#and i know DAMN WELL he was the one to have violet

[desertfangs]

Inebriated - Armand/Daniel - 1000 words

Daniel is drunk and pleading for the blood. Again.

This angsty little nugget was written for @vcmicroficmay Week 3 for the prompt "Inebriated."

Full text here or cross-posted to AO3.

“Give it to me, damn you!” Daniel demands, the liquid sloshing over the lip of the glass that he jostles in his hand while he speaks. “Haven’t I proven that I’m worthy?” 

“It is not a prize one becomes worthy of,” Armand says patiently. 

Daniel scoffs, anger rising. “Bullshit! You’d do it if you really loved me.” 

Armand starts to say that’s absurd, that his love for him is precisely why he cannot damn him to this, but Daniel won’t hear it. 

“You don’t know what love is! How can you!” He slurs his speech but Armand understands well enough. “You torment me and toy with me and you’ll never do it. You’ll just let me die. And then what!” 

The last part comes out more like a sob than a question. Daniel is drunk enough that the alcohol is melting his resolve. Some drunkards grow cruel and mean the more they imbibe, but Daniel simply runs out of steam. His anger in this state tends to come out in short, fiery bursts, like fire from the mouth of a dragon, and then dissipates. 

Armand merely needs to wait him out. 

“Well? Do you have my grave picked out?” Daniel flings his hand forward in an accusatory gesture and the rest of the contents of the glass slosh onto the floor, ice and all. Daniel stares at the glass in his hand, as if offended it had dared spill its contents without his permission. But then he looks back at Armand. “Will you leave my body in my bed to rot? Or will you take me out on your boat and drop me into the sea?”

“Daniel—” Armand reaches for him but he pulls away. 

“Don’t.” He walks back to the living room and leans against the wall, sliding down it onto the floor. His fingers tear at his short blond hair and he glares at Armand with a mixture of anger and pain. 

And then the tears come. 

Armand stands across the room, watching him helplessly, listening to the sobs shake his chest. His lungs rattle as he holds his head in his hands and stares at the carpet. Air wheezes through his trachea. Daniel starts coughing but the sobbing doesn’t stop and Armand is afraid he’ll choke. 

He crosses the room and kneels in front of Daniel. He takes his hands in his. After a moment, Daniel catches his breath. He meets Armand’s eyes. His beautiful, violet eyes are red with large circles beneath them. Tears—mortal tears, made of saline—streak down his cheeks.

“I would do it for you,” Daniel says. His voice is weak. He looks defeated. Lost. So much younger than his thirty-one years. 

“You believe you would,” Armand says. “But you don’t know—”

Daniel scoffs and leans his head against the wall behind him, tilted to stare up at the tall ceiling overhead. Armand stares at the line of Daniel’s throat, at the artery pulsing under his skin. He’s pale—not pale like Armand, not like the dead, but like a mortal who does not get enough sun.

“I know I would,” Daniel insists. 

Defiant, always. 

Armand does not bother to argue. The tears have stopped. His beloved—this strange and beautiful boy who has captured Armand’s heart so fully—sits listless and broken. His shoulders slump. His heart rate slows. He sniffles again, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. 

Why can’t I make you see? 

Armand bends forward and kisses his tear-stained cheek, salty and wet. He smooths his forehead. You’re still so young, Daniel. 

Daniel swallows and looks away. His thoughts are turbulent, bouncing around from the broken glass on the floor to the exhaustion he imagines he feels in his bones, to the frustration that tears at his soul. 

Armand bites his own wrist, gashing his flesh with his fangs. Daniel’s eyes focus on it, his pulse racing at the site of his blood beading up out of Armand’s pale white skin.  

Daniel shakes his head, trying to resist. It won’t be enough. What’s the use? 

Armand starts to pull his arm back. He won’t force his blood on Daniel. It was meant as an olive branch and if Daniel will not take it—

Slender fingers snatch his wrist, holding it there in front of his face. He doesn’t drink. He just watches the skin knit back together. He’s always so fascinated by the way Armand’s body heals. 

He licks his lips. Then he glances at Armand, his look pleading enough that Armand knows his desire. He cuts open his wrist again.

This time, Daniel does not resist. He holds fast to his arm, keeping it against his mouth as he drinks, swallowing deeply, desperate to drink enough blood to work its magic. Armand enjoys the feeling of Daniel drinking from him and the calm that comes over Daniel when the blood sears through his veins, their hearts being in unison. 

Finally, he eases his arm out of Daniel’s grasp. 

Daniel’s eyes are brighter now, his mind clearer. His heart pounds in his chest. He meets Armand’s gaze again. 

“You used to say I danced with danger, back when this all began,” Daniel says. “That I walked a fine line.” 

Armand stares at him. He did say those things, many times. And they were always true. Even now, he—

“You do the same thing by letting me drink from you.” Daniel glares.

Armand says nothing. 

Daniel gets to his feet, more steady now that the blood is working through him and the effects of the alcohol are fading. “You know what I think? I think you want to do it. You’re just a coward.” 

Daniel storms out of the room. A moment later, the back doors to the Villa bang open and Daniel disappears into the night. He’d headed toward the Plaza, not the boats. He’ll stay on the island, then. 

Relief rushes over Armand. He goes to get a dustpan to clean up the broken glass.

[mystery-fish-17]

I need to talk about this picture because it makes me so insane every time I see it. Vic looks more tboy than he ever has before. It's his outfit, his dumb little pose, the height difference, etc. Just from looking at this I know he does HRT and Danielle helps him because look at them. Also his name is Victor and no parent is naming their kid that.

[starsofteal]

Daylight

Halsin x Tav // Halsin x Reader

Summary: Tav misinterprets Halsin’s declarations, thinking he must not want her as much as she wants him. Can Halsin convince her of his love? A/N: Well, my first Halsin fic is here! Based off this dialogue from the game, featuring a classic miscommunication trope. When I first came across this dialogue, I found myself rather disappointed by Halsin’s declaration, and I realized I was focusing on all the wrong parts of it. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so here we have a scenario in which Tav has done the same. This fic is so self-indulgent it should be a crime. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort (emphasis on the comfort—I promise all’s well that ends well). Pretty spoiler free, except for the opening dialogue if you’re romancing Halsin and you want all that to be a surprise. 

“Relationship?” A deep chuckle rumbles in Halsin’s chest. A sinking feeling settles into your gut. You weren’t sure what to expect when you broached the topic of a potential relationship, but a laugh? A direct blow from an enemy sword would have hurt less. 

“Such terms belong to civilization—a little unfamiliar to my lips.” His words continued, but that soft smile, those kind eyes, the strong, steadfast shape of Halsin, it all begins to shift, distorting just slightly as traitorous tears prick at your eyes. A quick bite of your inner cheek reminds you to hold steady, to not let the tears fall—by every star in that gods damned sky, you are not going to let him see you cry. 

“…you and I should each seek happiness wherever it lies…”

He’s still going on? You think to yourself. How long can one rejection take? You bite your cheek even harder, a coppery tang bursting on your tastebuds. 

Halsin’s words echo in your mind, despite the fact that his monologue seems to continue, piercing your heart again and again, the pain stealing the breath from your lungs. You will yourself to take in another breath.

“Let others know the happiness of being with you.” Halsin smiles down on you, not an ounce of malice in those soft green eyes. The staunch difference between his kindhearted gaze and the red-hot pain radiating in your chest was nearly laughable. In fact, at that very moment, you were unsure if your next steps would include crying, laughing, or launching an all out assault on the mountain of a man before you—an action that would surely not work out in your favor given the comical size difference between you two. 

In the end, it was all you could do to offer a small, meager, “I see.” It’s a notable effort to keep the emotion from your voice, but you’re proud of the attempt all the same.

A frown breaks out across Halsin’s face, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Have I said something wrong, my heart?” 

Those two words are a slap to your face. You don’t trust yourself to speak, not again, so without a word you turn and make your way to your tent as fast as your feet can take you. 

The fabric barely has time to fall in place behind you before the warm tears finally break free. 

_________

Two days had passed since the incident. While you wanted nothing more than to mope about on your bedroll and avoid Halsin altogether, your situation doesn’t exactly allow for such luxuries. 

Which is how you find yourself in the woods with Shadowheart, foraging for ingredients to top off your party’s supply of potions and tonics. Though you left early in the morning, the sun glares bright overhead now. Wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, you crouch low beneath a bush and scan the area for the bright violet blooms Shadowheart had you scouting for. 

“I just don’t understand why you had to drag me out for this,” you fuss at your friend as thorns from the underbrush prick your side. Your clothing offers little protection against natures most irritating defenses. 

“Surely there’s…someone more suited to this than I.” Your following scowl can’t be entirely blamed by the literal thorn in your side, not as thoughts of Halsin flash through your mind once more. 

Shadowheart hums absentmindedly. “Yes, this is true. Halsin is more in tune with the forest,” she mutters, collecting something from the earth too small for your eyes to make out. A soft clink tells you the specimen makes it into the glass bottle. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about that,” Shadowheart continues, popping the cork back on the bottle and tucking it away. 

“About what?” You hiss as another thorn embeds itself in your palm. You toss a scowl her way before distracting yourself from the conversation as you fiddle with removing the thorn. You’re not sure which hurts worse, the abrupt change in conversation topic or the wound in your hand. Impervious to your dirty looks, Shadowheart makes her way over to you. 

“Well, you two were nearly inseparable. Absolutely enamored with each other—anyone could see it.” She takes your hand into her own to assess the damage.

“And now, well, if I’m being completely honest dear, you’re rather dour, you seldom leave your tent, or you’re looking for any excuse to get away from the party—sorry this’ll only hurt a second.” You wince as she pulls the thorn free and presses hard on the wound to stanch any bleeding. “And, well, Halsin’s been…unusually forlorn. Like a poor dog that’s been kicked in the stomach.” 

With a scoff you withdraw your hand, taking care to apply pressure to it just as Shadowheart had done. 

“I couldn’t care less what Halsin’s been doing.” The lie is ash on your tongue. 

Shadowheart looks at you then, really looks at you. You try your best not to fidget under her assessing gaze. 

“What happened?” 

“I—“ 

“And don’t bother lying to me,” she’s quick to interrupt. “Save it for someone else. I know something has been bothering you.” 

Resignation floods you. Leave it to Shadowheart to see right through your bravado and into your heart. 

“I was a fool for thinking he could ever be happy with me.” The words are soft as they fall from your lips, but they burn your heart all the same. A firm weight falls on your shoulder as Shadowheart offers an encouraging hand. 

“Tell me everything.”

_______

Halsin’s voice calls out your name from just outside Shadowheart’s tent. His low timbre still brings a tightness to your chest, but you will yourself to breathe normally. You’d been doing your best to avoid him since getting back to camp with Shadowheart, but you suppose now is as good a time as any to rip that particular bandage off. 

“Yes, Halsin?” You ask matter of factly, not even looking up from the array of ingredients you’re currently sorting through. You pointedly ignore his gaze as he steps into the tent, taking up a majority of the albeit limited empty space. 

Halsin clears his throat, clearly uncertain how to proceed. You two had always shared such an easygoing openness between you,  but the last two days had left him scrambling for purchase. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Halsin smiles down at you, undeterred by your clear avoidance. 

“Mm, we are talking.” You collect up one of the empty potion bottles, wiping at a smudge spot with the edge of your tunic. 

Halsin forces a chuckle, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course we are, but, erm, perhaps we could go for a walk? Enjoy some of nature’s company for the evening?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Your tone is sharper than you’d intended, but the guilt passes over you in a second as you replay his words in your mind, his scoff when you so much as mentioned a potential relationship. 

Halsin sighs. He had hoped that his 300 odd years of experience would give him a leg up in navigating this prickly conversation, but—as is usual when you’re involved—his heart and his tongue seem to be tripping over one another. 

 “My heart,“

That gets your attention. Your gaze snaps up to his, laced with venom. 

“You do not get to call me that. Not anymore.” 

Halsin feels his own chest start to cave in as the hurt flashes across your face—you master it a moment later, but the damage is done. 

“I’m not sure what I’ve done to upset you,” he starts, but you interject again. 

“It’s fine. I’m not upset,” you force some neutrality back in your voice. “You weren’t interested in things continuing between us, and that’s fine. Nothing to apologize for.” You gesture to the flap of the tent. “You can take your leave now.” 

Halsin does the opposite, braving another step closer. 

“Of course I need to apologize. It appears my words have caused some confusion. Worse yet, I fear they’ve caused you pain.” 

At that, you still, finger pausing over the bottles set up in front of you. 

“You must know that I would never intend to hurt you.” Halsin’s tone was bordering on pleading. “Even now, it physically pains me to know that I’ve hurt you so.” He draws a hand to his chest, moving as if to soothe an ache that’s nestled beneath the surface there. 

You glance up to see the hurt now reflecting in his eyes. It’s enough to bring forth a sigh from your lips, your shoulders caving in as resignation takes over your body. Even now, you can’t find it within yourself to hate him, no matter how much easier it would make this. 

“You’re not responsible for my feelings, Halsin,” you sigh. “They are my own.” 

“No, but I do take responsibility for my words,” he counters. 

“You don’t want a relationship with me and you said as much. There’s nothing left to be said.” Despite your best attempts, your voice breaks on the last word. You close your eyes, clinging to the blunt words, mentally rebuilding your armor to power through the rest of this conversation. 

“There is so much left to say, my heart.” Halsin’s gentle words caress your face like the sun’s rays on a warm summer day. “I have so much left to say.” 

You keep your eyes closed, focus on taking another breath, keeping your heart steady. “Then speak.” 

“I love you.” 

Your eyes spring open, and Halsin is before you, close enough to touch. A large, tentative hand reaches up to cradle your face. You don’t pull away, and that’s enough to bring relief to Halsin’s heart. 

“I don’t understand,” you whisper, afraid your mere voice would crack the perilously thin ice you suddenly find yourself on. “You said—“ 

“That I would not keep you to myself,” Halsin is quick to finish the thought. 

“That we should seek out other people,” you correct, a touch of anger shading the words as you step out of Halsin’s grip. 

At that, Halsin’s eyes widen. “No.” His voice holds more sharpness than the druid had ever shown with you before. “I said no such thing.” 

“Well, maybe not exactly, but the sentiment was there,” you grumble, the frustration seeping through at your hazy memory. 

“That ‘sentiment’ is misguided.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but you do it anyway. 

“Well, forgive me if I don’t have it memorized word for word—I was a little busy having my heart broken,” you snap. 

Halsin pauses for a heartbeat and you watch the pain shine in his pale green eyes at your words.

“And I will never forgive myself for the pain I’ve caused you these last few days. But listen to my words now. I beg of you.” 

Another heartbeat passes. He takes your silence as permission to continue.

“I don’t abide by these conventional rules set in place by society. My home is in nature, and I follow the path the Oak Father has set before me. These ideals of what relationships should or shouldn’t be, you’ll have to forgive me if they're all but foreign to me.” 

Another wave of disappointment washes over you and you close your eyes in a futile attempt to deter the familiar pinpricks of tears. A warm, familiar hand caresses your face before tilting your chin up to bring your gaze to his. 

“But trust me when I tell you that I have never met someone like you. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does for you. What I feel for you pales in comparison to those who came before you.” 

There is no doubting the sincerity that lies in those soft verdant eyes. 

"It feels as though I have been asleep in a centuries long dark night, and now I am finally seeing daylight,” Halsin’s deep voice soothes, each word repairing the aches and tears of your heart.  

“There is no one else for me, my heart. Call it what you wish; you are all I want. Nothing would make me happier than to have you by my side for the rest of my days, if that is what you desire as well.

My love for you runs deep and true. Never doubt it, my heart.”

And then his lips are on yours, and every thought eddies out of your head, but one: Halsin loves you. 

Pure joy and relief floods your body and you don’t even bother trying to stop the tears of joy that follow. Halsin pulls back from the kiss just enough to swipe the tears from your cheek.

“I love you, too, Halsin,” you whisper in the space between you as Halsin presses his forehead to yours. 

“Forgive me, my heart. For the pain I have caused you.” 

You smile up at that handsome face you’ve grown to hold so dearly. Your slender hand  reaches up to caress his cheek, tracing the swirls of his tattoo. “Only if you’ll forgive my foolishness for doubting you.” You feel the shame rise up, bringing a heat to your cheeks.

“My heart, there is nothing to forgive,” Halsin murmurs before pressing another kiss to your forehead.

[l0standn0tf0und]

damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes

george weasley x fem!reader (hints on short!bookworm!fem!reader)

words| +- 4400

in short|  classic story. George falls in love with his best friend. nothing more and nothing less

warnings| my english, angst, fluffy ending, mention of sex and long ranting about George's feelings

author’s note| it's supposed to be a short one. About 1000 words or so, but I got excited. and well, I tried to make it George's pov. because, you know, ✨️his pov✨️. also, it's my first scribbling in two years. enjoy))

He has been with other girls. He'd even said he has been with a lot of other girls.

There were a couple of girls he dated for a while. There were those he just fucked with. A quickie after a Quidditch match won't hurt anyone. It doesn't matter whether he won this match or not. He's well aware of the fact, that girls like him. But none of these so-called relationships were serious. Perhaps this was because he didn't consider any of them as something serious.

He tried this relationship thing because he was curious, what it's like to date a girl. But during his dates, bringing a cup, all painted with tiny violets, to his lips and listening to the chatter of his now ex-girlfriend, he thought that she'd never say such a thing and she'd never order such a lusciously sweet cupcake. And she wouldn't have dragged him to Madam Puddifoot's in the first place.

After smashing Hufflepuff to smithereens on the Quidditch field, he pressed some Ravenclaw's back to one of the walls in the locker room, pounding deep into her, hearing this girl's moans become louder with each thrust. He caught himself thinking about what her moans would sound like. Would she be filthy and loud underneath him or her moans would be more shaky and soft?

He wouldn't say any of these girls were bad, unattractive, or something like that. Just the opposite, all of them were great. But they simply weren't…her. She got deep under his skin, intertwined with his veins, and blossomed in his lungs. She was his Flower. That's how he called her.

George remembers clearly well how it started. No, not his feelings, they started so naturally, that he didn't even notice how he fell for her. George remembers clearly well how he started calling her flower. This happened back in the second year, during History of Magic. He was getting more and more bored by the second in that stuffy classroom. And there was nothing unusual about it. He got bored very easily. So he quietly began scribbling in the corner of her parchment. He remembers the angry look little Y/N gave him as she carefully pushed her piece of paper away from the redhead. She was also bored but did her best to focus on Professor Binns' words. But George continued, all smiling and trying to stifle his giggles caused by her irritation. At some point, his incomprehensible doodles began to look like something that resembled Professor Binns, but his glasses and mustache were abnormally large compared to everything else. She smiled, took George's hand, and carefully drew a tiny flower on his wrist, before returning her attention to Professor. It took him a while to find out what exactly she drew with so neat lines. It looked like an iris or daffodil, he couldn't tell exactly and she didn't know either. But after that she became flower. His flower.

And now George is sitting in the library. He came here to at least start an essay on Potions. Snape become ruthless lately, so it was easier to work in a group on this 5-page assignment about Golpalott's Third Law. That's how he, Y/N, Fred, and Lee ended up in the library. George knew that this was one of her favorite places at Hogwarts. Two and a half hours earlier, when they had passed Madam Pince's stern gaze, he almost unconsciously walked to her favorite table, between the Poetry and Reference sections.

George's re-reading the same sentence in the book for the seventh time. There's something about the idea that a whole product is greater than the sum of its parts, but he can't really understand its meaning because he's thinking about her. It would be more accurate to say that he's thinking about what Lee and Fred had said about her. The evening before, his twin, the only person in this world who was closer to George than Y/N, again claimed that his love was mutual. Fred constantly tried to push him to confess his feelings. His argumentation was always the same. Fred said that he’s older, which means wiser, and he sees everything, how she steals glances at his little shy brother in classes and how she blushes just as much when George is near. But that evening, Lee has added some new information, which George still tries to process and connects with everything else these two have been telling him through the years.

George returns to yesterday in his thoughts. He was lying on his bed again, hopelessly pressing his face into the soft fabric of the pillow, while these two opened the Pandora's box again. Sometimes it seemed to George that they were enjoying this ranting about his 'unrequited' love situation over and over again.

"Ok, look, if she felt nothing but platonic stuff, she'd not be this frustrated when she found out about you and Jane" Lee spoke in a devious voice, getting more comfortable on his bed.

"Wasn't it Jade?" Fred's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Doesn't matter, I mean this Hufflepuff blondie with the ribbon"

"She's Janis" George sighed. He remembered this relationship, which lasted just over a month or so. Janis was nice, but she talked a bit too much. And this black ribbon, which she constantly wore as a headband, pissed him off. He admitted that the ribbon matched well with her uniform and emphasized the brightness of her hair. But something was wrong with it.

"I thought she was Jade"

"Anyway, why are you telling me about this now?" curiosity and a slight note of annoyance were noticeable in George's voice "It was quite a long ago."

"Look, mate. I'm your friend, right?" Lee sat down, crossed his legs, and the blanket crumpled under his weight. One more movement and the red piece of cloth would end up on the floor. "But I'm her friend as well. She knows that I know. And knows that I overheard that conversation of hers. And I promised, I won't blab it to you…But as it turns out, I'm not the best secret keeper and I'm more of a friend to you than to Y/N"

To tell the truth, Lee was a great secret keeper. Just like he was a great friend. This made George seriously wonder why Lee broke the promise. And so unceremoniously 'blabbed' everything to him. What if he's really as blind as he was told and doesn't see obvious things. He doesn't deny the possibility that she liked him too. More precisely, he doesn't want to deny it. He hopes that Y/N also feels something that crosses the boundaries of friendship. Even if her feelings aren't as strong and all-consuming as his. As if time collapses into one tiny speck and explodes at light speed every time George sees her. He hopes for at least something, for at least a tiny feeling, a tiny sparkle in her heart that flares up at the sight of the tall redhead.

Many times he imagined and replayed in his head the moment he would confess his feelings. Tell her how all the sounds around become quiet when he hears her laugh, how each and every touch imprints and burns on his skin. He dreamed, how he would tell how much he loved her, that he could finally be honest and reveal everything that was in his head and heart.

But the younger twin thinks the stakes are too high. And maybe he's right because she thinks the same thing to herself. Even though George wants more, he doesn't want to risk everything he has right now. His eyes begin to water and a lump rises in his throat every time he assumes he could lose Y/N. His flower. He knows her too well to predict what would happen next if his feelings weren't mutual. Their communication will become awkward, they both will be cautious and afraid of saying or doing something wrong. And then, after some time of this weird communication, their connection will fade away. And even if his love is mutual, what if he and Y/N don’t work out as a couple? What then?

He can't let their previous and future years of friendship go down the drain. Y/N was the first person he and Fred met on the Hogwarts Express. And from the very first year and the very first greeting, the three of them became inseparable. Always together.

She wanted to be a prefect, so she avoided detentions and tried not to get involved in their pranks directly. But Y/N was always there, helped to plan each of their mischiefs, assisted with new inventions, and saved him and his brother from professors. George can't remember how many times she rescued them from Filch while she was patrolling the corridors. He was so proud of her last year when she finally received this little silver pin that gave her extra authority and responsibilities.

George can't imagine Christmas without Y/N now. She visits the Burrow every year and his mom adores her. Perhaps because Y/N helps with cooking more than anyone else in this house. But George can imagine in detail how hard his mother would scold him if he suddenly announce that Y/N won't come for winter break this year because he's an idiot and they stopped talking to each other.

It's not Christmas without having a snowball fight with her and Fred in the backyard. At some point, she always tries to throw Fred into the snow. But due to the obvious height difference and Fred's strength privilege, she never succeeds in this. So she's becoming the one who's giggling on the ground, covered with snow. George always laughs at this little performance while his very kind twin scatters her down with even more snow.

George's envious of his brother in some way. Fred has never seen Y/N as more than a friend or a second sister. He's envious that his twin's heart doesn't ache as much as his does. And his older brother doesn't have to make such a difficult decision. No, George doesn't wish his brother pain. No way. He just doesn't want to suffer himself. George understands, that he's not just at risk of losing her, but also at risk of depriving Fred of his best friend too. If he and Y/N don't work out, what will happen to her friendship with Fred? Yes, perhaps they will be able to maintain some thread of communication. But they certainly won’t be best friends like they are now. George wouldn't handle it. He believes that it's better to be content with the small moments he has than to lose everything.

"Where are you going?" Fred's question snaps the younger twin out of his thoughts. He's still in the library and didn’t even notice how the chair next to him became empty, as Y/N headed towards one of the sections.

“I need this book, about…” her words meet Fred's raised eyebrows "I just need another book"

A quiet “uh-huh,” sounds either from Fred or Lee as her back is already hidden between the shelves full of colorful covers.

George looks for a while longer after Y/N. If someone raised their head from studies or books and glanced at the redhead, they would see the gears turning in his head.

“I…” George moves away from the table. Legs of the chair slide across the floor with a quiet rustle. He tries to come up with some kind of a reason, but Lee is faster.

“We got it, loverboy in shining armor, go already and help your princess” In response George groanes, and a quiet "fuck off" slips from his lips as he heads after his 'princess'. He doesn't know why he decided to follow Y/N. He just wants to. Perhaps he simply feels calmer when she's around, she gives him a feeling of warmth and home just by being near.

And there she is, just three bookshelves away. George can understand why she likes spending time in the library, although he doesn't share this sympathy. It's quiet and peaceful here. High ceilings, impressive columns, and alive stained glass windows are throughout Hogwarts, but they look especially charming in this place. Perhaps it's the specific lighting or the huge number of cabinets filled with old parchment and colored bindings. And, to be honest, he likes the smell of books. There is something about that scent that the redhead can't explain.

Y/N walks along the shelf at the end of the bookrack. Her gaze runs along the top row of colored spines, searching for what she needs. Her hair is up in a messy, almost domestic, bun and secured with a wand. But some strands fell down, framing her face and descending down her neck. The tie hangs loosely around her neck. She undid it after half an hour in the library.

George just stands there and admires her for a while, unable to tear his gaze away. It seems to him as if a soft golden glow surrounds each curve of her glorious body. And this light calls him to come closer. None of the other girls looked like her in his eyes. He swallows, breaks out of this perfect trance, and quietly heads to her.

The girl stands on the very tips of her black shiny shoes. Her fingers almost touch that very book on the top shelf. "Why the hell do they always shove the most useful stuff so far away?" Y/N thinks to herself before long fingers touch the cover of the "Ingredient Encyclopedia". She sees as right above her head a familiar freckled hand takes the faded green binding from its place.

"You're welcome, flower" Y/N turns around at the sound of the voice and finds herself trapped between the worn books and George.

The corners of his lips lift slightly and the younger twin can feel the warmth approaching his cheeks. He can't control it and, to be honest, he doesn't care when she's only millimeters away.

Her "Thank you" is so quiet that George isn't sure she actually said it. Their eyes meet, and it seems to redhead that everything that happened next was in slow motion.

She just wanted to take the book. Such an innocent action. She inhales sharply as her fingertips accidentally brush his hand. He feels high-voltage sparks come from this touch and spread further throughout his whole body and explode where his heart is.

They both froze, not breathing and not breaking an eye contact. George could swear he was ready to give everything he had to live in this moment forever. Just standing next to her in an empty section of the Hogwarts library. Looking into her eyes, losing himself in their depths. And feel the warmth radiating from her hand on his.

Earlier, he thought he'd be nervous at a moment like this but he isn't. He just stares at her eyes, then at her parted lips. "George, don’t do it" he repeats to himself. His fingers shudder imperceptibly with the thought of taking her wand from messy hair, so her locks would fall freely on her fragile shoulders. "Control yourself". He's trying, so damn hard trying not to bury his hands into these shiny strands and pull her into a kiss. It takes all his strength not to. And George doesn't know what happened. Was it Y/N's rosy blush and his brother's words about mutuality flashing through his head. Was it her, standing so close that he could smell his amortentia coming from the girl.

But he gives up. George bends down, without even thinking about it, and presses his lips to hers

George pulls away even faster than he has leaned toward her. There is exposed fear in his widely opened eyes. Eyebrows are raised as the realization crushes his thoughts. His mouth opens and closes without making any sound. It seems that he's more shocked by his own action than Y/N herself.

He fucked up. He knows it.

Y\N stands there still. And this is the first time in the redhead's life that he can't read the emotions of his best friend. "Ingredient Encyclopedia" is still in her palm, but George abruptly pulls his hand away, losing all the warmth she provided to him.

"I'm…I'm sorry" is the only thing he mumbles before storming away from the book section, from the library, from her.

George almost knocks down a first-year with a blue tie when he rushes out around the corner. He fucked up. Y/N didn’t respond to his kiss, she didn’t react at all. She just froze in place. George doesn't understand how he could let himself do this. He shouldn't have. He heads towards the huge wooden door with such speed that some students' parchments fly off their desks. He doesn't notice this, nor the questions from Fred and Lee, that meet his broad back, nor the comments of the furious Madam Pince.

She appears around the corner shortly after George, calling his name. She throws the book on the table and quickly walks past her friends. The faded green binding slides across the wooden surface and lands near Lee's inkpot. Another millimeter and the small glass jar would have been knocked down and poured a black liquid onto the pieces of parchment, only half written with essay.

"For Merlin's sake, what is going on?"

“I'll bet you a galleon that George confessed to her and ran away” Fred speaks with a sly grin, shifting his gaze from the hurrying Y/N to his dormmate.

"Too much drama for these two, don't you think?"

"So…?"

"You're on" Lee agrees, moving the book away from his writings. He only managed to write the introduction and the beginning of the first few theses. It was far from 5 pages but it was at least something and definitely more than George wrote.

George walks through the library entrance. He feels like everything is crumbling inside him as he walks. The sound of his heart pounding in the ears muffles the voice calling his name somewhere behind the back.

"George!…"

He is supposed to be happy. He finally did what he had dreamed of for many years. He finally kissed the girl he was so hopelessly in love with. But instead, he feels as if a dozen Dementors attacked him. All of the hope and happiness have been sucked out of the world.

"George!…"

He'd better get away from here as fast as possible. He'd explain himself later. He'd better get to his safe space. But where should he go if he felt safe only next to her?

"George!….for Merlin's sake!….. I can't keep up with you!"

He recalls everything in his head, from what happened a minute ago to the first time he saw Y\N. He understands that all those happy moments, the tenderness, the memories they both made and the plans for the future, are all gone. He's so disappointed and so angry with himself.

"George!…"

"What?!" He stops and turns around, seeing the girl almost running along the empty corridor of Hogwarts, approaching him.

George heard her calling him. But he's not ready to face the consequences. Not now. He needs time to pull himself back together and come up with something. But he gives up. Again.

"What do you wanna hear, Y|N?!" His hands shoot up in a questioning gesture. "That I'm head over heels in love with you? With your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes! With your damn angelic laughter, which drowns out all other sounds for me! And I even with the way your brows frown when you're concentrated!"

"Georgie…" He doesn't seem to notice her soft voice but continues. She wants to say something, but his confession is unstoppable. And she understands this, so she decides to just let him rant.

"Or do you wanna hear that you became a fixed point in my mind where my thoughts always come back to? That I randomly grin to myself like an idiot when I think about anything related to you. I don't know when exactly I fell for you. But it feels like I've always loved you. You're doing something to me, no one else ever could. You make me feel special and not just another poor Weasley or the second clown of Hogwarts. Every damn time you make me feel important because of who I am and not because I'm the beater or I'm the easiest way to get to Fred." His voice became calmer with each sentence. The irritated raised tone turns into his normal deep timbre, and then it will turn into a soft mumbling. " And you make all of my anxiety and worries turn off just by your presence. I was so fucking angry with myself and you did something I dunno how to explain. So now I can't be this angry. And you are…you are just….you"

She stands next to him. Almost as close as it was back then in the library. Perhaps if George wasn't so nervous, he'd realize that he liked the scent of books because it was her scent. Every time she left the library after spending several hours there, she had this slightest scent on her. It mixed with her perfume and shampoo, so it was impossible to separate and difficult to notice it.

"Are you done?" George doesn't know what to do and just nods his ginger head. Then she rises on her tiptoes and neat fingers finds the collar of his white shirt and pulls it towards her, forcing George to lean forward. Her lips touch his. Again. Only for a few seconds but this makes him blush even more, if it's possible. His freckles aren't this noticeable anymore.

The girl pulls away, the heels of her shoes meet the cold floor and her hands slide onto George's chest. But he continues to stand slightly bent forward, batting his eyelashes. She still has to lift her head slightly to look him in the eyes. In the future, this height difference will piss her off sometimes, but he'll enjoy it endlessly, liking this even more every time.

George stares deeply into her eyes, trying to understand what just happened. But he feels that he can breathe again. And somewhere inside, where his soul is, irises and daffodils and all the other flowers start to blossom slowly. Did she really kiss him? But earlier…

"But you've…." His eyebrows furrow as the puzzles are slowly coming together in his head.

"I was taken by surprise" She explains as she watches his face soften, lips rise into a wide grin that he can't stop. And why the hell should he stop it. "And you didn't give me time to understand what's going on"

George covers her hand with his own. That hand that's laying so peacefully on his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, millimeters from her face. She can feel his breath on her lips, like a ghost kiss, dragging the moment before he crushes his lips down on hers into another real one.

Her lips are soft, almost silken, and pillowy against his own. This kiss is not just a peck, like the previous ones. This time George can understand that her lips are not exactly what he thought. Her lips feel thousands of times better than he could ever imagine. He finally feels relieve and all the world's happiness. All the happiness he supposed to feel. Happiness, that had been accumulating for a long time and didn't leave the palace of his dreams, Finally to escape to freedom. His palms find their place around her waist as he pulls her closer, forcing their bodies to collapse into each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible. Her hands shoot up to his hair, slowly letting her fingers slip into ginger strands. He kisses Y/N like he has never kissed anyone else before. With all the tenderness and love he has kept locked in his heart till this moment. George doesn’t see this, but he feels how the gray world around him is filled with colors again. The warmth spreads all over his body and his brain stops working properly.

This girl, this bright and breathtaking girl, is his. Their lips moved softly, delicately, and almost innocently before. But Y/N is driving him insane and intoxicate him with the sweet smell of her body. He can feel her hand slide to his nape and she lightly runs fingers up along his neck. Tiny soft moans escape his lips in the surprise of the goosebumps this action sent down his body. As a response, George brings up his freckled hands to cup her face. His calloused fingers caress her flushed cheeks as he nibbles her lower lip, not so hard to hurt, but enough for Y/N to feel it. Now it's her turn to let out a small, barely audible moan, which makes him break out into a shit-eating grin.

The girl gently pulls away, while George still holds her face in his warm hands.

"I love you too, Georgie. And your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes"

Bonus:

He lets out a giggle caused by quoting. He's unable to open his eyes for a few moments after this kiss, a huge smile on his face

"But…"

"But…?" The question sounds teasing even though his voice is hoarse.

"We have an essay to finish. It's due tomorrow, and you haven't even written a sentence yet." she wrinkles her nose in a taunting way.

"Nooooo" Redhead lets out a groan, throwing his head back. "Don't make me do this, Flower"

"I won't write it for you" She kisses his pouty lips as a response to the puppy gaze he gave her. Y/N frees herself from his cozy grip and heads towards the library. "You'd better write at least something unless you prefer scrubbing cauldron instead of…let's say…sneaking into Hogsmeade."

George catches up with her a couple of seconds later. He slightly leans down just for a moment to catch her hand in his and intertwine their fingers.

"Y/N…." he tries this 'puppy gaze trick' again.

"Fine." She sighs in defeat "I will help you with a plan and theses, but you will write it yourself."

George breaks into a smile once again and brings her hand to his lips, leaving kisses on her knuckles. Well, the thesis for Someone's Third Law is at least something. Plus, he’s sure that he’s sure Y/N will write his essay as soon as she finishes hers. And, to be honest, Fred's too.

After some time, when they are a meter from the huge wooden door, George suddenly wonders.

"Galleons or Sickles?"

"What?"

"Galleons or Sickles?" He repeats, opening the door in front of Y/N

"Wait, you're wondering how much they bet on us, aren't you?"

George overtakes the girl, ending up in front of her, and leans down so that their eyes are at the same level. He shoves his hands into pockets and wrinkles his nose therefore mocking Y/N's previous actions.

"I'll bet a Galleon that Lee owes Fred a Galleon"

masterpost

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GLAD I AM THAT YOUR WRITE FOR SPTO THANK YOUUUU

UGH okay, my craziness aside; could you try “I think I’m in love with you” with Matthew Patel? It doesn’t matter who says it, I jsut think it’d be adorable (I adore that funky theatre punk so so much <3)

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!!

"Do it!"

"Come on, Lord Matthew!"

"We're getting impatient.."

"Maybe we'll go in and tell them ourselves-"

"Ladies, that's enough! I will tell them myself...i-in a minute. First, I need to rehearse what I'm going to say..I can't mess this up."

The demon hipster chicks could only stare at their master with blank expressions, knowing damn well that he was stalling the inevitable:

That being his confession to you.

You two go back as far as middle school, with you being the first friend he ever made who didn't mind his weirdness or mystical powers. Plus, you shared his admiration for the theater and dramatics when he started obsessing over those, becoming his number one supporter.

Until now, Matthew never thought he'd fall for you like he did Ramona. But he feared rejection, ridicule, or worse--the relationship being extremely short-lived and him never getting to experience a "true love's kiss".

Once was painful enough.

He couldn't go through that again.

Of course, his demon hipster chicks knew all about this and the months he's spent pining after you. As much as they didn't like you "stealing" away his attention...they realized you made their master genuinely happy.

And above everything else, they wanted him to be happy.

So they were thrilled when he summoned them, seeing that they were at the doorstep to your apartment and squealing upon noticing the giftbox he had for you.

Finally, he seemed ready to move on from Ramona.

Yet....he had spent ten solid minutes pacing along the floor and trying to hype himself up, his confidence totally shot, before he eventually stopped in front of your door again.

"Okay, I got it! Erm..."Roses are red, violets are--" no, that's stupid. It's too cliche! Everybody uses that!" Shaking his head, he tried to think of something else. ""Hey, would you like to be the Romeo to my Juliet--" ohh, what am I saying?! That's not romantic!! That would mean our relationship could end in tragedy...UGH!!"

"Don't overthink it, my lord." One of the demons whispered to him. "Just tell them how you feel."

"....it can't be that simple, can it?"

"....."

"..alright. I'll take your advice. I'm going for it." With a nervous swallow, he bowed his head and raised a hand to knock at the door-

Only for it to swing open, causing him to freeze in-place and look up to see you on the other side. He quickly hid both hands behind his back, hoping you didn't see the gift. "H-Hi.."

"Oh hey, Matty. Hey, girls." You smiled, looking past him and waving to the demons. But as your gaze shifted back to his, you wondered why he seemed extremely nervous. "Are you feeling okay?"

"..yeah. Just..wanted to see how you were doing." Pink was starting to dust his cheeks. "Did you uh...know I was going to come visit?"

"Um...yeah? You texted me earlier."

"......"

"And I saw you outside my window and figured you forgot the spare key."

"Shit..did I?" Matthew checked his coat pockets, feeling more embarrassed to know he forgot such a simple thing. All because he couldn't stop thinking about you. "I guess I did forget.......how about I go get it?"

You blinked in confusion. "Huh? But you're-"

"I'll be back, I swear-?!!"

The second he tried to run away, two of the demons grabbed a hold of his arms, dragging him into your apartment, while the other two guarded the door it in case he attempted another escape. He yelled in outrage, putting up a bit of struggle before they let go.

At this point, he was seething red, prepared to yell at them for their betrayal and the humiliation it brought upon him...

But they just winked and disappeared, the last one wishing him luck.

Of course.

"I can't believe it! The nerve of those-"

"What was that all about? You're acting kinda..odd, Matthew." Raising an eyebrow, you sat down on your sofa, having no clue why the man in front of you looked so flustered.

"I....have something I need to say." He decided to sit beside you, sighing heavily. "[Y/n], I think....I..I..."

"Yes?"

"...I-I think I'm in love with you!" Finally blurting it out, he closed his eyes and handed you the box, too afraid to see your expression. "I know it's sudden but..you've always been there for me. Ever since I found my passion for theater. Ever since Ramona dumped me...you were by my side. A-And I feel like I took that for granted. I thought I only wanted revenge against those who wronged me....but no. I want something better. I want love...and I want to be yours. So please...let me prove that I can be a good boyfriend and not evil!"

Part of him wanted to curl up and die as he continued babbling on and on about his feelings, thinking about the hundreds of other ways he could have done this.

He could flawlessly play the role of a love interest in a musical or play and move the audience to tears so effortlessly. But off-stage, he felt like a bumbling lovesick idiot who isn't making any sense to his crush..

There's no way you could love him back.

Not after seeing him like this.

Yet after feeling the box being removed from his hands, Matthew bravely opened his eyes, watching as you took out the black and red roses he put inside it. The thorns have been clipped off, allowing you to twirl the stems in your fingers for a moment or two.

Then you looked at him with the brightest of smiles, laughing softly. "Of course you'd give me roses, you dork. That's so....you." You set them aside before moving closer, taking his hands into yours. "I'm trusting you to uphold that promise."

His heart was soaring.

He must definitely be dreaming right now.

"S-So...it's a yes?"

You chuckled, nodding. "Yes. And...I promise to be with you for longer than a week."

That got him choked up. He couldn't say anything else in that moment, as his only response was pulling you into a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck.

Thank god he didn't ruin this.

You just smiled and held him close, relieved that he finally decided to try loving again. When he calmed down enough to look back up into your eyes, that's when you both decided to go for the kiss--just in case he had any more doubts in his mind.

And there were sparks galore.

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Shit at Feelings i

Part one

Pairing: Bodhi Durran x fem!marked one!reader

Synopsis: Bonding with dragons? No issue. Killing venin? Unfortunate, but doable. Confronting your feelings towards your childhood best friend? No thanks.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: SPOILERS!!, drinking, swearing, filler dialogue, not proofread v well. lmk if I missed anything

A/n: my first Emperyeon series fic!! Was supposed to be just a one part fic, but I got carried away. I also just wanted to write a self indulgent piece w dialogue amongst the group too 🥲 this is my first time in a while posting but I fr love Bodhi sm I needed to have something w him in it. I hope you enjoy!

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You survived your first year, you defied the odds of what everyone else said about you. Not only defying those odds, but being one of the best in your year. Maybe Imogen and Xaden had played a crucial part, but most of the marked ones were surprised. You had been more quiet and reserved out of the group of kids for the high ranked officials, but that didn’t mean you were weak. You had proved that while being ruthless and cunning in your training. Your parents were Fen Riorson’s top battle strategist and healer after all.

In the gathering hall, everyone celebrated moving into their new ranks. While simultaneously saying goodbye to the third years they’ve grown to know. You were indulging in the alcoholic lemonade, and your fellow fourth wing with more than a few words tonight. You sat on the left side of Violet while Imogen sat on the right. Nadine and Sawyer next to Rhiannon across from you bickering playfully about something. You savoring your newfound will to live after the events at Resson.

The hall was sweltering in the summer evening heat, no amount of lesser magic had helped. Neither did the warmth you could feel from Ridoc beside you. Taking your jacket off, only being left in your tank top underneath.

“Damn Y/n,” whistled Ridoc. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your relics yet.” Everyone’s eyes went to you, and usually you would’ve been intimidated by all eyes on you. Tonight it didn’t faze you that much. Even noting the softened gaze in Nadine’s eyes, who had been skeptical of the kids of the rebellion at the beginning of the year.

Both sides of your collarbones are covered in intricate designs extending to shoulders making their way down to your biceps on both arms. You never tried to hide the relics, but you never took your jacket off or opted for a long sleeve, higher collared shirt when training in lessons.

You rolled your eyes at the male’s cheekiness and everyone gawking besides the few who knew what already laid beneath your jacket. “It’s not something I necessarily flaunt.”

“Obviously or we wouldn’t all be shocked here.” Sawyer snorted, sipping on his beverage.

“It’s so badass though.” Violet acted as if she hadn’t only seen it days prior.

“I had been fortunate in the placements of them. Since both of my parents were a part of Riorson’s regime.” You tried not to be bashful about it.

“Where’s your dragon relic?” Ridoc blurted as he looked at the design on your shoulders.

“Sheesh,” Rihannon reached over, flicking his ear. “You’re staring like you’ve never seen any relics before.”

Before you could give a response, something caught the youngest Sorrengail’s eye causing her to get up. “I’ll be back.” Violet stood up from the table, wobbling tipsily to the corner where you saw Xaden and Bodhi. The latter descended, seeing the silver haired girl approach them, offering a curt nod when they passed one another.

You gulped at how good Bodhi looked in his new third year jacket, even when it bore no difference to his second year uniform. You were just a sucker for Bodhi in a uniform admittedly. The mage lights illuminating his dark curls to a chocolate hue that tempted you to run your fingers through his hair.

Despite being close with Xaden, Imogen, and even Garrick—you kept your distance from the younger man for a year before he left for Basigath. When you were kids, you two had been close friends, maybe even inseparable. But when a rebellion happens, and you have increasingly become aware of how much your affection for him went so much deeper than being his friend—things become complicated.

When you were around him now it was the only time you felt truly timid. You could conquer the parapet, gauntlet, bond a dragon, kill venin and wyvern, but that man was your weakness. He had narrowly saved you and your dragon from a wyvern attack while back in Resson.

His cheek still dusted with a greenish yellow bruise, and jaw gashed with a healing cut. Unashamedly you thought it made him look so much more lethally handsome than he was. Gods you were resorting to a bumbling nervous lovesick puppy.

“Human women and their finicky hormones and emotions.” Your dragon, Cleasaí, chortled through your bond.

“Quiet, go eat sheep or something.” You slammed your mental shields up from her to the best of your ability while intoxicated.

Bodhi reached the table, already looking at you. His hazel eyes shimmered with curiosity as he scanned your exposed arms and collarbones. Either not used to lack of sleeves or was it the fact you unabashedly stared back for once. His mouth curled into a lazy smirk. You hoped he didn’t notice your already flushed warm cheeks redden under the mage lights, feeling a ghost of smirk on your own lips. The lavender lemonade made you feel bolder evidently as well.

“Mind if I squeeze in?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked on yours stil.

“I can move over—“ Imogen started moving closer to you, but he had already stepped over the bench to take a seat in between the two of you. “Or not.” She deadpanned. She had been one of the only ones that knew the complicated timeline between the two of you.

Your heart skipped a split second from the stare down between the both of you. Now feeling acutely aware of your posture and the swarm of what you could only compare to bees buzzing around in your stomach.

“Y/n,” he greeted casually, his voice a warm husky tone.

“Bodhi.” You tried to play cool, and take a sip of your frothy drink. Not only did you know he was looking at you, you could see Imogen in your peripheral, giving you a “what-the-fuck” look at the interaction. Ignoring the pink haired girl, you spoke up again. “Feel like a third year yet?”

“Eh, it won’t hit me until the new candidates get here.” He finally took his eyes off you as Ridoc offered him a bottle of ale. “Thanks man.” Bodhi’s side pressed up to you when leaned over to take the bottle.

His warmth doubled down into you, igniting the exposed skin where he pressed into you. Feeling his minty breath fan the side of your face, and the smell of cedar, patchouli, and musk invade your senses. You could feel his hard muscle flex through the layers of his clothing against your bicep. The storm that buzzed through your stomach turned into heat seeping into your core. Lovesick puppy or just desperate for male touch?

“I know I will be taking every advantage as a second year,” Nadine chimed in. “Finally being able to sleep in is priority number one!” She did a little celebratory dance in her seat. You snapped out the trance Bodhi left you in, and agreed with her.

“I’ll be savoring our newfound alone time too.” An extra hour in the morning, and weekends to actually do something more than chores or training. Maybe you can finally break out the sketch book that someone smuggled in for you during a supplies trip. You only found it on your bed with no note.

“Define alone time, Y/n.” Rihannon wagged her eyebrows at you. The group chuckled at the suggestive comment.

“Or will you use your newfound freedom to bring someone into your room finally?” Ridoc added, causing the group to laugh louder. If you weren’t red enough already, you had to be beet red now.

“What makes you think I haven’t already?” An inquisitive eyebrow raised at the shorter male from beside you. ‘Oohs’ rise from the group.

“Did you want to be number one, Ridoc?” Quinn giggled.

You felt both the male in question and Bodhi tense. The former blushing a deep scarlet in embarrassment and the latter wearing a neutral expression you couldn’t decipher.

“Sounds like you’re keeping watch of me.” You teased playfully. The flushed male who usually was never at loss for words was now stammering trying to deny it. “It’s okay, maybe one day I’ll take your consideration if I’m ever bored enough.”

“Not what I meant.” Ridoc put his hands over his face groaning. You finally let out a laugh from his reaction, you couldn’t help getting the slight joy of teasing him. He always got the joy of doing it to everyone else. It seemed the rest of the group was enjoying teasing the man just as much too. Everyone besides Bodhi, who had a slight scowl on his face until Imogen whispered something to him.

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

By the end of the night, everyone was just about ready for bed drunkenly chatting and giggling at one another. You had consumed two more tall glasses of lavender lemonade. Most of the group now were clamoring around getting clumsy and incoherent. While you were trying to stay sane while remaining seated next to the guy you’ve always had undeniable feelings for. Overly aware of every little action he did at the table throughout the night. From him laughing to the way he gripped the bottle of his alcohol. Lovesick puppy.

You had stood at the exit of the hall up to the dormitories with Ridoc and Rhiannon. Both have to hold each other up as they bid you goodnight.

“Y/n,” Ridoc hiccupped. “I wasn’t serious about earlier, but if you’re—“ hiccup “serious I can be—“ another hiccup “serious.” You did everything you could not laugh out loud knowing it was the alcohol talking.

“She wasn’t.” Bodhi came up next to you, giving him a glare. You shot him a look, not used to such a serious or broody version of the man you grew up with. Him always being the friendlier one out of Xaden, Garrick, and himself. “Goodnight you two.”

Rhiannon’s eyes widened in a shocking delight. “I knew there was something between the two of you!” She squealed, like he bared his soul with a couple words.

“There is—“ you go to correct her, but the tall male beside you cuts you off.

“Goodnight Cadet Matthias.” He had an authoritative tone that made your knees buckle. Or was that the alcohol? His muscular arm wrapped around your waist as he noticed your unsteadiness, and you felt that same sensation you felt earlier when you leaned into him for support.

Your two fellow second years gave the both of you looks before clumsily walking away, leaving you alone with the male holding you up. Your heart is now hammering as he starts to lead you away.

“Let’s get some air.” Bodhi motioned his head to the courtyard as he effortlessly led your stumbling form outside. You wanted to scoff at his proposition. Your new bed and pajamas were calling your name.

A few cadets and lieutenants lingered around the expansive yards, but he quietly led you to an alcove that brought you to a secluded spot where no one could see the two of you.

You leaned up against the stone wall, letting the summer breeze cool your skin. Carefully observing the tawny skinned man from beside you. He took out a small rolled paper and a match, lighting the roll and the sweet smell of churam filled your nose. You weren’t allowed to smoke, and you knew if you were caught you two would be expelled and possibly executed at this point.

“What are you doing?” You hissed as he took a drag, watching him let the smoke leave his mouth and inhale through his nose. There goes that damn buzzing feeling in the pit of your stomach again.

“Relax this is our smoking spot, Y/n/n, no one comes around here.” He reassured you once he exhaled the smoke again. You rolled your eyes staring at the mage light that flickered on the wall. After a lengthy pause, you glanced back at him.

“What makes you think I wasn’t serious?” You questioned, crossing your arms around yourself.

“You know these are the most words you’ve spoken to me in months? Maybe even years?” He ignored your question.

You opened your mouth, before closing it again. You couldn’t admit it was because of your harbored feelings. Not now. Because he was right, you hadn’t talked for quite some time. It didn’t feel right nor did you want to omit that confession.

“Well you were here for an entire year and I was back home so yeah it’s been a year since we talked.” So you played oblivious with him.

He scoffed, “you’ve hardly spoken to me since you’ve gotten here.”

“You just seemed so busy—“

“Cut the shit, please.” He pleaded, now anxiously dragging the joint.

As he brought it away from his lips after a couple puffs, you stole it from him. Your fingers brushing slightly as you grab the small rolled herb. The small touch warrants an electrifying feeling between your fingers. Quickly brushing the thought of if he felt it too, you took a hit of the herb. Letting the sweet smoke seep into your lungs and haze the self awareness and guilt that filled you.

You didn’t want to let him in, truthfully. You’ve already witnessed too many losses during the succession and your first year alone at Basigath. It was when your parents had been executed when you started slipping away from him. You let the stereotypical crush trope hide deep down what you felt, how afraid you were. It would hurt to know, if you finally got the balls to admit everything you’ve felt, and something happened to him or you. It already almost did once, the regret and shame still kept a hold of you for the last few days.

You could now see the disappointment in his eyes. “You’ve always been quiet and reserved, but with me? That’s never been you.” You took another deep inhale of the herb.

“Could you blame me if I was scared?” Your hands slightly shook as you handed the joint back to him. Your eyes were earnest as you looked at him.

He shook his head, running hand through his hair. “You're scared? Fuck, Y/n I almost watched you die. And you know what ran through my head thinking ‘this could be it’?” He took one last smoke, throwing the remaining part of the joint on the ground, stomping it out into the cobblestone. “That the last fucking year spent with you was speaking through a chain of command or small talk bullshit when you weren’t running the opposite if I was near you for too long.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you could feel the tears burn the edges of your eyes. That electric current you felt in your stomach only a few moments ago had solidified into a brick. Then ascended into a wall that crushed you with an iron force with his words.

You two had only briefly talked while in Aretia after what happened.

You had tended to your dragon most of the time while waiting for Violet to heal. Your green clubtail had a poorly injured claw from a wyvern, and despite her persistence it would heal, you were nervous that it would draw too many questions back at Basigath. Xaden agreed and saw Brennan to help mend some of the wound once Violet was stable. You were not able to leave her side while the stranger tended to her. She was already furious that someone besides you had to touch her.

You wanted to talk to him more after that, everything had happened so fast though. Then you went back to avoiding him.

“You’re right.” You mumbled, picking at the edge of your nails. “I’m so sorry, Bo.” Your lip trembled, and the first tear slipped from your eye.

He sighed, sounding defeated. “Gods, I don’t want to be right.” He gently grabbed your elbow, wrapping your smaller frame in his arms. “I want you to stop icing me out, Y/n.”

He ran a hand through your hair, his chin resting on top of your head as you sniffled tears silently running down your cheeks. He had every right to be upset with you, but here he was comforting you. This had always been the Bodhi you knew, how he was before the height of the rebellion. Whereas you had turned cold, letting your cowardice and stubbornness control your emotions—for what you thought was for good reason.

“I know,” you stifled against his jacket. Finally wrapping your arms around him. His grip tightened, and you were overwhelmed by the sense of comfort. You hated what this man did for you and to you.

“I shouldn’t have had this conversation tonight.” He admitted. “I should have waited until we were both sober.” He let you go, and you wished you were still wrapped in his muscular arms. A cold seeping into you that wasn’t due to weather.

You shook your head, a sad smile on your lips. “I would have run.”

“And I wouldn’t have had the courage to bring it up.” A dry chuckle echoed through the quiet alcove.

“We’re riders and we’re—“

“Shit at feelings?” He mused as he watched you tug your jacket on. You wiped some stray tears from your cheeks with your sleeve.

“I was gonna say pansies, but that works.” You sniffled, as a toothy grin finally appeared on his face.

“Should we get to bed and do this all over again tomorrow?” He offered his arm. You raised an eyebrow at him, was he sane? “I mean the drinking part, not the arguing. I enjoyed hearing more than a word out of you tonight though. So I can resort to arguing if needed.” He nudged you slightly.

You rolled your eyes teasingly, “no promises.”

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! I am open to feedback as well as requests too! 💕🫶

[miyacults]

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

[bucknastysbabe]

hello hello lovely

saw that your requests were still open, and I’m craving Aegon. need your precious writing to revamp my love for him 💓

could I request chubby!Aegon where the reader becomes jealous and he makes it up to her? don’t have anything specific in mind just along those lines. I need that big boy to grovel 🫠

thank you, appreciate you 💋

- @lovelykhaleesiii xo

Anything for you my helina🥰🥰loved writing this

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: mention of overeating, mentioned weight gain, chubby!aegon, au!no war, northern reader, pwp, Aegon being aegon, breeding kink, pnv!sex, certified boob man aeg ii, lactation kink mentioned, creampie

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @lovelykhaleesiii @dr-aegon @starogeorgina @jamespotterismydaddy @elaratyrell @zaldritzosrose @sugarpoppss2 @saintaegon @fairysluna @targaryen-madness

Aegon could put on a farce with the best of the mummers. He was all smiles and drunken japes at dinner. Talking, eating, talking, eating, and his favorite— drinking. Your husband’s abilities appeared to grow along with his new titles. He was a king now and certainly filled the part.

You sat next to him with a pinched face, carefully sipping your wine. Aemond looked on with barely concealed disgust, sharp features twitching. He raised a brow at you, jerking his sharp chin toward your husband. Aemond’s need for control might be worse than your own. The king was the king, there was not much you could do outside the bedroom. Aegon was chatting with Lord Jason Lannister. You despised the Westerman and what he represented, the Northron blood in you appalled at the South’s materialism.

Jason snorted, “Well, you’ve heard of the petulant princess down in Dorne hm? Fashions herself the new Nymeria. Heard she’s quite beautiful.”

Aegon replied around a gulp of wine, “Is it them or the Iron Islanders that take on all those wives? She can join my harem. I do know the Dornish are easy, much easier than mine own wife.” He leaned forward on thick arms to jest, “Pray tell, what’s this Martell’s name? Mayhaps I’ll send a letter.”

The pair guffawed. You quietly put your cup down and excused yourself. Aegon called after you between his giggles, “My love! Come on! Take a damn joke, yeah?”

You seethed, blood icy at his embarrassing behavior. He knew better than to insult you, his queen, the one he came crying to when times got hard. Your kingsguard filtered in behind you, scrambling to catch up. Ser Darklyn’s questions were ignored.

Safe in your chambers, you pulled down the kady bar. Rage unfurled beneath your skin— you would not show it to him. You never did unless it was a slap to his full cheeks. A tear fell, the droplet smacked away like a pest. You’d go to sleep, Aegon could wait until you’d calmed.

“Fucker. Southron cock-gargler.”

As expected, his familiar presence came to crawling. Well, flopping onto your bed with his weight, the ropes creaking as he cursed lowly. Aegon cursed, “Fuckin’ damn- beds!” You jerked up your legs, sitting upright to light a candle, blinking the little sleep out of your eyes.

The blonde frowned at the dim light, chubby cheeks pooching at the movement. He wore a simple linen shirt and breeches, white hair all mussed. You frowned at your thoughts turning soft, as your lord husband looked handsome in the gentle lighting.

Aegon murmured, thick fingers circling your ankle, “Are you upset? I was merely joking.”

“No, go on, take a mistress from every great house if you so desire, my king.”

His violet eyes rolled at your acrid reply, the man coming closer to your position. He sighed, “I don’t plan on it, why would I do that?” Narrowing your eyes, you threw a pillow at his head to escape further across the bed. Aegon grunted as he was pelted, the blonde casted a bewildered look your way, brows pinched.

“I don’t want to hear it, that was shameful to speak as if I were not there, go away Aegon,” you hissed.

He groaned loudly, hand running through his wild waves. The king asked, face dead serious “Do I need to beg? Hm? My frozen queen of the north is the only one I’m fucking. Sweetling wants to see me grovel?”

Your stomach fluttered at the thought, eyes flicking to his earnest expression across the bed. You sniffed quietly, holding out a hand, “Yes. I want you to beg for me. Then maybe I’ll forget the slight. You talk like such a whore at the table yet you forget who rules your cock.”

He moaned, eyes rolling at the words before taking your hand and lowering himself with a grunt. Aegon looked up through his lashes, plump lips pink and perfect. He murmured, “Can’t believe you. Lady wants me to grovel. All I do is think about my wife day and night.”

You stared him down, pleased so far.

“I’m not seeing anyone, nor do I care to. I’m not some young little slip anymore. Too busy eating your cunt than diving into every hole up the street of silk, yeah? Maybe that’s why I can’t close my belt?”

You moaned, “I didn’t make you, ah, you do that Aegon.”

“Mhm, that’s why you slide me extra cake. Now, what was I saying,” he was kissing an ankle now, carefully holding your leg, “Why would I go get some bratty Dornish nymphet, or any other lady for that matter? I’ve fucked a babe into you twice now. It’s a bit intoxicating watching you ripen up with my seed.”

You whined at that, resolved to break soon. Being pregnant with the children was some of your fondest moments. Some most erotic from your insatiable husband. His increased weight? Likely came from him drinking your tits up every night before each babe.

Aegon hummed, eyes blown with lust, lips at your knee. The king rasped, “I’d like to fuck more into you tonight if you’ll forgive me, I only love my queen. Always and truly ever you, sweeting. Mayhaps twins? Your teats will be quite ripe for me then.”

You gasped and pulled his shoulders, Aegon already knew the intention as he hiked up your shift and yanked it off. In a flurry of movement, you pulled at the strings on his breeches while he exposed his thickened body. He was stout, not necessarily a true softling. It made the king more intimidating, with wide hips and a sturdy midsection. You loved it.

“Uh-huh, you’re gonna fuck twins into me? That’s a way to make up for being an absolute t-twat.”

You tried to hiss but there was no real heat, especially with his soft lips against your neck, gluttonous hands on your tits. Aegon pressed your naked form into the bed, his flushed cock snug against your thigh. Delicate white hair tickled at your neck as you squirmed. The king’s bulk had you utterly pinned, stocky thighs keeping your legs open.

He nipped at thin skin, laughing, “Where’s all the cold anger hm? Needed to be coddled and warmed up? You’re no better than me, love.”

Another shiver ran up your spine, goosebumps erupting atop your skin. You hooked a leg around his cushy waist and gritted, “Kiss me dammit. You were the ass here.” He laughed again, lips searching your own, the familiar plush a balm to your stung pride.

You opened up for him, lips lazily caressing against Aegon’s more insistent kisses, tongue bullying its way in. He gripped at your waist, rutting a few times against your cunt. The bulbous tip catching your clit made you whine and cling to his fleshy sides.

The Targaryen breathed, “Never takes you long to get all nice and slick for me huh? Turn your nose up but your pussy gets wet. Every. Damn. Time.” He punctuated his words with jerks of his hips and grinned as you cursed his name, arching into his soft belly.

You rolled back against him, demanding, “Enough talk, you’re here to make it up. Ah, careful,” you chastised as he pulled one of your tits up to bite at your budded nipple, “Fuck me dammit! Breed me up then!”

Aegon grinned sharply, cooing, “Why didn’t you just say so, dearest? I’ll make sure you take it all.”

He shoved a pillow under your flared hips, pressing gentler kisses on any available skin. Aegon huffed as he jerked his hand under a heavy stomach to grab his cock, guiding it into your soaked cunt. Your knees tightened up around him, exhaling a shaky moan.

He never failed to fill you up perfectly, with a girthy cock that he well knew how to use. Aegon groaned, lashes fluttering as he bottomed out, “Mmm, fuck, always so godsdamn soaked for your king.” One of his big hands clapped down on your ass— you threw your head back as he began to fuck you in earnest.

Aegon was an…excitable lover. He was mouthy and rough, a true passion of his to empty his balls into cunt. Thankfully, it was yours and yours only for the past years. You panted against his soft jaw, nipping at the flesh as he stretched your walls out, tip dragging against the tender ridges and spongey spots.

He angled you further, allowing his lower tummy to rub and stifle your bundle of nerves. You cried out his name, heaving as Aegon paid no heed, single-minded determination across his face. Shivers wracked your spine, shooting down your spread legs.

“Mhm, that’s my baby, shaking all over, needed my cock to settle you down? You say I’m needy. Yet your body screams for more.”

“F-fuck Aegon, quit it, oh gods!”

He took your lips again, sweat building up between you two as passions grew frantic. You keened. “Breed me, love, want more babes, make me yours again and again- hnn- mm!” Blood suffused your face, irritably hot as you registered the wanton pleas.

Aegon doubled down, hands pressing your thighs up, bending your stimulated frame. His belly still sat heavily on your clit, sparks of pleasure muddling any sort of coherence. Aegon was panting now, hair damp with exertion. He growled, “Yeah, yeah, gonna keep you full mama, let the kingdom see how well my queen takes my seed. Gods, gods, fucking hell, gonna fill you up. Plug ya’ so you don’t leak.”

You whimpered as your belly was awash with intense sensation, bundling nerves ready to fire. Aegon’s rambling about you being his perfect queen and good mama throttled you to the precipice, pussy clamping down on his cock. You wanted it all, your cunt was milking him for it. Seeking that hot feeling of his spend coating your sore insides.

“Fucking others!,” came your howl— your delirious thoughts catapulting you into gushing all over Aegon with a squeal. The king stuttered and cursed, a broken moan leaving swollen lips. He surged forward, dragging his tip against your cervix, face cutely scrunching as he emptied, shaking and moaning your name.

His spend was molten hot and overfilling your cunt, Aegon selfishly feeling around the side of the bed, crushing your overwhelmed body. He whined, “Fuuh-uck, love, feel too good, hold on.” You furrowed your brows before surprise hit your features.

That motherfucker was going to plug you up.

His lidded eyes danced as he drawled, “I wanted twins, mama.”

You squirmed and mewled when his cock left and a cold wedge replaced it. He shushed and pet you, kissing you tenderly as you grew used to the foreign object. You could feel his seed stuffed inside— trying not to dwell on it so hard. Aegon flopped onto his back, pulling your body snugly against his soft, warm one. You murmured, “That was some hell of an apology. Bastard.”

He sleepily murmured, “M’sorry dove, was mean. I’ll do better,” he squeezed you tight and planted a kiss on the crown of your head, “Only for my queen. Mmh, pray to your old gods— papa wants twins.”

You snorted, biting back laughter at his outright silly statement.

“Mhm Papa, prayers coming up. Sot.”

[podcastenthusiast]

I find it really compelling that Astarion appears to have had hobbies when he was enslaved by Cazador.

Things Astarion probably did in between the horrors:

Embroidered and patched up things for himself (and, reluctantly, his siblings). We know this. Practical--I don't get the feeling Cazador was buying them clothes any more than strictly necessary--and a good way to stay sane.

Got really good at picking locks. Also canon. I've seen the interpretation this was to escape shackles, which is possible. But I dunno...he says himself he gave up on escape. More likely I think he was just very bored, and also such a skill offers some comfort should he ever be locked up again for another year.

Learning languages, including Orcish. Canon as well and honestly I'm dying to know how/when he managed this. Did he find a Orcish-Common dictionary? Did he know a half-Orc? Either way I can see him relishing the chance to insult Cazador or his siblings without them knowing.

Reading, as he does all the time at camp. If you can't escape physically, a good story can be a decent distraction for a while. Astarion is intelligent and seems to know a fair bit of history and such. I imagine it wasn't an activity Cazador encouraged. But that wouldn't stop him and Dal, and later maybe Leon if he's feeling brave, forming a secret book club, reading anything at all they could get their hands on, from awful erotica to dry religious texts.

There must have been a brief period where he tried to befriend and train some rats to do his bidding. But he was bad at it and also very hungry. Violet claims to have succeeded.

Music. He hears it everywhere--in the dingy taverns he's sent to, at Cazador's damn parties, on the street--it's too intense for a while after that infamous year of silence. But it also reminds him that he isn't there anymore. Astarion has no gift for musical instruments himself, but he grows to appreciate hearing a good song.

Drinking wine and pretending it doesn't all taste terrible to him now. Sometimes, alone or with Aurelia, he would pretend it's fresh blood instead. Sometimes he would pretend to just be anyone else.

Stealing his siblings' makeup and anything else he wants. None of them really "own" anything after all, he'll say, but will get incredibly annoyed if they in turn take something of his.

Between fights and torments, of which there were so many, I bet he played stupid little games with his siblings. Trying to convince them he died a very cool death or something. Or enlisting Violet's expertise to prank Petras.

One time Yousen finds like a choose your own adventure book (since I dunno if a form of D&D exists in BG3 and if it did they don't have the supplies). Anyway he reads it to the other spawn and by the end of the night Astarion and Petras both have new black eyes and bite marks.

Not saying it was a good time by any means. It wasn't. But it was a very long time not to carve out an occasional diversion. You'd just lose it otherwise.

[mochinomnoms]

The Private (not) Thoughts of a Moray Chapter 3: They say it’s gotten out of hand, and I’m obsessed with you

Gender Neutral Reader x Jade Leech

Chapter 3 preview:

Hmm…maybe they’ll need tutoring? We can be alone then…perhaps in musicology, you’re not a very good singer, are you my pearl? …bitch. You huffed, turning your head to strictly face Riddle and Yev, blatantly ignoring Jade, who seemed confused, but still cooed.  Jade filled your head with an image of you pouting up at him, cutely rather than annoyed Are you pouting? What for? Oh, you’re so cute~  Stupid eel, it’s cause of you! Stupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupid—

[wc} - 8,471

[notes] - *dabs* enjoy and let me know if you can guess which characters the freshman are based on

back to chapter list

Chapter 3: I’m tired of this grandpa (that’s too damn bad)

You gazed into your cup as your coffee gradually lightened to a soft cream color from the oat milk, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, despite the 9-hour sleep from last night, and stared at the young man that sat across from you in the cafeteria.

He was quite taller than many of your classmates, about Sebek’s height if you had to guess, though Sebek had grown a few inches over the summer. He was also fair, but still sported a warm complexion, which complemented his poofy, brown ponytail and dark brown eyes. In his hands, he fiddled with a small, golden necklace with a compass attached to it. 

Said man met your eyes and gave an awkward smile and wave, which you (equally awkwardly) returned before turning back to your cup of coffee to gulp it down in one go.

Fuck, fuck that’s hot. Why’d I chug thaaaaaat?

“Ah, are you okay Housewarden Y/N?” He gave you a concerned look. “That coffee was quite hot, wasn’t it?” 

You nodded quietly, clearing your throat, “I’m fine y-you don’t have to call me that, just my name or Prefect is fine James.”

Dammit, they told me that earlier! I’m sorry Housewarden Y/N! I don’t mean to disrespect!!

You sighed, I really wasn’t physically or emotionally prepared to have first-years in Ramshackle, damn you Crowley.

The student before you was James Bartholomew, Class A-12, and he was an eager, if a bit anxious man. He bore the rose-red vest and arm ribbon of Heartslabyul well, even if he wasn’t currently residing in their dorm. 

It seemed that, even with the chaos of last year, Night Raven College was practically bursting at the seems from the large influx of freshmen this year. Nearly 100 more students than average were accepted by the Dark Mirror, with no housing to accommodate. 

While Scarabia and Diasomnia were just bursting at the seams with their new students, Heartslabyul, Octavinelle, and Pomefiore were well over capacity. Luckily, Savanaclaw and Ignihyde were still rather spacious, as they had been the last few years, and students were placed in their spare rooms while the others were renovated. Crowley, ever soooo generous, offered your dorm up to the remaining students without consulting you.

James, as well as about 20 others, were said students.

“Good morning!” chipper, crisp voices piped up from behind you, interrupting the poor freshman’s internal panic attack.

Three more young students, triplets each sporting the deep midnight violet of Pomefiore, smiled cheerfully and waved synchronously. Despite being triplets, they looked remarkably different. 

“It’s us!” the one on the left began, “Wynfred!” He was average height, with short curly red hair that held two small braids with a golden moon holding emeralds, which framed his face. He was the palest of the three, covered in freckles and had sharp green eyes. Wynfred gestured to the sibling on his left. 

“Marion!” A short, maybe even more so than Riddle, man spread his arms up in joy as he shouted his name. Marion was more tanned than his sibling, and had softer, rounder features which included his droopy brown eyes. His hair was held up in a high ponytail braid, where the end held the same charm as Wynfred, replacing the stone with jaspers. 

“Silas!” The last shouted, jumping in front of their siblings, ignorant of their hands smacking into their faces. Silas was the tallest, fair, and had wide, light blue eyes. His hair was long, held in a half up-down do, with his hair band holding his matching moon charm decorated with an amethyst. 

Once the former two composed themselves, all three spread their arms out in theatrical fashion, before answering in synchrony, “The Salson Brothers!”

 …Why the fuck are they introducing themselves like that?

Stifling a laugh at James’s face, who seemed equal parts intrigued and disturbed at the triplet’s dazzling entrance, you instead cleared your throat and faced all four students. 

“Hello Y/N!” the triplets answered all at once. “Hello James!”

Oh, they are so fucking weird. 

“Hi everyone, how’s lunch treating you?” you stifled a laugh at James, and looked at the clock. “We have about an hour and a half! So we have some time to eat, and you can ask me anything you want regarding your classes.”

Clapping your hands together, you gestured for the triplets to sit at the table. While they did, you offered Grim part of your sandwich, who happily scarfed it down. 

Mmmmmhhh! Soooo yummyyy~

Marion and Silas sat next to both sides of you, while Wynfield had taken the seat next to James, who still looked mildly uncomfortable. Taking another bite of your sandwich, you clasped your hands together before speaking. 

“I’ll get it out of the way, I know Ramshackle isn’t the most glamorous of all the dorms—” you paused, sighing, “—it’s barely been a fully equipped dorm for a few months…”

It’s not too bad! We all get our own rules since there’s no one else! Silas seemed the most chipper of the tree, if his thoughts were anything to go by. I like the ghosties, they’re funny!

“As the…housewarden,” saying the words felt foreign. “I will do my best to make sure you’re all comfortable.” 

You shifted your eyes to stare at your hands, which were wringing nervously.

“I am a sophomore, a year your senior, and I am one half of a student with Grim, who you all met last night.” You looked up and smiled apologetically, as your familiar dozed off in a food coma.

“I’m afraid he’s rather food motivated, but I promise that he’s quite fun to be around.”

Gesturing your hand to the first freshman, you asked, “What’s your name, since we’ve yet to hear yours?”

EEK!

Jumping in his seat, said young man straightened nervously and took a deep breath. 

“I’m James Bartholemew! I’m from Neversea Harbor, on the western edge of the Queendom of Roses!” 

He took a bow, stopping midway and instead sitting back down out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry, force of habit…”

Wynfred stood up, and fluffed his hair before continuing, “I am Wynfred Salson, from Shalem, a nation out west across the sea, as are my siblings.” 

Gesturing to the two across the table, two brightened and giggled. 

“I’m Marion Salson—” his sibling interrupted

“—and I’m Silas Salson! Hehe!”

Smiling at the trio, you nodded, noticing a second pair of students join your table. These two were Octavinelle students. However, You weren’t sure if they were human. Apparently, it was rare for fae and merfolk to leave their homelands for a place like NRC. Azul once told you that merfolk, while fond of the stories like the mermaid princess, were at their core homebodies that were deeply attached to their homeland and wary of the surface. You remembered asking him why he and the twins had been three of only 5 merfolk at the school at the time.

“Human and merfolk relations have significantly improved in the last few centuries, but most still aren’t fond of needing transformation potions to consistently upkeep their legs. A visit once in a while is fine, but the paperwork required to simply receive a potion permit for non-magic users can take months. For those that stay longer, like the twins and I, it’s akin to a medication, lest you want to see us grow webbing and gills?”

You wouldn’t have been aware that the two were mermen if they hadn’t mentioned it. The smaller one of the pair was a tan young man just over 5 foot, sporting a slicked back black and gray undercut. Despite his height, the young mer was quite muscular and intimidating, sharp, and dark brown eyes that seemed to stare right into your soul. 

They probably would seem so if the following words didn’t tumble out of his razor-sharp toothed mouth.

“Your buddy's lookin' sharp today, Prefect! ou ain't gonna slip in a good word for me, are ya? Cross my heart, I know how to treat a dame proper!” he drawled, sliding himself in between you and Silas while draping an arm over your shoulders. 

“Mmph! T'ony, y'ur elbow's i' my face!" Silas whined, attempting to push against an unmovable object. 

Dame? Who—oh.

“Do…you mean… Epel?” you gestured at your friend who was currently sitting next to your usual group as he carved an apple into a spade for Deuce (who was delighted). 

“You see, a looker like her deserves a tough guy like me!” And, well, I can't do a pretty thing like you any favors. “Mama always raised a gentleman, so—”

You raised your hand up, interrupting him mid-sentence. Can’t do me any favors? What? 

“You do know that Epel is a guy, right?” you paused, giving you both a moment to look at Epel, who noticed and gave a happy wave. 

Waving back, you continued in a quieter voice, “He’s not fond of being mistaken for a girl, or being called cute, so mind your volume.”

Oh, she a he…

Tony paused for a bit in contemplation, before he made a sound of dismissal. “So, that a 'no' on introducin' me to him, or what?”

You snorted back a cackle, covering your mouth as giggles managed to escape you. You nodded at Tony, patting the surrounding arm in affirmation. 

“I’ll introduce you, no worries.”

Tony faced the rest of the freshman and began to introduce himself, “What's the word? Tony Lombardi 's the name, but you can just call me Jaws.”

Like the movie? That’s a bit spot on for a shark-mer.

Grinning, Tony barred his rows of pointy teeth that could rival the Leeches and snapped his jaw at James, who blanched at the sight. 

“That's how the crew back home knows me.”

Ridiculous, idiots the lot of you! 

You turned your head to look at the other Octavinelle freshman, who was as exasperated as his thoughts sounded. He was taller than average, built like a beanpole with how skinny he was. While he didn’t have any outwardly remarkable features that clocked him as another other than human, his light, wavy coral pink hair and light green eyes weren’t exactly common for even the most colorful humans in Twisted Wonderland. He also sported a beauty mark under his lip on the right side of his face, along with several soft freckles spread throughout his face. 

Meeting your eyes, the man scowled and raised his brow at you. 

What are you looking at? Stupid human. 

You quickly looked away from him, though you could hear his growing complaints.

Stupid humans with their stupid faces, I had to hear everyone talk about you all summer. You can barely do magic, what are you even doing here? The headmage should’ve thrown you out to sea to drown if he had any brain in him. 

Seemingly sharing a sixth sense for his friend’s animosity, Tony reached over to yank the unnamed fellow down to settle between you and Marion. 

“Hey, don't be a jerk, be a stand-up guy and say hello and introduce yourself proper.” Letting out a nasally laugh, Tony moved to whisper into his peer’s ear, just loud enough for you to hear, 

“Unless you're itchin' for me to spill the beans to your big bro—”

Tony was shoved off as the young man cleared his throat and straightened his uniform, “My name is Aspen Albamar, I’m a freshman in Octavinelle.”

Curt and to the point, can I go now?

Wynfred made a face as he eyed Aspen up and down, as said freshman followed in kind. 

“I saw that you had a transformation potion,” he started, ignoring Aspen’s sputtering noise. “You sure don’t look like an obvious merperson, what kind are you—”

“T-that was in my nightstand! W-why are you looking through my personal items?!” Aspen angrily hissed, his cool facade fading rather quickly. 

What is wrong with you???

“That’s not important, answer my question—”

“I will not! It’s none of your business!”

Wynfred rolled his eyes as he was interrupted again. So hostile! I was only asking a question!

Interrupted by an intentionally loud cough, you sighed in relief at the sight of your five friends. 

Jack was looking between Aspen and Wynfred as their small spat was paused mid-exchange, before opening his mouth, “Hey, Y/N, how’d being a housewarden treating you? These freshmen giving you any trouble?”

Gasp! A dog! Silas perked at the sight of Jack, visibly in awe, to which the wolf beastman was oblivious to. James, on the other hand, stiffened in front of Ace and Deuce, who you remembered were technically his upperclassman.

You found the idea of your two boys being a “shining example” of Heartslaybul morals laughable. 

“Hi guys, no it’s fine Jack, we’re just getting to know each other,” you gestured to each of the boys as you introduced them, “This is James, Wynfred, Marion, Silas—dear please don’t touch Jack’s tail—Tony, and Aspen.”

I still have like 15 other students’ names to memorize, geez. 

“Guys, these are my friends, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, and Sebek!” You beamed at them as they all greeted the freshman with various ‘hellos’ and ‘what’s ups’. “Jack and Sebek are actually vice-housewardens for Savanaclaw and Diasomnia, too!”

E-eh? Vices??

James looked close to puking while Silas still attempted to swat at Jack’s moving tail, their brothers looking amused. Tony, on the other hand, was quick to throw his arm over Epel’s shoulders, who looked visibly confused. 

“Hey there, doll. Names Tony, but you can just call me the dreamboat you've been waitin' for~” he cooed, either oblivious to, or blatantly ignoring Epel’s souring mood.

Jack, Deuce, and Sebek all made noises of confusion, while Ace snorted in amusement.

Eh? What's this feller reckon he's doin'? If he don’ mosey on outta my space, I'll just have to give him a good ol' nose-thumpin'...

Epel looked ready to snap at the other man, while Ace made eye contact with you and thought, I bet you that the frosh’s gonna get launched out the window in 30 seconds. 

Before that could, thankfully, occur, Tony yelped as Aspen reached over to pull at his ear, dragging him away from the now amused Epel. 

Aspen bowed his head politely and smiled at his upperclassmen. “I apologize for this brute’s behavior.”

He sided-eyed Tony, who was now whining about his ear, still currently pinched between his fingers, hurting. 

“I’m afraid he skipped his land training camp, so he’s not aware of the differences of courting culture for surface dwellers”

Ace let out a cackle before covering his mouth after Jack harshly elbowed him in his stomach. Deuce shared a look with Sebek as Epel turned pink in a flustered anger. You could hear Deuce mutter something to Sebek about short people getting ‘angry real quick, huh?’

“Well, here’s a lesson then,” Epel grumbled shaking a finger at Tony like a mother chastising her children, “Humans don’t tend to enjoy people who invade their personal space and call them names. So unless you want to get beat up, I suggest you respect that.”

Aspen and Tony both perked up, sharing a look before smirking and looking back. 

“Ah, well, some of the more predacious merfolk do enjoy a good bit of roughhousing with their mates.” Aspen chuckled as Tony continued. 

“Yeah! So fighting one of us for flirtin’ probably wouldn’ help.” The two giggled as Epel sputtered and grabbed onto your arm. 

“Ain’t chu their housewarden?” Epel hissed under his breath, “Tell them to quit with the teasin’! I’m their upperclassman, they should respect me!”

You patted Epel’s hand as you murmured some words of comfort to your friend. 

I should probably send Tony off to his next class, if just for your mental state. 

Giving your freshmen a smile, you asked, “Say, I believe some of you have your history class next? Why don’t the others take you, so you can find the best seats?”

Meh? When did everyone get here? Grim yawned, awoken from his post-lunch nap as he climbed Deuce’s shoulder. 

“Oh good timing, Grim!” The familiar perked up, still waking up from his early afternoon food nap. “I think we split up for this next class, why don’t you take James, Aspen, and Tony with you, Ace, and Deuce to Trein’s class?”

Why do I have to watch over a bunch of newbies? The Great Grim’s too great for something so little!

Ace and Grim groaned as you continued, “I’m pretty sure it’s on the way to your guys' duel class?”

You batted your eyelashes at the ginger, who rolled his eyes and gestured for the three to follow him. Yeah, yeah. I’m coming over tonight to eat your snacks though.  

Jack nodded, catching on to your plan. “We can take the other three over to Professor Kallpa’s botany class!”

The triplets stood to follow Jack, Silas still focused on the swishing tail, though he stopped trying to grab it. Wynfred and Marion started to excitedly ask Epel about Vil and “what was it like having THE Vil Schoenheit as your housewarden?” Epel deflated. 

You sighed as both groups left the cafeteria, looking up at Sebek who met your eyes with a firm look. 

Now, now. No time for resting! You’re a housewarden now!

Before he could open his mouth to reiterate this into words, you interrupted with a stretch. You could feel a satisfying pop from your spine. 

“Hey, Sebek, you wanna walk with me to the third-years’ halls? I gotta meet Riddle there, we share the advanced potionology class.”

Wonderful! I’d expect nothing less from the Young Master’s human! I should’ve never doubted his choice in friends!

“Of course! I can tell you all about the Young Master’s time back in Briar Valley! You know, you missed quite a lot after your visit! For example, did you know…” 

You smiled and nodded along to Sebek as he rambled about Malleus’s time back home. Particularly about the amount of times he simply disappeared from the castle, causing a massive ruckus until Silver found him admiring a new gargoyle added to the north tower. 

A few minutes in, you saw Riddle walking into your path from the adjacent hall. He perked up upon seeing you and smiled, nodding politely at Sebek. 

“Hello Prefect, glad to see you coming over early for class,” Riddle turned to address Sebek, “Sebek, I have three more freshmen that have shown interest in the equestrian club, could you please add these names and numbers to the list?”

The half-fae brightened at the prospect of new club members and nodded, taking the sheet of paper from Riddle’s hands and placing it in his folder. 

“Wonderful! I will be sure to send those reminders out tonight! I’m sure any self-respecting student would jump at the chance to join our club!”  

Beaming, Sebek noticed the clock on the wall and bowed his head goodbye to you and Riddle. “I must be heading off to my next class, I will be sure to send out the reminders for the first meeting, Riddle—Oh!”

“Prefect!” Gave you a stern look as he continued, “I will be coming over this weekend to start our weekly call with the Young Master. I expect you to put everything else on hold for him! I will see you after class.” 

 Riddle gestured in the direction of your shared potionology class, which was right down the hall. 

“Shall we? Now that you are a housewarden, I expect you to set yourself as an example for our freshmen as well.” he asserted.  

I’d expect nothing less of my favorite junior. Perhaps I should give you your own special seat at the unbirthday parties?

You chuckled out, “Of course, Riddle. Your freshmen have been particularly nice, I imagine you gave them a veeeery stern talking to before they came to me?”

He huffed, holding the classroom door open before he followed you in. 

“I simply told them that, unless they wanted to lose their heads, then they’d do best to treat your word as doctrine.” 

Ah, that explains James’s behavior, maybe I should tell him to take it back down a notch—

My pearl! Please wait right there for me, I must find a seat right next to you! 

You looked up from your peripheral vision and made eye contact with the 6-foot bane of your existence. Jade gave you a small smile. 

Darling!

Immediately grasping Riddle’s arm in a crushing grip, you yanked him to follow you to a pair of seats in the middle row, a student already in the spot next to your right, leaving Riddle to sit in the only available spot next to you. 

Yelping as he tripped over his feet and the desk chair, Riddle gave you a glare as you looked at him “innocently” in your newly, self-designated spot. 

“Look Riddle, seats right smack dab in the middle of the middle row! Isn’t this nice? We can see the board at, like, the optimum view now!” you gave the less than amused Riddle a nervous smile, looking at Jade as he entered the room rather coolly 

He was wailing in grief.

Noooooooooooooooooooooo, darling… why didn’t you wait just a bit longer…

“I believe,” interrupting your focus, Riddle crossed his arms as we softly muttered, “the middle of the row would be better for our academics, as—”

“Nope!” You interrupted, looking at the doorway which was now missing the shorter Leech. “Right here is fine, yessiry, take a seat. Take a seat. Right next to me.”

Riddle blinked. Huh. 

“Right there.”

Are you alright, Prefect?

“Sit. Now. Please?”

Okay…

Riddle took his seat next to you, looking more confused than annoyed now, as you sighed a sigh of relief. 

Listen to you sigh. You sound so tired, what’s exhausting you my love?

You stiffened, trying to pinpoint from where Jade’s thoughts were coming from. 

You do look oh so delightful in your uniform! Those are new slacks, I did like the skirt, but they fit you very well. Ah! And your cute little dorm ribbon, it’s wonderful—oh, I should say something about it, then I can have your attention. 

“Hello Prefect, how—”

“SAY RIDDLE!” You shouted, drawing your companion’s attention, as well as everyone else in and entering the classroom in an attempt to avoid any manner of interaction with Jade

What a weirdo…

I wonder what’s with the Prefect? 

Quiet the fuck down. 

“U-um, say, Riddle,” you said softer, cheeks turning pink as you smiled at him sheepishly.

I do cherish you so, but what is wrong with you my friend?

“Do you want to make some sort of schedule with me to—uh—make sure your students come and do their dorm duties and stuff?”

Yes! Good excuse! Sorry-not-sorry, Jade! I gotta do housewarden stuff with Riddle, no time to talky-talk! Nope, nope, nope!

“Ah! Great idea Y/N, I couldn’t have suggested a better one myself” Riddle brought out his phone and started scrolling through a folder labeled ‘Freshman Schedules,’ showing it to you. 

“I was considering reworking the dorm duties shifts to make it so that the Ramshackle students would work less during the school week, but make up for it by working extra during the weekends.”

Riddle continued to explain his new shift system as you nodded along, attention flitting between him and Jade, who you noticed out of the corner of your eye was sitting in the spot right in front of you. 

Aaaaaaaah! I’m sitting in front of Y/N! I just wanna turn around and stare. You do have three of our students, yes? Perhaps I can use that excuse to speak with you! I can even ask you to meet me in private to discuss the details, oh~ It’ll work so perfectly! 

An image of you and Jade alone in what you thought was one of the private rooms in Mostro Lounge, lip locked and heavy petting each other flashed through your mind. 

“Jade, we’ll get caught here if we—Aaaah~” Jade was down on his knees, licking soothingly on the bite he’d left on your thigh while you ran your fingers in his hair. “Mmh, and? Everyone will know you’re mine then~” In response, you yanked Jade up to crash your lips against his, falling backwards so that you both fell on the couch with him on top. The two of you giggled against each other’s lips as you unbuttoned Jade’s shirt, hand gliding down his chest and reaching—

You covered your cheeks in your palms, shaking the scene away as if it was a bee hovering over your face. You rested your head in your hands, trying to pay attention to what Riddle was saying. Something about making two students head of the freshman, one for Ramshackle specifically. 

I’ll ask you now! Yes, then I can whisk you away. Riddle seems just about done talking anyway. 

The devil may speak in tongues, but he also speaks cruel truths, as Riddle ended his explanation. “Yes, I have a few students staying with you in mind to be the Heartslaybul leader at Ramshackle, let us meet tomorrow for the unbirthday party to work out schedules and choose one of those students.” 

You nodded, bracing yourself for the inevitable. However, it never came. Voice or thoughts, all was silent in front of you, though you didn’t dare move your gaze in front of you and test the sand. 

…Ah my heart is racing at the thought…are my palm’s sweaty? Is it just me or did they look scared seeing me earlier?

You took out your notebook and magipen, adored with a mauve gem that matched the one on Grim’s collar, and started to write the date and class subject on the first page. 

What should I say? Humans aren’t fond of spontaneous love confessions, so I have to work into that… It would be strange if I spoke to them too casually. Oh dear, this is a dilemma.

You relaxed, as mean as it might be, you were relieved that Jade seemed to be too anxious now to really have a conversation with you. 

“Hello Prefect, since you were discussing it with Riddle, may we speak about managing the few Octavinelle students you have in your care?”

DAMMIT! GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT!!!

You looked up, still cursing Jade in your head, and gave him a small, but polite smile. “Sure, Jade, but it’d probably be better for Azul to be involved, about I come over later this week to meet with him? Could you see if he’s available?”

Jade, nonchalantly as ever, gave a polite smile and nod.

“Of course, I’ll be sure to speak with Azul tonight and have him reach out with a scheduled time.”

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

“I’ll send him a text, but based on the schedule I have, how does Thursday evening sound?”

Why don’t we discuss it! Alone! Just me and you, my pearl. I’ll even show you the makeshift greenhouse I built, you’ll just love it!

“Sounds good, I’ll only stay for a bit though! Gargoyle studies club is then and someone has to keep Hornton’s club up and running you know!” 

You thought you could see Jade’s eyebrow twitch at the mention of Malleus, but before he could speak, the sound of Crewel’s wand whipping in his hand echoed in the room. Everyone drew at attention at the professor, 

“Good afternoon pups, welcome to Advanced Potionology and Magical Pharmaceuticals. Today we will start by reviewing the syllabus and my expectations for this class.”

Crewel handed out small stacks of papers, you assumed the syllabus, to the students at the front rows to be passed out behind them as he continued. 

“Seeing that you all needed extraordinary marks in your previous potions class and final exams in order to place in this class, I expect nothing but the best from you pups.” 

As Crewel continued to explain his expectations, you saw Jade turning to hand you his stack. Pursing your lips, you reached over to take the papers, the tips of his fingers ghosting over yours ever so slightly. 

You recoiled, papers in hand, like you’d been shocked and nodded at him. Jade on the other hand was absolutely elated as his hands ever so slightly shook in excitement, hardly noticeable, turning back around to face the board. 

AAAAAAAAAAAA! CUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTE—

You took a deep breath as you handed the stack back, trying to ignore the flood of infatuated thoughts from in front of you. You also decided to ignore the sudden images of you in maid lingerie.

Seriously?

“Each of you should have received a syllabus by now. For the structure of this class, we will be splitting you into groups of four, let’s see here…”

Crewel began naming off groups of four, waving his wand to rearrange the seats and tables for the groups, cauldrons, tubes, and similar items floating from the nearby closet and setting on. It kinda looks like a chemistry classroom now.

The first few groups set themselves up at their new tables, while you perked up hearing your name. 

“Riddle Rosehearts and Y/N L/N” you and Riddle shared a happy look, sharing a smile. “With Jade Leech and Yev Quispe.”

YES!

Your smile dropped, a nervous look replacing it, much to Riddle’s concern. 

“Are you alright Y/N? You look a bit nervous?” Riddle placed a hand at the small of your back as he guided you to your new seating lay out. 

“It’s just Jade and Yev, you've met Jade before and Yev is very polite, if a bit full of himself.” Riddle whispered the last bit to you, making you giggle your nerves out. 

Crewel smacked his wand-whip for your attention again. “Once you’ve settled into your groups, start with a class introduction, become familiar with your group mates, as they’ll remain the same for the year.”

Clearing his throat, your red-headed friend took the lead. 

“My name is Riddle Rosehearts, Heartslaybul’s housewarden.” He gestured to the student next to him, which happened to be Jade. 

“You both already know me, but for our new friend here-” Jade politely nodded at Yev, who returned the gesture. “I am Jade Leech, vice housewarden for Octavinelle.”

Yev puffed his chest out, gracefully gesturing his hand to his chest. 

“I’m Yev Quispe, I was recently placed as Pomefiore’s housewarden, I do believe we had few interactions the last two years, so it’s a pleasure to met you.” 

Yev locked eyes with you, smirking as he eyed you up and down. 

And then there’s you.

“And I’ve yet to be properly introduced to you, the infamous Prefect. How about you introduce yourself?”

It’s you! My little pearl! You chose to not glance at Jade. 

You nodded politely, responding a bit shyly, “Hi, we met at the check in, but I’m Y/N L/N, I-uh-skipped a year aaaand I guess I’m Ramshackle’s housewarden? Hehe…” 

Despite the proximity between Riddle and Yev to you, Jade’s thoughts overpowered them, 

Y/N’s class introduction…their voice was… really cute. Their moans are probably really cute too. 

“Aaah~ R-right there Jade! Your mouth feels—mmf~”

You shut your eyes tightly, rubbing your temples and eyes harsh enough that you could see spots spattering across your vision. 

God I wish I could turn this off.

“Uh, Prefect?”

“Yes, Riddle?” you sighed, dragging your hands down your cheeks. 

“Are you alright?”

You held an ‘okay’ symbol with your hand. “Yep, what were we talking about?”

Riddle explained the class schedule for the semester, pointing out when certain papers and projects were due and working out a meeting time for your group. 

As the class continued, everyone’s thoughts mellowed out a bit, even Jade’s own. For the most part, your peers were focused on figuring out their plan for their groups and work. Surprisingly, there were very few thoughts about things like ‘what’s for dinner?’ or ‘I wanna take a nap after class today.’ or even ‘this class is boring as hell.’

Maaaan, I’ve been hanging around A-Deuce and Grim for too long, I forget everyone in this class are a bunch of high-strung overachievers. 

You looked at Jade who was currently taking notes down as Riddle and Yev discussed (argued more like) about whose schedule should take priority. 

“Our meetings must be after 5:00pm! Rule number 345: Croquet must never be played after 5:00pm-”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not privy to follow the ridiculous rules of your dorm.” Yev sneered at Riddle’s angry flush. “I am not available after 5, I have a very strict self-care routine that must not be interrupted-”

The two continued bickering, cursing each other out in their heads. 

You pompous fool! Ridiculous? What’s ridiculous is you and the “secret” lab that everyone knows about! How is it secret when everyone knows about it!?

Who gives a damn about your 810 rules? One of them is contingent of a hedgehog sneezing, and I’m being ridiculous?

Your eyes kept darting between the two, slightly amused. It was like watching a game of tennis, where one thought the ball was hit just enough out of reach for him to win the match, just for the other to jump over and continue their fight. 

As they continued, you decided to daydream a bit and listen in to the other students and your professor. It seemed that Crewel was thinking about stopping at Sam’s at the end of the day for some treats for one of his dogs. 

Genghis has been a bit lethargic lately, maybe she’d appreciate a new snack…something heart healthy for her though so nothing processed.

A few of the students were thinking about what they’d have for dinner, one of the Scarabia students was lamenting about being put on chopping duty by Jamil. 

He’s gonna make me chop everything again I just know it! He always says I do it wrong, why does he keep making me do it then?

You hid your amused smile behind your palm as you rested your head against it. You decided to look at Jade, whose thoughts were rather quiet at the moment.  

Jade was still dutifully writing down notes, of what at this point, you didn’t know. He also was amused at the two housewardens still bickering, albeit less heated now. 

“May I suggest we meet during study hall?” Jade asked, drawing the other two’s attention. “I do believe they overlap for us, do they not?”

Yev shook his head and gestured towards you. “Not for the sophomores, don’t you have a morning study hall, Prefect?”

“Oh, yeah and I kinda need study hall anyways to catch up on all the practical magic stuff.” You replied sheepishly. 

“Of course,” Riddle chimed in agreement. “It’s to be expected since you didn’t grow up in Twisted Wonderland.”

Yev rolled his eyes, while Jade’s focus was shifted to you once more.

Hmm…maybe they’ll need tutoring? We can be alone then…perhaps in musicology, you’re not a very good singer, are you my pearl?

…bitch.

You huffed, turning your head to strictly face Riddle and Yev, blatantly ignoring Jade, who seemed confused, but still cooed. 

Jade filled your head with an image of you pouting up at him, cutely rather than annoyed

Are you pouting? What for? Oh, you’re so cute~ 

Stupid eel, it’s cause of you! Stupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupid—

“Prefect!” Riddle called for you, startling you out of your inner rant. “Pay attention! I asked if you had another suggestion for a meeting time?”

“Oh, um,” you cleared your throat. “Maybe during lunchtime? It’s the same for everyone, and we’ll be heading over here anyway soooo?”

Riddle nodded in agreement while Yev shrugged and replied, “I suppose that could work, I do have a private ‘lab’ of sort we could use-”

“Is it really private if everyone knows about it?” Jade asked, looking amused at a now visibly annoyed Yev. 

“Do you want the room or not?!” 

“We’ll take it!” You and the other two exclaimed together, right as the bell rung for the next class. 

“Alright pups!” Crewel spoke up over the bell as you and the other students began to pack up. “I do hope you and your group had a productive discussion, tomorrow we will review the class schedule and start our first module! Have a good day pups.”

You could here the internal groans and whines of some of your classmates. Quite a few spent the class time straight up arguing with their group, not unlike Riddle and Yev. 

Damn it, why’d I have to sit next to these dumbasses???

Crap, we just talked about our partners and dates, maybe I shouldn’t’ve grouped with friends? 

A shiver down your spine alerted you to Jade’s voice before you even heard it, like you were developing a sense for danger, much like an arachnid superhero from your world. 

Perhaps I should ask my pearl on a date? Yes, ease into it with a study session first, then we can follow up with a dinner at the lounge, I’ll make Floyd cook it. 

You froze in panic, images of the two of you transitioning from a normal, admittedly nice dinner to the both of you wrapped up in each other’s naked bodies in his bedroom.

Yes, I’ll lock him out of his room if he doesn’t agree. 

Contemplating the best escape plan, you clumsily stacked your notebooks and pen in your arms, locking on Riddle as your savior. 

“Riddle—”

“Ah, apologies Prefect,” Riddle started to walk away as he looked at the time. “Could you message me at the end of the day? My next class is in the wing across the castle, and I must leave now if I’m to make it on time. Goodbye!” 

Ah, good then perhaps I could escort them to class in his stead? Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jade approaching you. 

Fuckfuckfuckfuck, what’s that other asshole’s name? Yev!

You turned to ask Yev if he would walk with you to the next class. “Um, Yev could I—”

Ugh, what do you want? Yev smiled at you and gave a “sympathetic” look. 

“I’m sorry, could this wait until tomorrow? I must be getting to my next class.” He waved you off as he walked away and called over his shoulder, “I’m sure whatever it is, you can handle it, after all you’re the ‘Ramshackle Prefect’, ta-ta now!”

Shit! No, please! I don’t care if you’re an asshole, come back!

“Oh my Prefect, did you want someone to walk with you to your next class?” 

Startled, you looked up at the teal-haired man, who loomed over you with a glint in his eyes and his usual smile. You could tell he was holding back from just giving you a gleeful grin.

“Ah, no! It’s fine,” You started to stutter as you waved your hands around, “I have to go to alllll way to the botanical gardens, l walk by myself—”

Jade interrupted you as he placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the classroom. “It’s no trouble at all, I’m heading to the fields for flight class, so it won’t be out of my way at all.”

Aaaaah! Cute! My cute little Y/N! So small, so soft, you’d look smaller even if you were on top of me…

No touchy! Nope! I’m not encouraging this at all!

You slightly sped up your pace, placing a small distance between him and you as Jade daydreamed about your thighs spread across his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he shoved his face into your neck. 

“If you say so…” You quietly replied, moving so that you were walking side by side instead. 

Jade seemed disappointed at the lost of contact, but content to be by your side. 

We do seem like a couple right now, don’t we? After all what gentleman wouldn’t escort his beloved to their destination?

You stayed silent, hoping that the lack of conversation would deter him. The crowd of students in the hallways dispersed as you exited the castle onto Main Street, leaving you two alone minus a on or two other students. 

Ah, just the two of us, this is the perfect time to ask them out! 

Taking in a sharp breath, you braced for the words you dreaded to come out of Jade’s mouth.

Yes…

You waited. 

…Any moment now. I’ll ask.

Sam’s shop was in view, thus the spot where you two would spit was coming up. 

Hmm…my chest…hurts? Why is it hard to breathe?

The gymnasium was in view now. You peered at Jade from the corner of your eye. He still looked as nonchalant as you’d come to expect. 

This is fine. It’s not as if they’ll say no…probably. Ha…it’s very hard to breath now. Is this what drowning feels like? Why am I dreading this? I want to ask them out! …Right?

You cleared your throat as you walked away and into the direction of the gardens. “I’ll be heading over here, uh, see you tomorrow?”

Jade nodded and gave you a pleasant smile as the sounds of screams and sobs echoed in your mind. 

“Of course, I look forward to working with you Prefect, have a good day.”

CURSES! DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT! WHYYYY—

You quickened your pace, almost jogging, as you heaved a sigh of relief. 

Finally, god I can’t wait to lay down and just pretend I never heard any of that!

“Aw, come on! Spill it!” Ace pouted as he lay across your bed, throwing one of your pillows in the air to catch. 

He must have some freaky thoughts! Tell me, I wanna blackmail him!

“No???” You looked at him in disgust, trying your best to not throw your history book at him. “Especially not for blackmail, what do you think he’s gonna do to you if you try and blackmail him?”

Deuce, tiredly eyes boring into his mathematics homework, replied in agreement, “Yeah, what do you think he’s gonna do? Laugh and say ‘you got me’?”

Uuuuuuuuugh you two are boring!

Ace threw the pillow at Deuce. “I don’t know man, I just want a leg up on him, I’m still not over the anemone thing, you know.”

You sighed, watching Grim through the window as he tried to show his prowess on the broom to one of the Scarabia freshmen in your care. Wincing as the broom zoomed out of his grasp and he splat face down into the ground, you slid down your armchair and crossed your arms over your head. 

“I’m tired of this already.” You whined, opting to ignore your homework, rather walking over and flopping ontop of Ace on your bed. The ginger softly shrieked, turning into a starfish underneath you. 

 Of homework? Cause mood. Deuce nodded sympathetically, daring to look back at the question he’d been stuck on for the last 10 minutes. 

“Mmpht! Th’t’s w’at y’ get—mmft git opp!” Ace shove you off him as he continued, “That’s what you get for being nerds, hehe!”

Kicking your friend, you made yourself comfortable as you took a pillow and rested your head, arms crossed underneath it. 

“Not about school, dipshit, I mean the telepathy.” You murmured, eyes closed. “I don’t want it anymore. I’m tired of it, it lost its appeal. Can you take it?”

Ace snorted as he rested next to you and started scrolling on his phone. “Nah, I’m good, Deucey?”

Huh? What? Deuce perked up, blinking in confusion. “What? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Take the mind reading! I’m sick of it! Someone else can deal with y’alls thoughts.”

Deuce made a sound of understanding, getting up to stretch his arms and legs before walking over and patting your back. 

“Uh, I think I’m good, if Jade is any indicator of the people in this school, I don’t think I could be mentally well hearing all that.”

You opened an eye to glare at Deuce. “… And you think I can?”

Deuce held his arms up in surrender, awkwardly thinning his lips in response.

“I just mean that, it came naturally to you, you know?” Deuce decided to sit on the ground and lean against the bed, tilting his head to look up at you.

“You got magic, then the mind reading? Maybe you’re meant to have it.”

“Oh yes,” you drawled sarcastically, “I’m meant to listen to each whine, complaint, mindless thought that everyone has, oh and don’t forget every horny man’s dirty thoughts! That’s especially important!”

You huffed, turning on your back and crossing your arms.

Aw, Y/N I didn’t mean it like that, don’t be mad. Deuce turned and rested his chin on the edge, giving you a puppy-eyed look. 

“I just mean that, there’s probably something great you’re meant to do?” Deuce grunted as you smacked a hand on his head before ruffling his hair. “I don’t know, just looking at the bright side.”

You hummed in response shrugging. “Maybe, who knows, not me, not Crowley. It’s just super fucked man, how ‘m I suppose to react?”

Blackmail, duh?

“Ace! Shut the fuck up about the blackmail, man!” 

Ace kicked your leg, to which you responded in kind. The two of you began exchanging kicks until you both of your feet were planted against each other. Pushing against each other’s foots for some weird form of dominance, the three of you started giggling. 

What the fuck? Deuce took his phone out to record as he laughed, “You two are so weird.”

The laughter grew as your left foot gave out, allowing Ace’s right leg to kick you off the bed. You gave a short scream as you fell on Deuce, still giggling. 

“HA! I win! I claim this bed as my prize!” Ace crawled over to look over you two before letting out a panicked yelp as you and Deuce yanked him down to join the floor. 

The three of you calmed down, sprawled out on the floor. Ace asked, “Does he actually say anything to you? Jade, I mean.”

Humming, you looked at Ace and scrunched up your face. “Eeeeeh?”

“‘Eeeeeh? What does that mean?” Deuce asked. 

“I mean, he acts and speaks the way he did before…he was gonna try and ask me out, but…”

But? Ace and Deuce’s synchronized thoughts created an echo in your brain, which seemed ironically empty after studying. 

“I think he’s…scared? To ask, I mean.” You made a sound of pity, pursing your lips. “It was…kinda sad actually? Now that I think about it.”

“Huh.” Ace hummed while Deuce mimicked your pitying sound. “He is just some guy, I guess. A scary, monster looking guy, but still just a guy.”

That does sound kinda sad, actually. He always seems so self-assured. Deuce clicked his tongue and spoke out loud. 

“Maybe he’s scared of rejection? He kinda seems like the type of guy that was never told no, growing up.”

“Ha,” Ace snorted, “probably because everyone was scared he’d eat them if they did.” 

“Yeah.” You replied in faux sympathy. “Just like how your girlfriend broke up with you ‘cause she was scared of the kids you’d produce with your ugly ass face.” 

You and Deuce started laughing at your offended friend. The laughter grew as he flipped you off. 

“You know what, I’ve decided I no longer sympathize, I hope he literally thinks about every single weird kink in existence with you, you fuck face.” Ace pouted as you two continued to laugh. 

Your laughter died down as you heard a knock on the door. Clearing your throat you called out, “It’s open, come in!” 

The Scarabia student from earlier, poked their head in and smiled nervously. 

“Hi, uh, Prefect? Grim got knocked out…he ran into the tree trying to show us a Spelldrive trick.”

The student entered, true to their word, cradling the now limp familiar as they placed him in your outstretched arms. 

“Also, one of the other Scarabia students, Yakub, finished making the dinner you suggested! They wanted me to call you down to dinner too.”

You smiled and nodded, grunting as you and the other two got up from the floor. 

“Thank you, I’ll be down shortly, you two,” You pursed your lips at Ace and Deuce. “Should he back to Heartslaybul, Riddle will probably be back from his club soon, don’t want to get in trouble so soon.”

Ace snorted as he grabbed his backpack from the nightstand. “Look whose talking! Dear ‘I broke an ancient chandelier on the first day of class’ Prefect.”

“That was also you, though??” Deuce gave Ace an incredulous look as he packed his stuff. 

Gods up above, why is he like this?

You chuckled, following the two as they walked out to the front door. 

“Ah, what would’ve I done if that never happened? I’m actually pretty grateful that turned out the way it did.” You smiled fondly. 

I never would’ve met you two if I didn’t. 

The two looked at you, needing no powers to know what you were thinking.

“Aww, is this where you confess your love to me?” Ace grabbed your shoulder and looked at you with a serious face. 

“Just so you know, I’m only into hot people.”

“Okay, goodbye!” You shoved Ace out of the door, waving as he and Deuce walked towards the Hall of Mirrors.

You sighed, still cradling Grim in your arms as you cooed down at him, “Let’s get you some food, I’m sure you’ll wake up once you smell some yummy din din!”

Locking the front door, you greeted the 20 freshman in your dorm. Silas, who decided to help with the cooking, noticed you and handed you a glass of what you presumed to be the apple juice Epel left you. 

“Here Y/N.” Gentle pushed you to the front of the dining table. “Give a toast!”

You chucked nervously as you obliged. “Alright guys, let’s christen our first evening at Night Raven College with a meal!” You smiled and raised your glass. 

“Ramshackle students or not, I am happy to be your housewarden this year. For however long you stay, may this old dorm bring you nothing but luck and cheer in your first year! Let’s dig in!”

The group shouted in merry agreement as you took a slip of your drink, unaware of the glower coming from the coral-haired man in the corner. 

Forgoing dinner and leaving the room in a huff, Aspen stomped into the room designated to him and three others. Muttering to himself, Aspen dressed down into his pajamas, before taking out a journal from his nightstand. 

“I’m going to prove to everyone what a sham you are,” He snarled, furiously writing something down. “Then, no one will have any reason to admire you, let alone like you!”

[the-desilittle-bird]

pls can u write a fic where reader (the bastard daughter of rhaenyra and harwin) is married to aemond for political reasons, but she know how to manipulate him whit her body and have him wrapped around her finger to secure his support in the war that is sure to come (smut pls)

AN- Damn! I really like a manipulative badass boss bitch reader... but the smut isn't as good as I had thought it would be but... sorry.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

You Love Me Right?

Summary- What is a greater charm than a woman's love?

Tag List- @eliseline, @little-moonbeam-666, @blackhoodlea, @omgsuperstarg, @shopping, @lizlovecraft, @dayane, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @all-things-fandomstuck, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @morganastrucker, @shrexy, @helloitsshitzulover, @daringboba, @minaxcarter, @b-tchymoon, @stargaryenx, @hukio, @saraelizabeth26, @targaryenmoony, @moon-light1415, @eudximoniakr, @themaze13, @candypurplebutterfly, @5moremin, @yariany02, @issybee0611, @gossipandspills, @hopebaker, @kateris-world, @lady-athanasia, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @cherryaemond, @watercolorskyy, @literishdegree99, @sunmoon-01, @savagemickey03, @ultrav0lence, @deltamoon666, @severewobblerlightdragon, @hyacinthus007, @andlizeth, @shine101, @beefbaby25

Warnings- Smut [Dirty Talking, Breeding Kink, Teasing, Almost(?) Oral (Male receiving)], Manipulation

GIF Credits to @imagine-all-the-things

The Dance has begun and so far, the Greens had the upper hand; all because of Aemond and his dear Vhagar. His formidable leadership and swordsmanship combined with Vhagar's experience in battles and dragonfire made him an important asset of his brother's cause.

To the world, he was cold and unbending. But the House of the Dragon knew well. They knew how his sweet little wife had him wrapped around her little finger.

Otto considered her smart. She knew her beauty was her largest asset and adding it was her sharp wits and undeniably alluring charms. Each word which fell from her lips were honeyed and well versed; a web made by a spider to catch her prey.

And that is why he remained vary of her when the dance began. Being the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin, he knew her devotion to her mother; unyielding and strong.

"Aemond," she squealed as hands wrapped around her petite figure, her plump lips painted in red as she turned to greet her husband with a kiss on his jaw; then down his neck and up to his ear.

"(Y/N)," he hummed, fingers rubbing her sides as his eye took in her seducing structure. Her brown hair open and brushed back, cascading down her spine. Her violet eyes were the curtesy of her mother's genetics.

Her figure was drapped in a black flimsy robe, ending just above her mid-thigh. The robe accentuated the best of her curves; her ample cleavage evoking a desire deep in him.

"Aren't you a nymph?" She chuckled, sending vibrations through his skin as she looked up through her lashes. Her fingers slowly moved up to get rid of the eyepatch covering his left eye and majority of the worst of the scar.

"A nymph in love with you."

Aemond's eye lingered on her covered breast, inviting him to feast on the soft flesh which would surely swell when his child takes place in her body. His finger fiddled with the lace holding the lace together, tugging on it to unwrap it.

"I want you," she whispered, turning around and tilting her head back to give him space to mark his territory. Kisses and nips evoked goosebumps through her body as one of her hand gripped his long hair, while the other grabbed onto the corner of her vanity.

"So do I, my love," he whispered, his sapphire glistening in the light of the candle. A deep moan left her throat when his lips found the spot which made her see stars.

"I received a message from my mother," she hummed sweetly, her fingers swiftly getting rid of the clothes which adorned his lean body; all while gentle kisses and teasing nips were granted in the freshly revealed skin as his tunic and undershirt met her dark robe on the ground.

Aemond only hummed, his mind already clouded with lust as he watched her bare body in front of him; moving like a seductress. Her soft hands found his shoulders, pushing him down to sit on the edge of their shared bed. A place which frequently ends up destroyed due to their marital tasks.

Her fingers nimbly worked on the ties holding his breeches together. They felt painfully tight as blood flew to his cock, making it hard and extremely hard.

"She is sad."

(Y/N) knew how this works. After all, it won't be the first time she is doing this. Seducing her own husband to accomplish something which was otherwise impossible.

"Why?" He rasped, breathing a sigh of comfort as his firmness left his breeches, which joined the pile of robes on the corner. His long, calloused fingers traveled into her brown hair as he felt her lay kisses on his inner tights.

Her tongue met the tip of his hard on, licking like a kitten feasting upon her milk but slower. Her long nails moved up and down his tights, sending a shiver down his spine as he groaned.

"More, my love," he pleaded softly, but both of them knew that she wouldn't compile to it; at least not just yet. Instead of taking him in her mouth, she moved up to lock his lips in a feverish kiss.

Their tongues battled against each other for dominance but at last, the princess let him win; granting him a disguise of control in their relation. One of the biggest lies in their marriage.

"She wanted to see me," (Y/N) gasped as she felt his hands fondling her breast, groping and swiping his finger on her sensitive nipple. A pornographic moan left her throat as she hummed in appreciation. One of the pros of marrying him.

Bringing him impossibly closer to her, she whispered in his ear, "I want you, my love." Suppressing the groans was becoming difficult for Aemond as his fingers traveled south to meet her wet core.

"So wet, doll. All for me?"

"Yes. All for you, my prince."

His fingers were quick to adjust his cock on her entrance; slowly entering her to give her some time to adjust to his large size. His long digits rubbing her clit to bring some pleasure during the slight sting of pain.

"So tight for me," he groaned into her neck, teeth sinking into her sensitive skin. Moving softly, his hips started with a soft rhythm, relishing in the moans which escaped her throat.

"All for you, Aemond," she whispered, breath hitching as his tip grazed over the soft spongy spot inside her which made her see stars. Her lower belly tightening with pure pleasure which rushed to snap at any moment.

"Cum for me, my sweet princess. Take your pleasure on me," her husband continued to speak filth in her ear as he groaned, feeling her walls clamp on his cock deliciously.

"I will paint your walls with my seed. Make sure you carry my child," he groaned, lips finding her nipple to suck on. Tugging on the other with his fingers, he felt her back arch. A loud moan of his name and the clamping of her on him indicated her orgasm.

Aemond came a second later; grunting her name as he filled her to the brim.

"You love me right?" She asked after a while, turning to her husband who was yet to recover. With his face a slight shade of red, eye blown with pleasure, he turned to her with confusion. "Of course, I do."

"And would you do anything for me?"

"Yes."

The smirk on (Y/N)'s face was hid as she snuggled into the crook of his neck; words heating his skin as she whispered, alluringly: "I wish to side with my mother. And I wish for you to be with me."

The silence was deafening and for once, she thought that Aemond would sit up and the next minute, the cold blade of his sword plunging into her warm body. But it never did.

Instead, a light whisper was spoken into her hair.

"Then your wish is my command."

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Shrinking Violet (Rhysand Smut)

Hi! Happy Friday, my loves! I impulsively wrote this first thing this morning. Don’t exactly know what came over me but I thought I would share it 😏

Also, I’m using my updated General ACOTAR Tag List for the tags, so if you’re not on it and you wish to be, please click the link and comment so I can add you! ♥️

Warnings: Smut, of course! Enjoy!

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The violet-shaded dress had seemed like a good idea at the time. A time when you’d felt daring and mischievous and like you could do whatever the fuck you wanted. 

Now, with a tight-lipped servant tugging your corset strings as you stared yourself down in the mirror, your audacious nature was refusing to rear its head, scattered to the ashes by nerves. 

“I wish to have a gown the exact shade of Rhysand’s eyes.”

Rina, your good friend and the Hewn City’s most reputable seamstress, had looked up at you from the various sketches on her dress. She was snowed-under with orders with the upcoming event — Rhysand’s first visit as High Lord of the Night Court. It was nothing short of a damn coronation.

“Are you sure you should?” Rina had raised an eyebrow at you. The look she always got when you were up to something. “He’s High Lord, now. Things are different. Should you truly make a statement with your gown that most certainly won’t go unnoticed?”

“Should I not?” You’d spun around, palming the various fabrics that made up an entire wall at the back of the studio. “High Lord he may now be, but I know Rhysand more personally. I wish to have a violet gown that is an ode to those depthless eyes.”

Rina had shook her head, but said no more on the matter. You were paying — well, your father was — and you had a design in mind. That was that. She’d known you long enough to know that there was no talking you down from an elaborate idea.

Besides. Besides, besides, besides. You did know Rhysand more personally. 

More personally, in the form of him secretly fucking you in the darkest corners of the Hewn City, when he had just been the High Lord’s handsome son, learning the ways of the court. You were his filthy little secret, someone he would never display publicly on his arm. Would never think of you beyond the haze of lust that clouded him. Perhaps that was what the dress was secretly about. Capturing his attention.

Things had changed dramatically since he’d last had you pressed against a wall, a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans as he’d pounded into you. He was always ravenous for you behind closed doors and totally different in the open. A game — it was a game the two of you played.

But he was High Lord, now. You were excited to see what that looked like. 

Violet gown, indeed. You smoothed your hands over the tight bodice as the servant stepped away. As the daughter of a member of the Night Court council, you would be expected to look every bit the rich, expensive, pretty subject who would bat her eyes at the new High Lord and offer polite well-wishes for his future. 

While wearing a gown so tight it was like a second skin, the very daring shade of his eyes. 

Anything to keep those eyes on you.

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Rhysand had been trained for this, of course. Right down to the finest detail. Any outsider looking in would presume him to have been High Lord for far longer than a matter of months. There was something effortlessly arrogant about the way he lounged on his obsidian throne, one leg hooked over the arm, a chalice of wine in his hand that was constantly being topped up. 

He was the centre of attention, and he was loving every second of it. 

You’d never seen the instating of a new High Lord. Rhysand’s father had been on that throne for your entire life, until he’d gone and gotten himself killed. And now…now it was time for a fresh face. One with a feline smirk and a lilting voice behind it that sounded like music. 

You knew precisely what that voice sounded like when he was close to falling off the edge. 

You hadn’t yet spoken to him or caught his gaze. The evening’s proceedings had been fine-tuned to run smoothly; food and drink and music and dancing. Now, a long line of people queued up to the dais, forcing Rhysand to listen to the same sentence on a loop with every person who knelt before him. 

I welcome you, High Lord, and pledge my allegiance to you as your loyal subject. 

The words had become a monotonous drone. You wanted to spin around in your violet gown and make a show of yourself and catch the High Lord’s gaze. You wanted to be adventurous and fun, just like you and Rhys had always secretly been. 

Your father went before you, prattling off the same oath as those who’d gone before him. He and Rhys exchanged pleasantries, and Rhys’s voice seemed to snake past your father and round to you, caressing every bit of your skin that was on show. The sound was like silk. You wanted to tear your dress off and wrap it around your naked body. 

After what seemed like an eternity, your father was stepping aside and leaving you to wander up to the dais. Feline eyes met yours, the exact shade of your gown that felt suddenly too tight and too hot on your body. You gave a polite acknowledgement to the two Illyrians at the High Lord’s side — Azriel and Cassian — before you offered a flourishing bow.

“I welcome you, High Lord, and pledge my allegiance to you as your loyal subject.” You spoke, your voice slightly lowered. Just for him. 

Rhys’s eyes slowly studied every inch of you, starting at your hair, your painted face, the heavy jewellery that complimented the column of your neck and the lobes of your ears. And then they flicked down to the gown, studying the beaded detail. The way it sinfully clung to your body before flaring around you in layers of violet tulle. 

Heat flashed across those eyes, and you knew — he’d clocked exactly what you’d done.

“Good evening.” He drawled, his head falling on a tilt. His hungry gaze roved you once more. “And what have you come as?”

A subtle smirk tugged at your painted lips. “A shrinking violet.”

The High Lord tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. You wanted to drag it between your teeth, too. 

“There’s nothing shrinking about you, darling.” He purred. He took your hand in his, brushing his lips to the backs of your fingers. “Enjoy your night.”

A dismissal. A teasing one. It was all part of the game. His eyes fell to your gown again, and you spared him one last glance before flouncing away to dance. 

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You liked this game — yours and Rhysand’s.

Dark, shaded alcoves and long, winding corridors, perfect for a session of cat-and-mouse. Huge, unoccupied rooms, the walls of which volleyed your moans back and forth. You’d played the game a hundred times before, and you wanted to play it tonight. 

The party was unending, and so was the flowing wine. All part of the game. When Rhys had merely been the High Lord’s son, his apprentice, the two of you had always waited until everyone was gloriously intoxicated before you would share a heated glance and slip away — you first, and him following moments later. 

The night had reached that point. The frenzied music had become languid and sensuous, the bodies on the dance floor grinding against each other. Not one person in that throne room was sober. And so you set your drink aside. 

You strolled casually past the dais, shrugging out of the numerous dances people tried to pull you into. Rhys’s gaze seemed to find you immediately, and as you passed in front of him, you met his eyes and dipped your chin. The signal. The game was starting. 

But he was High Lord, now. Far more scrutinised and important. Perhaps he wouldn’t follow. Perhaps he was done with your antics—

Mere moments passed between you slipping into an empty corridor and the door opening behind you. A smirk played on your lips. You lifted the skirts of your gown. Kicked your heels off. And ran. 

Your feet slapped against the cold concrete floor as you sprinted away from Rhys. A dark, lilting chortle echoed behind you, and his pace picked up as ran after you. 

You were light as a feather, weightless as a cloud, shoving through doors and empty rooms, skidding along polished floors, climbing huge, ornate staircases. Rhys was always a few steps behind, and you knew he could easily catch up if he wanted to. But he savoured the chase as much as you did. 

You flew up another grand staircase, up and up to the very top of the gargantuan building. You knew precisely what you were doing, and so did Rhys. You took a left, veered down a long corridor. A dead-end. The door at the end led to an enclosed room.

“Where do you suppose you’ll go now, little violet?” Rhys called behind you, his breaths heavy. “I do believe I’ve caught you.”

Indeed, he had. You laughed wildly and opened your mouth to retort, but your already-huffing breaths were stolen from you as his body smacked into yours from behind, slamming you against the door. The wood groaned as he pressed his front to your back. The evidence of his arousal was already waiting for you. 

“Got you.” He hummed into your ear, his nose brushing your neck. “Now, what’s my prize?”

You bit down on your lip as he pushed his groin against you. “Your prize is whatever you wish it to be.”

“Excellent.”

He reached past you, opening the door to that unoccupied, echoing room. His hand splayed over the bodice of your dress, keeping your body flush to his as he walked you both inside. 

“I think I would have you against the wall.” His hand travelled down, fisting in the skirts of your gown. “Or perhaps on the writing bureau. Or the chaise lounge. Tell me, which would take your fancy?”

“Why not all of them?” You bit down on your bottom lip as his hand finally found a way under the fabric, skirting your thigh. 

“Naughty, wicked thing. Why not, indeed.”

You were suddenly being spun in his arms to face him, and there was barely a chance for your eyes to meet before he was claiming your lips with a scorching kiss and backing you towards the wall. Your back hit it with a light thud, and Rhys was boxing you in, settling his knee between your legs and very deliberately pressing it against the very centre of you. 

“You know,” he purred as he broke the kiss. “My father used to tell me to stay far away from you. He said that I should find a female fit to pop out heirs. That females like you like to play games.”

You sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed your neck. Crawled downwards. “Your father would be right about that.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. “But, you see, I like to play games, too. And the bastard is dead now. I am High Lord. Your High Lord. And I’m feeling mighty playful tonight.”

His knee pressed harder against your soaked underwear, and a soft moan slipped past your lips. 

“So play,” you said. 

Rhys struck. 

In a flash, he was sinking to his knees before you. Like you were his High Lady. He lifted the skirts of your gown, throwing them over his head. The sight of him disappearing beneath the fabric might have been amusing had his nose not nudged against your centre, causing you to jerk. 

“Now this,” he yanked your underwear down, blowing a breath against your slick folds, “this is a feast fit for a High Lord.”

His silver, sinful tongue licked a stripe right up you, and your head fell back against the wall, a loud moan breaking free of your throat. Rhys wasted no time in feasting on you. He licked and lapped, his teeth grazing your clit, and you imagined what he must look like beneath your skirts, his face flushed and soaked with your wetness. 

“I love your taste.” He groaned against you, sucking on your clit. “You have no fucking idea how much.”

Perhaps not. But you could hazard a pretty good guess just how much as he damn near devoured you, bringing you to the very brink of bliss. When he heard your moans and breaths hitching in your throat, felt your hips jutting forward, he sank two fingersinto you. 

“Gods,” You gasped, writhing against him, against the wall. Your mind fractured into a thousand tiny pieces as your release slammed into you. Your legs shook.

Rhys licked and pumped all through it, enjoying every moment, every gasp and groan. Only when your walls ceased their contracting around his fingers did he pull away. 

He emerged from beneath the fabric, his hair tousled, his eyes heated. His mouth swollen and glistening. One look at him, and you were fisting your hand around the front of his perfectly-tailored jacket, yanking him to his feet. 

You wanted to taste him just as he had tasted you, but he stopped you from lowering yourself to your knees. His hand grasped your clothed breast, and he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

You were bored of the dress, now. Pretty as it was, just like his eyes, it was too much of a barrier. You tried to reach behind you for the laces—

“No.” Rhys nipped your lip, staying your hand. “I want you to wear it while I fuck you.”

Your eyes flared. “As you wish.” You glanced down at his lips. “High Lord.”

A guttural groan escaped him, and the tether on his control snapped. The following moments were a confusing, heady circus of heavy kisses and panting into each others mouths, both your hands fighting to undo the laces and buttons of his trousers. As soon as they were loosened enough, he was shoving them to the floor. 

“I think about you, you know.” Rhys said, hissing between his teeth as you wrapped your hand around his length. “I come to the thought of you. How do you manage to make a mess out of me without even being there?”

“Because I wish it to be so.” You squeezed gently. “And so it is.”

“Wicked, wicked creature.”

You silenced him with a kiss as you pumped his cock, savouring the feel of it twitching in your palm, jerking at the very brush of your touch. Rhys emitted a growl, and he was batting your hand away, replacing it with his own.

“If I don’t get inside you,” he dragged the head of his cock through your slick folds, “I think I may bring this city down around us.”

His eyes held a promise to do exactly that, and as the head nudged at your entrance, he grabbed the back of your neck, sliding his lips over yours.

The tip had barely slipped in before thudding footsteps approached, and a knock was pounding on the door. Rhys growled beneath his breath. Ignored it. Pushed into you further. You gasped. 

“Rhys.” Cassian’s voice came from the other side. 

“Not now, Cassian.” Rhys thrust into you, right to the hilt, giving a very audible grunt. 

“You’ve been gone for too long.” The Illyrian general persisted. “People are starting to notice.”

“Not fucking now, Cassian.” 

He pulled out to the tip, his angry words breathed against your mouth. You swallowed them greedily as he thrust right back into you once more, a slight pinch of pain within the pleasure that wrangled a loud moan from your throat.

There was a pause on the other side of the door, a curse — Cassian muttering “Cauldron fucking boil me” — before his footsteps retreated once more.

“Look at you,” you nipped Rhys’s lip. “Keeping your loyal subjects waiting.”

“I am.” He shifted, slamming into you again. “For you.”

Your response because lost amongst the pleasure as Rhys fastened his hand at your hips and lifted you from the floor. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded deeply. “And hold on.”

You did just that, your legs locking around his waist, your arms around his neck. Rhys pressed his head against your shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin there. 

And he fucked.

“Gods, you feel exquisite.” He groaned, slamming into you harder, faster. “I could spend the rest of my existence buried inside you.”

You moaned, your head falling back. You felt his tongue against the column of your neck. “That seems like a foolish way for a High Lord to spend his time.”

“Nothing about this is foolish.”

He was damn right about that. Words eddied away from your tongues, the room being filled with moans and grunts and gasps and screams. Rhys filled you so utterly, so completely, that you couldn’t imagine anyone else being able to do so. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He grit out, reaching down to circle his thumb against your clit. “I wish you could see yourself right now. Coming undone for me. Coming on my cock.”

“Fuck, Rhys.” You gasped. They were the only words you were able to get out before he sent you hurtling over the edge. 

The fall of your second climax was euphoric, addictive. You were hot and cold, asleep and awake, present and absent, lost somewhere in the ether. Your moans filled the room, perhaps the whole building, the entire city, as your walls clenched his cock hard, his thumb continuing the ministrations to your clit. 

Rhys’s thrusts picked up, the pace frenzied and desperate. You could feel him tightening inside you, hear his breaths and grunts hitching in his throat, the pleasure furrowing his brow. You purposefully clenched around him once more, and he lost it.

“Gods!” He roared, stifling the sound with a hungry kiss to your lips. His hips stilled abruptly, and he was spilling into you, every last drop filling you.

It seemed like ages that he spent moaning and groaning and whining, emitting needy little noises, drawing out a few more languid thrusts despite having emptied himself entirely into you. He was completely at your mercy. Undone by you.

He was your High Lord, and yet tonight, you had ruled him. 

He was still breathing heavily as he pulled out of you. His eyes locked with yours, and a strange, indiscernible expression crossed his face.

“Come back to Velaris with me.” He breathed. 

You snorted. This was all part of the game, the continued teasing. You liked that a lot. 

“Would you give me a crown?” You jibed.

Rhys’s eyes glittered. “Only if I could fuck you in it.”

You smirked, toying with the lapels of his jacket. “And what of your throne? Would you fuck me on there?”

“I would fuck you in every last corner of my city. Over and over until my people have committed our moans to memory.”

Such a poetic, silver-tongued male. Your smirk remained as you let go of him, but he was having none of it. He clutched you against him.

“Come back to Velaris with me.” He repeated. 

You smiled vaguely. “No.” 

“You could live however your heart desires. We could play there, too.”

Your laughter was light, airy. You pushed him off, squirming out of his grasp. “Such pretty words.”

His hand caught yours, and he pressed it to his chest. “Come back to Velaris with me.”

“No.” You said again. 

You smirked at him, and he smirked back. And as you leaned in, he slammed his eyes shut, bracing himself for your kiss. 

You didn’t deliver. You merely swiped your thumb over his lips, erasing the evidence of you ever having been there. 

“Until next time,” you hummed. “High Lord.”

You finally pushed around him, smoothing your dress as you passed, your bare feet padding on the floor. 

“This is inconvenient.” Rhys called as you braced your hand on the door handle. 

You glanced over your shoulder. “What’s that?”

“I am your High Lord. But hearing you call me such makes me desperate to bury myself deep inside you again.”

A soft trill of a laugh left you, and you turned your back on him, opening the door. “Don’t be greedy.”

You stepped out without looking back. That was how this wicked, glorious thing between you went. The best thing you could do to not make it hurt so much when he ignored you before his subjects. Rhys being High Lord hadn’t changed that. Nor had it taken away the mischievous, playful male with honeyed words that you knew him to be. But walking away like that, you had the power.

His laughter followed you down the hall, and you smirked one more.

High Lord, indeed. 

You both knew his control had been obliterated at the first sight of you in that violet dress. 

A gown the exact shade of Rhysand’s eyes.

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[writing-intheundercroft]

Tis the Damn Season - Garreth Weasley

Read on AO3

Word Count: 4,145

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, Oral and Vaginal Sex, NSFW, MDNI

Summary: You're back from five years of traveling the world and living in America, and Garreth Weasley invites you on a foraging trip down to his family cottage in Cornwall. You accept, having regretted not sharing your feelings when you last said goodbye. Or, the origin story of the Weasley knitted sweaters.

A/N: An exercise in writing smut turned into a delicious one shot for Garreth. I've clearly been listening to too much Taylor Swift.

“Welcome home!” Leonora giggled, over the sound of merriment in the Leaky Cauldron.  The class of 1893 was celebrating their five year reunion, with almost all of the graduates in attendance. Sebastian and Ominis had decided to sit out the reunion, staying at your shared home in New York, sending their well wishes with you as you boarded an ocean liner back to London.  Cross-Atlantic apparition had never been your thing.

“I’m glad to be back,” you smiled honestly. London had never really been home, not really.  You’d landed in a shared flat with the boys for a month after graduation before embarking on your world tour, but you hadn’t stayed long enough to make it feel like home.

Leonora and Poppy started detailing the whereabouts and day to day lives of your classmates. Violet McDowell had married, as had Grace Pinch-Smedley. Duncan Hobhouse was still painfully single and afraid of not just puffskeins, but now nifflers too after an incident with Amit Thakkar at the bank.  Leander Prewett was still gangly, and proudly wearing his ministry of magic badge for all to see.

“Oh, and Garreth–I’m sure you heard about him and Samantha Dale,” Leonora giggled, pointing across the room.

Your heart sank as you thought of him.  If you had wanted to know who Garreth had been dating while you were away, you would’ve brought it up yourself–now, you had to face the burning jealousy that bubbled in your throat as you thought of the pretty Ravenclaw who currently had her hand placed on his forearm.

Poppy sensed your emotions, elbowing Leonora to stop. “They broke up,” she cooed softly. “Months ago. They’re just friends now.”  Poppy cradled her swelling stomach, your future niece or nephew growing inside.

“Good for them,” you said blithely, trying to feign indifference.

“He’s coming over here.” Leonora whispered. 

You adjusted your skirt as Garreth cheerfully bounced over, red waves crashing over his head.  He’d grown since you last saw him, thicker and sturdier than the stocky teenager you’d last seen.  No wonder Samantha Dale had been interested in him, you thought.  He was impossibly handsome, with emerald green eyes that shined at whoever he spoke with.

“You’re monopolizing our New Yorker,” Garreth announced, cheeks tinged pink from the alcohol.

“Excuse us, then.” Poppy grinned, winking at you as she tugged Leonora away.

You smiled at your Gryffindor friend, who leaned against the bar next to you. “Are you having fun?”

He nodded eagerly. “It’s good to be back together again, you included.” he nudged. “I wish we could spend more time together before you go home.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” You asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Taking a trip down to my family’s cottage in Cornwall,” he sighed. “I need to gather some more horklumps for my potions.” Garreth took a lengthy sip from his beer, but his eyes never left yours. “How about you come with me?  Been a while since we had an adventure.”

You blushed. “Are you sure I won’t just get in your way?”

Garreth smiled earnestly at you. “Anything to spend a little extra time with you.”

So, you agreed.  Garreth spent the rest of the evening by your side; you felt smug when Samantha Dale stared at the two of you, and the little bubble of regret in your heart grew when Garreth leaned against you.  It had been five years since you’d said goodbye, and you wished you’d been honest about your feelings with him the day you both left Hogwarts.  

Instead, he’d given the back of your hand a chaste kiss, letting you go for the last time.

“Don’t mind the dust,” Garreth advised, pushing the door in. “Mum usually cleans up before we all get in for the holidays.”

You peered over his shoulder as he guided you into the cottage. It was dark, clearly uninhabited over the colder months. You settled the bag of horklumps the two of you had foraged on the wooden table as he walked around the kitchen, lighting candles. Waves crashed outside the walls of the cottage; you imagined how this place might look during the summer time.  Visions of Garreth and his many siblings running around the beach flashed in your head, leaving a lump in your throat.

“There,” Garreth said proudly, assessing the lighting situation. “And we can start a fire in the living room.  Will probably be too cold to sleep upstairs anyways.” He led you to the living room, a small den with two loveseats opposite one another, and a stone fireplace in the center.  

“You just had to drag me on a foraging trip before a snow storm,” you teased.  

“What can I say? You’re an awfully great helper,” Garreth said sweetly, casting his wand at the fireplace.  It lit up beautifully, and the room started to warm.

You hadn’t seen Garreth since you and your Slytherin boys had left school for a worldwide tour at eighteen. Eighteen became nineteen, and then twenty.  Suddenly, London no longer felt like home, and the boys wanted to go to America.  You’d tagged along, their third wheel as you’d been all throughout your Hogwarts years, because there was no one else in London for you; why not experience New York?

Correspondence from your classmates steadily declined as you all got older and busier.  Some had started families (Poppy was pregnant with her first child already) and others were dominating their careers (Imelda was quick on her way to captain of the Holyhead Harpies at twenty three).  

Only one remained constant.

Garreth Weasley never stopped writing it seemed.  A letter once a week; two in one week if he missed an owl.  You shared your adventures, and Garreth told stories of the little potions stand he’d opened in Diagon Alley. It wasn’t glamorous, he wrote, but it paid a living, and he was finally able to move out of his family home and into a modest flat he shared with Lucan Brattleby. Garreth was the one who’d arranged the five year reunion, right before Christmas time. He had convinced you to attend when Sebastian and Ominis declined, claiming everyone would be glad to see you.  He was there to pick you up from the dock when you landed, and had escorted you to the room you were renting for the week at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Garreth–the sweetest Gryffindor you’d ever known.

“You alright?” Garreth asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.  He stood before you with stacks of woolen blankets in his arms.  

“I’m fine,” you uttered. “Just thinking,” you shrugged, grabbing some of the blankets to spread on the loveseat. Garreth did the same, setting the one opposite you, and your heart sank into your stomach.

Why had Garreth invited you to Cornwall?  Was it really just to forage the finest horklumps for his potions?  You’d assumed that he wanted to get you alone, and that you could finally confess your long held feelings for him.  Instead, he’d made you stomp through the brutally wet weather, stashing the spiky bastards in your bags for his famed wiggenweld brews. Your heart had done flips when he assessed the weather, claiming it was too cold and too far to apparate back to London.  He’d offered up the Weasley family’s summer home for the night, claiming the two of you could catch up over a bottle of firewhiskey instead of trekking home in the snow.  You felt that familiar warmth in the lower part of your belly when Garreth held you by the waist as you walked down the dune towards Shell Cottage.  

You’d only spent the last six years of your life dreaming of a night spent with Garreth Weasley, after all, and now he was tucking the sheets onto the couch opposite of you, preparing for an innocent sleepover.  You couldn’t help the flutter of disappointment, both emotionally and sexually. 

“Well I think we should drink, and then we can properly catch up, just the two of us.” Garreth announced.  “Be right back.”

You let out a hot puff of air, sinking to your knees in front of the fireplace.  So much for seducing him, you thought.  

Garreth returned with two glasses and a near full bottle of firewhiskey.  He landed on his arse next to you and you smiled, remembering the clumsy, boisterous teenage boy he’d been when you last saw him.  That boy seemed to live inside this grown adult–all muscle, shaggy hair, and hints of red scruff on his chin. He pushed his hair back as he held up his glass to yours, clinking them softly.  You caught up on everything you’d missed in the past five years; how Leander was still his best friend, despite being an annoyance, and how Lucan was a messy roommate.  You told him about your travels around the world, how Ominis snored, and Sebastian was a terrible cook.

“How is Samantha Dale?” You asked, breaking the ice. “I heard you two dated.

Garreth chewed on his lower lip. “Not very long, I’m afraid.  We didn’t have much in common.” he wrinkled his nose.

“Oh,” you said softly. He seemed to want to leave it at that.

“How are Sebastian and Ominis?” Garreth asked tentatively.

You rolled your eyes. “Still a pain in my arse, after all these years. I love them, but I’m not sure how much longer I can live with them.” You sighed.

Garreth snorted. “You’re the one who chose to follow them.”

You hummed quietly, knowing he was right. 

“Is it weird?” Garreth asked after a long sip. “Living with Ominis when you and Sebastian are together?”  He was looking down at his glass, avoiding eye contact.

You sputtered the firewhiskey, coughing at the thought. “Me?  With Sebastian?” You wheezed.

Garreth knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “Well, yeah.  Because you’re together, aren’t you?”

You laughed, and then laughed some more.  Tears were coming out of your eyes while Garreth gaped at you, eyes wide as saucers.

“How could you think Sebastian and I are together?” You wiped your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater, chuckling.

Garreth’s face was red. “I–we–everyone assumed!  You two were attached at the hip, and there was a rumor you two…” he trailed off, face as red as a tomato. 

“A rumor that we what?” You demanded.

“That you two had slept together in seventh year.” Garreth said sheepishly. “Leander told me.”

“Ah, yes. Well, that was a lie,” you chuffed. “I was only covering for him and someone else.  It was easier to let everyone think I was slag than for them to face the criticism.”

Garreth cocked his head. “What?  Who?”

You leaned back onto the carpet. “Let’s just say Sebastian and I have very different taste in sexual partners.  For example, I prefer men who are actually into me.  And two, Sebastian prefers Ominis.”

Garreth stared at you, blinking as he put two and two together. The blank look on his face disappeared, eyes widening in shock as he blushed.

“What…oh… oh .” he stuttered. “Wow.  I mean, I guess that makes a ton of sense. Good for them.”

You grinned, laying back on the floor with the glass balanced on your stomach. “Yeah, the two of them are pretty happy together. I think they’ll get married soon.  Bit loud, for roommates though.  I’ve been looking to find my own place.”

Garreth rolled onto his stomach, leaning his head on his hands as he laid next to you on the ground. “In New York?”

“New York, Paris, Buenos Aires…Madrid, Rome, or Berlin.  I could go anywhere in the world,” you declared, stretching out. “I’m a nomad now.”

“Not London?” Garreth asked softly.

You tilted your head to look at the redhead next to you.  His eyes were glistening, a perfect pout as he frowned at your list of locations. You fought the urge to brush his fiery hair out of his eyes.

“I’d come back to London,” you echo, “If there was something here for me.”

“Your friends are here,” Garreth reminded you. “Poppy, Imelda, Natty.”

“Poppy is about to have a baby,” you remind him in return. “Imelda is busy with Quidditch, and Natty splits her time between London and Matabeleland. There’s really no one else.”

“What about me?” Garreth’s voice was small. “I’m here.”

You dig your face into the carpet, hiding the blush that crept up your face. “You’re busy with the shop. I wouldn’t want to be in your way.”

Garreth suddenly pulled you close, his large hand traveling up to cradle your chin so you couldn’t hide your face. “You’d never be in my way.” he said firmly.

“I’m sure no woman would want me constantly hanging around you either,” you breathed.

His eyes flitted down to your lips. “I think you can tell from the way we’re sitting, there won’t be any other women,” he whispered.  His thumb ran over your lips, pressing against your pout.  Garreth rolled you onto your back, hovering over your body as he slotted a knee between your legs.

“You put the blankets on the other loveseat,” you whisper. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

“Because I wanted to be respectful,” Garreth added, brushing his nose against yours. “I’ve been thinking you were with Sallow for years , when I could’ve been doing this.” Garreth’s lips brushed against yours sweetly. “Fuck Leander–I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him.”

You gave a breathy laugh, putting an arm around his neck. “Yes, well, Prewett can fuck off.”

Garreth gulped. “I watched you leave, all those years ago, because I thought you were in love with Sebastian. I thought so long as you were happy, I’d be happy for you.”

“No,” you breathed in sharply. “I was in love with you .”

Garreth wasted no time pressing the weight of his body against yours.  You moaned into his mouth, letting him slip his tongue between your lips. He was everything you’d dreamt of and more since you were seventeen–hard muscle under soft warm skin, his freckled forehead pressed against yours.  You let your legs fall to the side, his thick body slotting between them perfectly–the most natural fit. 

“If I had known,” Garreth groaned into your mouth, “I would’ve asked you to stay.  I would’ve begged .”

“Gar,” you whimpered as he ground his hips into yours, arousal digging into your thigh.

“I would’ve been on my knees,” Garreth’s voice was gravelly now, pressing sloppy kisses against your neck. “Fuck, I would’ve had my mouth against your cunt, begging you to stay with me. It’s all I’ve dreamt of.”

“No use for regret now,” you manage to gasp. “No time like the present.”

Garreth grinned devilishly down at you as he pulled away.  He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “Tell me you want this.  Tell me, and I’ll give you all the reasons to stay.”

You licked your lips, nodding at him. “I want you.”

Garreth went to work–your sweater was torn off, trousers rucked off your hips as he stripped you of all your clothing.  His damn near tore off his own sweater, throwing it absentmindedly as he worked on the buttons of his pants. The room was warm–whether from your passion or the heat of the fire, you weren’t sure–but you stared up at the man, who’d tugged his pants and undergarments down far enough to free his length. You couldn’t help but admire the freckles all over his body, peppering his skin down to his groin. He pumped his deliciously thick cock in his hand, the tip glistening as he prepared himself.

“All this from a foraging trip,” you joked.

Garreth laughed, his whole body rippling.  He released his length, dipping down to kiss you again. “I promised I’d make the trip with your while,” he teased, fingers dancing over your core.  You shuddered, eyes shutting as he massaged your clit. “I intend to make good on that.”

His teasing words had you unbearably wet, the vulgar sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you filling the room.  Garreth laughed again, the sound music to your ears as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your nub.  He closed his mouth around it, and you let out a stuttered moan as he sucked.

“So sweet,” Garreth groaned. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about getting you off for years.” Opening one eye, you saw him thrusting his hips against the air, desperate for friction.  You nearly stopped him to help his situation, until he curled his fingers inside of you.  Thankfully you two were the only ones in the house, with no neighbors nearby–the scream you let out rippled through the air, Garreth’s name rolling off your lips as he guided you through your orgasm.

“Reason one to stay,” Garreth announced, your slick glistening around his mouth as you panted. “I can do that, every morning and every night.”

Nothing could have stopped you from pouncing on him, pushing him back onto the floor.  He gave you his signature mischievous grin, hands falling to the side of his head. “Go on,” he said lazily, as you straddled his midsection. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

You scooted backwards, his impossibly hard cock brushing against you as you adjusted your body.  His hands slipped to your waist, holding you up as you took him in hand, pressing the tip to your cunt. Garreth looked so beautiful, pupils blown with pleasure as he stared at the two of you, about to join.

“If you hadn’t been listening to your stupid friends, this could’ve been yours years ago,” you breathed.

“I’ll never listen to another soul besides you, ever again.” Garreth rasped. “Only you.”

Garreth’s head tipped back, hitting the ground with a loud thud when you slid onto him.  His hands snaked up to your hips, holding you as you took him in, inch by inch.  He held onto you so tightly, he could’ve bruised you–not that you would’ve cared. You would’ve claimed those marks as a badge of honor, knowing they were left by him .

“Fuck, you feel amazing.” Garreth sputtered. “So–so good around me, so tight.”  

“Tell me to stay,” You whispered, slowly circling your hips as you leaned down to brush your lips against his. “Ask me.”

“Please,” Garreth moaned. “Stay.  Stay with me.”

You picked up speed, cantering your hips.  It was picturesque–the fire crackling in the background, Garreth spread beneath you, coming undone. You raked your hands down his chest, fingers catching on the red hair that dusted his chest.

“Beg me,” you demanded, planting your feet on the floor as you bounced up and down his cock.

“Come home to me,” Garreth whimpered. “Please, please, please come home.  I’ll do anything to have you here with me, always.” He gritted his teeth, pushing his hips upwards. “Gods, I’ll make you come every day, twice a day, for the rest of your life if you just stay.”

“More,” you breathed.  You weren’t sure what you were asking for–more of his pleas, or more of his body.

Garreth started pistoning his hips upwards, meeting you with every bounce.  You couldn’t help letting out the desperate cry that tumbled out of your mouth when he sprung forward, pushing himself even deeper into you.  You were now fully seated in his lap, grinding against one another as you raced to the finish line.

“I’ll worship you,” Garreth growled, peppering kisses on your face. “No need to run anymore. You’ll have a home–I’ll be home for you.” Despite his hand that had slithered up to your neck, pressing light pressure against your pulse, Garreth’s words were wholesome, sweet. He meant them, you realized.  It wasn’t just the sex, or years of pent up feelings coming out into the room. The realization that Garreth Weasley loved you, had loved you for all these years apart, made you feel as if you were about to snap–and without warning, you did.  

Garreth let out a guttural groan as you wailed atop him, cunt clamping down on him as you finished.  You pulled his face onto yours, kissing him as you rocked yourself back and forth on him, riding out your climax.  From his breathing, you knew he wasn’t far behind.

“Come in me,” you whispered. “Make me stay.”

Garreth choked as he let it out, his release filling you to the brim.  You clung your sweaty bodies to one another, gasping for air.  He gave you another sweet smile, brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Do you mean it?” he asked quietly.

“Mean what?”

“That you’ll stay this time.” His big green eyes stared down at you hopefully, peeking through his red lashes.

You bit your lip, pressing your nose against his. You thought of the last day at Hogwarts, how Garreth had held your hand, wishing you well on your trip.  How if Garreth knew the truth, he probably would’ve asked you to stay. And now, after all these years, the road you hadn’t taken and had always regretted was now an option.

“I’ll stay,” you assured him. 

Garreth gave you the goofiest, most hopeful grin you’d ever seen before pressing his lips against yours.  You were still joined, and you could feel him stiffening again inside you as you wriggled your hips.  You would’ve picked back up on your lovemaking, if it weren’t for the smell of singed wool filling the room.

“Damn,” Garreth cursed, gently pushing you off of him.  He crawled over to the fireplace, patting down on his sweater, which had a black burn mark in it. “Must have kicked it into the fireplace while we were…” he trailed off, giving you a sheepish look.

You laughed, pulling blankets from the loveseat. “I’ll knit you a new one,” you assured him. “It’ll be your Christmas present.”

Garreth rolled back over to you; he looked silly, six feet tall and rolling on the floor like a boy. “You knit now?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I had to pick up some hobbies,” you snorted. “Keeps me calm, considering my roommates are sex fiends.”

Garreth laughed, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Tell Sebastian and Ominis you’re moving out.” he said firmly. “I’ll tell Lucan to beat it, and we’ll have a home all to our own.  You can knit tea cozies and make sweaters for the cat.”

You leaned up, nosing his chin. “And sweaters for the family.” you whispered.

Garreth gave you a lazy, proud grin. “Especially for the family.”

You cuddled him in front of the fire, stroking his chest hair as you spoke freely about the future. You would have to write to the boys in the morning, you realized.  Perhaps they could send your clothes in trunks so you wouldn’t have to go back.  Ominis had been begging you to clean your room anyways, and Sebastian could finally walk around nude without you screaming at him.

You could spend Christmas with the Weasleys.  You could meet Garreth’s many siblings, as he’d promised long ago.  You’d knit him a sweater with your own hands, claiming him as yours. And perhaps, one day, you’d be knitting sweaters for your children, who’d run around the very fireplace you were currently laying in front of.

“What are you thinking about?” Garreth asked, stroking your hair.

“How nice it is to be home.”

The children ran around Shell Cottage, shrieking with laughter as they chased one another.  The Weasley wives sat in the living room, in front of the fire as they sorted through piles of yarn.

“Who started this bloody tradition anyways?” Hermione whined. “I’m rubbish at knitting.”

“It was Arthur’s great-aunt,” Molly Weasley laughed.  “She and Great-Uncle Garreth lived here when they first got married, and they started the tradition of new sweaters, every Christmas. Everyone in the Weasley family has followed it ever since. You know, she's actually got a very interesting story...thought she was a squib, didn't go to Hogwarts until she was fifteen...ended up becoming a world traveler before she settled down with Great-Uncle Garreth...” Molly trailed off, but no one else was listening over the sound of Celestina Warbeck over the radio.

Her daughter and daughter-in-laws sat on the floor, learning how to make sweaters for their babies.  Fleur had taken quite well to it, all of her children wearing knit sweaters in Beauxbatons blue, and it was now Hermione’s turn to learn, her daughter laying in a woven basket on the floor next to them, cooing softly.

“Thanks a lot,” Hermione grumbled, looking up at the photograph on the mantle. The young couple smiled for the camera, with Garreth Weasley proudly wearing the first Weasley Christmas sweater recorded in family history.

[snuggleboots]

Akatsuki parents? Akatsuki parents.

because I like shoehorning my experiences into my ninja bullshit. Hope y'all enjoy my rambling. : )

Feat. Hidan, Kakuzu, Kisame, Itachi.

Hidan ends up a girl-dad, and a proud one at that, given your daughter is a complete fucking gremlin, just like him. An aggressive toddler that looks like a tiny little sweetheart, with chubby cheeks, gorgeous violet eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you'd ever seen, and hair that looks like a carbon copy of your own. Her little smiles are a mixed bag, and you never know whether to expect cute baby affection or chaos that no toddler her size should realistically be capable of bringing into existence.

Nobody expects it when she toddles on up, all tiny, squishy hands and 'awwww, hug?'s, only to turn on a dime and start biting, smacking, or pinching- all while wearing a huge grin that she must have inherited from her dad, or giggling like a squeaky hinge. Babysitters do not last, Hidan finds absolutely nothing more hilarious than seeing another one leave haggard and never pick up jobs from either of you again.

She's a natural climber, knows no fear, and loves nothing more than climbing up onto the back of the couch and waiting. 'Oh no, 'M stuck!' is a goddamn trap. It took a couple pint-sized ambushes, wherein she lunges, catches some serious air, and rams into you or Hidan at full force to learn that lesson. Your natural state becomes STRESSED. Hidan, on the other hand? Constantly entertained. That little girl can do literally no wrong, because, shit, she's just emulating her dad, obviously.

If it's possible for a toddler to be sarcastic, she is, and it's only ever when she's using her manners. One tiny little eyebrow cocked, a crooked smile and cooed, 'Oh, nooo. So-orry!' Hidan has literally cried from laughing so hard, until she turned it on him. One big, angry bitemark on his forearm later, and those tittering giggles and 'Uh-oh, you o'tay? Uh-oh!' felt just a little more irritating than when they were directed towards you. He's even less impressed when you're laughing right alongside your little devil-child.

Older kids tried, once, to pick on the little girl who laughed too loud and played too hard. Unfortunately for them, she's always had a set of lungs and knew damn well how to use them. One blood-chilling shriek- not because she's hurt, but because she knew he'd hear, and haha, there's dad. Big, fat crocodile tears, a quivering pout and squeaky, 'Oh, no!' and it was game on.

Hidan doesn't give a fuck how old a snot-nosed shithead might be, his bullying is indiscriminate and he's had far longer to refine his insults than they have. She's rarely bullied, because word spreads and it's hard for a kid to bounce back from such heated and targeted shit-talk, even harder to bounce back when they watch some whooping, laughing maniac beat the shit out of their dad for trying to step in. You were only slightly surprised, and a little concerned when your little gremlin laughed and squealed over the playground dad on dad beatdown.

Deidara drops by from time to time, and he seems to have as much fun wrangling your tiny little hellion as Hidan does. He doesn't mind the fact that she can be aggressively playful, and takes absolute delight in the way her eyes go wide and shine with awe when he shows off his art. She's fascinated by his hair, and you find some remarkable moments of quiet and peace when she's perched on the couch with him on the floor, her chubby fingers toying with and carding through the golden mane that's somehow smoother and shinier than silk. If he minds the fact that she essentially pets him like a cat, he certainly doesn't mention it. 'Awww! So sof', so sof'.' Between Deidara and Hidan's high energy capacity for mischief, his visits always end up with your daughter properly knackered, and mercifully tame for the rest of the day.

Kakuzu didn't want kids the same way a dad doesn't want the dog his kids inevitably end up bringing home. You two ended up with a daughter, and at some point, somehow, someway, he became begrudgingly attached and takes over everything surrounding that little baby. Maybe it was the fact that when he looks into her eyes, he sees a soft, sweet mirror of his own, moss-green eyes that haven't yet seen the horrors of the world and the awful things that wait within it. Either way, the most miniscule part of him that can still feel love does, and every ounce of it belongs to her. You have your share, but you know that his daughter put the moon and the stars in his sky again.

Your full-time job becomes raising her, the little lady that sees the world with his eyes and speaks remarkably well for a tiny toddler her age. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that he'd trust some random to watch over his girl. You're just lucky that she's an honest delight to raise, although that might be your own bias talking. Kakuzu does a lot of reading with her, and it's almost comical to see a man like him drawling and grumbling through a ten-paged book about a little pig's wild adventures in kindness.

When Kakuzu's balancing books in the evening and she can't sleep, she always seems to find her way to the kitchen table where the old bounty hunter is pouring over expenses and budgets. Tiny fingers count on an abacus while he counts stacks of green, and when he loses count because she's quietly chatting away to the walls and the table and his ears when they listen, he can't even find it in himself to be upset. Not when those pretty eyes turn their gaze to him and she bids her sweet 'uh oh, sorry papa'. For all his power, he can be weak in those moments that make his heart just a little happier.

Innocent, and unacquainted with the temper that almost defines him as a man, she isn't afraid of him, she isn't afraid of him, she isn't afraid of him. Never had she, nor will she ever bear witness to the ugly, vicious face of his short-fuse and hellfire wrath.

That sweet little girl is spoiled, and that's only because she never seems to ask for anything herself. So polite, for one so small. When little green eyes sparkle because they fell upon a pretty dress, a toy, a book that has her oohing and ahhing, a little cup that has a straw 'oh, wow!' and a cute little pig printed on the plastic 'ohh! a piggy! haha, oink oink!' - who is he to turn his head and leave it at that?

She could ask for the moon, and it would be all he could do to bid a slow, pensive nod and murmured assurance, 'It only sits in the sky for you.'

Hidan is a frequent and uninvited visitor, and while normally you'd find that to be cause for concern it's quickly proven pointless to worry given the fact that if Kakuzu isn't grouching him under control, your daughter has a hilarious talent for putting him in his place. Seeing the zealot sat on your couch, being prodded and chided by a girl less than half his size is certainly a sight to behold; hearing her tut and chastise him in a way she must have learned from her dad for putting his feet on the coffee table, shoes on the couch, or his drink on the side table without a coaster is absolutely hysterical. 'Stains are 'spensive! Feet down!'

Kakuzu's sweet little mini-me: breathes

Kakuzu:

Kisame takes on the dad role like he was born for it, after a small period of adjustment. You two end up having a boy and a girl, and he's practically putty in their little hands. Your boy is huge, had been since he was a baby - which is natural, Hoshigaki kids are just... big, generally. Your girl caught both of you off guard, only because she's so tiny. The sibling dynamic is chaos, but a warm one that always seems to leave Kisame cackling or grinning over something ridiculous those two end up getting into.

Your boy is like a walking clone of his dad, and even as a little boy he's already standing as tall as your ribs. Slate-blue hair as soft as cornsilk, teeth that make you grateful he was never a biter, and little gills bracketing his throat. Soft-spoken, a little shy outside of his parents, and constantly looking to wrestle and play. If you're doing something, he's a guaranteed little helper - he likes to help with cooking when you let him. If his baby sister is getting into trouble, he's either helping her do it to make sure she's safe, or he's the one carrying a kicking, griping toddler to one of you two to handle. Yeah, he's a bit of a narc- but it's always for a good cause. He's a fretful big brother.

Your girl is probably the most precious little baby you'd ever met, and Kisame is quite literally helpless against her doe-eyes and deceptively sweet, cheery little voice. Where her brother is quiet, she is loud; where he's happier to follow the rules and keep out of trouble, she's a born rule-breaker that finds boundaries just to test them. When you stumble upon her in the midst of some suspiciously quiet, pint-sized anarchy, she always manages to look surprised that you ever caught her in the first place. She looks like you, if you were knee-height and sporting tiny little daggers for teeth and gills on your cheekbones. Kisame blames you entirely for her gremlin personality.

Kisame does not discipline unless he needs to, because he feels awful when big, sweet baby eyes look at him with complete betrayal that he dared to tell them no, or stop them from pulling off some kind of crazy baby scheme that would make your hair grey from stress. Quivering pouts or teary eyes and he's gotta tap out.

Babysitters adore your kids when they behave, but Kisame vets any you hire thoroughly because he's more than a little protective of his babes. It's like they're each a half of his heart living outside his body and he honestly struggles to manage the overwhelming love and affection they pump into his veins every day. He could, and gladly would break fingers over something as minute as hurt feelings.

You hold the sole rights to discipline outside the house, too. If either of your ankle-biters act out their mischief in public, and someone tries to step up and throw in their two cents, Kisame's massive silhouette and mean, sawtooth grin are very effective deterrents.

Itachi is a semi-frequent visitor, and both of your children love him fiercely. You're half-convinced that he has some kind of Uchiha magnetism, given the fact that he'd won over not one, but three Hoshigaki by the sheer power of his quiet, soothing presence. Kisame takes great amusement in watching your little lady climb all over the poor man, and your son sidle up beside him with his favourite book to chat his ear off about the adventures that lay within it. Itachi, to his credit, never ever seems to mind the undivided attention of the lively gilled babes.

Kisame, and his pint-sized sidekick: getting into Hoshigaki-brand bullshit

You, with your sweet little chore buddy: > : ( no- one hundred times, no!

Kisame, and his tiny co-maker of mayhem: betrayed, bamboozled, and somehow? positively shocked that you found out

Itachi slips seamlessly into a domestic role, despite how long he'd been absent from one. Childrearing almost seems like his god-given purpose in life once he actually sets himself to it, and the second you two brought home your cooing, burbling baby it was on. He's happy, grateful to stay home and take care of your son, tend to the home and make your transition back to work as smooth of a process as possible.

It's an all-too common scene to come home and find the Uchiha at task in the kitchen, tending to a meal simmering on the stove while your squishy, pudgy-cheeked and sleepy eyed boy perched on his hip with a tenderness that makes your heart hurt. Even as a clumsy little toddler, he's never found very far from his dad. If Itachi is cleaning, there's his little mini-me, trying to help and earning gentle encouragement and a soft, fond smile for his efforts.

Honestly, your little guy is the most well-mannered, well-adjusted, well-spoken toddler you've ever met. He genuinely likes to help, to the point that it sometimes becomes a problem because he's very determined when there's any little problem set out in front of him. At the park, playing with other little babes, he's more concerned with making sure everyone's playing fair and playing safe than he is about actually having any fun himself. He's a bit of a worrywart for someone his age, and half the time it feels like he's the self-appointed tiny guardian of his friend group. Someone trips and skins a knee? 'Are you okay? We can sit down for a little. It's okay.' A born father, is your Itachi.

Who, for a man so reserved and soft-spoken, is hellbent on making sure his son has the most peaceful, memorable childhood he can possibly offer. Not a day is wasted in your household, even a lazy day is an opportunity to make memories and spend some honest, quality time with the people he loves most. You three can cook meals together, with your boy set to work at taste-testing and mixing ingredients under the quiet, watchful eye of his dad. He never wants for encouragement, love, affection, or little things that catch his eye; it would be wrong to call him spoiled, because he isn't, but there is little he wants that he doesn't receive.

Your secondary job is bullying Itachi into taking a day to relax and unwind, because although your son is essentially the perfect child, it's still a lot of work to raise him. Even when you're the primary parent on those days off, he's never far away, and always finding sneaky ways to slip back into dad-mode rather than actually relax. Half the time it takes you putting your son on the job of wrangling his dad just to make the man sit down, crack open a book and let himself just be. That typically entails your little boy gently chiding his father in a way you're certain he learned from the Uchiha himself- and god, it makes your heart melt. 'No, no. Gotta have your tea, it's gonna get cold', 'Sit, sit, sit. Sometimes we need to sit, papa. Gotta rest!'

Kisame loves to visit, he makes that fact no secret. For a man so massive, so intimidating, he handles your boy like glass- as if he's afraid a little rough play might break him. And your son, always as sweet as he is smart, adores the company. His questions know no limits, and he's a clever little babe about getting answers without actually asking questions. 'Can we go swimming? You must swim fast- can you swim under water? I can hold my breath longer than you can.' You once got to watch the boy perched at the end of a dock for half an hour, holding a staring contest with the swordsman who'd been stubbornly sat at the bottom of the lake's shallows for at least half an hour. That thoroughly entertained grin on the swordsman's face when he flared his gills told you he knew what exactly your boy was so curious about when he'd challenged him in the first place.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I love the idea of Bodhi coming to you for comfort after a long day, especially given all the additional stress that he and the other marked ones are under

Changed it a bit because you know me but here we go... My first little something something for our lover boy!

warning: contains some slight spoilers from iron flame. Nothing major but still wanted to give you a warning.

Not giving up on us

Almost nothing managed to get under Bodhi's skin. Just like his cousin Xaden, he could pull up a cold wall and no one would manage to get a single look at what was going inside. He was able to shut off his visible emotions. Leave all the problem-solving and brooding over something when he was alone or at least among the people he trusted but this mess that unfolded after the Parapet... God damn... At this point, Bodhi didn't even know who he was blaming and who was he mad at.

All he remembered was how he instantly reached for you the moment that flames erupted. He wasn't even thinking about it. His brain worked on its own. And in sight of danger, the only thing that mattered to Bodhi was that you were safe. Even if it wasn't what a good rider should have thought of first. He had pulled you both on the ground. His larger frame practically covered all of your body. And that all would have been fine. Everyone would have presumed that he as a section leader was protecting one of the cadets in his wing. If only...

The moment the heat died down and Tairn had chased Solas away, Bodhi had pulled away ever so slightly, his palm instantly cupping your face as he looked you over. The way your eyes seemed slightly glassy. And that's when the panic set in and all of his instincts kicked in. "Hey, look at me", he tapped your cheek as he pulled away, "Love, can you hear me?". You blinked up at him feeling your head throbbing from the impact. You were sure it was nothing you just had to let it pass. Lay low for a few minutes.

Bodhi had carefully brushed the hair away from your face, panic slowly settling in. You caught his hand pulling it away. There was no room for little touches like that. Not here. You shook your head slowly, "People", you muttered and Bodhi's eyes instantly snapped up. Verish and other wing leaders had their eyes set on him. And even if they hadn't, they've seen it. Don't think too much of it, Cuir, Bodhi's dragon, had mused but he knew better. Should have known better.

Nor was he surprised when he got pulled for an urgent conversation. Nor when he was assigned to the flame section. He saw it coming. They were going to do everything to separate you two. Weed out the threats of whatever that was starting to form between you two. Bodhi missed Xaden often but now even more so. In situations like this, he realized just how much having his cousin around meant. Was he pissed to find out that you were made the section leader of the tail section now? Yes. Sure, it was a higher rang and you deserved it but something deep within Bodhi screamed that it was done on purpose so you two would have even less time together.

And it slowly was driving Bodhi insane because the whole day after the incident he didn't get to see you. Nor did he know anything about your health. Did anyone even take you to the healer? Did you have a concussion? He had shoved his stuff angrily into the bag, so he could change rooms. It was almost unbearable considering that most of your stuff was already there. You two had quietly settled in. Your smell was all over his stuff. It felt safe. It felt like home. His haven. But more than most Bodhi hated the thought that all of this might put you in some kind of danger. Varrish was already all up on Violet what if that wasn't enough? What if he will want to have another play toy? That could very well be you.

"Sulking much?", your voice made Bodhi flinch. He had slipped out to stroll through the fields after an excessively long conversation with his new wing leader. "No", he muttered back, already hating the way his tone sounded. "Right, Ceir said just that", you rolled your eyes as you moved to sit down next to him. Both of your dragons were on rather friendly terms meaning that even if you two couldn't talk directly to them, they still were willing to help you find one another or warn one another when needed.

You leaned against your boyfriend's shoulder, letting your chin rest there. His stiff demeanor softened but you could sense the distress lingering. "How's your head?", Bodhi murmured, turning to kiss the side of it. "It's okay, just a little whiplash. I feel perfectly fine now", you reassured him. Hoping that it would ease his nerves but to no success. "What is it Bodhi?", you breathed slowly pulling away so you could see it better.

"What do you mean what is it?", he huffed, throwing the bits of grass he's been plucking from the ground across the field as he stood up. "I'm not hurt, all the people we care about are fine too", you stated. "They fucking pulled us apart because they know", Bodhi hissed through gritted teeth. "They would have changed your position regardless of what happened out there, Bo", you tried to reason with him. The loss was too big, they were lacking options when it came to repositioning.

"They know, that's the problem. Did you see the way Varrish was looking at us?", Bodhi tried to stay as quiet as he could but his angry gestures spoke loud and clear. "So what? We're breaking up now?", you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Bodhi instantly frowned as he moved closer to you, "Of course, we're fucking not". You let him wrap his arms around your lower body as you held onto his toned arms, "Then don't stress over it. We've got this", you cupped his face softly, "You can handle yourself so can I". You reassured him, leaning in to kiss the side of his jaw. "I just hate the thought you haven't to go through extra shit just because you're with me", Bodhi hissed through gritted teeth. "Watch me do it with my head held high", you smirked at him, "I'm not giving up on us", you whispered. Bodhi let out a sigh. His grip on you tightened as he rested his forehead against yours. "I'll never give up on us", he breathed. You smiled up at him, pushing up to kiss his slowly. Missing the feeling of him against your lips after such a long day. The warmth. The smell of him. "You know now that I think about if...", he breathed, "We're a dang hot couple. Both section leaders", Bodhi mussed. You let out a chuckle as you shook your head, "And it had only taken a couple of minutes for your ego to grow twice the size". Bodhi let out an awful fake hurt hiss as he wrapped you up in his arms pulling you even closer into his embrace, "With a girlfriend like you, what do you expect?", he purred against your ear.

[sea-owl]

Polin week day 1: Favorite Quote

So really, there was no urgent need to move up the wedding.

Except that he wanted to.

Colin's talk with the mama's through Portia's eyes. Set in the show verse.

"Damn!" Portia cursed as she read invitation sent to her to join Mr Colin Bridgerton and his mother Lady Bridgerton for tea. "I knew I should have encouraged Penelope to accept Lord Debling's offer. That foolish boy is going to break her heart all over again!"

For what other reason could he have to meet with just them and not have Penelope there besides wanting to end the engagement. To take back his proposal. Perhaps they can sue for breach of contract? Penelope was certainly not the one ending this, Portia knew that to be a fact. Or maybe she can orchestrate them being caught alone together, the boy is honorable enough. The ton might not have cared about them being alone together in the past but Portia knows if she makes a big enough deal about it so will they. Or Portia could strangle him with his own cravat. A dead fiancé will gather more sympathy than being jilted a month before a wedding.

As she walked across the square to the Bridgerton House Portia came up with more and more ideas to make sure Penelope ended up married. She will not let this boy ruin any chance their family had of securing themselves. Portia needed every possible daughter wed to increase their chances for a son, especially since Philippa had just given birth to a daughter. It seems Portia's curse of only seeing female descendants continues.

"Portia," Violet greeted her.

"Violet," Portia bowed her head.

Oddly enough this past season the two women have found themselves tentatively reforming a friendship. Portia couldn't tell you how but she suspects part of the reason is how tied together their two families have been, and was about to be even more closely tied. Or was.

"Do you know why Mr Bridgerton has called for us?" Portia asked. She was currently seated next to Violet on one of the couches. A servant recently brought tea and enough snacks to feed a small army.

Violet shook her head. "No he has not said. But it's probably nothing more than some pre wedding jitters."

Portia hummed as she sipped her tea. Pre wedding jitters can lead to a jilted woman.

Violet looked over Portia's shoulder at the door. "Oh Colin there you are."

"Mother," the boy greeted. "Lady Feathering."

Portia smiled. "Mr. Bridgerton."

"Come sit darling," Violet gestured to couch across form them. "Have some snacks."

The boy sat down but instead of devouring the plate in front of him he just picked up one of the sandwiches. Twisting the sandwich this way and that before putting it back down on the plate and the plate off to the side. How odd. Portia couldn't think of a time she has ever seen the boy turn down food.

The boy turned towards the mothers. "I am worried for Penelope, she has been so tried these past few weeks."

"Not to worry darling," Violet reassured him. "It's just the wedding preparations, all brides to be loose a little bit of sleep during the planning stages."

Colin looked down sheepishly. "Well I fear it may not just be the stress of wedding planning. We have been left alone on quiet a few occasions in the past few months."

Portia had to set down her cup. She was going to kill this boy for an entirely different reason now! Twice! Twice now she has had unwed mother to be in her home! They had barely escaped the scandal the last time it happened! Now this boy mocks them by possibly infecting her daughter with his spawn long before he offered marriage? Is this why he changed his mind back then, and why he wants to hasten any and all wedding preparations along now?

Portia glared at the boy, ready to tear into him when she felt a hand grab her wrist. Her glare turned onto Violet who gave her a look that said It's already done. Let's figure out how to navigate now

"I will speak to Anthony about requesting a special license," Violet said.

"And I will see the earliest we can move up the arrangements," Portia sighed.

Watching as a smile spread across her future son in-law's face and a softness fill his gaze at the mention of Penelope Portia found herself coming to the realization that perhaps there was no real urgent need to move up the wedding like he led them to believe. Perhaps he just wanted to be married sooner.

Either way it will bring Portia a possible grandson sooner, and if she was being honest she wouldn't mind having Penelope and her Bridgerton being in charge of the estate. At least she knew it would be good hands.