against assailants? Was she hurt? It all came to his mind as he ran toward the source of the noise and yet in an instant that fear melted away when he heard her giggles and laughs looking in with now amusement. The sight was something James Buchanan Barnes couldn’t help smile so widely at .  There he watched as three  avengers stood like naughty children trying not to laugh at their own actions covered in ice cream and god knows what else. . 

“ Now pretty girl not so funny now is it?” Sam teased. 

“ What is going on here?” Bucky crossed his arms. 

“ Well little miss here thought it was funny when poor stevie here fell spilling ice cream all over himself” sam started. 

 “ Actually you laughed first. If I can remember , I may have given her something to laugh at. "Steve chuckled. 

“ He hit him right in the face with ice cream” she fell into Steve in a burst of laughter. “ So I showed her how it felt,”Sam nudged her.  

“ Literal children '' Tony rolled his eyes looking at the earth's mightiest heroes covered  head to toe in a now melted sweet treat.

 “ Hey in my defense I came in to make the team  something to  cool down. They insisted on helping” she held her hands up. 

“ Well that defense goes out the window when you're the one who tripped cap” tony smirked .

 “ you little..” Steve began chasing her . 

“ language” she giggled, rushing to get away from the super soldier which usually wasn’t an easy feat but the ice cream that covered the floor both helped and hindered her escape.

“ Bucky help” she ran into the men's arms , a  both sudden and most welcomed action. 

“ Leave my doll alone punk” he carried her out chuckling when he turned his head to see her sticking her tongue out at his best friend. 

 “Very mature” steve copied her action. 

“ Just friends my ass,” Sam called.

She didn’t hear the words , still now aimlessly talking about her sister's new dog but bucky heard. A phrase he wished he could say was fact but it wasn’t because they were just friends . How he wished he could call  the most beautiful being he’s ever had the pleasure to lay his eyes on in all the years he’d been alive . how even something as hearing her voice made his worst days the best. How her laugh was in his own words definitely heaven sent. In four years , 2 with shield and 2 with the team  he had studied every detail of the woman at his side , first because he didn’t trust new people then it was because he actually wanted to get to know her , the more he found out the more he fell for her. All her mannerisms he knew so he could tell when she wasn’t having a great day and he made it his mission to make it better. How she bristled like a kitten at the sight of John Walker,  something he found in common and found adorable all in one. 

If anyone were to ask James Barnes to describe his perfect woman that description would have been Y/N L/N because to him she was perfect. How she cared so deeply about those around her friends , family or even a casualty in a mission. That soft , sweet side  along with the spitfire , kickass , stubborn and oh so sarcastic side that could rival stark in every way. She was serious when it came to missions but would be the first to cheer up and make everyone laugh after the mission . so it wasn’t hard at all for Bucky to fall for the woman. What he found hard was trying to express how he felt. When he went to tell her how he truly felt, suddenly he felt  like he had swapped bodies with pre-serum Steve back in the day or the spider kid. Words would sometimes fail to even come out his mouth which was better when the words jumbled or stuttered , a stumbling mess that ultimately shut him up changing the topic completely.

 “ So now I got the time off and all well I have to go for like a week and need to find a date in the next 24 hours” she sighed knocking the man back to earth completely confused to what she was talking about.

 “ Sorry, what doll?” he shook his head. 

“ My family reunion is a big deal sort of thing , my sister and brother both proposing to their girlfriends” she laughed . 

“ hey bucky can go… sorry” steve winced seeing her jumping at his sudden appearance. 

“ missions ?” she rolled her eyes.

 “ Thor and Loki will be here,” Steve shrugged.

 “ Well then settled i’ll be your date” bucky smiled awkwardly wanting to kiss his best friend's ass .

 “ wait really … oh my god thank you bucky i’ll make it up and promise not to be the world worst fake girlfriend , ok i gotta pack you should do the same, oh nat waiting for me and i need to shower” she beamed almost skipping off to  her room .

 “ i’ll help him out” steve called . 

 “ Your welcome jerk,” the blonde chuckled before walking ahead toward his best friend's room while the man in question tried computing what the hell happened .     

“ what the hell happened you” nat chuckled sitting on the bed looking  her best friend walking in covered in god know what.

 “ food fight with cap and bird brain” she shook her now stiff hair. 

“Steve tells me Bucky is going to be your fake boyfriend for the week” she wiggled her brows.

 “ yeah let me shower first and freak out about that after” she ran into the ensuite heart pounding.  Nerves coursing through her  as she had to pretend to be in love even though she was definitely not going to fake it.  Since day one of meeting James Buchanan Barnes , well had her hook line and sinker. How could he not the man would cause a nun to sin with how hot he was. Pair that up with caring , understanding and all around amazing well she never stood a chance. Now she was going to spend the week pretending , almost having a taste of what it would be like to be the one he called his .  even thinking of it made her knees weak and yet she shook it from her head knowing natasha was sitting outside on her bed. Scrubbing her hair as she giggled while sprinkles fell at her feet and enjoying the mobility of her hair again . 

While only across the hall Bucky Barnes was panicking as he thought of the whole thing once Steve filled him in on the conversation he missed .

 “ This is perfect. I mean you could  make this the week you confess and finally get your girl” the blonde beamed brightly.

 “ or completely screw up and lose her completely because let's be real with my life that is the most likely option” he pulled the case out. 

“ Aye my man finally got the girl '' Sam cheered as he walked into the room 

 '' One shut up she could hear you and two I'm a fake boyfriend” he hissed, shutting the door  . 

“ well put on a good show that she will want the real thing… not like that not already of the case” he mumbled .

 “ ok sit we can do this, '' Steve led him to the bed, pulling out clothes and a couple of suits .

 '' What if I screw this up so bad she’ll quit the team and I'll never see her again” he stood pacing while the other two men rolled their eyes .

 “ or you’ll see what we see '' Steve mumbled but the man before them was too lost in his head to pay attention  to the non stop hints they tried to but he never did so it wasn’t anything new .

  “ ok so the clothes end will be sorted and tony agreed to the time off well he told me to tell you not to waste it” steve smirked before heading off into the bathroom . “ Clint said he can drop you both off before he heads home so flights are covered,” Sam added . 

“ Ok man, think of this week , where you don’t have to hide those feelings where you can act around her like you’ve always wanted to act” Sam turned, seeing Bucky still freaked out. 

“ What if I make her uncomfortable?” he asked. 

 “ i’m not saying bang her on the spot  i mean little thing like when your trying to hide the fact you stare at her like stark looks at his suits or pepper” sam rolled his eyes.

 “ he’s right Stark loves those suits and you love Y/N'' Steve teased throwing the bag of toiletries into the suitcase.

 “ this can be good … or it's going to be a complete disaster” .

“ how the hell am i going to do this… is it too late to fake my death and start a new life” she asked pacing while Nat and now wanda took the task to pack her suitcase.

“ No faking your death” nat rolled her eyes as wanda giggled .

 “ how the hell am i going to convince my parents i’m with bucky but not scare off my best friend… male best friend” she corrected herself after nat shot her a look. 

 “ Be the way you guys are already,” Wanda winked.

“ be serious here i don’t want to lose my best friend.. You know what i mean” she rolled her eyes at nat. 

“ You won't ok ,  you couldn’t lose Bucky even if you tried. '' Nat smiled softly  just like the guys, the woman before them was completely oblivious to what was in front of her.

 "I'd cancel but i can’t miss my brother and sister's engagement .. to separate people we ain’t that far down south '' she clarified  hearing the words coming out her mouth . “ We know what you mean , look, just use the time to get the taste of the experience” nat said. 

“ Maybe your eyes will finally see,” Wanda whispered under her breath.

 “ hopefully we can sell it enough so my aunts and uncles finally stop with their matchmaking and finally like me   i mean one of their blind dates brought me to a strip club was fun i mean  he even gave me my own ones but that doesn’t scream marry me , ”she winced as the two women fell into a fit of laughter. 

“ Is that why I keep finding glitter on you?” Nat wiped tears from her eyes.

 “ Yeah, that courtesy of candy , we’re friends on facebook , great gal was gonna hire her for peter's birthday next month actually ” she smiled. 

“ You'll kill the kid,” Wanda snorted. 

“ Hey, death by candy is a way to go,”she winked. 

“ You realize she and Peter are the same age and now i don’t know if you want bucky or candy” nat teased. 

“ Ok enough on my bi curiosities of my new stripper friend , how am i going to survive a week of pretending to be in love but not in love with my best friend … nat stop glaring you know what i mean” . 

 “ This is gonna kill me”she fell back onto the bed. 

Ten minutes he must have been standing at the door paralyzed nerves taking over and words escaping his mind to why he was there. 

 “ Just knock man this is pitiful , to think this is the once feared winter soldier can’t even knock on chicks door” tony rolled his eyes as bucky glared at the man. “ oh for fuck sake , thank me later terminator , don’t screw it up” was all the billionaire said before thumping the door and running off a bucky stood looking down the hall to contemplate how this was his life.

 “ fucking asshole should of kill him instead of how… how are you doll you busy” he caught himself as she looked puzzled at the man. He could hear the laughs before the two women came to view .

 “ shes all your barnes” nat winked letting him only confirm more people were aware of his feelings .

 “ Tell candy we say hello” Wanda snorted as she followed Nat down the hall. “Candy?” he arched his brow. 

“ my new erm .. stripper friend .. come in “ she cleared her throat trying to ignore the glint in his eyes when she said it.

 “ what… actually tell me another time I'm here to go over a back story like the way we do on missions so I don't say the wrong thing or we get caught out” he smiled softly as her own feature light up at the suggestion . 

“ You clever son of a bitch” she danced excitedly. The little drawl in her voice came out more when she was either happily excited or pissed off. 

“ i didn’t even think of that , i mean you’ve met my parents not my siblings so sorry for that .. you’ll understand when you meet them” she snorted leading him into the room and toward her sofa . 

“ Ok so obviously we met at work which I think my mom and dad just wanna prove i am actually an avenger” she chuckled. 

“ Who asked who out?” he asked softly.

 “Well I mean you asked me out cause if my aunts think the other way around they will think you're desperate or held hostage they have old way of thinking on somethings” she winced.

 “ Ok deal , how long have we been together?” he asked . 

“ Six months it's not too long to wonder why we aint been announced and not too short for you to meet the family” she nodded.

 “ PDA” he coughed, hiding the nervous break in his voice.

 “ Whatever you're comfortable with, we don’t have to go full PDA  so I won't jump you during family dinner” she teased . “ Well I mean we cuddle and hold hands all time so that part ain’t so hard right ” she added her cheeks flushing.

 “ No, it's a fine doll, I mean it’s kinda handy knowing all about you , well I thought I did until the whole stripper thing” he laughed.

 “ Hey candy is an artist and everything huh? My my bucky barnes i didn’t know you were a fan” she teased . 

“ says the one with 50 pictures next to my exhibit” he countered .

 “ Hey, it's not my fault bird brain can't take a good picture anyway, shut it before I can  switch you out with candy” she stuck her tongue out .

 “ I mean you could but do they know her like they know me” he asked . 

“ unless they frequent strip clubs when they visit.. Ok i grossed myself out”she scrunched up her nose at the thought while bucky though she was the cutest thing to ever exist.

 "Go on doll hit the hay Clint is bringing us so you know it’s going to be early as hell” he stood kissing  her head  before walking out the room while she in turn fell on to the bed knowing the star of the dreams she was going to have was just across the hall.

next part

[eringobragh420]

Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader Summary: Damian’s girlfriend is producing a piece on him. He decides to produce a piece of his own. Warnings: NSFW, obviously, lol. Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! Roleyplay, name-calling, dirty talk, sex, oral (m and f receiving), cum. Taglist: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend, @terrortwinunicorn. If you’d like to be added, please let me know! Requested By: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend. Hope you enjoy! Sorry it took so long 😭😭

“Alright, guys. I’m Damian Priest. Thanks for watching.” He threw up his index and pinky fingers just before his girlfriend pressed the button on the expensive camera to stop it recording.

“Outstanding,” she praised. Kneeling on the soft, white carpet of their home, she sat back on her legs as she played the footage back on the screen to be sure nothing weird was in the frame, and that the sound levels were normal and Damian’s voice came through clearly. WWE had tasked her as a producer (and probably because the two had been dating for a year) to create an intimate look into Damian’s private life. Which hadn’t been much, considering neither of them were in any hurry to show off their personal lives to the entire world. Despite this, she knew she had a good product. “Looks like we got it.”

“Yeah?” Damian asked. “Let me see.” She handed him the camera and busied herself with packing the camera’s accessories into the bag beside her. After a moment, she realized the only sound in the room was coming from the constant hum of the air conditioner. Glancing up at Damian, he held the camera in both hands, eyes on the screen as if he were watching the playback, but she didn’t hear his voice.

“Are you watching it?” she asked. “Is the sound not working?”

“It’s fine,” he replied, distracted. “I’m watching … you know …” He trailed off, eyes narrowing, focused. 

Her own eyes blinked down at the camera’s lens, brows furrowed. “Is that zoom—are you recording?” she exclaimed. Damian grinned behind the camera, shoulders shaking as he chuckled, and he leaned this way and that as if he were some famous director with a particular vision. “Do I really have to tell you that the camera isn’t a toy?” she teased, dropping her hands on her hips.

“Aww, querida, you know that’s not true,” Damian purred, his tone hitting that one level, the special one, the one that drew her to him like a moth to a flame. “Everything’s a toy if you play with it.”

“So, by that logic …” She leaned forward, bringing her hands to the floor, and she started to crawl toward Damian “I’m a toy.”

“My toy,” Damian sneered.

Her mouth quirked. “Your toy,” she corrected. Damian spread his legs wider to accept her between them, and she tucked her own legs under her like she’d been sitting before.

“And right now—” He reached out, able to hold the lightweight camera with one hand, and cupped her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb. “—I wanna make my toy into a pornstar.”

All the oxygen left her lungs in an audible whoosh, her heart kicking up its pace. Before she could give the idea much thought, and before she could process the fact they would be using a WWE-issued camera, she nuzzled into the palm of his hand, pressing a few chaste kisses there before licking the heel, all the way up his thumb where she enveloped the digit in her mouth.

“That’s it,” Damian said, pumping his thumb leisurely in and out of her mouth. “You like that idea, don’t you?” She watched as the twinkling stars always present in Damian Priest’s ochre eyes were devoured by growing black holes, and she’d have given anything to see just beyond his event horizon. “You wanna be a pretty little pornstar?” She nodded, eyes round and clear, mouth still working on his thumb. “Good girl,” he praised, and her heart melted, eyes falling closed. “But you gotta audition first.” Her eyes opened just as slowly as they’d closed, meeting his gaze. “You understand?” He removed his thumb from her mouth, and while she was able to speak now, she couldn’t find the words within her hazy, lust-filled brain, so she simply nodded again. Damian tilted his head, “Now take my cock out and show me why you’re better than all the other girls I’ve met this week.”

She admired—and was a little envious of—how easily he was able to go from her loving, devoted boyfriend to the intimidating, apparently manwhore porn director that now sat before her. How he was able to come up with roleplay ideas off the top of his head and was confident enough to act them out as if the scenario was real-world.

“Corazón,” Damian said, “don’t make me tell you again.”

Her hands reached up to work on his belt and jeans, glancing up at the camera, biting her lip, and all she could see of Damian behind the camera were those black eyes. Reaching inside his jeans, she unleashed his semi-hard cock, a grin working its way across her mouth. She loved the challenge of getting him as hard as possible as quickly as possible and she wondered how much assistance the camera was going to give her in said endeavor. Lifting her gaze back to the camera, she engulfed his entire dick in her mouth, a feat she could only achieve before he was fully erect. She dragged her lips back slowly, cheeks collapsing as her mouth created a vacuum, and Damian let loose a moan from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Damn,” he said, “you just go all in, huh?”

She released him with an indecent pop, licking her lips even more lewdly. “Go big or go home, right?” she purred.

“Back in your mouth,” he ordered.

She obeyed, because she loved to obey him, and because she really, really wanted this fake pornstar job. She sucked him back into her searing mouth, lips now stretching around him, bobbing her head. The distinct sound of the head of his dick poking into the back of her throat—that wet, smacking sound—echoed off the walls of their bedroom. Damian cried out, hand slipping around the back of her head, and he fisted a handful of her hair. She grunted, sending vibrations down his cock and into his balls, allowing him to control the pace, which continuously increased. She squeezed his thighs for stability, looking up at him just as tears fell from both eyes and streaked down her cheeks.

“Fuck yeah,” Damian groaned. Her scalp was going numb and her throat was sore and she was drooling all over herself, all over his cock, and, pornstar or not, she never wanted to lose the role of his toy. “Fucking love this, don’t you?” he breathed. “You’d do it even if you weren’t getting paid, huh?” He impaled her throat, holding her there, moaning and mumbling obscenities every time she coughed or gagged. “Puta de mierda.”

He released her, and she yanked herself back, gulping for air, choking on the excess saliva. She was positive she was an absolute mess right now, and it wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined looking the first time they recorded themselves, but this was them. Rough, hot, dirty, needy, and greedy. Damian jerked his soaked cock as she caught her breath, and after a moment, her mouth was back on him, sucking on the head as he continued to stroke.

“I bet you’re wet as fuck chokin’ on this dick,” he went on.

Matter of fact, she was, and, though her mind was foggy, she thought this might have been the first time she’d even noticed her own arousal. So focused had she been on pleasing Damian and getting the job, she didn’t remember once squeezing her thighs for relief. Flexing one thigh and then the other, she readily felt the slickness between her folds and she whined around Damian’s cock.

“Yeah, that’s why I thought,” he snarled. He pulled his dick from her mouth, slapping her cheek with it. “You know I gotta taste that pussy, right?” Breathless, the producer on her knees at the mercy of the World Heavyweight Champion once more could only nod. “Get up here, on your back.”

Damian stepped out of her way, and she climbed onto the bed, rolling onto her back. She reached up to wipe her face off, not able to get much before her boyfriend shoved the camera into her hands. She was turning it around and about to adjust the screen so she would more easily be able to see what she was recording while holding the camera above her when Damian snatched the waistband of her leggings and wrenched them down her thighs. He then shoved her knees to her chest, legs still trapped in spandex, and she felt him rip aside her thong a millisecond before his tongue delved deep into her folds.

“Jesus Christ,” she cried, crossing one ankle over the other. She still maintained a grip on the camera, but where it was pointed she had no idea, as her eyes snapped shut and she thought for a second she did see Jesus Christ.

“Goddamn,” Damian burst. “Goddamn you taste good.” She whimpered, feeling the pad of his finger slide from the top of her clit to the bottom, and then she heard the very recognizable sound of him sucking his finger clean. He tugged the leggings the rest of the way off, tossing them over his shoulder, and then he crossed his arms, grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands, and smoothly lifted it over his head.

As Damian stood there in all his el campeón glory, his girlfriend fumbled with the camera, barely getting a shot of him before he grabbed her legs, spread them, and dove face first into her pussy. He licked and sucked with reckless abandon, nipped at her clit, and had her a writhing, sobbing mess almost immediately. A few times she struggled to keep her eyes open so she could watch the screen on the camera, watch Damian devour a bare, glistening pussy, watch the sex tape unfold in real time.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she divulged, gripping the sheets with her free hand. “I’m gonna cum …” Damian groaned, somehow digging deeper in her pussy, his long tongue slipping inside her. And just as she was about to tumble over the edge, Damian was gone, her pussy suddenly cold and unstimulated. She lifted her head and moved the camera. 

“What, you think we’re here for you?” Damian snarled, hands on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his chiseled chest to his swollen, weeping cock, and she unknowingly licked her lips. “Roll over,” he nodded at her, fisting his dick. Damian took the camera from her, and she rolled onto her stomach. “Up on your hands and knees.” She complied, body popping up on all fours, knees spreading, and he was on her instantly, slapping his cock on her ass. “I’m comin’ in raw,” he growled, and while she already knew this to be the case, hearing him say it in this scenario utterly flooded her pussy, and she whined. She pressed back against him. Damian chuckled, deep and throaty, much like villains in the superhero movies. He pulled her pink thong to the side, squeezing her ass cheek. “All you bitches are the same. Look at me.” She glimpsed him over her shoulder, sighing, still unable to believe she’d landed such a god among men in the first place. He held the camera at chest level and it was trained on her. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”

“Please fuck me,” she whispered. “I don’t care if you pay me—” He slid his cock back and forth along her dripping slit, coating it in her slick, and then he slipped it between her ass cheeks, continuing the same motion. “I don’t care if I get the job.” Damian’s eyes met hers, and in her peripheral, she saw him adjust the angle of the camera. “I just need you to fuck me. Please?”

Damian grinned, shaking his head, and he sheathed his entire cock inside her, shoving her forward onto her elbows, and she yelped. On any other day, he’d have stretched her to prepare her for his size, but not this Damian. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he roared, pulling almost completely out before shoving himself inside again, repeating the action a few times. He reached over her and placed the camera on the bed in front of her. She twisted the screen to see what was in the frame, and it was her in the foreground, bent over, Damian behind her, the material of her pink thong wrapped around his hand. “Maybe you’ll get the job after all.” He fucked her earnestly now, a steady, pounding pace. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Please,” she whined.

“Say it,” he said. “I know you want it … I wanna hear you fucking say it.”

“God,” she whimpered, “cum inside me. Please cum inside me.” Damian grunted, his thrusts becoming more powerful, faster. “I need it,” she continued, not sure if she was laying it on so thickly for her boyfriend or the camera. “I don’t need the job, I just need your fucking cum.”

“Fuck!” Damian shouted. One final pump and he was unloading inside of her. 

She laid her head on the mattress and looked at the camera, satisfied and smiling, reveling in the sensation of his cock contracting within her. “Thank you,” she purred.

Damian grabbed the camera, and she looked at him over her shoulder again. She giggled, shivering, as he probed her pussy with his fingers. “Look at that,” he said, and at the moment, she felt his cum seep out of her hole and down her slit. “Good girl.” He stood up, jeans and belt still hanging loosely on his hips. “Now get out. I got more interviews.”

** Querida - Dearest/Beloved, term of endearment  ** Corazón - Sweetheart ** Puta de mierda - Fucking slut

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girl, I love you and your stories <3

Can I maybe request an enemies to lovers with a female reader and Elijah, which leads to a threesome between her Elijah and Klaus. Maybe with a little punishment and very kinky maybe with a little light bondage and just light beds in general, I'll leave the details up to you

thank you already <333

Captive

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Klaus Mikaelson x Vampire!Reader} You are being held captive by a group of nasty witches, bring tortured, starved of blood and interrogated night and day... You've lost all hope, until two old enemies show up to save you, and you spend the evening reminiscing and making up for lost time.

♡♡ Thank you lovely anon! Its been so long since I did a ménage à trois with the boys & it's always so much fun to write! ♡♡

7.1k words {hehe} - Warnings: smut, lots of drinking, Klaus being a little shit, oral sex {m! and f! receiving}, a little bondage, praise kink, a little punishment, slight dom!Elijah and Klaus, blood sharing, rough sex, double penetration, overstimulation && aftercare ...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05

In the dark, dingy cell; there was no way to tell the passage of time. Not that you were in any condition to care about that.

It had been so long, you had forgotten the feeling of sunlight kissing you skin, the smell of flowers in the wind, the sound of birds chirping in the morning, the taste of rich red wine, the laughter of friends. The last few days- weeks? months?- were spent in a haze. Time had become a distant concept.

All you knew now was cold, stale, dirty water, and the constant pain of hunger, and the agony of torture.

At first you blamed your captors, with their unrelenting desire to grab at power. Then you blamed your stupidity, your lack of caution. But most of all you blamed the Mikaelsons, for they were who the witches had targeted. They were the ones you were being tortured for.

If only you had not made such enemies, if only you hadn't gotten involved, you could have lived your immortal life without consequence, without guilt. You would have avoided all the pain, all the torture. Indulging in men of that caliber always came with a price, you just didn't expect it to happen to you.

In a way, it was a mercy that your body had long since given out. That you had become too weak, too hungry, to do much more than lay against the dirty floor, staring blankly ahead. Soon your limbs would stop working, only dust left in your veins. You would desiccate and die a slow, painful death, the only relief would be your own insanity.

It was there, in that dark place, where you accepted your fate. The witch's spells kept you trapped, you were too weak to even crawl out the door, and there was no one who knew where you were, no one who would come for you.

That is, until you felt the cold chill of the witch's magic suddenly disappear, like a weight lifted from your shoulders. Then the sound of fighting outside, the screams of the witches and their death rattles, and the door creaking open. And a cold laugh you never thought you would hear again.

"Isn't this a sight?" Klaus said, crouching down outside of the cell, leaning close to the ground to meet your eyes, "I never thought I'd see you in such a state, little fox."

His tone was light, almost mocking, and his grin was as cold as ever. You blinked a few times, hoping you were imagining things, that the delirium had finally set in. You had experienced plenty of hallucinations since the witch's had captured you.

But he didn't disappear. He stayed, watching you, like a snake waiting to strike.

"She looks awful," He mused, looking you over.

"And she smell even worse," another voice chimed in, his soft lilting accent completely unfamiliar, and yet somehow familiar at the same time.

"You've let yourself go, sweetheart," Klaus teased.

"Are you going to sit and gawk, or are you going to rescue the poor girl," The second man said, his voice growing closer as he joined Klaus.

It was Elijah, his way with words unmistakable, even in the attempt at an American accent he spoke with now.

"I was actually thinking about killing her, would it be easier?" Klaus replied, his grin widening, "What do you think brother, is she a lost cause?"

Elijah peered through the bars, his dark eyes taking you in. You wanted to hide, or scream, or cry. His face bringing back a thousand buried memories, all the reasons why you had tried so hard to forget him.

"I'd say she's quite beyond salvation," he said, "but you know I could never resist a damsel in distress, even one as ugly as this."

That hurt, even though you certainly deserved it. Many great fables are written about the tragic love affairs of humans, but nothing compared to the heartbreaks between vampires.

Klaus laughed at the pain in your eyes, the way they watered ever so slightly, despite how weak and dehydrated you were. But he reached out and grabbed the iron gate, tearing it off the hinges with a grunt.

"I think we're past pleasantries, don't you agree, love?" He asked, striding into the cell and lifting you up.

The moment his hands touched your skin, you knew it was real. That by some divine miracle you were rescued and it was by the worst possible people.

"You should really take a bath, it's unbecoming for a lady to smell like a sewer." Elijah commented, watching the way you were limp in Klaus' arms.

You choked out a half laugh, half sob, every small movement felt like sandpaper rubbing against your skin. You swallowed hard and it felt like a knife had been forced down your throat.

"Fuck you," you wheezed.

"There she is!" Klaus said, holding you bridal style, "We were wondering if you had actually died."

Elijah reached out and placed a hand on your head, smoothing out your hair and giving you a gentle smile. You leaned into the touch, the first kindness you had felt in so long.

Klaus carried you out of the cell, and into the room above. He sat down in an old wooden chair, the same one you had been tortured in countless times. Your breathing hitched and you tried to struggle, but he held you tight, pressing his face into your neck.

"Relax," he said, "I'm not going to kill you … yet."

The threat hung in the air, and Elijah rolled his eyes at his brothers' dramatics. You felt the tip of his tongue lick up your neck, and his fangs graze your skin, before pulling away.

"Any of them still kickin'?" He asked Elijah, who was peering around the room.

"One, she's alive. Barely," he replied, his gaze falling on a witch laying face down on the floor, her neck was at a weird angle, no doubt snapped by Elijah.

He dragged her to the middle of the room, her body limp, but you could hear the faint beating of her heart, her blood still pumping. She was still clinging to the last threads of existence. Her blood smelled divine, the sound of her heartbeat was music to your ears.

"Here's a deal," Klaus said, pulling your attention back to him, "I give you her blood, and you answer our questions. Sound fair?"

Your lips were chapped and your throat was dry, but you forced out an answer, "Yes, please."

You hadn't begged for anything the entire time the witches had imprisoned you. Not for freedom, not for mercy, not for blood, not even for your own life. But in that moment, all of your pride had been stripped away, and there was nothing left but desperation.

Elijah lifted the witch up, biting down on her wrist and offering it to you. The taste of fresh blood filled your mouth, and you moaned, gulping down as much as you could. But the relief didn't last long, as he pulled away.

"Enough," he said, his grip tight, "can't have you drinking too much."

You felt life returning to your limbs, your bones tingling as you were able to wiggle them, your skin turning from a gray pallor to its usual color. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough to take the edge off.

"Now, let's start with the obvious," Elijah said, "Why are you here?"

"On vacation," you replied sarcastically, your voice hoarse, but not as quiet as before.

Elijah didn't say anything, instead he gave you a cold stare, daring you to make another joke. You shrunk away, but not much. It had been so long since you had been with them, but the way they made you feel, was ingrained into your bones.

"The witches, what do they want from you? I will not ask you again," He asked, the anger behind his words making you nervous.

"They wanted you two," you said, "they knew we had...history."

"History?" Klaus said, chuckling, "that's a very bland word for what we had."

You bit your tongue. He wasn't wrong, but you weren't willing to admit that to them.

"They thought I could get to you, so they tortured me," you explained.

"And could you? Get to us?" Elijah asked, his eyes narrowed.

You didn't respond, instead you looked down. The truth was, you had been avoiding them for centuries and to do that, you always kept tabs on them. So yes, if you wanted to, you could have gotten to them, but that would have meant reopening old wounds, and the last thing you wanted was to feel that pain all over again.

"We could always compel the answer out of you," Elijah mused.

You shook your head. It wasn't that they couldn't, but that they didn't need to. You were already at their mercy, and had no desire to fight them.

"I... I kept your secrets, no matter how much they tortured me," You said, "I never told them anything."

"How noble," Klaus replied, rolling his eyes, "your loyalty is truly inspiring, sweetheart."

His grip tightened on your body, his fingers digging into your skin. It was starting to make you angry. Yes, they had saved you, but the way they spoke to you, the way they were acting, it was too much.

"Fuck off," you snapped, "I could have given them anything, and yet, here I am, starving and tortured. So maybe a little respect would be nice, you prick."

Elijah let out a short, sharp laugh, while Klaus glared at you. But after a moment he grinned and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver up your spine.

"You were always so bold," Klaus said, "you never were afraid of me."

"She's a fool then," Elijah replied.

"Well, what is life without a few fools, brother?" Klaus asked.

"Boring," you replied, earning a smirk from both of them.

Elijah leaned down, grabbing the witch by the hair and placing her head on your lap. She was so close to dying, you could hear her heartbeat getting weaker and weaker. You looked down at her, the smell of her blood filling the air, and licked your lips.

"Drink up now, you've earned it," he said, stroking the back of her head.

You sank your teeth into her neck, the taste of her blood filling your mouth, as you greedily sucked up as much as you could. Nothing tasted better than draining the life out of a witch.

When you finished, you tossed the body aside, licking your lips and wiping your mouth. You were finally able to relax, your stomach full, your skin returning to a healthy color. You stood up, steady and sure on your feet for the first time in months.

"Where do you think you're going?" Klaus asked, reaching out and grabbing your wrist.

"A hotel, I'm thinking luxury suite, room service, a month long spa treatment, the works," you replied, "thanks for the save, I'm off."

You tried to pull your arm away, but his grip tightened, yanking you towards him.

"Such hubris, little fox," he said, his voice cold and menacing, "you don't really think we're going to just let you go, do you?"

You struggled in his grasp, but it was no use. He was too strong, and you were still too weak. You looked to Elijah, a silent plea, but he just shrugged, an amused smile on his lips.

"What the hell do you mean?" You asked.

"Well, there is the fact that you owe us a favor, but also," he said, leaning forward, his mouth brushing your ear, "I still think your lying,"

And with that, he reached for your neck and with one swift move he snapped it. You didn't even have a chance to react, and as you fell to the ground, the world fading away.

When you woke up, you were somewhere else, on a large, incredibly comfortable sofa, the smell of leather and wood in the air. The light was dim, and it took you a moment to get your bearings. You heard a crackling fire, the sounds of music playing from somewhere, and the voices of the Mikaelson's arguing.

"I don't believe she was lying," Elijah said.

"Really, I'm surprised at you brother," Klaus replied, "considering how she ended things with you,"

Elijah sighed and didn't respond. You couldn't see him, but you imagined him adjusting his suit, and the way his jaw twitched when he was annoyed.

"I'm not inclined to trust her either," Elijah said, "But I think holding her captive is pointless,"

"She's a risk," Klaus argued, "and she's not leaving till I'm sure she's not lying."

You sat up and glanced around, trying to see where they were. It was a large living room, the furniture was ornate and expensive, with antique looking paintings on the wall, and bookshelves lining every surface. There was a coffee table next to the sofa you were on, and your eyes landed on a fresh horror that was laying there.

You let out a blood curdling scream, one that echoed in the space and made Klaus and Elijah appear almost instantly. You were still staring, frozen in place, unable to look away.

A human head was sitting on the table, his skin pale and his eyes wide and lifeless. It was one of the witches that had tortured you, and it was sitting there, staring at you.

"Jesus Christ, is that necessary?" You snapped, pointing at the head.

Klaus grinned, looking down at the head, and shrugging, "I thought you would appreciate the gesture,"

"I don't!" You exclaimed.

"Perhaps you could have done something a little less barbaric," Elijah suggested.

"Oh come now brother, where's the fun in that," Klaus replied, and Elijah rolled his eyes.

"It's a peace offering," Klaus replied, walking over and lifting the head up, tossing it from one hand to the other, "do you like it?"

"No!" You yelled, covering your eyes and trying not to gag, "I want it gone, get rid of it,"

"Oh, come on little fox, don't be so uptight," He replied, his voice low and dangerous, "I remember when you used to enjoy this sort of thing,"

An awkward tension filled the room. Elijah cleared his throat and Klaus laughed.

"Too far?" He asked.

"Just a bit," Elijah replied.

"Sorry, my bad," he said, turning his attention back to you, "now, let's discuss how you're going to repay us."

"What, not even a hello, or how are you?" You asked, standing up.

Elijah gently pushed you back down onto the sofa. He sat down next to you, giving you a small smile, and placing a hand on your knee. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you cursed yourself for the reaction. You had been the one to ruin things with him, and yet, being near him again, it made you wish you hadn't.

"This happy reunion calls for wine!" Klaus called, he chucked the head somewhere out of sight and strided over to a mini bar, pulling out a bottle and glasses, "unfortunately I don't have anything fancy at this particular bar, but this is a decent 1990s vintage, which I think is passable,"

"I don't drink anything after the 1900s," Elijah replied, leaning back against the sofa.

Klaus scoffed, but didn't reply, instead he poured himself a glass and downed it in one gulp.

"Fine," he grumbled, "make me go to the cellar, like some sort of servant,"

"If the shoe fits," Elijah quipped.

You watched the exchange, trying to process everything that had happened. They were different now, their accents and mannerisms, not to mention their appearances. But the easy banter between them, and the way they were able to get under each other's skin, that hadn't changed one bit.

"Are you two ever not at each other's throats?" You asked, leaning back, "seriously, you are worse than an old married couple."

"Far worse," Klaus yelled, before disappearing down a hallway, off to retrieve the good wine.

"Don't mind him," Elijah said, turning to you, "he's never been very appreciative of fine cuisine."

"I know. He's a heathen," you replied, smiling.

Elijah didn't return the smile, his gaze fixed on you, a strange expression on his face. His eyes were dark and intense, and the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable you felt.

"You've changed," he said.

"So have you," you replied, "it's been centuries and I wasn't exactly eager to run into either of you again."

He didn't respond. The silence hung in the air, neither of you wanting to talk about the elephant in the room. What had happened, was painful, and neither of you had really moved on.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bit your lip. A million lies flashed through your mind. The truth was cruel, and you didn't want to admit it, but it was the only option.

"Because I was bored," you admitted, "and I didn't know any other way to handle it, so I turned it all off,"

"And found a far more vigorous lover in the process," Klaus said, suddenly appearing with an older bottle of wine.

He handed it to Elijah, who looked over the label and nodded. Klaus gave you a wink and sat down on the chair across from the two of you.

Elijah didn't speak, and you couldn't read his expression. He looked hurt, and his gaze turned away from you. Guilt was a feeling you spent a lot a time accepting back into your life, but to witness the consequences, that was far worse.

"Whoops, still a sore subject I see," Klaus teased.

"Niklaus, shut up," Elijah snapped.

Klaus threw his hands up in mock surrender, and didn't say anything, a satisfied smile on his face. He was just as much to blame as you, but clearly he had no remorse and was loving the awkwardness of the moment.

Elijah uncorked the wine and poured a glass for all three of you. The tension in the room was still palpable, and as much as you wanted to apologize, you knew that nothing would fix what you had done.

"To reunions, and bloody witches," Klaus said, raising his glass, "to past lovers and new enemies, to the future, whatever that may bring,"

He chuckled and took a long drink. You and Elijah didn't move, still looking away from each other.

"Oh, come on, I'm not doing this whole thing alone," Klaus said, glaring at the two of you, "let's play a game,"

"You know, I'm not really in the mood for a game," you said, crossing your arms.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not asking," Klaus replied, his voice dripping with false kindness, "now, the rules are simple, tell the truth or take a drink,"

"We are not children," Elijah protested, "we don't need games to imbibe,"

"Oh, I beg to differ," Klaus said, "so, what shall we ask first? Hmmm... oh, how about, why were you in New Orleans?"

You stared at him, unsure if you should just answer, or try to get out of the game. He was looking at you, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. You could feel his anger, and the last thing you wanted was to piss him off.

"I needed an answer to a question," you replied, "it's… important to me,"

Klaus and Elijah exchanged a glance, both of them curious about what you meant.

"How intriguing," Klaus said, leaning back, "and what was this question?"

"Doesn't work that way," you replied, a smile creeping onto your face, "it's your turn,"

"Clever girl," Klaus replied, grinning.

"My turn," Elijah said, turning to Klaus, "where did you find this bottle,"

"Why does that matter?" Klaus replied, annoyed.

"I don't remember seeing that year in the cellar," Elijah replied, taking a sip.

"Perhaps it was from your secret stash…" Klaus asked, smirking, "the one I'm not supposed to know about?"

Elijah glared at him, and you stifled a laugh. Their arguments were always funny, and this was no exception.

"Well, I was feeling sentimental, so I grabbed one of the better years," Klaus explained, "what's the harm in a little nostalgia,"

Elijah didn't say anything, his gaze turning back to the glass, swirling the wine around.

"My turn," you said, "how did you find me?"

"Simple," Klaus said, "we have spies everywhere, and witches are the most gossiping creatures on the planet. When I heard they were torturing a lovely little vampire that matched your description, well… we just had to see for ourselves,"

You were shocked, that they had gone out of their way to find you. You hadn't expected them to care, or even remember you, and to know they had saved you just because they could, it was a strange feeling.

"But, why bother saving me?" You asked, genuinely curious, "you don't owe me anything, not after how I left things,”

They both fell silent, exchanging a glance that seemed to have an entire conversation within it. After a moment, Elijah spoke.

"It's always better to know where our enemies stand," he said, "you are a useful asset, and a potential enemy,"

"And," Klaus added, "we love killing witches who get too big for their boots,"

Elijah glared at him and then sighed, "That too,"

You didn't say anything, their reasoning making perfect sense. You had a history with the two of them, but that didn't mean you were friends.

Elijah's arm stretched behind you, casually resting on the back of the couch. His fingers brushed your shoulder and you felt your breath catch. His hand was warm and you could feel his thumb stroke your shoulder.

"What did the witches ask you?" he said, his voice soft and low. “Tell us the whole truth,”

His hand moved subtly to the back of your neck, a quiet threat, one that didn't require words. You understood the unspoken message and knew that if you didn't give him an answer he was happy with, then you would end up the same way as the head that was somewhere in the house.

"They asked about your weaknesses, how to kill you," you admitted, "I told them to go fuck themselves and in return they upped to torture severely,”

Klaus snorted, clearly impressed. He poured himself another glass, while Elijah gave you a satisfied nod.

"Why the loyalty? We haven't spoken in centuries," Elijah asked, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck, "I seem to remember you hating us both,"

You picked up your glass and took a long drink, not saying anything.

"Not a fan of the question?" He asked.

"It's not loyalty, but self preservation," you said, shrugging, "the wrath of witches is one thing, but you two? That's a death wish,"

Klaus laughed and held up his glass, "well played, sweetheart,"

Elijah didn't remove his hand, his fingers lightly caressing the nape of your neck, his gaze never wavering from yours.

"My turn," you said, trying not to squirm under his touch, "why not kill me? You are clearly afraid I hold secrets you rather I didn't,"

"Call it … Nostalgia," Klaus said, a wicked grin on his face, "I do so love to reminisce, and if I am being honest, you are one of the more fun memories,"

"Ah yes, your one weakness, sentimental attachment to those you've slept with," you quipped, taking another drink, the alcohol warming your throat.

"I guess it's the one thread of our humanity we've never been able to shake," Klaus admitted.

You raised your glass and downed the rest of it, setting the glass down with a small clink. Elijah refilled it, his hand now resting on your lower back. You tried to ignore it, but every touch made you more aware of him, and less able to concentrate.

"Let's make a deal," Klaus said, his expression serious, "we will let you go, if you answer why you are in New Orleans,"

You bit your lip, wondering if they would even believe you.

"I'm here because..." you paused, looking down at the ground, "I heard a witch here can help with... Fertility,"

They both froze, a stunned look on their faces.

"A baby?" Elijah asked, his eyes wide.

"Is that what you've been chasing all these centuries?" Klaus asked, clearly surprised.

You looked up at both of them, two of the oldest beings to walk this earth. Them, of all people, you hoped would understand your reasons.

"I've experienced everything I've ever wanted too in my long life," you began, your hands twisting in your lap, "climbed the tallest mountains, swam in the deepest oceans, drank with Kings of long forgotten empires, fucked and fed from the greatest artists, poets, warriors and philosophers the world has ever known... but now I wish for only one thing,"

You stopped, swallowing a lump in your throat, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"To be a mother," you whispered, "to impart my wisdom on someone, and love them more than anything. To show them the beauty of the world and watch them grow up, have children of their own, and carry on a legacy. It's the one thing I haven't done, and the one thing I want most in the world,"

You thought that Klaus would laugh, perhaps even mock you, but he didn't, instead his expression was sympathetic, and Elijah's was one of understanding.

"You are not the wild, reckless creature that we used to know," Klaus said, "you have changed,"

"And so have you," you replied.

The three of you sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of the conversation settle.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Elijah asked, his arm now firmly around your waist.

"All I found was a chains and a cell," you replied, "I was a fool, blinded by hope. All that awaited me was pain,"

Klaus poured you another drink, they couldn't help you, but at least they could offer you a distraction.

The night quickly dissolved into a drunken revelry. The three of you laughing and drinking, the old days a source of amusement. Your belly was full of blood and wine, and the tension between the three of you had dissipated.

"Now that I have determined you aren't a threat, it's time to get down to the real questions," Klaus said, "who is the better lover? Me or my dear brother,"

"Seriously?" You exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

"What?" He replied, "I'm just curious, I promise I won't get jealous,"

"I'm not answering that," you said.

"Yes, well, I would rather not hear the answer," Elijah interjected.

"You are no fun," Klaus replied, and then leaned forward, his gaze intense, "I'm going to assume it's me,"

"Interesting assumption," you said, raising an eyebrow, "but if we're talking about skills, there is a clear winner,"

Elijah grinned, and Klaus shot you an offended look. You laughed and finished the rest of the wine, setting the glass on the table.

"And I've always preferred passion over... Enthusiasm," you said, a hint of teasing in your voice.

Elijah didn't look up from his drink, his face neutral, but you could tell he was smiling. Klaus huffed, and crossed his arms.

"I would be delighted to remind you," Klaus said, leaning forward and placing a hand on your thigh, "just say the word, and we can retire to a more comfortable location."

You grabbed his wrist and twisted, until you felt his bones shatter. He cried out in pain, then quickly recovered, the bones snapping back into place.

"That's not how this works," you replied, smiling sweetly.

He stared at you, his expression changing from shock to a pleased smile.

"Still the same fire, I see," he replied, "a good reminder of the past,"

"If I were to sleep with either of you again, it would be on my terms, certainly not when I'm held captive," you snapped.

"Who said anything about holding you captive," Klaus replied, "if we were, you would still be shackled to the wall,"

"Some might enjoy that sort of thing," Elijah remarked, his cheeks were a bit rosy from drink and you enjoyed how it made him seem less cold.

"Have you done that sort of thing Elijah?" You teased, "I never would have taken you for a deviant,"

He shrugged, a sly smile on his face, "I don't divulge such things,"

"Oh, please, you can tell us," Klaus said, "unless you haven't, and are simply trying to pretend like you have,"

"Or perhaps he has and is ashamed of the things he's done," you added, laughing.

Elijah glared at the two of you, the playful glint in his eyes giving him away. He simply stood up and held out his hand to you, the confidence in his stance and the way he looked at you sent a jolt of heat through your body.

"The only way to know for sure, is to experience it for yourself," he said, his tone seductive, "I'll leave the choice up to you,"

You stared at him, a sudden desire coursing through your veins. This was a terrible idea, but at the same time, a chance to have a night of freedom and pleasure after months of torture was an offer you couldn't resist.

"If I say no, am I free to go?" You challenged, meeting his gaze.

"You were never a prisoner," he replied, "the only person keeping you here is yourself,"

He was right. They hadn't chained you, or compelled you, and now that the threat of danger was gone, there was nothing stopping you from walking out the door. But that was not what you wanted, and the look in his eyes was too enticing.

"Alright, but I need a shower first, I still smell of dungeon and witch piss," you said, standing up and taking his hand, "and you better not disappoint,"

He smiled, his eyes dark with desire, and pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was intense, and you clung to his shoulders, melting into his embrace.

Klaus scoffed, he loathed being left out.

"Really?" he grumbled, pouring himself another glass. "Can you keep the noise to a minimum, I would prefer to have a little sleep tonight,"

You let out a soft giggle, "oh, don't pout, you can come too,"

Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking to his brother for an answer. Elijah nodded, a smirk on his face.

"If she insists," Elijah said, his voice smooth, "you know I've never been good at denying her,"

Klaus immediately got to his feet, throwing his glass of wine into the fireplace. The flames leapt up, the red embers glowing, illuminating the room in a fiery light. He walked over and wrapped an arm around your waist, his lips brushing your ear, his hand cupping your ass.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've fantasized about having you in bed again?" He whispered, his breath hot against your neck.

You smiled and pushed him away, enjoying his expression of surprise.

"Well, then, why are we still standing here," you said, sauntering out of the room, "the night won't last forever,"

Elijah caught up with you in the hallway, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you up against the wall. He kissed you, his hands sliding down to your thighs and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ran your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss.

He carried you all the way to his bedroom, never once breaking the kiss. The room was dark, and the bed was large and covered in dark silk sheets. He pointed to his bathroom, and you pulled your tattered clothes off, leaving them on the floor.

You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to get warm. You felt his arms wrap around you and turned around, letting him press you up against the tile. He kissed you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of bare skin, his touch igniting a fire within you.

Klaus quickly joined you, he had undressed in the other room, and stood naked in the doorway. You smiled at him, enjoying the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

Elijah pulled away from you to undress and you watched as his shirt was unbuttoned and fell to the ground. His pants followed, and your eyes roamed his body, admiring his muscular frame. The two of them were opposites in many ways, but they both had a beauty to them, and right now you could hardly choose which one you wanted more.

You took both their hands and pulled them under the steamy water, running your hands across their skin. Their bodies were warm and firm, their skin soft under your fingertips. You kissed Elijah, while Klaus kissed and licked your breasts, his hands wandering between your legs.

You could feel his fingers brush against your wet core, his thumb pressing against your clit. He slowly circled the sensitive nub, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Your hands wandered down to Elijah's cock, gently stroking the hard length.

Elijah kissed you, his lips trailing down your neck, his hand gently caressing your breasts. You moaned, enjoying the feeling of their hands on your body.

Their touch was overwhelming, hands and mouths everywhere, and it was only when the water started to turn cold that you all stepped out, laughing and breathless.

Elijah pulled you on to his bed, and you fell on to his chest. His lips found yours and you lost yourself in his kiss. You felt the bed dip and Klaus pressed his lips against your shoulder, his hands running along your thighs. He kissed his way down your spine, his hands pushing your ass up in the air.

His lips trailed along the curve of your lower back, his fingers tracing the line of your hip. He placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh and you moaned, anticipation coiling in your stomach.

You felt his tongue flick across your pussy and you gasped, arching your back. He chuckled and began licking and sucking, his tongue expertly teasing your clit.

Elijah's hands cupped your face and you turned your attention back to him. His eyes were blown wide with lust, his gaze fixed on yours. You kissed him, the taste of the wine still lingering on his lips. His cock was hard against your stomach and you could feel his desire pulsing through his veins.

Your hand trailed down his chest, and you wrapped your fingers around his cock, slowly stroking the thick shaft. His eyebrows arched in pleasure, and you could feel his muscles tighten.

You kissed your way down his chest until you were level with his cock. You ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, enjoying the sound of his low moans. A gentle hum left your throat and you felt him shudder.

You took him in your mouth, gently sucking and swirling your tongue. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair. His grip tightened and you increased your pace, taking his length deeper.

Klaus moved away for a moment, and you could see Elijah observing whatever he was doing, a dark smile spreading across his face. You felt the bed dip as Klaus returned, and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back.

A moment later, the soft leather of a belt wrapped around them, and he secured the belt, tight enough that you couldn't move, but not too tight that it hurt.

Elijah's eyes met yours, and a wicked smile played across his lips. "Do you enjoy being tied up? Being helpless and at our mercy?" He asked, his voice a deep growl.

You nodded eagerly, taking him further into your mouth. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair, his hips thrusting forward. You could feel him hit the back of your throat and gagged, your eyes watering.

Klaus kissed your lower back, then positioned himself at your entrance. You gasped as he slowly slid inside, the stretch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He held still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then slowly began to move.

You moaned, the sensation of being filled by both of them overwhelming. They began to move in a steady rhythm, Klaus thrusting into you while Elijah fucked your mouth. You were helpless, pinned between them, unable to do anything but submit.

The sound of their pleasure sent a shiver of delight through you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to release. Elijah's breathing became ragged, and his grip on your hair tightened. You knew he was close, so you focused on pleasuring him, moving all the way down and swallowing.

He let out a low groan and came, his hot release spilling into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, then pulled away, gasping for air. You smiled up at him, his expression one of bliss.

Klaus continued to thrust into you, his pace increasing. He leaned forward and bit into your shoulder, his fangs sinking deep. You cried out in pain and pleasure, your body shuddering. His bloodlust combined with his own pleasure, the feeling overwhelming, but just as you were about to cum, he stopped.

You let out a whine, and he chuckled, his hands squeezing your ass.

"I don't think I'm quite ready for this to end," he murmured, pulling out.

Elijah's hands moved down to your arms, pulling you forward and guiding you onto his lap. You straddled him, your hands still bound behind your back, and his cock brushed against your wet core.

"Do you remember how you used to love riding me?" He whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

You nodded, eager for him to fill you. He grinned and lifted your hips, slowly lowering you onto his cock. He gripped your hips and began to move you up and down. You moaned, resting your head on his shoulder and grinding your hips.

Klaus positioned himself behind you, and you felt his hand trail down your back. His fingers traced the line of your ass, and then he spread your cheeks, exposing your other hole.

"You are such a pretty little thing," he murmured, pressing a finger against your ass, "all tied up and at our mercy,"

He slid a finger inside, the tight ring of muscle giving way. You moaned, the feeling of being filled by both of them overwhelming.

Klaus coated his cock with a lubricant and pressed it against your ass. Elijah held you still, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss. You could feel the tip of Klaus' cock pushing into your ass and whimpered, the stretch bordering on painful.

Klaus slowly sank into you, letting out a low groan. He began to thrust, his movements slow and deep. The feeling of both of them inside you was almost too much, and you moaned, your body trembling.

"Are you enjoying this, love?" Klaus asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yes," you whimpered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Elijah kissed along your jaw, his fingers digging into your hips, guiding your movements, rocking you back and forth on their cocks.

You felt the heat of their bodies pressed against yours, and their hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, and teasing. The smell of their sweat and desire was intoxicating, and you were lost in the pleasure, your mind spinning.

Klaus pulled on your wrists, his mouth colliding with the side of your neck. You cried out as he bit into you, his fangs piercing your skin. Elijah kissed the other side, mirroring his brother's bite.

The combination of the pleasure and pain was too much, and you came, your orgasm crashing through your body. You writhed in their arms, your body trembling, waves of ecstasy washing over you.

They kept you pinned between them, bouncing you up and down, their movements rough and animalistic. The belt came loose, and your hands came free.

You wrapped your arms around Elijah's neck as another orgasm hit, this one even more intense than the last. He smiled at the look of pure bliss on your face and kissed you, his hands tangled in your hair.

Klaus groaned, pressing himself deep as he came, then he slowly pulled out, kissing the nape of your neck.

Elijah soon followed, his eyes meeting yours as he shuddered, spilling into you. You collapsed against him, exhausted and sated. He gently stroked your hair, his gaze soft and loving.

"I forgot how good you are at that," you mumbled, your eyes drifting closed.

He chuckled, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin. You snuggled against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

Klaus laid down next to the two of you, his eyes bright, and a smile on his face. "What about me? Any thoughts?" He asked, and you giggled, the alcohol still coursing through your system.

"You were pretty good, too," you replied, reaching out and patting his arm.

He grinned, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. "I don't know why we didn't do this earlier, it would have saved us all a lot of trouble," he said.

Elijah nodded, a small smirk on his lips, "you may be right,"

"I'm sorry for leaving you the way I did," you said softly, running your hands through Elijah's hair, "and thank you for coming to save me,"

He nodded, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, then helped you off his lap, and onto the bed, covering the three of you with a silk sheet.

"Do you mind if I stay here a while? It's been so long since I've had a good night's sleep," you mumbled, your fingers curling into Elijah's chest, holding him tight.

He didn't reply, just pulled you closer, his hand stroking your back, lulling you to sleep.

"We've got all the time in the world, love," Klaus said softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll make sure no more nasty witches get their hands on you,"

It had been so long since you had felt so content, you could feel the warmth of their skin, smell their cologne, hear the beat of their hearts. You could taste the blood and whiskey in the air, and it felt right, like you had come home.

[rosyrosethings]

KIng Harry and The Nanny p2

this is part 2 of Harry and the nanny. you don't have to read part 1. This is just another part of the story.

Warning: smut, fluff, blow job,

Harry's heart raced like a teenage boy's when he was near her. Every afternoon, as the children drifted off to sleep, his desire for her became overwhelming and irresistible. He would quietly slip away from his duties as king and pull her into any vacant space they could find - a closet, an unoccupied room - just to indulge in her sweet taste. Even just a simple kiss from her was enough to satisfy his longing. It had been so long since he had felt genuine affection from anyone, and he craved her attention more than anything else. When they were alone, she would always tenderly kiss his head before returning to their daily routines. Harry lived for those moments, cherishing every kiss on his forehead from her. Y/n was well aware of the nature of their relationship; after all, he was the married king and she was only the nanny. But she couldn't deny the intense craving she felt for his touch, his love, anything that came from him.

On this particular Saturday night, Y/n relished in having the day off from her duties and lounged at home with her roommate Bri, unable to shake off thoughts of Harry. Her and Bri set there enjoying there second bottle of wine and each other company.

"Bri its all he doess, doesn't do anything else. He won't even let me touch him." She said, resting on the couch looking at her roomate Bri.

"Maybe he’s like really into pleasing you." She said looking up at her offering her comfort.

"Yea he is but He wants more I could tell. Maybe he just doesn't want me in that way." She said sadly.

"No he wants you. Everyone who sees you wants you in that way." She said looking at her up and down. Y/n laughed

"I am serious bri.." she said laughing

"Maybe hes gay." Bri said, Y/n laughed harder

"Oh please, Bri. He's definitely not gay," Y/n said, rolling her eyes. "You should see the way he looks at me sometimes. It's like he wants to devour me whole."

Bri waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Ooh, sounds steamy. So why don't you make a move then? Take control for once?"

Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's not that simple. He's the king, remember? And married. I can't just throw myself at him."

"Why not? Sounds like he's already throwing himself at you every chance he gets," Bri pointed out.

Y/n bit her lip, considering. "I don't know... What if I'm reading too much into it? What if he rejects me?"

Just then, Y/n's phone buzzed with a text.

‘I know it’s your day off but I need to see you.’ -Harry

‘Is everything okay?’ -Y/n

‘I’m just missing you. I’m coming over now.’- Harry

The text threw her for a loop. Y/n immediately shot up and started straightening up the apartment

“Are you okay?” Bri asked watching her jump from place to place erratic cleaning.

“He’s coming over! Bri go to your room. I didn’t tell him i told you. I was supposed to keep the affair a secret.” She said,

Bri's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth forming a perfect O shape. "Wait, what? He's coming here? Now?" She jumped up from the plush couch, scattering scattered items as she grabbed her phone and hastily stuffed them into her bag. "Okay, okay, I'm going." Her voice was strained with excitement and urgency. "But you better tell me everything later!"

As Bri hurried off into her room, Y/n's heart raced with anticipation and nerves. She quickly smoothed down her hair, checking herself in the mirror and straightening her clothes. The doorbell rang just moments later, startling her.

As Y/n's heart raced with anticipation, she reached for the door handle and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She swung the door open to reveal Harry standing there, his tall frame shrouded in an all-black ensemble. A dark hoodie was pulled up over his head, casting shadows over his face, while large, opaque sunglasses shielded his eyes from view. Despite the darkness surrounding him, Y/n could still feel the intensity of his gaze on her as she stood before him,

"Y/n," he breathed out, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. As soon as he entered, he shed his hood and shades, revealing his mesmerizing green eyes that seemed to intensify upon locking onto hers. In an instant, he had her pressed against the wall, his body flush against hers. His lips crashed onto hers in a passionate kiss that took her breath away. "I couldn't wait to do that," he whispered huskily as he pulled away, leaving Y/n feeling weak at the knees.

"Maybe we should go to my room, don't want to wake my roommate." She said looking up at him. He smiled

"Lead the way love." She smiled at him grabbing his hand leading him to her bedroom.  She opened the door to her room quickly closing the door behind him. She immediately started to kiss him again. Softly leading him to her bed. She pushed him down on the mattress. Her standing over him.

"Hoodie off." She demanded, he smiled at her attitude. She wanted to please him for once. He obliged taking off his hoodie. Revealing his bare chest. Y/n sat on his lap straddling him.

"I can't wait to have you in my mouth." He said looking up at her. She kissed his lips.

"Not today I will have you in mines." She said kissing his lips again. She felt him stiffening up at her response. Harry was scared. She pushed him down on her mattress as she kissed his neck.

"What wrong? You don't want me to please you." She asked looking at him propped up on both of her hands. Ge saw the disappointment in her eyes.

"No baby, I just haven't had sex in a long time. I don't want to cum to fast. Just looking at you makes me dick hard. I bust just eating you out. I could imagine how it would be inside you." He said, looking up at her. She pressed down her hips to his. Grinding against his dick which was hard already.

"I don't care if you cum quick. I want you inside me I want to see your face while you're deep in my pussy." She said leaning down to kiss him. His dick twitched at her words. There lips moved against one another her hands made her way down his chest. She sat up taking off her shirt.

She slowly slid off of him, her fingers hooking around the waistband of his black joggers as she helped him remove them. Her hands moved effortlessly, unfastening his pants and revealing a pair of gray briefs underneath. In the dim light, she could see the outline of his strong hips and toned muscles, causing a wave of desire to wash over her. She couldn't resist running her hands along his defined abdomen, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. It was as if she couldn't get enough of him, wanting to explore every inch of his body with her touch.

“Gotta get these off.” A mischievous smile played on her lips as she reached for the waistband of his gray briefs. With a teasing tug, she pulled them down, revealing his eager arousal that pressed against his stomach. She gazed at it with a lust in her eyes, knowing that she was in full control of his pleasure. Her hand went him. Harry sighed in relief. Its been so long since he's been pleasured. Especially like this. Her hands went up and down his shaft.

“I’m gonna put you in my mouth now.” Her words dripped seductively from her lips as she looked up at Harry, her hand wrapped tightly around him. A feeling of pure ecstasy coursed through his body at the mere touch of her fingers. She placed a soft kiss on the tip before swirling her tongue around it, sending shivers down his spine. He struggled to hold back, determined not to reach his peak too soon in this blissful moment. But every sensation she created was like fire, filling him with an overwhelming desire for more. Every part of him wanted to surrender to her and fully give into this pleasure that she so expertly provided.

Y/n continued to pleasure Harry with expertise, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to bring him to the edge of ecstasy. She could feel his body tensing beneath her touch, his breath hitching with each movement she made. As she continued to take him deeper into her mouth, she could hear Harry's ragged breathing turning into soft moans of pleasure.

"Oh god, Y/n," Harry groaned, his voice husky with desire. "You're so good at this."

She hummed in response, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Encouraged by his praise, she increased the intensity of her movements, determined to make him lose control.

Harry's fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her rhythm as he whispered, "Faster, baby. I need more of you."

Y/n complied eagerly, taking him as deep as she could as she quickened her pace. The sounds of their passion filled the room, mingling with the creak of the bed and Harry's increasingly urgent pleas for more.

"I can't hold back much longer," Harry gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily.

Y/n pulled back slightly, her gaze locking with his before she teased, "Do you want to cum in my mouth, Harry?" Her hand still moving up and down his dick.

His eyes darkened with desire as he nodded eagerly. "Yes, please, Y/n.”

“Do it then.” She said, With a sultry smile before she took him back in fully, using every trick and movement she knew to push him closer to the edge. His dick fully down her throat.

As their connection intensified, Harry's moans grew louder and more desperate, echoing off the walls of the room. Y/n eagerly took him in her mouth, feeling his fingers tightly gripping her hair. With one final deep thrust into her mouth and a guttural groan of euphoria, Harry reached his peak. Y/n greedily swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him on her tongue. He came with such force that it almost overwhelmed her, but she eagerly lapped up every last bit of his pleasure.

As he came down from his high, Harry gazed up at Y/n with a mix of awe and gratitude. "That was… incredible," he panted, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Y/n grinned triumphantly before leaning in to press a lingering kiss on his lips. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she whispered softly against his skin.

Harry wrapped his arms around her. Pulling her close to him. He placed a kiss on her forehead. She looked up him as his hand traced her back

“When was the last time someone pleased you?” Y/n asked, looking up at him.

“Well charlotte is the only woman i have been with and I haven’t did anything with her since…”he said trailing off.

“Wait you’ve only been with charlotte?” She asked a bit shock. Feeling a bit like she took something away from him.

"And you." He said with nonchalant ease, his gaze steady and unwavering. Y/n sat up, her heart racing as she looked down at him. His face was a mixture of vulnerability and strength, making her heart ache for him. "But Charlottes more of a just a duty to my kingdom," he continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "My parents died when I was young, and Charlotte was one of the women they had approved of before their tragic accident. I had to marry quickly because of my impending kingship. But Charlotte was never my true love."

He reached out and gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. Y/n felt her cheeks flush with warmth at his touch and words.

"But then I saw you," he said softly, his eyes shining with fondness. "You took my breath away. You were wearing a black turtleneck sweater with white trousers and black boots, and a black hat to top it off. It was snowing but you were determined to get a picture of the palace for our social media. I happened to look out the window and saw you, and I couldn't help but ask William who the crazy lady outside was."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he remembered that day. "William told me you were American and that you worked on the royal social media team. And then I came downstairs shortly after, and there you were - standing in front of the fireplace in Buckingham Palace. Your hands were clasped in front of you, trying to warm them by the fire. Snowflakes were melting off your coat, but I could see your fingers were freezing cold."

His eyes softened as he recalled his actions that day. "I couldn't resist approaching you with a blanket to wrap around your shoulders. And then you turned and looked at me for the first time - our eyes met and I felt something I had never felt for anyone else.” He said, his green eyes meeting hers.

Y/n felt her heart swell with emotion at Harry's words. She remembered that day vividly - how nervous she had been on her first day working at the palace, how cold she had been after taking photos outside in the snow. And then how her breath had caught in her throat when she turned to see the handsome king offering her a blanket, his green eyes warm with concern.

"I remember," she said softly. "I was so flustered I could barely speak. You were so kind to me."

Harry's thumb stroked her hand gently. "From that moment on, I found myself looking for excuses to be near you. I'd walk through rooms I knew you'd be working in, hoping to catch a glimpse. When the nanny position opened up, I immediately thought of you - selfishly wanting you to be around more often."

Y/n's mind whirled with this newfound knowledge. The pieces of the puzzle were finally starting to come together. "So you're the one who recommended me for the job," she exclaimed, a playful giggle escaping her lips.

A warm smile spread across his face as he replied, "Yes, the best decision I ever made."

[wistfulwatcher]

in an era where every show without record-breaking ratings gets axed immediately, i would just like to say how deeply grateful i am that crazy ex-girlfriend managed to air for four whole seasons and tell one of the most beautiful and moving stories of self-acceptance and love i've ever seen.

i just finished rewatching it (yet again) and every time i do i just think what an absolute shame it would have been if it had been cancelled after one or two (or even three) seasons. because, while it was clever and fun from the beginning, rebecca's mental state required the show to be so boy-crazy that it was a little tough to believe that the show would end up seeing the story through to where we eventually end up. the audience certainly got hints as to its final message early on ("love doesn't need to be a person, it can be a passion"). but because rebecca was rejecting those messages, the audience sort of had to, too. and if the show had been cancelled while rebecca was obsessed with josh? certain that her only path to happiness was romantic love and validation from a man? if we had never seen her truly understand and acknowledge ghost!akopian's words? i'm sure there would have been articles speculating on where the series could have ended up, acknowledging with resigned tones that the show had potential, with the seeds that had been planted.

but god, discussion of "the potential" of the show would have paled in comparison to what we got. because hot damn, did cxg end up doing character growth better than the vast majority of other series. (and not just for rebecca! almost every character in the large ensemble got to grow in a very organic, subversive, and meaningful way!) for a show that was consistently in danger because of their extremely low ratings, it was pretty ballsy of cxg not to rush through rebecca's story to prove its intention. for them to let rebecca be as frustrating and unlikable and unhealthy as she was for so many episodes, simply because they knew how necessary it was to show us the depth of rebecca's mistakes and struggles before she finally sought help and began to heal and grow. and the story was so, so much better and poignant for it. rebecca's season four growth feels very earned, and her end of series resolution to pursue her passion (her true love!) is so satisfying because it feels realistic. the audience has spent four years seeing her love for theater (and how it got tangled up in josh/the idea of romantic love) and when rebecca eventually realizes the same it's such a satisfying sense of finally.

it's an experience that has become painfully rare lately; too many series feel as though they're trying to cram as much into the first season as they can for fear of cancellation, and allowing no room for characters or relationships or story to grow naturally. they don't allow for anything other than the bare minimum plot. their characters can't breathe.

cxg didn't do that. they continued to tell the story they were telling, at the pace at which it needed to be told. and the series was truly phenomenal because of that choice. because of that trust in its own story and characters. cxg is a perfect example of what television can be, how powerful it can be, when it's allowed to be treated like the long-form storytelling medium it is. and i am so grateful for that.

[jennaispunk]

Every Time You Go Away

Summary: You have very few vices and the biggest one is Javi. It can never be serious but tell that to your heart.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f! Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, angst, allusions to smut, fingering (f! receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up, peeps), idiots in love, unspoken feelings, longing, two people who want what they think they can’t have, smoking, reader understands Spanish but does not speak Spanish in this story, reader is shorter than Javi, has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, and can be picked up by him but no other physical description is given, reader has an occupation (she's a teacher). Reader has a nickname (cariño, and one other that I won't spoil here). If i missed anything, please let me know.

A/N: This fic was written for @yopossum mootboard challenge. I love this moodboard so much and I love how much it inspired me. Thanks to @fallingforthearch for being my #1 fan and to @fhatbhabiee for looking this over for me. This is the first thing I’ve written that’s anywhere close to being angsty and it killed me to not give these two a HEA (maybe I will someday)

divider and banner by @saradika-graphics

Most people would be out on the town on a Friday night, enjoying the bars and nightlife Bogotá has to offer, but not you. You sit at home on your couch, waiting. He’s going to knock on your door any moment now, he always does at this time of night. You sip your glass of wine and stare at the stack of ungraded papers spread over the coffee table. You had assigned your fifth-grade class an essay and now came the laborious task of reading them.

Why you do this to yourself, you’ll never know. Javi doesn’t love you and he probably never will. You are an outlet for him, a place where he can unload his stress and drown his worries inside you. You’re no better than a whore, but at least whores get paid. You let him use you for free. You let him use you and leave and you never ask for anything in return. You’re always there with a soft smile and a willing body. Damn, you wish you could turn him away, tell him that this isn’t working for you anymore, but you can’t. You’re in love with him, you have been since the moment you met at that boring Embassy party. The thought of him not being in your life hurts worse than being his fuck toy; at least you get to touch him, kiss him, give him some sort of comfort.

“Hey, cariño.”

He props himself against the doorframe, his lean body drawn to its full height. His leather jacket creaks as he moves his arm, and heat slowly spreads through your chest.

You silently make way for him to enter your apartment and softly close the door behind him. He moves across your apartment with feline grace, like he owns the place. You suppose he does, in a way. No other man has spent so much time in your apartment since you moved to Columbia.

He prowls over to the small bar near the kitchen and pours himself some whiskey. A soft chuckle fills the air as he realizes it’s his favorite brand. There’s only one store in Bogotà that sells this brand and it’s not that close to the school or your apartment. His heart squeezes in his chest, you really are too sweet for him.

He lands heavily on the couch, the familiar mixture of cigarette smoke, aftershave and whiskey invades your nostrils. The scent fills you with a myriad of emotion and your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth.

He lights a cigarette and takes a long drag as you settle onto the couch next to him. He’s the only one you would ever let smoke in your apartment. You sit close enough to touch him, but you don’t. Javi likes to be in control, and you wait for him to make the first move.

He shouldn’t do this to you. You should be with someone who could give you everything you need….someone who wasn’t him. He wasn’t any good for you, he knew that, yet he showed up at your door like he always does, and you let him in.

He knocks back his whiskey in one fluid gulp, his Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallows. You look so goddamn sexy in those silky lavender sleep shorts. His left hand clenches and unclenches trying not to jump you right then and there.

“What’s all this?”

He jerks his head toward the chaos in front of you. Leaning forward, he sets his empty class on the table and picks up the top sheet of paper.

The corner of your mouth tugs upward as he studies the paper with intensity. You could almost make yourself believe this is what it would be like if the two of you were actually a couple, the two of you sharing a quiet moment after a long day.

“My students had to write an essay on their dream job. I was trying to get a head start on grading them.”

His signature smirk played on his lips as he read.

“The Ambassador’s son wants to be a DEA agent, huh? Bet she loves that.”

Your soft laughter lifts over the quiet music you had playing in the background. The Ambassador had no love for the DEA agents working in Columbia, especially Javi and his partner Steve.

“Maybe I should have you come in and talk to the class.”

You were only half joking but the thought of the tough and stoic Javier Peña standing up in front of a group of ten year olds makes you smirk.

He drops the paper and loud sigh escapes his lips as he pinches the bridge of his nose. You know exactly what that means.

“Tough day?” you ask quietly.

He tells you about his day while you listen silently. He leaves out the worst parts, of course. He can’t bear to tell you the whole truth, not wanting to subject you to the worst parts of his job. You don’t need that.

His large, warm hand rests on your bare thigh. As he talked, his hand caresses your skin, his fingers kneading your soft flesh. The need to feel you, to possess you is almost overwhelming and he grits his teeth. Those lavender silk pajama shorts are killing him, so much of your creamy flesh is exposed to him. His hand snakes further up your thigh as he takes a deep breath.

You watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed, the heat burning between your thighs. You shouldn’t want this; you know exactly what this is, but you can’t help yourself. You need to hang onto him, even if what you have isn’t real. This is enough. Oh, the lies you tell yourself.

“Want a refill?”

You already know the answer. He never gets drunk with you. He never has more than one drink when he’s with you, but you always ask. You’re just buying time, trying to stretch out the time spent together as long as possible.

He shakes his head slowly. His shoulders sag like he’s carrying the weight of the world. He knows he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t do this, he should have just went to see Vanessa or one of the other girls. He hadn’t done that in weeks. You’re the only one who can give him what he needs.

“Come here, cariño.”

He pulls you into his lap and wraps his hands around your waist, keeping you settled securely in his lap, right over the bulge in his grey jeans. The heat from his body soaks into yours and desire pools at your core.

He couldn’t look you directly in the eyes for more than a few moments at a time. He knew exactly what he’d see there. He’d see the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and he knew that he was ruining you. He knew that you would never ask for more than he gave you and that broke his heart.

His lips crash against yours, his soft tongue plunging deep into your mouth. The wine on your tongue mixed with the whisky on his and he gripped your hips tighter. He wanted to lose himself in you, let you calm his raging soul, if only for a brief time.

Javi’s thick fingers snake up your back and into your hair. His grip is firm, but not painful. He doesn’t want to hurt you, even though that’s exactly what he’s doing. The pain may not be physical, but he was causing you pain, nonetheless.

He tilts your head back, his lips trailing down your neck. Vanilla and cherry fill his nose, a scent that’s uniquely you, driving his need for you even higher.

His teeth lightly graze your skin, and you moan softly. He knows just how to touch you, which parts of you are the most sensitive and he played your body perfectly.

He wraps your legs around his waist as he stands. His mouth is on yours again and he kisses you deeply as he takes the familiar walk toward your bedroom. It’s a trip he’s taken enough times that he doesn’t need his eyes to know where he’s going.

Your body looks so beautiful spread out for him on your soft sheets. You’re always so willing to let him have you anyway he wants. You give yourself to him so freely. How could someone so pure want someone like him? He’s not a good man and he doesn’t pretend to be. He did horrible things, told himself it was for the greater good but was it really? Are the things that he was doing worth it?

Javi slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he stood between your parted legs. He knows you like to watch him undress and he is more than happy to give you a show.

His smooth, tan chest is exposed to you little by little, making you throb harder with every pop of the buttons. The belt came next, unlatching it one handed as his other hand strokes your thigh.

You squirm as he unbuttoned his pants, giving you a peek at the small curve of his belly and the strip hair that led to the thing you wanted most.

He gently jerks you to a siting position. Practiced hands pull your tank top over your head, exposing you to him. He kneels before you, his soft lips brushing your neck. You’re so sensitive to him and it only serves to make him even harder.

Teeth gently nip at your exposed skin as he makes his way down your body. You are soft and so much of his world was rough. You soothe him, you make him feel whole.

“Javi…”

Just like always, you’re putty in his hands. You let him mold you in his image, desperate to have any piece of him that you could. You’d take anything he gave you. Despite what he might think, he’s a good man. You’ve seen how much he cares about his work and the people closest to him.

“Shhh, cariño….I’ve got you.”

His lips and tongue tease at your nipple, and your fingers tangle in his hair. He chuckles lightly into your skin as he plays your body like an instrument.

He pushes you back onto the bed and pulls off your shorts. His pupils are blown with lust as he marvels at the sight before him.

In a perfect world, he would take his time with you, he would treat you as gently as you deserve but he couldn’t. If he did, he’d only drag you down with him and he couldn’t live with that on his conscience. It was better to keep you at arms length, keep you safe.

His fingers drag through your wet folds and dip inside. He can’t hold back a strangled groan as your heat surrounds him. He works you slowly, opening you up for him until the tingle in your lower abdomen tells you it won’t be long before you came undone for him.

Your body clenches around his digits, your moans filling the room. Stars blind you as your orgasm ripped through your body with a vengeance. Javi’s hushed voice works you through it until you whimper his name.

You didn’t give you much time to recover before he was pulling off his jeans and his body covered yours, settling between your thighs. His weight on you feels good, comforting even but it shouldn’t. For now, you pretend this was more than it was. You pretend that this meant something and not just a way for him to release his tension.

He intertwines your fingers with his, pinning your hands to the bed. Holding your hands like this is the only bit of intimacy he allows himself.

He pushed himself inside you, holding back a moan. All his worries vanished as your warmth surrounded him. He’s lost in the feel of you, the way you grip him so tightly. He’s convinced this is the closest he’ll ever come to heaven.

His pace steadily increased as you moaned for him, making those sounds that he loved to hear. You sang so beautifully for him.

You mewled as he hit the spot that only he could reach, and you knew you were close to coming for him once again.

You cried out his name and your walls squeezed around him.

“That’s it, cariño…don’t fight it.”

You tried to hold back. You wanted this to last as long as possible because you know as soon as it was over the spell would be broken. You’d have to face the reality that you loved a man that didn’t love you back.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

You obey his command, and your walls fluttered around him as your second orgasm hit you. It felt like an electric shock through your entire body. Every nerve in your body fired all at once.

You whimper softly as the aftershocks ripple through you. Javi never stopped, working your through your orgasm once again as you whine and cry for him.

He picked up his pace and his hips slap against you as he chased his own release. His hips stutter as he buries his face into your neck and spilled himself inside you, painting you with his seed.

He laid on top of you for a minute, breathing you in and taking advantage of the last few moments he had you like this. He couldn’t let himself linger too long and he rolled off you, reaching down for his jeans to grab his pack of cigarettes.

Your mind was still hazy as you roll onto your side, watching him rest against the headboard and light his smoke. This was yet another thing you only did for him, you would never let any other man smoke in your bed.

He smirked at you as the cloud of smoke obscured his face. It was his way of telling you he was satisfied. He couldn’t say it out loud, that would be too much.

He crushes the butt into the ashtray on the nightstand and laid back down. He smooths the hair from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear. It’s the only bit of comfort he can offer you. It’s not nearly enough, he knows that, but he can’t let himself give you more.

“Get some sleep, rana (frog).”

A giggle bubbles up from the depths as you hear that stupid nickname he gave you. Not long after you first met, he told you that you reminded him of Sally Field’s character in “Smokey and the Bandit”, his favorite movie. You thought he was crazy, but somehow the nickname just stuck.

You didn’t want to sleep because you knew what came next. You knew he would leave once you were out. He would leave the way he always does, like a thief in the night. Did he know that he was also leaving with your heart? Did he even care?

Sleep finally took you. You never could stay awake long after being with him but maybe that was for the best. If you were awake when he left, would you be able to resist the aching need to ask him to stay? You didn’t think you were that strong.

He watched you for awhile as you slept. You looked so peaceful in that state, like an angel. Maybe you were…. maybe you were here to save him even though he didn’t deserve it.

He quietly disentangles himself from the sheets and looked back at your sleeping form one last time. You look so beautiful with your messy hair and your soft body wrapped up in the sheets. His heart ached to tell you how he felt, how he longed for you, but he could never do that. You’re too good for him; he’d only ruin you with his roughness. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you. You belong with someone better than him: a doctor or a lawyer, someone who would treat you the way you deserved. You’d drown his darkness; it would swallow you up and change the very essence of who you were. Still, he came back, time after time, taking everything you gave him without so much as a complaint. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t let you go. He loved you…you were the one thing that kept him sane. Maybe one day he could be the man you needed but today was not that day.

The sun streaming through your bedroom window woke you. Just like always, you woke up alone. The bed cold and empty next to you, but his scent still lingered. You roll over and bury your face in the pillow allowing yourself to breathe him in the way you never dare let yourself when he’s here. Admitting your feelings is not an option but that’s all you want to do. Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to look him in the eye and tell him you want more. You can handle his darkness; you’ve been doing it for months even if he doesn’t realize it. Maybe next time you won’t just fall asleep…. you’ll ask him to stay.

[asteraddicted]

Small interaction idea I got for the Supersons (pre-Jon age up; I HATE THAT PART) soooo sorry if this is bad its my first official drabble post (did i use that term correctly???)

Based on this (one part blacked out bc idk how tumblr would take it)

[—-—-—-—-—-—-—-🫧🪼-—-—-—-—-—-—-—]

"Hey, Damian?" Jon spoke up, he and Damian lounging in Damian's room because— no offense to Clark, but Wayne Manor was cooler for sleepovers.

"Yes, Kent?" Damian huffed, focused on sharpening one of his many daggers. Despite the dynamic, the two were undeniable best friends. It was surprising at first, with Damian's blunt, down-to-earth personality with snap backs and insults that would make a grown man cry. Damian Wayne, best friends with a sunny, optimistic, 'blinding everyone with his smile' Jon Kent. But of course, the two didn't start out that way.

"Remember when you practically- no, you DID kidnap me after I accidentally.. killed a cat and a hawk?" Jon mumbled the last part, clearly still ashamed of it. He hadn't told Damian the whole story yet, despite how long it had been. Damian's eyebrows furrowed, and he got a little closer. He remembered those times, back before they were friends.

"Yes, I remember," he replied, his voice still firm as he inquired. "Why are you bringing that up again, Kent?" Damian — despite his almost inhuman abilities, talents, and feats — was still human, and still had the ability to forget things.

"..Nothing! It's just.. the cat. Goldie was her name. It's her deathday today." Jon frowned, having always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Jon couldn't help but mistake the sting building up in his eyes as the burning feeling of letting his heat vision go off and MURDER cremate the two innocent creatures on accident. It was only for a second, but Damian could see how Jon panicked in that little moment.

"And? Your point?" He said, his tone a surprisingly a tad bit softer than usual. He didn't really know what Jon was talking about. Really, he did remember kidnapping Jon because he didn't trust him. But to Damian? That was like another regular Tuesday for him.

"..I didn't mean to kill Goldie, or the hawk. I know you know that. But Goldie had escaped her house, and I was chasing her to get her back." Jon began to explain, and he wasn't as cheerful as he usually was. Not as he finally told Damian the full story. Jon couldn't help it. It had been at the very least a few years ago, but the horror Jon had felt that day was something Jon himself never forgot.

"..their bodies were charred and burning. Couldn't tell hawk from cat.. only Goldie's collar remained! I.." Jon had to go quiet to compose himself. His hands were actually shaking. Damian listened to the story. He knew something was wrong with Jon. He was not his usual cheerful, confident self.

Damian looked at Jon, his expression hard to read. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to comfort him. Damian was never good at comfort. He just sat back in silence for a while, processing what Jon had told him. Being from the League of Assassins, death was nothing new to him. Hell, he's killed animals on purpose for mission and training before he was taken to Wayne Manor. Whales and tigers and lions and eagles, on and on. It was a little hard to see from Jon's perspective, but Damian tried.

"..Y'know.. I don't think you remember what you said to me when I woke up after you kidnapped me. Hehe.." Jon let out a chuckle, smiling with his teeth to try and lighten his sadness with humor. "You told me.. 'You are a threat to every living thing on and off this planet.' And Damian, I know this is stupid, but.." Jon curled his knees to his chest, eyes on the blank screen as a movie they were watching played it's end credits.

"..I believed you. In a way.. I still do. I'm scared of myself, Dami." Jon admitted quietly before grinning and wiping his tears.

"But I guess that's pretty dumb, right?" Jon grinned widely. He was half-Kryptonian and his dad was Superman! He shouldn't cry, and he didn't have any reason to! He was growing up, and he should be more in control of his emotions.

Yet Jon had let his mind wander multiple times, whenever he passed by where it happened. It was ironic, but Jon couldn't help but be scared of himself. Yes, himself. He had the powers of Superman — the Man of Steel himself. And he was also a young boy who could be easily tricked and manipulated. Jon was strong and carefree, but he wasn't stupid. At least not all the time. Jon has witnessed some extremely traumatic events in his life. The possibility that he had the power to massacre entire cities — maybe states, countries, or eventually the world? That was something that made Jon want to lock himself up in a kryptonite cage and hide away.

Jon was afraid of his powers and the destruction they could bring. He was immune to fire, but still couldn't stop himself from imagining the burning, mangled, charred bodies of a hawk and a cat each time there was a fire that was large enough.

Damian clenched his jaw. He remembered that day. He remembered telling Jon that he was a threat. Listening to Jon talk about his fear of himself and his own powers made something inside of Damian ache. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

"It's not dumb," he said, his voice softer than usual. Damian didn't know why he was being so soft (he knew exactly why, but he didn't want to admit it. Not yet.). "And you're not a threat, Kent. You're not. You never were. You're the last person who's a threat to anything."

"That's EXACTLY why I'm a threat, Dames! I'm part Kryptonian!.. I'm invincible to most on Earth." Jon exclaimed, sighing. "I can still go rogue! Dad has gone rogue before. I don't.." Jon trailed off.

"Kent. If you think for a second I'd let you go rogue, just know my Father has plenty of Kryptonite stocked away that I would not hesitate to use." Damian narrowed his eyes, but not in an angry way. It was affectionate, though it would be hard to tell from an outsider's perspective. Jon, oddly enough, felt reassured. Reassured that if something goes wrong, that Damian would be there to stop him. He'd always be there to stop him.

"You promise, Dames?" Jon couldn't help but whisper.

"Yes, I promise. Now come on. Didn't you want to show me this movie called 'Legally Blonde' or something?" Damian rolled his eyes, but they still held that tinge of care. That hint of affection that was only reserved for Jon, and wasn't the type that Damian held for his family. No, Damian had a part of his heart specifically reserved for Jon Kent.

"Okay, good. Now come on, let's watch a pretty girl kick legal butt!" Jon grinned, ultimately feeling much better. He was so lucky to have Damian.

[—-—-—-—-—-—-—-🫧🪼-—-—-—-—-—-—-—]

AN: First post, not beta read and written in the dead of night lol. I do not write much. Romantic or platonic? Idk you choose :P

[chaifootsteps]

I think I realized why hh makes me feel so uncomfortable yet attracted to the show at the same time. It's filled with lots of interesting ideas yet the dialogue reminds me of all the bullies and generally unpleasant people I've met. I want to see stories with demons and can't help but expect something grand out of this. I want to see a fictional world with its own rules, I want to see characters that deviate from mortal perspective on things. Instead I see adults that tell others to kys and make sex jokes. I think it's fine if it's what creators find funny or cool. I know it's a part of reality. I personally had bad experiences with people like that and sitting through this can be tiring or alienating to me, knowing the majority of characters are like that.

I think you could write villains as a scary and irredeemable people without making them tantrumy and without the kys jokes. I've known people who said kys to others and they were not worth my time and energy in the end, and now I have to come back from a long day and watch fictional characters Im supposed to dedicate my free time to, to root for, act the same way. I can't take them seriously

The dialogue reminds me of all the bullies I've known. Swearing, being petty, crossing boundaries and sexually assaulting others played off as a joke reminds me of how bullies saw them acting that way as a joke. Those bullies thought they were geniuses and smarter than others and if someone was uncomfortable they were a loser. I know that bullies are actually weak people with fragile egos. How am I supposed to find characters like that attractive and inspirational?

Even Charlie, the nicest of all, forces others to do what she wants, and she's rewarded at the end. The exceptions are maybe vaggie and pentious but people hate vaggie and I don't know why. I suspect it's because she's like a strict mother who scolds you for misbehaving

That's one of the least redeemable and least fixable things about Viv's stories, the core of pure, childish meanness at the heart of it all. That's because Viv herself, despite being a 30+ year old woman, still has the empathy of the worst person you knew in high school, and she doesn't see the slightest bit of a problem with that. It seeps into her shows like contaminated groundwater, and here we are.

[http-paprika]

IVY AND IRON THORNS

CHAPTER III

a medieval au / sir simon riley x lady reader / 2.4k / warnings descriptions of death, christian religious imagery / taglist open

called to have an audience with the lord of the castle, you leave questioning the life you've known

because this story has been on hiatus so long, please if you are tagged in the taglist, don't hesitate to ask to be removed if this doesn't interest you anymore. I apologize for the delay, you know how life is. also, I promise there'll be more simon in the next chapter!

masterlist / chapter IV

Perched on the cold, stone windowsill, you rest your head against the thick glass. You gaze outside into the bailey below, bustling in the early morning with activity, You spot the knight, though he’s brandished his armor today for simple clothes, the black mask still obscuring his face. But despite the intimidation you feel watching Sir Riley, the children follow him around in awe, clinging onto his legs and arms. There’s no hesitation when he scoops up a little girl and puts her up on his shoulder, and though you cannot hear it, you’re certain she’s giggling. A small smile crosses your face momentarily, witnessing a man of such stature being so soft with children causes warmth to spread through your chest. Briefly. 

A firm knock on the door of your chambers distracts you from the scene, causing you to fill with panic again. Remembering what Sir Riley had told you the night before, you were to have an audience with the lord of the castle. Your heart rattles in its cage of ribs, lungs expanding painfully with each breath as you cross the floor, your steps echo off the walls and each breath sounds louder in your ears. Any attempt to calm yourself falters as you unbolt the door and push open the heavy oak. 

On the outside, in simple leather armor, another knight of the castle stands at attention. He’s new to you, an unfamiliar bronze face with golden eyes. A foreigner, you wonder whilst looking at him. There was a memory of the merchants from afar who traveled through your father’s lands, their skin hadn’t quite been as dark as his, but just as curious to you. 

“My apologies, ma’am. But Lord Price requests your presence.” He tells you, bowing his head and crossing his chest with one arm. 

“Of course,” Swallowing hard, you step over the threshold and into the narrow hallway. Morning light streams through the few windows as he escorts you, speaking little except for directing you as to whether to turn. As you walk, servant girls in the castle greet the knight as he passes by, often giggling though the knight, who was called Sir Garrick, pays them little attention. Instead, he was focused on the task of bringing you to the lord’s study. 

Down narrow passages, up winding stairs into a high turret was where the lord of the castle worked and rested. When Sir Garrick brings you into the study, there is no one waiting for you. Just high shelves full of books, statues, and trinkets from wars and plunders. A tall tapestry with the crest hung down behind the desk, the embroidered skull and sword causing you to shiver. 

“Lord Price will be with you in a moment. Don’t touch anything.” Sir Garrick advises you before stepping out of the room and shutting the door. 

You startle when it slams shut, leaving you alone in the unwelcoming study. Glancing over at the bookshelves, you find yourself wanting to read over the title and run your fingers down the leather spines. Reading had never particularly been a hobby of yours, though your mother and tutor had taught you Latin and French, made you read pages upon pages, it bored you. Until now. There was a growing curiosity to view the collection that was grander than your father’s. How had you never known about a lord with a castle this grand? Surely your father knew the man, yet you’d never heard of Lord Price nor Castle Tharn. 

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” You startle at the sudden intrusion, not even having heard the door open. Quickly turning on your heel, you see the lord of the castle standing in the doorway. Tall in stature, broad shoulders hidden under his dark green shirt. He had the appearance of a warrior, the pride of a king in his gait. 

“Quite the collection, m’Lord.” You stutter out as he walks past, settling behind his desk. 

“My father started them to appease my mother. She was very unhappy in this castle and saw it as her prison, so my father began to gather them as they were the only thing that brought comfort to her short life.” He tells you, his light eyes narrowing to study your reaction, that the way you held yourself was different from a commoner. Even with the state of humility that you were in. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You tilt your head, remembering the string of jewels and pearls the prince had sent to you during the engagement. A sick feeling bubbles in your stomach, a frown crossing your face. A question lingers in your head though you do not chase it for an answer. “That was very kind of him.” 

“Hmph. A captor trying to please the captured.” Lord Price hums, his chest rumbling with his words as he sits straight up in his velvet chair. “Foolish, is it not?” 

“I’m not sure, m’Lord.” 

“It’s as foolish as my servants trying to console you.” The frown on your face grows more visible at his words, the riddles he spoke confusing you. His steely, cold eyes sliced like knives through your resolve. “My knights have told me of the misfortunes that befell your company on the highway. A highway which they were not supposed to travel on.” 

“Pardon me?” Your hands grip the fabric of your borrowed dress, wrinkling the gray fabric in your fists. The accusations stung, though you had no defense to his words. What did you know about the plans for traveling your father had forged? 

“The House of Cain, galloping about through the Queen’s land. It’s by God’s graciousness alone and the will of my knights that a single soul survived the night.” Lord Price stands from his seat, his figure eclipsing the silver of light from the lone window. Cloaking you and the room in darkness. The Queen’s land? Your mind swelled from his words, lacking any understanding. 

Lord Price pulls a scroll of paper from a shelf, laying it out on the desk you wearily approach. A map of your father’s lands is etched out in red ink, and the harsh words traitor’s lands are written over the valleys and mountains he governed. In black ink, you saw Castle Tharn with its rivers and surrounding villages. It was different from the maps you’d seen growing up, glimpsing into the rooms where your father and his advisors plotted. You were sure there was more land of which your father governed. But it looked small in comparison to Lord Price’s lands and the land of another lord, a name of which you did not recognize. Where were the allies your father boasted about? Was he really that desperate, closed off from those who would aid him in battle? 

“Was this not the road you traveled?” He asked, his gloved hand pointed to a thick line that ran through the heart of Lord Price’s land. Yes, they were. 

Your blood runs cold, a feeling of faintness passing over you like a ghostly breeze. Reaching for the arm of a nearby chair, you try to steady yourself. This was not what you’d been told. How much more could your world be shattered in such short days? 

“No, no. My father is a respected man. Highly praised and honored. He has allies, he has the favor of the prince.” You respond, trying to defend your family name. The House of Cain demanded respect and you would not let that fall. 

But he scoffs at your declaration, shaking his head in amusement. “The prince?” 

“Yes. Have you no respect for the royal family?” You ask, your voice quivering in fear. Never had you seen a man speak in such a way, so brash and crude in attitude and tone. It made you quiver, a present dread in your bones. He reminded you of a commoner you’d once seen on the gallows, awaiting his death for the crime of treason; he still would not recant the words he’d spoken about your father and the prince. Now, you wondered who had truly committed that crime. 

“That man is royalty by blood alone, I do not bow to him nor do I recognize those who follow him like sheep.” Lord Price looks at you with harshness, sitting down again with his hands flat against the wooden desk. “Your father gave you an illusion of prosperity and power.” 

You’d known that your father had begun to grow weary, that was the reason for your arranged marriage. But you had no idea it was so dire and fearful. The brutes your father spoke of fighting against the borders were the very ones that’d pulled you out of the mud. 

Lord Price watches as you sink into the chair, your lip trembling and eyes beginning to burn though no tears would spill. Not after the long hours you’d spent last night, curled up in the unfamiliar bed praying to wake up from the never-ending nightmare that’d grown longer and colder. 

“I’ve sent a messenger to your father, to tell him of what has happened to his wife and daughter. It will be up to him whether or not he agrees to my negotiations for your freedom.” He says, continuing to watch you like a wolf on its prowl. You were the rabbit being hunted after, small, frail, and unable to defend yourself from the whims of men. 

“My freedom? Am I your prisoner?” So, this was why he’d asked you that question before. From the beginning, he’d made it clear what his intentions for you were. A pawn in a long drawn-out game of chess that Lord Price had captured for his play. His expressive face shows as much, there’s almost an expression of pity that is quickly hidden away the longer you stare. 

“My quarrel is not with you, girl. Your mother was a good woman, it grieves me that she was forced into the marriage she was. For her sake, you will be looked after well. Fed, clothed, and free to do as you wish. Were you just your father’s daughter, I’d keep you in the dungeon.” He says, still speaking to you firmly despite the mercy he’s extended. Yes, it was better than the rat-infested dark dungeons the castle had, but it was not freedom. A castle whose walls confine you, no matter how lavish it is, when the sun sets is still your prison. 

“Were you my own daughter, I wouldn’t waste a moment in your retrieval. For your dignity and sake, I pray your father is the same.” His large hand is gentle when placed on your shoulder. The urge to cry in humility is strong, but the numbing truth of your fate is stronger. Would your father be so kind? For all the affection he used to shower you in, your father had sent you on roads that he knew were unsafe. How much he really cared was yet another question you did not want to answer. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The small chapel sat in the west corner of the castle walls, as you walked down the stone path to seek refuge and pray for your mother, the feeling of being watched did not leave you. Though Lord Price had not explicitly said that you would be escorted by a knight, you knew better than to assume you were alone. But, in the church, you were given a glimpse of freedom.

Inside, it was cool. The stained glass windows depicting images of biblical stories left colorful lights dancing over the floor and walls. Somewhere, you assumed there was a monk who served to bless the lord and his keep. But no one bothered you as you slumped down to kneel and pray for your mother. Believing in higher beings had always seemed silly to you, but for her, you’d pray that she’d safely travel to the heavens that she read of. 

But prayer felt foolish. Her fate had already been decided, what would simple, dumb words do? 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I would be alone at this hour.” You rise from kneeling, turning to see a woman dressed in deep velvets, her hair pulled up out of her fair face. Like a divine being, she smiled softly at you seeing the distress in your appearance. How you seemed to shrink under her gaze. 

“No, it’s my apologies. I only wanted a moment to mourn.” You respond, smoothing down your dress and keeping your head turned to the stone floor. Hadn’t you once refused to look down when speaking to anyone? Weren’t they the ones who were to cower? 

“You must be our guest. I, again, must apologize for not coming to your chambers and introducing myself. My youngest child has been in bed with a fever, and I did not want to leave his bedside until it broke.” She continued to speak softly, stepping forward and offering a hand. “I’m the lady of the castle. Lady Price. Though, I’d prefer it if you just called me by my name, Eden.” 

Eden, a fitting name for the woman. She seemed to radiate the same aura your mother had once had, one of grace and goodwill. Someone you wanted to offer respect to. In the daylight of the chapel, she was strikingly different from her husband. More so than you ever thought your mother was compared to your father. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. And do not apologize, your child’s health is more important than a guest. And I was not in the state of mind to visit with anyone.” You curtsy to her as you were taught, humbling yourself like your mother would’ve liked. 

“Yes, I am sorry to hear of what happened to your mother and company. It grieves me to know such tragedies happen within our borders.” She settles down onto a pew, muttering a quick prayer before glancing back at you. “I would also like to apologize for my husband and his ploy. I cannot excuse his behavior and whims, though I assure you he is a good man. There’s no one else in the world I’d want to be the father of my children.” 

Frowning, you still nod at her words and you couldn’t shake the truth from them. Even though you were bound behind the cobblestone walls, there was care offered to you. And you could not decide if you even wished to return home, unable to form a consensus about how you felt towards what you’d been told. Your father, a traitor to the crowned ruler? Exile seemed so much less cruel than accepting that truth.

Taglist: @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @ghostlythots @jadeloverxd @crystallizedtime

[jaune-submissive-and-breedable]

When Team RWBY found Jaune in the ever after he was nothing more than a mindless beast roaming the fairytale. So they did what any good friends would do and trained him into their obedient pet. Now all they had to do was say the word and he would do whatever they wanted. From eating them out for hours to getting them drinks. All they needed to complete the look was a collar and leash.

Team Rwby stared in awe at the figure, lumbering around the burning marketplace. A rusty and damaged great sword dragged behind it as it lumbered around aimlessly(Think Artorias from dark souls). Trudging a bit closer, they saw what appeared to be a set of white armor, now rusty as it's weapon

"Its the Rusted Knight!" exclaimed Blake, concerned covering her face, "But....what happened to him?"

As they closed in, the rusty knight whipped his head in their direction, seemingly sensing their presence. The group gasped collectively at the revelation of the rusty knight's identity.

"Jaune...." Ruby gasped, a hand covered her mouthing her mouth in shock.

Hearing her voice, he let out a nearly inhuman screech and got into a battle-ready stance. The girls mimicked his acts, saddened that they must fight their old friend.

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

"AH, Right there" Weiss howled, rolling her hips as she rode Jaune.

Ruby stared at the two with slight guilt and sorrow. After defeating the animalistic Jaune, they tried their best to get him to remember who he once was, however, it was all in vain. they asked the curious cat for help, but he said there was nothing he could do. Though Ruby suspected there was more to this story by how he acted and looked at jaune.

"Gods, I dreamt about this for so long!" Blake moaned, her own hips grinding against his face, his blonde beard slick with her juices. Next to her girlfriend, Yang, knelt grinding her own slick pussy against one of his hands.

In the end, all they could do was train him as they did Zwei, her pet corgi. It proved to be somewhat effective, he would listen to their commands, didn't attack unless they gave the order, and retrieved food and drinks for them from time to time. He even lead them to a village of paper stars where they currently live.

"He's cumming! Oh gods, cumming inside me puppy~" Weiss cried, her own climax rapidly approaching.

"Hey Rubes, You wanna get in on this?" Yand called out, practically shoving Weiss of his cock so she could ride it.

Ruby turned her back to her in response. At some point, she couldn't tell when due to time working differently here, her teammates began using Jaune to relieve sexual tension they accumulated over time. It started when she caught Weiss having Jaune eat her out. then she found Blake licking his cock like a lollipop. And finally she caught Yang, her own sister being fucked doggystyle while everyone else slept. Each time, she scolded them, demanding they swear never to take advantage of their friend. But the sight before her shown they clear forgotten their promise. All the whole she, abstained from joining them.

"Jeez, Rubes...Lighten up. we're stuck here for god knows how much longer, You might as well have some fun" Yang called out, refusing to cease her actions

"I'd rather not Violate our friend, thank you" she replied, ignoring the moist and burning from her loins.

"suite yourself, but your missing out on some prime dick"

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

Later that night, Ruby laid outside with her legs spread wide. Between them was her blonde pet, thrusting deep inside her.

"That's right , Jaune." she panted "just like that"

In truth, Ruby was a bit of a hypocrite, having lost her purity the first night they reunited with Jaune. Since then she slept with him every night, feeling his warmth as he injected her with his seed. She often thought about letting impregnate her, but since he wasn't all there, it would be as perfect as she wanted.

"don't worry Jaune. I'll get you back to normal" she promised,

Though deep in her heart, she knew it would never happen.

[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 3

Part 1_2

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

Leave a comment and share if you are enjoying the story.

It was less than two days after that dinner that I confronted my master during one of her working nights.

I went to visit her late, the deserted hallways and dim lights guiding me as I made my way to one of the meeting rooms where I knew she would go when she needed a place to concentrate.

I had been tossing and turning for a long time in bed. Time passed as usual, yet it felt as if I had a clock ticking over my head. I could hear the ticking of the seconds, a countdown that kept me awake, though I couldn’t understand its end or meaning. Or rather, I suspected what was tormenting me... no.

I knew.

That acidic feeling twisting my stomach was tied to all those memories that kept replaying in my head, sweet memories that I felt were inevitably becoming more and more tainted every day. I had decided that I needed to take a break, some distance, to grow. And if I couldn’t manage that, then it would be ridiculous to complain about something I wasn’t trying to change myself.

So, I gathered my courage.

As soon as I left my room, I realized that Vernestra was not there. In the shared living room, there were still signs of her passage, like some books piled on the table, the chair moved, and the lamp turned off and left near the rest. Just to be sure, I checked her bedroom, but my suspicions were confirmed when I saw the bed still perfectly made.

I went out after putting a cloak over my pajamas. I knew exactly where she was when she needed her space to work, so I took the stairs to the lower floors.

It was late at night, the moonlight outside lighting my path even though it was mostly clear, given the simple and empty hallways of the Jedi Temple. From a distance, I saw the orange light under the door that I recognized well. I knocked a couple of times before opening it, knowing that just as I expected to see her there, she knew that only I would come looking for her. And indeed, when I stepped into the room, she didn’t even lift her eyes to look at me.

She was sitting at the center of the large oval table, numerous papers spread before her, with some secondary, warm-toned lights illuminating the table's surface. I closed the door behind me using the Force as I approached, sitting on the opposite side from her, the cloak wrapped tightly around my waist, the hood over my head to shield me from the light evening breeze coming through the cracked windows.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked, breaking the silence that had surrounded us after a few minutes of my entrance.

Her eyes remained fixed on the papers she was reading and marking with a pen from time to time. I stared at her in silence, mesmerized by those simple gestures, the rough sound of the pen scratching the paper and the surface beneath it. I could have lived that moment for the rest of my life. In peace.

"I need to talk to you," I began after exhaling deeply. I pulled my feet onto the chair to hug my legs tightly, a cold I didn’t understand shaking me to the core. I don’t know if she noticed something was wrong or if it was just a natural reaction to my words, but she stopped writing to finally look me in the face, her expression furrowed, perhaps picking up on something in the few words I had spoken.

“Of course. Tell me, my padawan.”

I pursed my lips into a line before clearing my throat. I looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again, Qimir’s name echoing in my mind, "I’d like to receive a mission away from the temple for a while. I need a change of scenery. I feel ready." That last sentence connected to what had happened some time ago when I had a breakdown in Qimir’s arms. We had agreed together that I would stay near the temple until I felt safe again. Even the missions we had done together had always been in safer, more controlled locations. But now, I needed that distance, even if I didn’t feel quite ready.

She placed the pen on the table, her posture now composed as she leaned back in her chair, her fingers slightly intertwined in front of her on the smooth surface. "Is that what’s making you so restless? I could feel you were agitated in your room."

Obviously, she understood that something was going on. It was impossible to pull the wool over her eyes in such a childish way. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you," I replied, buying myself a few moments to think.

She shook her head, her gaze still fixed on mine, making me uneasy. I could almost feel her thinking, as if she were trying to read my mind through my eyes. "Please. You know I would have come here anyway. It helps me focus. But, you haven't seemed at ease these days. I was hoping you’d come to talk to me when you felt ready, and now this is what you're asking me? Is there nothing else?"

We were both whispering, perhaps caught in the stillness of the quiet evening, yet her words hit me like a slap. Of course there was more, I wasn’t a good liar, or maybe the lie itself was too far-fetched to be believable. But I needed to distance myself from Qimir.

"I'm... suffocating here. I want to try and take that next step, even if... it scares me." I admitted, without revealing too much, pulling the fabric of my cloak tightly around my knees, curling into a cocoon on the chair.

There were a few more moments of silence before she lowered her gaze back to her papers. "Alright, you could actually help me with these senators. It’s nothing complicated—you’d mostly be there to reassure them. I can send you with Qimir if—" but I cut her off abruptly, my tone sharper. "No."

I realized my mistake, but it was too late to take it back. She looked at me, still hunched over the sheet she had picked up, then slowly set it down before leaning forward onto the table, her elbows on the surface, hands clasped together once again. "No to the mission? Or no to Qimir?"

She already knew the answer, I could hear it in her tone when she said his name, emphasizing and drawing out the letters. Whether she wanted me to admit it or not, it was obvious she had already figured it out. Their relationship hadn’t been great for a while now, and I knew that well. Still, she had never said anything bad about him in front of me, but now she seemed ready to point fingers.

"I... should go alone, right?" I didn’t feel up to voicing my doubts about Qimir. The guilt was eating me alive, and I didn’t think I had any right to accuse him of anything, but I also couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine in a relationship I was starting to feel trapped in. "It's not about Qimir. Really." I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than her. "I want to take the next step. To move forward on my own."

I struggled to meet her gaze, preferring to focus on the slight fluttering of the papers scattered across the table, swaying at the corners with the light gusts that came rhythmically every few minutes. She, on the other hand, was seeking out my eyes with thinly veiled insistence. "And that's it? Nothing else to add? If something’s bothering you, you should tell me, padawan."

I nodded. "I need to move forward."

Long moments followed my words, as I lost myself in the light scratches on the table’s surface, and she remained still, her gaze fixed on me. "Okay. Then..." she finally moved, reaching for the datapad casually resting to the side. "Here." She placed the device in the center of the table in front of me. Moments later, a hologram of a planet appeared. "This is Ord Mantell. There are conflicts on the planet due to particularly violent political debates. They have no shortage of soldiers, and the Jedi haven’t been requested as assistance, but there’s a shortage of doctors and nurses. I’ve been organizing a potential team to send, and you could act as an assistant, helping out in the field."

I listened in silence, but with a light in my eyes that grew brighter with every word she said. I had always wanted to serve as a medic. I’d asked her countless times, even at the cost of falling behind on missions, a request she had always denied—until that night.

"Really?!" I squealed, more excited than I wanted to admit, and she nodded.

That was enough to distract me from Qimir, even more than I had imagined at first. I went to bed excited, but also a bit nervous, afraid that it was all just a dream or worse, a lie. But the next day, when I came out of the bedroom, everything was already prepared.

My bags, the transport, the mission details.

Everything.

I couldn’t help but notice the more pronounced bags under Vernestra's eyes, a sign that she had spent the entire night organizing my departure. I didn’t thank her verbally, knowing she wasn’t the type. A single glance was enough to show her how much I appreciated what she had done for me, and I knew from her smile that she had received the message.

It was still early morning when I got into the taxi that would take me to the spaceport where the rest of the team was waiting. I didn’t look back twice, caught up in the euphoria.

There wasn’t room to think about anything else.

From the first day I set foot there, I was already swamped with duties. The situation was truly tragic, between refugees and soldiers. Being there as part of the humanitarian aid meant we had the responsibility to help anyone in need, which in practice meant our base was completely packed in every corner.

The main hospital in one of the safe towns was the gathering point for all sorts of aliens—displaced children, homeless families, wounded of every kind. They were everywhere, crammed inside and outside the base where a tent camp had been set up for when there weren’t enough beds.

For the record, I don’t think I ever saw a bed free.

Once again, my expectations didn’t compare to reality. Sure, they teach you to be ready for anything, but reading or hearing about it was nothing like the real thing.

Maybe I was too young to be there. I wasn’t even the youngest, actually—I saw ten-year-olds helping as best they could, carrying medicine and tools to those who needed them. But there was a huge difference between us.

You could see the war and pain in their eyes. The galaxy had already marked them deeply, but me... I was weak.

I don’t know how many attempts it took me to get used to the pools of blood, the terrifying wounds of the soldiers, the cries of the families. It was all psychologically crushing, to the point that I even considered quitting.

Not the mission.

The Jedi.

I didn’t even have the stomach to help those in need. Was it really worth doing a humble job like a librarian or a caretaker?

Maybe they were better than me—they were there out of vocation, not to run away. I, on the other hand, wanted to flee.

Maybe being a Jedi wasn’t my path.

I stayed there for months. I told myself I’d talk to my master about my thoughts when I returned. Maybe it was too early to judge myself, maybe I really just needed time, maybe I needed to be forced through it. But... wasn’t that all wrong? The fact that I was in the middle of a war at such a young age. Inexperienced... alone.

I managed to make some friends, meet other Jedi, but I still felt a void.

I wanted to talk to my master about my doubts, but I didn’t want to worry her even more.

So, I called the one person I thought I was close to.

Qimir.

I felt uncomfortable calling him after disappearing for months without saying anything, but I believed he would understand. He knew better than I did the pace of our duties.

It was a particularly stressful evening that convinced me to call him. We had suffered many losses, and I had run away every single time. When the patients started gasping their final breaths, I froze, terrified. My hands would tremble, and I’d be pushed aside to make room for someone more capable.

I used to think death was quiet, yet all I kept hearing were breaths drowning in blood and bodies convulsing with unnatural, monstrous spasms, I would say.

I fled, leaving death behind, took a shower with the little freezing water that came from the showerhead, and threw myself into bed, but I couldn’t sleep.

I wanted to clear my head, but I had nowhere to escape to, so I thought of Qimir.

I needed him and his comfort.

So, I decided to call him.

He answered after a few minutes. I expected to see him looking sleepy, but what appeared before me was a very different image. He was wearing his usual tunic, his hair slick with sweat, his face dirty with soil.

"Look who’s shown up."

He smiled at me, but the warmth I was hoping for was nowhere to be found.

"Qimir... I didn’t mean to disturb you, but..." I pulled my legs to my chest, curled up on the bed, the blankets reaching my chin.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?" He interrupted, his voice low, hoarse.

"I... it was a last-minute thing. I talked to Vernestra and—"

He let out a laugh that cut off my words. "I bet. She wanted to get you away from me."

I looked at him, confused. My heart skipped a beat—something about the start of this conversation didn’t feel... right.

"What? No. It was something I had asked for and—"

"So, it was you who wanted to leave?" The question came out almost like a growl.

For some reason, I sat up on the mattress, something in the pit of my stomach making me feel uneasy.

"Qimir, what are you saying? Did... something happen?"

He stayed silent for a few minutes.

Something in his gaze was off... he seemed angry. Or maybe there was more to it—I could glimpse a sinister spark in his eyes.

"Vernestra didn’t tell you, did she? We’re at odds over you."

I remained silent, confused, trying to understand what he meant, and he took that as a cue to continue.

"I asked her to make you my padawan."

I wondered how long ago he had visited her,

"She refused."

I bit my lip, thinking. I wanted to try and lighten the conversation, but it didn’t seem possible. "Qimir... I... I don’t understand. I don’t know why you want me to—" I tried to speak slowly, searching for the right words, but a thud on the other end made me jump. "You don’t understand? Don’t you see? The bond between us? We’re meant for each other. You are mine." The icy expression he gave me took my breath away.

This... this wasn’t right.

"No, Qimir. You’re losing control. I want to help you, I’ll talk to Vernestra and—" another thud interrupted me. Wherever he was sitting, he suddenly stood up, his hands clenched into fists. Despite the small size of the hologram, I could still feel an aura... dark. Suffocating.

"I’m tired of hearing you mention her. She’s the one clouding your mind. I’ll deal with her, and I’ll show you who’s right."

He ended the call.

I sat there, mouth half-open, ready to say words I couldn’t even begin to form.

What was he doing? Why did everything seem worse now that I was away?

I wanted to call him back, but the thought made my hands tremble.

I wanted to call Vernestra, but I didn’t have the courage to say aloud what I was starting to suspect.

So, I wrote her a message.

A long message about Qimir and some of his behavior. I never explicitly mentioned his words—they were more suspicions and general doubts, not accusations.

Again, I was weak... I couldn’t accuse him of anything.

I sent it and got back under the covers.

I couldn’t sleep, and things got worse when I received a response in the middle of the night.

"Qimir has become dangerous to himself and others. Stay away from him. Don’t return to the temple until I tell you."

That was the last straw.

It was confirmation.

No need to say anything explicitly—she seemed to understand exactly what I was referring to.

I spent a long time reading and rereading that message, and the longer the minutes passed, the more a bad feeling weighed on me.

The Force seemed to speak through my nerves, a frightened voice telling me to move, to act before the worst could happen.

I didn’t think twice.

I got up on shaky feet and quickly packed a backpack with my essentials. There were only a few hours until dawn, and it was easy to find someone to ask for help among the other Jedi.

I didn’t say much, just that I wanted to speak to my master about the past few months. In less than three hours, I knew where to find her and was on a shuttle that would take me to the base in space where I’d board a small single-seater to reach my destination.

I ate some rations with trembling hands, spent hours in hyperspace, lost in my thoughts. I tried writing a message—actually, several messages to my master—but she didn’t seem to be responding.

So, in a panic, I wrote to Qimir, something casual asking where he was and what he was doing, but he didn’t answer either.

It could mean everything or nothing, but I was nervous. I needed to see her, to know more about what was happening between those two.

I reached the planet in the middle of the afternoon. It was mostly a research area, with a few peaceful towns, and miles of mountains and swamps. I landed in the town where I knew I would find her along with other Jedi. Nothing seemed familiar, but as soon as I introduced myself, I was warmly welcomed.

"Where can I find my master?" I asked.

The answer I received nearly gave me a heart attack.

"She’s up in the mountains, collecting more samples and traces. Why the rush, though? Not even two hours ago, Qimir was here asking about her as well."

I stammered some nonsense in reply and headed straight into the dense forest.

I didn’t realize that the directions, while accurate, were vague about the distance, and by the time I continued running, the sky had begun to darken.

I felt the Force calling out to me, screaming a warning—the sense that something terrible was about to happen. I wanted to believe I was just being paranoid, but I knew something was wrong.

I started to recognize traces on the ground—signs of digging, markings on the trees... and finally, the sound.

A man’s voice shouting.

I was exhausted from the running and the lack of sleep accumulating with each minute, but at last, I saw them.

They were at the edge of the forest, beyond a cliff that separated them from the other side of the woods.

"You abandoned me!" Qimir suddenly shouted, making me jump. Vernestra was staring at him intently without saying a word, her expression hard, her posture rigid.

"You’re losing your way. Surrender and let me help you."

At that moment, I noticed Qimir had his lightsaber in hand. As he moved to strike, I jumped out of the shadows, shouting his name.

Silence surrounded us.

Both of them realized my presence at that moment, looking at me in surprise.

Qimir whispered my name before taking a step toward me, his eyes wide. The coldness I had once recognized was now clear in his gaze. It terrified me.

Almost at the same time, Vernestra and I drew our lightsabers against him. I took a defensive stance, stepping back, my hands trembling.

"You’re pointing a weapon at me? After all the time we’ve spent together?" His voice was hoarse, low, almost a whisper that made me shake like a leaf.

"Qimir... please... you’re scaring me," I admitted, my eyes locked on his.

I don’t know if seconds or minutes passed, but his response was the final piece of that disaster.

"You’ve been deceived, just like I was, by Vernestra. But don’t worry, I’ll save you, my flower."

With a feline leap, he turned, his blue saber clashing with her purple one.

I stood there, frozen, watching them. I could barely recognize them, so angry with each other. The smiles, the jokes, the time spent together—it all seemed like it had never existed behind those furious eyes.

They fought relentlessly, without holding back. It was the first time I had ever seen two experienced Jedi in battle—fighting to survive a mortal duel.

I knew both of their combat styles well, as they had both trained me. I wanted to act, to move and help my master, but I didn’t have the courage. I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of hurting Qimir or of the dangerous fight itself, but all I could do was watch, my mouth trembling.

I snapped out of my trance when I heard Qimir’s furious shout. "I will kill you!"

With a swift move, he struck her hard in the side, and without thinking, I rushed forward, putting myself between them and blocking his next blow.

"Qimir, please, no—" I managed to stop him again. My hands were shaking, and I was gripping my saber so tightly that my fingers hurt.

I pushed him back a few steps, my ears ringing, unable to sense my surroundings, too focused on him—on his rage-filled eyes, his furious strikes, the sound of our sabers clashing, too often close to my face, stealing the air from my lungs.

"Stay in your place, or I’ll teach you a lesson."

I blocked another strike, but I was naïve to think it would work again. With a precise slash, he cut my lightsaber in half, leaving me defenseless.

The crystal in the center of the hilt was shattered, now split into two pieces that I held in my hands.

Still in shock, I let my guard down, and he took the chance to throw me against a tree. I hit the ground, gasping in pain.

In front of me, Vernestra seemed to have recovered and reentered the battle.

The blow had stunned me, leaving my heart in my throat. I rubbed my eyes and got up to reach them.

Everything happened so fast.

A well-placed strike followed by a choked gasp.

I froze.

Vernestra fell to her knees, impaled by that blue saber, hers rolling across the ground toward me.

My ears were ringing.

It was as if my mind had gone blank.

Maybe it was survival instinct, or perhaps the shock I was feeling, but I moved without thinking.

Using the Force, I summoned her purple saber to me and, activating the whip, snapped it forcefully at Qimir’s back.

His scream of pain twisted my insides.

The look of shock and hatred in his eyes as he turned, losing his balance. Before he could move, I instinctively pushed him hard, away from Vernestra’s body.

Maybe I pushed him too hard.

When he stumbled back, finding himself at the edge of the cliff, he couldn’t regain his balance. The ground beneath him gave way, and he fell, staring at me—maybe scared, maybe betrayed.

The silence that followed was chilling.

I rushed toward Vernestra, but it was too late. Her body lay on the ground, her eyes wide open, empty, and the smell of burnt flesh filled my senses.

I wanted to lean over the edge, to see if Qimir was still alive, driven by the survival instinct that, now that everything was over, finally allowed me to recognize the danger.

No.

I didn’t move.

I remained on my knees in the dirt, a dull ringing in my ears that kept me from thinking.

And the lifeless body of my master, whom I had failed to save.

[anhonest-puck]

more anderperry because i miss them (under the cut, 630 words) (also in an au where lettermans are a thing and not achievement pins or whatever 😭)

about a week or so after neil died, his mom had come up to welton to help todd clean out his stuff. over the few hours she was there, the two had bonded quite well. todd sharing his story with her (this being a big feat for him, he’d never been good at telling people about his childhood). around the end, they had finally come to his things that he’d used or worn the most often. some things in the pile were his favorite shoes, a childhood plushie that he insisted that he couldn’t sleep without, and his wallet. also in the pile of things that laid on neil’s old bed was his tattered, worn (but well loved) letterman. todd loved neil’s letterman, nagging neil to get to wear it every chance he got. 

“neil i’m cold, can i borrow it one more time?” of course, neil would always cave and say yes, but todd savored every moment with his jacket on. to him, it was a promise. a promise of “i’ll be with you no matter what. even when i’m not there physically, i’m there; supporting you every step of the path you take.” it was like a long hug from neil. he enjoyed every minute with it on, basking in its warmth and comfort. it smelled like home. because to him, neil was home.

“so what would you like to do with it?” mrs perry muttered. she held it up. there in his right pocket, where he’d always put his hand, was a small slip of paper. she took it out gently and read the front of the slip out loud: “to: toddy” oh god. 

“i think this is for you then?” she sighed, handing the note and the jacket over to a rather speechless todd. he timidly opened the note. the writing was scribbled, but somehow the scribbled letters felt like home. home, home, home.

“toddy,

i know that this whole situation seems like absolute shit. i’m sorry. i’d understand it if you’d never forgive me; however, i know how much you loved my jacket (i noticed, you weren’t slick). so as my final parting gift, i wanted to give this to you. i hope this letter doesn’t go unnoticed, and you toss my jacket under the bed, but if you read this: know that i love you. nothing will ever change that. i’ll miss you. stay safe for me, alright toddy bear?

from, neil. 

dated: december 4th, 1959.”

from that moment todd knew that he had planned his death ahead of time. it wasn’t a ‘final hurrah’ like he had previously thought. but god, why didn’t he tell todd? maybe he had thought that it was too much of a burden. was he angry? no, anything but angry. he was upset. he left todd. alone.

 it was absurd of him to even think about tossing something so valuable and meaningful into a place where it would simply collect dust and be forgotten about, which wasn’t what neil deserved. his memory deserved to be hung up and shown to the whole world, the patches of sports he’d played and clubs he was a part of displayed in all their ragged but beautiful glory. 

todd didn’t know how long he’d sat there, staring at the note, but by the time mrs perry snapped at him to bring him back down to earth, he’d noticed that there were several tear stains on the page. he had read it and reread it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. he finally let out a small laugh.

“toddy bear… really neil?” he giggled through tears.

and just like he used to, neil had made todd smile for the last time.

[jackiestarsister]

Thoughts while rereading Jane Eyre

I first read Jane Eyre in its entirety when I was in high school, and it has remained one of my all-time favorite books! After reading the Manga Classics adaptation and seeing both the old and new editions of the stage musical, I finally reread it, or rather listened to the audiobook.

These were my thoughts on this reading (with spoilers):

~ Jane’s autobiography begins with the line, “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.” I take this to mean that if she had taken a walk that day, none of the following events would have happened! John Reed would not have attacked her at that time and place, leading to her traumatic punishment, her meeting with Mr. Lloyd, and going to Lowood Institution.

~ Charlotte Bronte vividly shows the intensity of children’s emotions. I don’t think that was common in British literature at the time!

~ Jane enters and leaves the lives of the Reeds, the Thornfield residents, and the Rivers siblings in very Gothic fashions! I can imagine parts of the story being told from other characters’ perspectives to great dramatic effect.

~ Knowing the whole story, there are many seeds of foreshadowing to be found throughout the story! Great setup and payoff.

~ Jane says about Helen’s grave, “for fifteen years after her death it was only covered by a grassy mound; but now a grey marble tablet marks the spot.” Jane must have gone back to Lowood when she was about 25, and paid for a fitting monument for her first and life-changing friend!

~ Pilot seems almost like a Disney hero’s sidekick, urging the two love interests to meet each other!

~ Mr. Rochester seems to judge Jane’s character partly by observing how she treats Pilot and Adele, and the contrast against Blanche Ingram’s treatment of them!

~ If Eliza and Georgiana are supposed to represent the extremes of unfeelingness and too effusive feelings, are they basically Eleanor and Marianne Dashwood? I know Charlotte Bronte disliked Pride and Prejudice; maybe she was pushing back against Austen’s other characters too?

~ Rochester actually calls Jane the “adopted daughter” of Mrs. Fairfax and “little English mother” of Adele! I wish this familial dynamic had been brought out more.

~ The impulsive way Jane flees from Thornfield reminds me that she is still a teenager! She does not think of the fact that she has an uncle who wants to give her an inheritance, or of the solicitor’s advice to stay put until she hears news of him. She does not seek help from Mrs. Fairfax or the Leavens family to find a new situation. She might have spared herself a lot of suffering if she had formed a better plan for finding a new home and had her mail forwarded there!

~ St. John, Diana, and Mary Rivers are like a reversed reflection of John, Eliza, and Georgiana Reed—both sets of cousins, but completely opposite dynamics with Jane.

~ Jane’s relationship with St. John Rivers is waaaay more toxic than her relationship with Edward Rochester. Jane can stand her ground with Rochester, who would never force her to do anything she decidedly did not want; but she feels compelled to do whatever St. John tells her, and he urges her to do things against her own desires.

~ Rochester literally loses his eye and hand, just like Jesus says about temptation in Matthew 18:8-9!

~ Jane and Rochester’s relationship is bookended by scenes of her supporting him as he walks!

~ Were the parson and clerk who officiated Jane and Rochester’s marriage the same ones who were at the interrupted wedding?! Unless there was a change in position during the year of separation, they probably were the same ones!

~ My headcanon is that all the Thornfield servants placed bets on how long it would take Jane and Rochester to work things out. This is supported by the innkeeper’s account of how the servants observed Jane and Rochester, and John and Mary’s reactions after they finally get married!

[snazzi-strawberri-artz]

AUGHH CLASS ASSIGNMENT YIPPEEE!!! Had to make cut out silhouette designs for 3 of our characters!!!