#brutally gentlemen

[brutally-gentlemen]

[arunneronthird]

timothy "i have better taste in music than u" drake wayne, ceo

[slovs02blogs]

"memories of my soul,

memories of my pleasure.

I loved evil because of a bad decision in life.

and I will love and bury myself in myself hollow of evil." -CBS.

Psch: *Looks at him with admiration and tenderness*

CPS: Hey, why don't you do the same with the others? You have talent, you could even sell your works INSTEAD OF KILLING, RIGHT?

Gentlespy: yeah,yeah, how romantic and all, get it out of your ass later in my ceremony with the devil.

[tybaltsjuliet]

here's the thing about charles dickens. [discussion of his antisemitism, misogyny, and racism ahead.]

his last, unfinished novel, the mystery of edwin drood, features helena and neville landless, heroic and sympathetic south asian (sri lankan, specifically) characters, and the racism they endure in an english town is relevant to the plot to the point where neville ends up falsely accused of murder. in the wake of the indian rebellion of 1857, dickens applauded the english brutality against "that oriental race," and called for genocide.

fagin is called "the jew" 274 times in the first half of oliver twist. an article in the jewish chronicle asked why "jews alone should be excluded from the 'sympathizing heart' of this great author and powerful friend of the oppressed." at first, dickens dismissed this, and claimed he was just being accurate about london's criminal makeup. but he was moved enough by eliza davis's letters to him on the matter that he halted the printing of the latter half of oliver twist so he could change the text and remove the antisemitic language therein.

dickens was an abolitionist who despised chattel slavery in the united states, and called emancipation a "moral duty." dickens didn't think black americans were intelligent enough to vote, and he wrote an entire character in bleak house who is a joke to be disliked and mocked because she'd rather oversee charity missions to help children in africa than be a proper mother and tend to her own family at home in england.

speaking of one's own family at home in england, dickens smeared his wife, catherine hogarth, publicly so he could justify separating from her and taking up with a younger woman. catherine hogarth was likely mentally ill, likely living with postpartum depression. she was also an author in her own right and loved her family dearly. her reputation never recovered in her lifetime from the claims he made about her. in dickens's novels, time and time again, from nicholas nickleby to david copperfield to our mutual friend to the mystery of edwin drood, men who menace and take advantage of vulnerable women are portrayed as the worst kind of villains, deserving of whatever grisly ends come to them.

charles dickens was both privately and publicly a raging asshole in many ways and the world would be worse off without him, because he wrote for bourgeois, comfortable victorians, the very people who so often failed to "think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys." in the same breath that he calls agnes fleming, who opens oliver twist as an unwed mother dying in a workhouse, "weak and erring," he dares to add that "i do believe that the shade of that poor girl often hovers about that solemn nook-ay, though it is a church." he calculated jo's death to the page in bleak house for maximum effect. but when he wrote of the orphaned crossing-sweeper, "dead, your majesty. dead, my lords and gentlemen. dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order. dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. and dying thus around us every day," people listened.

i dedicated years of my life to reading him and studying him and thinking about him and writing about him and his novels. now, i turn to condemn him; now, i turn to justify him. i wish i had a time machine so i could shake his hand. i wish i had a time machine so i could publicly debate him. i wish i had a time machine so i could break his nose.

charles dickens gives me courage and hope. charles dickens makes me want to tear my goddamn hair out. he is everything i despise and everything i love about the victorian age in one; the term "a man of his time" ought to have been invented for him. the leaps and bounds the victorians made for progress in the public good are only matched in greatness by the extremity of their atrocities against their "fellow-passengers" on this earth. the way we think about nearly every modern social ill can be traced back to the 19th century; the way we think about nearly every modern idea of social justice can be traced back to the 19th century. every last one is writ large and small in dickens's novels. he and his age are the greatest contradictions in human history and that's why i can't shut up about them, ever, even when i am exhausted by them, even when i am inspired by them, even when it was two centuries ago and it shouldn't matter anymore, but it does. it always will.

[heartdiluc]

older guys who are truly gentlemen at heart <3

cw: fem reader, nsfw content

he insists on driving/walking you home because he needs to know you got home safe. he even walks you to your door to kiss you goodbye :((

he takes you anywhere you want. happily taking you on nice dates so he can show you off. he’ll splurge on anything you want. you need a new outfit for date night? of course he’ll buy you something cute to wear (which he’ll be ripping off of you later that night.) you want to get your nails done? of course he’ll take you to a nail salon (he wants to feel your manicured nails scraping his back while he fucks you against his cushy bed)

“that’s my good girl. ‘knew you could take it. so perfect for me…” “don’t get shy on me now princess, we’ve barely even started”

he gently cooes to you how you’re taking him so well. while yes his cock is brutally stretching your pussy out, he makes up for it with his soft praises and how he gently holds your hands or feeling up your waist.

he absolutely loves seeing you when he comes home. wanting to embrace you after a long day of work. older guys who let their professionalism and cold attitude slip because he’s just so whipped for you <33

nanami, diluc, zhongli, pantalone, jing yuan, luocha, kunikida, fukuwaza, odasaku + ur favs <3

[daisynik7]

cw: established relationship, smut - car sex (cowgirl), cunnilingus, creampie, spit used as lube

Author's Note: Been a minute since I wrote a smutty Nanami drabble and I thought of this today while in heat LOL. Enjoy! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

Thinking about you and Nanami sneaking off during your company holiday party to fuck each other silly in the car. 

He’s your plus one tonight, dressed to the nines in his signature suit and tie, looking as dashing as ever. You’re in the new dress he bought you, the perfect fit, matching subtlety with him. He hasn’t been able to take his hands off you, one always draped over your shoulders, behind your back, or around your waist. He squeezes you gently whenever one of your wacky coworkers says something inappropriate or unhinged, even firmer if it’s your boss saying it. When you’re both sat at the table, waiting for dinner to be served, he places his hand on your knee, holding you because he just can’t stop touching you, especially in this dress. 

Dinner and two glasses of wine in, you warn him that it’s almost time for the speeches, which are notoriously long and boring. Feeling frisky, he stands up, pulling you with him, briefly explaining to the others at your table that you have to excuse yourselves for whatever reason. They don’t bat an eye, too immersed in their own drinking and merriment to even care where you two run off to. 

Nanami opens the car door for you, like a true gentlemen, beckoning you into the backseat. And unlike a gentleman, he slaps your ass on the way in, chuckling to himself as you playfully yell at him. He follows, locking the car from the inside, already shedding his blazer off. You do the same with your dress, but he stops you, a wild look in his eyes. “Keep this on. I want to fuck you in it.”

You fold the fabric up your thighs until it’s bunched around your waist, allowing you to spread your legs wide enough to display your cunt to him. Of course you aren’t wearing underwear. In fact, he told you not to, intending to do this to you from the very start. If there’s anything you’ve learned about your husband in the last year or two, it’s that he’s recently developed a kink for spontaneous car sex. Not that you’re complaining. 

He dives in, spreading his tongue and smearing his spit all over your aching clit. He’s quick and vicious with it, desperate for your orgasm so he can feel it all around him when he eventually slides his cock inside you. It doesn’t take long for you to give it to him, and once you do, he hoists you onto his lap, kissing you sloppily with his cum-coated lips. You straddle him, grinding against him, your wetness leaking onto his slacks. He pulls out his cock, throbbing in his fist, staring at you with a hazy expression. “Spit on it.” 

You give him a smile and a smooch before dribbling a thick wad of your saliva straight onto his shaft. He shudders, coating his entire length with it, stroking it fast in his grip. He circles the wetted tip around your swollen clit before sliding inside you, letting out a guttural moan as soon as he bottoms out. “Fuck,” he grunts, pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead, cupping your cheek softly in the palm of his hand. 

You nuzzle into his touch, rocking yourself back and forth on him. “Fuck me, Kento. And don’t hold back.”

And he doesn’t, fucking you hard and rough, making you temporarily forget about that silly holiday party still happening inside. They have no clue that you’re getting fucked stupid in the backseat of your car by your husband. That he’s tearing this pussy up with every brutal thrusts he pounds into you, his thumb massaging deep into your core, greedy for your orgasms. 

Neither of you care what a mess you’re making, his hair matted on his sweaty forehead, your dress wrinkled and ruined, his slacks splotched with damp spots from your slick leaking out. It gets even messier when he comes inside you, unable to stop some of his creamy load from seeping into the fabric of his pants.  

Without much of an effort, the two of your pull yourselves together enough to head back to the party. Nanami wraps his jacket around his waist, looking ridiculous, and you ignore the curious stares of your coworkers as they eye the suspicious winkles on your dress. 

It doesn’t matter anyways; you only return in time to collect your bonus. Once it’s in your hands, you thank your boss and excuse yourselves for the rest of the night, ready for round two, three, and four in the comfort of your own home. 

[starkeyisthelastname]

kinda curious about how the first time with stepdad!rafe be like

btw love your writing sm oml🤍

(Thank you sweetness! 🤭💕)

He had treated you to an entire day of shopping on the mainland, letting you get anything you wanted. From Sephora to Chanel, he spent it all on you. He had been buttering you up for the last few weeks, letting his gentlemen come out every second. You were naive, needing someone to guide you through your newly adult years.

He had made sure his wife wasn’t home that night, thanking this was a weekend she had went on a girl’s trip with her friends. He had even said yes to watching a movie with you in your bed, his goal to get his cock in you that same night.

“Hold your legs back for me.. yeah there you go.” Rafe’s voice low as he helped you bend your smooth thighs back. He had you nearly folded in half, pink pussy at the perfect angle for him to slide into. He saw your face, cheeks already flushed as you tried to shy away from him. As open to the idea of him teaching you what a real man should do, he also knew you were worried about your mother finding out. “Hey, look at me. Yeah?” He said, dick in hand as he slid it over your soaked folds.

You glanced at him, wispy lashes fluttering as your pretty lips opened in a small whimper. “I’m scared.” You whispered. You had only had sex once before and he wasn’t anywhere as big as Rafe. You also knew that this was wrong, but your naive self also had thing for strong male figures and wanting to completely devote yourself to them. Even if this one happened to be your stepfather.

Rafe’s hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your smooth skin as he stuck the tip near your entrance. “Don’t be scared sweetheart. I promise you it’s gonna feel good.” He whispered, slowly pushing himself in your tight cunt for the first time. “Yeah… daddy’s gonna make you a good little slut.” His blue eyes rolling back as your hot little cunt swallowed him.

Your mouth fell open, eyebrows squeezing together as you felt his fat length fill you up. You couldn't seem to say anything, words at a loss as he began to trust his toned hips. Your tummy fluttered, eyes glancing up at the handsome man above you.

Rafe let out a soft chuckle, eyes flashing dark as his messed up mine got off on the fact he had his dick buried up his step-daughter’s cunt. His thumb came down to rub your pearl, watching as you let out the prettiest moan he had ever heard. “You like that shit?” His voice rasped out to you.

All you could was nod your head, moans only growing louder the harder he went. The way your hips were angled had him hitting your hole at a brutal pace, your own parts betraying you as the sound of wetness filled the room.

He smirked, loving how he had you exactly where he wanted you. Wrapped around his finger to be a good cock slut. “Yeah… there you go. Take that dick up your princess cunt like a good girl.”

His nasty words, only make you wonder what else he had in store for you moving forward. The tiny voice in the back of your head, making your French nails tap his lower abdomen. “Rafey.. we sh-should stop.” You mumbled, struggling to cease the funny feeling that was growing in the pit of your belly.

Rafe looked at you, thrusts coming to a halt. He watched your eyes widen, glossy lips frowning despite you telling him to stop. “Why you fuckin crying for then when I slow down? Huh?” He asked eyebrow raised as he heard the whine come from your open mouth. “Better start using your big girl words or I will fuckin stop. You and I both know you don't want that baby.”

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 2.9K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* You have been an Animagus for around a year now. You have quite a knack for learning everything you need to know about it quickly and Professor McGonagall really likes you. However, a fellow classmate, Theodore Nott, does not like you. And you couldn't care less. Both of you are in for a surprise when you accidentally meet in the library. (Fluff?, sort of Comedy)

+ WARNINGS - Language, nothing else really

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Fantasy - Mariah Carey (don't judge me)

---

“And, ladies and gentlemen, please remember: ten inches of parchment on the side effects of incorrectly transfiguring a toad back into a human!”

Professor McGonagall’s voice pierced the slight murmuring that had started amongst the crowd of students. You suppressed a groan at the assignment, knowing well enough that you’d be putting it off as long as possible. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful to be here, it was just rambling on about the properties of toad warts left over on humans after unfortunate experiments didn’t really get you going, at least, not like they did Professor McGonagall. 

You had found a kind of special liking for her after you had put yourself through the very exciting—albeit brutally difficult—process of becoming an Animagus. It had been your absolute dream since accidentally discovering that your mother was also one. You had been wandering around the garden during the summer between first and second year and had come across an absolutely beautiful doe. You had stopped in your tracks, taken aback by the creature’s beauty. Just as you were going to hold your hand out to the creature and offer it some of the grass blades clutched in your fingers, the creature before you changed entirely. Its long, graceful body curled into a small flash of light and then, without so much as a breath, your mother was back. Standing in the place of the deer. You could hardly believe your eyes.

Your mother was an Animagus and you thought you should be as well. She had warned you of the difficulties and hardships of the process and how annoying it was to have to get registered with the Ministry of Magic but you didn’t care. The wonder that had been in your eyes when you’d seen your mother transform surpassed all the cons of becoming one. You were going to be just like her. And now you were. Well…sort of. You were an Animagus but, much to your disappointment, you did not transform into a beautiful doe. You were a cat. Not a sleek black cat or a graceful Sphinx. No. You were a large, overgrown, long-haired European Maine Coon. At least, that’s what you were pretty sure you were. You hadn’t exactly performed a DNA test on your Animagi identity. You wondered if that would even work. 

The crowd of students urged you towards the door and out into the grand hallway just outside the Transfiguration classroom. The light poured through the gorgeously carved stained glass windows along the stone walls and illuminated everything in its wake. You absolutely adored the castle and its beauty and reckoned you didn’t stop and admire it as often as you should. 

A body bumped into you roughly, nearly making you lose the books clutched in your arms. You gasped at the sudden shock that went through your body when you realized you’d nearly missed a step down the staircase, your heart dropping through your ribcage.

“Hey,” you shouted. “Want to watch where you’re bloody going?”

The culprit turned with an annoyingly charming smile printed on his lips. His darkened eyes found yours amusedly and sent you a single wink. Your blood boiled.

“Sorry, darling, I’m in quite a rush,” he smirked.

“Doesn’t mean you can break through crowds like a giant,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. “Maybe you should take a second to think about the other people in this school and not just yourself for once, Nott.”

“Bite me, love.” 

Asshole. You watched the back of his head disappear amongst the rest of the students as they waded around you as if you were an island in the midst of an ocean. You could not stand that boy. He and his stupid friends had been nothing if not the most obnoxious people you’d ever met. Even from your first day, he was rude, loud, and annoying. No matter how handsome he was, he couldn’t just steamroll over people. And yet, because he wasn’t ugly in the slightest, everyone just let him do whatever he wanted. Him and all his friends. It made you so angry. 

Your eyes found your watch. You probably—erm, definitely, needed to get started on the paper for McGonagall’s class. That’s what pointed your feet toward the direction of the library. The thoughts of the warm hearth and those plush green chairs that hovered around it were calming the worries for this assignment. The library was—in your opinion—one of the most comfortable areas in the entire castle. It oozed comfort and warmth, much like your dorm room. It just felt soothing. You had noticed the amount of time you were spending in there was increasing as the days got colder. The fireplace in the dorms and common room were just as warm, of course, but those areas tended to be more populated during the day. And if you were going to get this paper done, you likely shouldn’t be surrounded by friends. You could be quite talkative when it came down to it—especially when it came down to procrastinating an assignment. 

One of the large wooden doors to the library came into view slowly as you sauntered down the stairs just before the entrance. You could practically feel the warmth radiating from the vast room. Sweetened chills broke out over your arms and a small shudder passed down your spine. You clutched your books a bit tighter to your chest as you pushed past the threshold and felt the warmth on your skin. 

You smiled gently as you made your way toward your usual fireplace. The smile on your face seemed to grow exponentially as you realized nobody was even in the general vicinity of your favorite spot and…thank Merlin…the tea cart had been brought around. The silvered, intricately designed cart that the librarian left out for wandering and cramming students sat right beside the fireplace. On it sat a few tea cups, a large, enchanted teapot that filled itself back up as soon as it was emptied, two sugar bowls, a large cream pitcher, and a few crumpets and cream horns. You might have died and gone right to the afterlife. 

You set your bags and books in your favorite armchair—the one on the left—and made your way over to the wonderful cart. You shivered in delight as you prepared yourself some tea, just the way you liked it, and grabbed a cream horn—or two. Wandlessly, you conjured the wool blanket that sat upon the foot of your bed and snuggled in amongst the cushions. This was absolutely delightful. Between the tea, the snacks, the warmth, and the dim lighting, your homework was the last thing on your tranquil mind. Your books and bag remained untouched. 

Once finished with your snack and beverage, you found yourself closely watching the curls of flames dance in the fireplace. Soon enough, absolutely without your consent, you were gently lulled to a deep sleep. Your eyes fluttered shut and your breathing stilled, your hands were curled against your chest and your knees were brought up against you. 

-

Theo rounded the corner of the main stairway just before the library. He had an enormous amount of work to do and figured he wouldn’t get anything done if he stayed with his mates. He watched his feet as they jogged down the stone steps, his bag jostling on his shoulder every few moments. 

Once past the doorway, his eyes found that set of green armchairs in the corner just in front of the fireplace. There appeared to be no one in them and he smiled a bit. Hopefully he’d be able to complete all of his work without any interruptions. 

He set his bag down beside the armchair on the right. He reckoned he should start on the paper for McGonagall’s class since it was likely going to be the most difficult way. He should probably just get it out of the way, then everything else would be a breeze. 

As he began to rummage through his bag for the appropriate materials to get started, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A white wool blanket lay spread across the other armchair and an empty tea cup, plate, and school bag were discarded beside it. He figured someone had been working there only moments ago and had slipped away for a quick bathroom break or something of the like. A groan began to build up in his throat as he realized he likely wasn’t going to be alone after all. Whatever…as long as they were quiet. 

Finally, his fingers brushed his quill set and the Transfiguration book. He pulled everything out and settled himself in the chair, preparing to get to work. A thought popped into his head as he spread everything out comfortably. He wondered who had been sitting there. If it was someone he didn’t know, he’d likely have no issue ignoring them. He kind of hoped it was none of his friends, though he could have sworn he’d seen that bag before. Maybe it was Enzo’s?

An hour or so of straight working went by before Theo came to a pause and set his things aside. He stood from the chair and pulled his body into a sweeping stretch that popped a few joints along the way. He groaned at the pleasurable release, grateful that he wasn’t so stiff anymore. His hands shoved in his trouser pockets and he began shuffling in place to try and work some feelings back into his legs. 

The person who had been there previously, he realized, had never come back. Being as curious as he was, he glanced around the library, spotting only a few fully concentrated students with their heads down. Whose stuff was this? He nonchalantly wandered over to the items and squatted down next to the bag. He picked it up gently and rolled the fabric around in his hands. He wasn’t trying to be too nosy, just wanted to see if there were any embroidered initials or names. Quickly, he flipped the top flap open only to discover a messily scrawled name imprinted over the white tag near the top of the bag. It was, much to his dismay, your name. That obnoxiously uptight girl in his Transfiguration class. Every day, in and out, rubbing everyone’s nose in the fact that you were bloody awesome at McGonagall’s class and everyone else was just shit. He wondered if you were cheating or doing some favors for other students. No way you were that good at that boring class. 

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye shocked him away from the bag. His hands frantically dropped the material and he backed away quickly, not wanting to be caught snooping. Yet, he saw nothing. He glanced around wildly trying to find the culprit of the movement but not seeing anything. He could’ve sworn he—

Another movement. From the center of the white blanket. A cat. A rather large one, at that. Yawning slightly and stretching its little limbs out. His heart nearly melted. 

“Aw,” he smiled, “hello there, love. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He slowly slid his hand over the edge of the chair’s cushion and rubbed the back of his first two fingers over your head. Unbeknownst to him and your sleepy state, both were blissfully unaware of who was touching whom. You yawned once more and curled into his touch. He laughed softly at the movement and began petting your head with a full hand. A deep rumbling purr radiated from your chest at his movements. 

You weren’t sure what about this dream was so real, but bloody hell was it comforting. An unknown character in your dream was ever so gently sliding a hand over your head and occasionally scratching under your chin. Maybe it felt odd for them to do that, but it was so relaxing you didn’t care.

He stood back up and gently scooped your curled figure up, keeping the blanket wrapped softly around you. He took a seat in your armchair and placed you on his lap. His fingernails ever so slightly scratched over your head and smoothed the hair along your back. Your thick, bushy tail curled lovingly against his chest ever so often. 

Something that you didn’t know and something that Theo didn’t know, either, was that you had the subconscious tendency to transform into your Animagi identity when sleeping. Whether as part of a dream or mumbling in your sleep, every once and a while, you would slip down to your smaller self and remain curled up as such. It had been going on for a couple of months now and you had yet to notice it. Your roommates most definitely had but they had said nothing as they assumed it was a purposeful action. They figured it would be nice to sleep as a cat as well. 

The purring emanating from your soft chest rolled against his leg as he continued to brush his fingers through your fur. Your head occasionally curled further into his stomach at these gentle actions. This might have been the most relaxing dream you’d ever had. 

“Hey, man, been looking everywhere for—”

“Shush!” Theo berated the loud voice. Mattheo came around the back of the armchair with a look of confusion plastered on his face. He glanced down to see the feline stretched across his lap, an eyebrow raised.

“The baby is sleeping,” Theo whispered, smiling gently. His hands never stopped brushing you. 

“Did you find him—?”

“Oh my god, shhhhh!” Theo repeated. Pansy and Enzo followed the same path that Mattheo had. And just like him, their eyebrows cocked awkwardly. All three of them glanced at the other.

“I told all of you I was going to the library to get some homework done,” Theo whispered.

“Yeah, it sure looks like you’re getting a ton done,” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“I was...,” Theo insisted, “before this baby wandered up. Isn’t she just the cutest?”

“Yeah, adorable,” Mattheo mocked, a smile building its way onto his face. “I’d love to have McGonagall Jr. sat on my lap, if you know what I mean.”

Enzo and Pansy’s faces blended from blank to confusion to realization to stifled laughter. Theo was extremely confused and becoming a little irritated. 

“Ew, what is that supposed to mean? I don’t think all cats are related to Professor McGonagall—wait, she’s not even really a cat, she can turn into one. I don’t think she’s really related to any cats,” Theo argued.

“Yeah, man—not what I meant,” Mattheo laughed. His two companions began to laugh with him. “Whose bag and stuff is that?”

Theo glanced down at the bag and snack plate that had been left behind as he refrained from rolling his eyes. He probably shouldn’t admit he knew who the stuff belonged to as he totally figured it out by snooping, but they didn’t necessarily have to know that.

“That’s that really irritating girl that’s in McGonagall’s with us, you know? The one I ran into this morning and was like ‘Why don’t you watch where you’re going, blah, blah,’ do you remember?” Theo spoke.

“Yeah, I remember,” Enzo giggled. “It’s almost like she's still in the room with us.”

“I know, that’s her stuff,” he nodded in the direction of the things left behind. “I was wondering when she was going to come back and get it but it’s been like an hour and she hasn’t come back.” Theo shrugged and returned his focus back to you who still remained curled comfortably in his lap. His thumb brushed over your closed eyes and ears. 

“Did she ever leave?” Pansy laughed. “Maybe she's still here.”

“Maybe so, I didn’t go looking for her, though,” Theo responded, brushing a finger down the slope of your nose.

“Yeah, she was acting kind of catty earlier,” Enzo spoke. The three students burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs and flicking tears from their eyes. Anger rose up the side of Theo’s neck.

“What is your deal? Is something funny? Anybody want to fill me in on the joke?” he asked. They remained laughing as hard as they could, almost as if they wanted to annoy Theo further.

“Whatever, me and my new friend are going to study elsewhere. At least she doesn't laugh at me,” he harrumphed and grabbed his things, keeping you cradled tightly in your blanket in his right arm. The three students didn’t stop laughing the whole way as Theo stomped off, taking you with him, and touching his nose to yours with a smile. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Pansy chuckled, a tear falling from her eyes. “So we all knew that she's an Animagus, right?”

“Yeah, she told me last year when her acceptance letter from the Ministry came in. She was pretty excited about it.” Enzo struggled not to start laughing again. “She's really nice and really smart, I think Theo can be a bit much sometimes.”

“Yeah, I agree with that….” Pansy responded. There was a few moments of silence before Mattheo tilted his head towards the other two.

“So, we’re sticking around for when she wakes up and realizes she's sitting on Theo’s lap wrapped up in a blanket like a child, right?” he laughed. The other two chorused a variety of ‘yes’ and ‘absolutely,’ as they made themselves comfortable at a table near the one Theo had assigned as his. This was quite possibly going to be the best thing that ever happened.

Part Two!

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware au

Written before the English release!

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Jp-version spoiler(!!!), death, description of war, unhealthy mindset, religion, obsessive themes, unhealthy family dynamics

General! Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Maleanor Draconia/(Platonic) Knight of Dawn-Yandere headcanons

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce? Lilia Vanrouge 1.0. The more cold, hard and ready to behead the next human version of the usual Lilia (also known as the Lilia Vanrouge 2.0 model)

Lilia back then was “rough” and I am being nice calling him that

Back then, Lilia was surrounded by loss and a lot of Faes getting everything they ever owned ripped away from them

Of course this impacts him (I mean he is strolling through battlefield after battlefield so of course it does)

Lilia wasn't always such a devoted follower

Yes, he did believe in the Overseer, aka you, but only after witnessing the brutality that came with him being a general did he turn into a follower with such drastic views

After all, if there was no higher meaning to all this violence, to all this loss and despair, what was even the point of it all?

You became his moral, mental and also a bit of a physical crutch for him

Whenever he felt like he was this close to just giving up, he thought about you and that this was part of your greater plan (totally not part of some valley church propaganda)

After witnessing that human hiding behind the Knight of Dawn in all his haughtiness and cruelty, he finally set out on his quest not only to make the humans leave his beloved home but also to make them into loyal believers of the Overseer

But sadly, everything was for nought and Lilia had to go into hiding

The only thing keeping him going was his believe in you having a greater plan

A few hundred years later and Lilia finally found out what that supposed plan of yours was

Laying in that cold, lonely crib was the child of his old, now deceased enemy

Taking the child, now called Silver, in he learned the joy of a family, the boy giving him more joy than anything ever before in his life

Finally, he had found peace. Of course he did. This was your plan all along, right? You must have ordered those three fairies to make his beloved son survive until now, right?

You were, after all, a kind deity. There was no way this was all just a war happening because of greed. Because if this truly was just events happening after events then...

Lilia never finished that thought

The great ruler of the night fae, mighty and powerful sorceress who could fell an entire nation in one swoop if she wanted to was despite her cruel and aloof outside appearance a pretty devoted follower since the beginning

Despite being a Fae, she was feared just like her unborn son due to her powers (and being more or less being on the same level as a nuclear bomb but hey, I doubt that anyone of us would stand next to one of those, right?)

So it is no surprise that she turned to something, someone, to feel less alone

Especially after her husband disappeared did she wish for some sort of sign that she was not alone

And oh boy, did religious propaganda from the high church take that loneliness away

When her beloved son, although in an egg, was born, she visited your altar daily, thanking you for her child being healthy

(This could also be the reason why Malleus is the way he is but I am just a writer and not some all-knowing God so idk, just a theory)

She definitely has "taken care" *cough*totallynotproblematicforarulertobeinfluencedbyreligion*cough* of Fae that were non-believers

How dare their sinful ways dirty your holy image?

See? Totally not problematic

At first she only tried to protect her subjects after the humans attacked and took over parts of her kingdom

But after a while she started to have another goal

What if she shared your splendor with those little useless invaders?

Humans were most definitely vile but you were able to unite so many different kinds of Fae in your name under the Draconia name

So why not also unite those humans in your name in a peace treaty?

Such a kind God you were! Allowing for peace in your name!

And, well, if violence and destruction was needed to make those beings understand and surrender, then that shall be what they get

Besides, she was only honoring her husbands wish to get closer to the humans so who was she to selfishly aim for another goal?

The Knight of Dawn (long name, I know) did not always believe in you

Heck, the poor guy probably never heard of you until he fought the Fae

But if the humans from back then didn't really know about you, then how did he find out about and why did he start to see you as his God?

On this part, I would say, he and Lilia were eerily similair

Both were pushed into a war neither liked, so of course he was also in a very unstable situation which made him, like Lilia, search for something to hold on to

The three Fairies had mentioned before when he was still training to become as strong as he was now, mentioning a kind deity who accepted all, who loved unconditionally

Back then he only thought of you as one of the many deities that were prayed to back then

But once the war started and he saw your churches and cathedrals for the first time, his opinion slowly started to shift until he saw you as the highest being possible

I mean, all of us would if we lost all stability over night, having only destroyed buildings and a half-standing church in front of us

He hated the plundering of your sacred placed even before he became a believer, having the opinion that it was just a cultural difference between the two kinds

This led to him kneeling at the cracked altars of many of your churches, asking for forgiveness, hoping that you would understand that he didn't have another choice

What he would do to witness one of your sermons…

And when he was lonely enough, he imagined you watching down on him from up above

Just like a... a parent

You see where I am going with this?

So when he was facing the Queen he only hoped for your forgiveness, hoping that his loving family member would forgive his gravest sin, him killing a mother

And he found salvation, in letting that child and the retainer escape

Perhaps you could forgive him now

[schlattsdoll]

Heyhey! Can I ask you about headcanons (or whatever you feel like writing, the format isn't really a problem) of Eddie with a girlfriend who shares the same interests as him, like she loves metal music and knows well how to play D&D and she's also strong and often snap at Jason and people who talk shit about him?

I need some comfort :')

his other half - e. munson

:pairing: eddie munson x popular!fem! reader

:warnings: minors dni, eddie being a menace to society and we love him for it , mentions of bullying (typical s4 faire for our beloved freak), semi-popular reader not fitting into cliche’s, you are responsible for your own media consumption!

:a/n: i have limited d&d knowledge so please be kind if i got something wrong! i made a whole ass character sheet trying to help :’( also i made a heather’s reference bc i can’t be helped

it was hard to believe that the resident freak bagged one of hawkins golden children, and yet here you were; thursday nights spent in an old drama class room helping eddie run his sadistic campaigns over his party.

they couldn’t tell who had a worse mean streak, sure eddie was brutal, but you? when you helped him dm, it was a match made in hell for the party.

“holy shit dude. we haven’t been slaughtered like that since the first week of vecna’s campaign.” dustin said, looking down at the miniatures laying on their sides

you really did try and be nice and save them. with a deep sigh you changed your tone from your dm voice to the mom friend they’ve grown to love. “um, everyone, make a death saving throw.”

all the d20s on the table added up to a whopping fifteen. eddie smirked at you and sat back down on his throne. “and that, my dear gentlemen, is why you shouldn’t complain about my campaigns. my queen wrote this one all herself.” he kissed you quickly as he pulled you into his lap and then dismissed the club.

the next day at lunch they were all still talking about how brutal you were. “can’t believe little miss sunshine has a mean streak like that.” “what did you expect? she’s eddie’s girl. they’re practically the same person.”

smiling as you made your way to your favorite freaks, you feel someone tap your shoulder to see jason staring down at you. “can i help you?”

“y/n, why do you hang around those freaks so much? you’re too pretty and popular for them. come sit with who you belong with. got a spot on my lap with your name on it.” he winked and you audibly gagged.

“news flash jason, i enjoy my freaks, and i’m proud to be one. i love d&d, i love metallica and crue, and frankly, i love not being harassed by the men i surround myself with. so run along and go back to the future gas station attendants of america club, and i’ll be happy over here with my nerds.”

eddie walked up behind you, only heating half the conversation. when you felt his arms wrap around you, you eased into his touch and jason scoffed and walked away. “bitch.”

you rolled your eyes and laughed as you and eddie walked back to the hellfire table. “princess, that was hot as fuck.” your boyfriend smiled at you in awe of how you stood up to his tormentor.

you were truly the momma bear of the outcasts, not afraid to defend them with your life if you had too. eddie and his “sheep” as he lovingly called them were the most targeted and it struck a nerve with you every time.

“just wait until he says something about you or the kids again. you’ll see how hot i can get.”

[shiorilizzy]

My thought about yandere Wriothesley

My thought about yandere Wriothesley

I swear he has SO MUCH POTENTIAL!!

He may look like a gentleman, you can see him as a gentleman and he can even be a gentlemen

But be aware of how far he took to get revenge on his foster parents. He will do anything to get what he wants.

Well at least to you, he will be gentle and easy, not that brutal and bloody.

I have a feeling that Wriothesley will have eyes on good girls. You may be noisy or sassy, you may be silent and shy, but your eyes, your heart… They are so innocent… So pure… It’s utterly beautiful like crystal to him. The way you help others, the way you are not scared of his appearance.

He may notice you when you two are in the shop, both buying a big bag of tea, milk and sugar. He is surprised at that amount of tea and your shining aura.

His heart goes BANG when he sees you help a homeless boy, you defend him against those bad people.

You’re… kind… and brave. He loves your slight tremble, trying to act tough.

He is jealous of that boy. He is so lucky to have you protect him. Wriothesley wishes he had someone like you in the past, maybe his life would be a little sweeter.

Like a hunter set his eyes on the prey. He will find a way to approach you.

Even if you have a boyfriend or husband already, it doesn’t matter to him. Remember his material for talent upgrade? He need “Order”, not “Equity” (or Justice to me). And it’s right for you to become his lovely and only treasure.

Wriothesley is actually very human. He will not just snatch you into his place.

At least, he tried to be a normal boyfriend, a perfect lover to you. After all, he really wants an ordinary life like everyone else.

But later, things got ugly. He struggled so much to believe you or everyone, everything around you.

He suspected the man talked to you on the street that day. He thought your family, your friends were trying to separate you from him. He is scared that you’ll leave him someday, that he will lose something he treasured so much again.

That’s when he decided: You need to be placed somewhere he can watch, always.

Things got even worse if you wanted to break up with him. You’re done. There is a high chance that you will wake up with your leg broken, or cuff, depending on how bratty and cold-heart you were.

Well, he will bring you down with him no matter what.

If I have to describe Yandere Wriothesley in one word, I will say: manipulation.

I believe Wriothesley is hella good at manipulating. Do you see how he cornered Lyney till he lost control? This big shit will gaslight you to believe fish can walk.

He did say that he would feel bad if he kept a pet in the fortress because they could not see the sunlight. But he could train you to accommodate to the environment. That’s much easier.

He will act like he was not the one who kidnapped you but “just a little bit forceful invitation to live with him”.

He will be a gentleman, respect you, listen to you, even argue with you if you are too “fussy”, told you that you can be nicer to him.

Why he is doing those? Because he knows you’re a “good girl”

Sooner or later, your kind heart will make you doubt yourself that maybe you were too harsh on him.

Your innocent soul will soon feel guilty because every “hassle” you cause others to deal with.

Wriothesley, unlike most of yandere who just lock his darling in a room the whole day, he makes you busy all day, let you roam around the Fortress on your own. You’re his darling, his cute little pet, not his prisoner.

He needs to create a playground for you, so you don’t have time to be sad, angry, miss the upper world, or even think about escaping.

Luckily, he is the Duke, the Warden, and the fortress is out of Fontaine’s control. So technically, he is the King down here.

So darling, what do you want to do? Just name it and he will give you.

A baker? Prisoners will smile happily when receive your delicious food every day. A teacher? Those people will express how grateful they are to gain more knowledge thanks to you. An accountant or secretary? Wriothesley himself will gladly have you on his side, helping him with paperwork.

Even if you want to be a slut. You will be promoted from part-time slut to full-time slut. But only for him.

Whatever you want, name it and he will find a way.

See? Life is really good down here, right? You have a dream job, delicious food, pretty clothes, lovely people, and especially, a man who is loyal and loves you unconditionally. What could you ask more?

Slowly, even if you can escape, you will not do that because you’re having so much fun and peace in here.

After all, the Duke really wants to be loved, as much as he loves you. But being a skeptical person because of his trauma, he needs you to stay where he can watch you.

Sometimes, he will show you his weak side. That will kick your mother hen instinct, just like that day when you protect that weak boy.

Oh this sly wolf, he will do everything to get you.

But do not think you can get away with everything. You definitely don’t want to see him get mad ever again.

Let’s say, you escaped and got caught by him.

That man will let you sit and watch he torturing your partner in crime (of course you cannot do all the work yourself), let you hear their loud agony, see their body slammed hard on the ground.

The more you beg for them, the more torturing he will give them. Until you are trembling in fear and tears and whimpering.

Does the guiltiness eat you? That’s his intention. He just knows you too well.

That is just one of his tricks. He has plenty to use. After all, he lived for quite some time, and most of them were in the Fortress.

He usually hugs you in sleep. Don’t hesitate to put your head on his arm or sleep on his body. He LOVES those pressures.

I have a feeling he will hug you like a teddy bear. And when he needs to switch to the other side, he will just “move” you along with him.

Even when you guys are in a “bad term”, he will sleep and hug you no matter what. Wriothesley even snug his head in your neck, like a poor boy.

As if you WERE the one at fault!

Overall, Wriothesley will make your relationship become “normal” sooner or later. You will think that this is just a little “special”, a little extraordinary, a bit of spice in love that everyone has.

That staying here forever is normal

That his love is totally normal

That you love him

That you want to have a family with him.

Wriothesley is smart, he knows what he wants, and doesn’t really care about morals.

So it is impossible for you to escape since he set his eyes on you.

I would write about him in bed another day

[brutally-gentlemen]

[cheolism]

gentlemen do it in cars

joshua hong x female reader

summary: joshua decides to take you in the car after you bring him home to meet your parents.

wc is approx 2k

genre: smut, established relationship. minors do not interact. not edited bc i love to reread it later and see all my errors

warnings: reader has female anatomy. pet names (good girl, baby), use of slut (not derogatory). car sex (magical car seats that are big enough). fingering, finger sucking; unprotected sex. "gentleman" joshua vs dom josh. slightly mean joshua.

"Aw," Joshua cooed, one of his hands leaving to grab your phone. He unlocked it using his birthdate, reading off the message that had just pinged you. "It's from your mom. 'We absolutely loved having Joshua over and can't wait to see the two of you again! If you ask me, he's definitely a keeper. It's nice seeing you with someone who knows how to treat you right.'"

Joshua chuckled, tossing your phone back up front. He leaned back over you, his hand returning to where it had been fisted in your hair. All the while his fingers continued their pace inside of you.

He fingered you tortuously with long, perfect thrusts that hit you in all the right spots. The drag of his fingers against your walls had your toes curling, fingers scrambling against the seat for some sort of hold.

Josh brought his face down to your neck, running his lips over your skin. His voice was low when he spoke, but no less melodic, filling your ears and sending fluid from your cunt. "What do you think, baby? Think I know how to treat you right?"

He accentuated his words by thrusting his fingers into you in one swift movement, brutally hitting that spot inside of you that had you whining in his ears like a whore.

Josh mouthed along your skin, teeth skimming and sending your nerves on edge in anticipation for his bite.

It was so hot. He hadn't unclothed you all the way, your hoodie hanging off of one arm to reveal your torso, your pants pushed down around your ankles. Josh was completely dressed still, only his hair mused from where you couldn't help but sink your fingers in whenever he kissed you.

Josh laughed as you let out a high moan, arching your back into his hands. He began picking up the movement of his fingers, the pace becoming hurried, abusing your g-spot relentlessly.

"If only they could see their perfect little girl," he hummed, nose brushing along the tendon in your neck. Josh pressed an open-mouthed kiss there before trailing his mouth along your collar. "See her getting split open by my fingers in the back of my car on some dirt road."

Josh removed his fingers from you, a long, high whine of protest escaping your lips. Josh shushed you, pressing a kiss to your mouth. He settled his hand back in your cunt, skimming circles over the hood of your clit. "Settle down, baby. Just need you to cum for me before I fuck you, okay? You know how hard it is for me to fit if we don't."

You nodded, panting as his thumb expertly maneuvered to your clit. Josh's lips returned to your neck, kissing and sucking.

"Josh," you whispered, your throat refusing to allow your voice to go any higher. You repeated his name, trying to lift your hips.

"Let me handle it." Josh swiftly shoved his fingers back into your cunt. You clenched around them greedily, eager to have something filling you again. His thumb settled on your clit, finally, and you couldn't help but grind your hips against his digits.

"Easy, baby," he laughed, eyes bright as he watched you grind against his fingers desperately. "If you calm down I'll do all the work for you."

Once you were settled, Josh went about making good on his promise. His fingers hit your g-spot with every single thrust; his thumb grinded down on your clit in time.

You tossed your head back against the seat, eyes shutting. Your panting rose in volume as he continued his attack, your body constantly searching out his hand. It felt so good, heat and pressure building.

It sounded so lewd. Your cunt sucked him in audibly, squelching around his fingers. You could hear his mouth working against your neck, the way his breath seemed to get heavier with every passing second.

"Josh, Josh, Josh --"

He breathed against your neck, warm air making you shiver. He hummed, tongue leaving his mouth and running along your breast. Josh began to suck a hickey into the plush flesh there, ignoring the little sob that left you.

"Josh, Josh, please."

Josh laughed pityingly. "Okay, baby. You can cum now."

His fingers were fast and harsh, his thumb never leaving your clit as he played with it meanly. It was so much, it was all so much. The feeling of heat trapped between the two of you, the pressure building and mounting, the electricity that seemed to come from his thumb as it bullied your clit.

Then Josh was biting down on your breast, teeth sinking in. You let out a loud moan, back arching into him, the tension in your gut snapping and sending a flood of release out of your cunt.

Josh worked you through your orgasm, humming softly and pressing kisses against your sweaty temple. Once you settled, chest heaving, he slowly brought his hand from your cunt.

When you whined he laughed, obviously pleased at your neediness. Josh's fingers settled on your lower lip, tugging. "Open up."

Obediently you parted your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth. You loved the weight of them on your tongue, loved how they filled up your mouth and made you constantly work your throat in an attempt to take them both.

Sucking, you drank in your juices and clean off his fingers. Josh's eyes, which were normally so soft and sweet and kind, were hooded and dark, watching you with satisfaction.

Josh took his fingers from your mouth, though you attempted to follow them. Josh laughed then, and not able to help himself, leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "So needy, aren't you, baby? Don't worry, I'll give you something better than my fingers."

He pulled away from you, kneeling on the seat. You watched, entranced, as his long fingers worked at the button and zipper of his jeans. Watching Josh take his clothes off was always something that had you drooling, eyeing as his forearm muscles worked, muscles flexing and veins bulging.

Josh shoved his pants down to his knees, moving back between your thighs. He lifted your lower half, one of his hands tugging down your sweats as he went. You lifted your hips, helping him. Once your pants were off, his large hands settled on the small of your back. "Okay baby, you ready?"

At your nod, Josh slowly began to push inside of you. Your cunt was still loose from his fingers, but that didn't stop Joshua's dickhead from catching on your hole. You winced at he continued to push, your hole protesting.

Then your cunt gave, his cock sliding in. You let out a soft whine, feeling it stretch out your walls. Immediately you were met with the delicious feeling of being full. It was like something had been missing all this time and it was Joshua's cock that cured that feeling.

Joshua stopped once his hips were flush against you, his dick settled inside of you. His dickhead brushed against your g-spot with every shift, drawing little whimpers out of you.

"That's it, baby," Joshua murmured. His eyebrows were furrowed, jaw tight in an effort to keep himself still as your cunt stretched itself around his dick, getting used to the intrusion. "Good girl."

Your mouth parted at the praise, your hips involuntarily twitching, pussy clenching. Joshua let out a low swear, his fingers digging into you.

"Josh," you whined, trying to wiggle your hips against him in an effort to get Joshua to move. "Please move, Josh."

Slowly Joshua began to pull out of you, the drag of his cock against your walls making your cunt clench around his dick in an attempt to keep him nestled inside.

"Fuck," Joshua swore. "Your cunt's so tight."

Once his dickhead caught on your rim, Joshua adjusted. His hands settled on your hips, holding you up. You braced your feet against the seat, trying to help him.

Then Joshua snapped his hips forward at the same time as he dragged your hips towards him, impaling you on his dick. You couldn't help but let out a cry, back arching and toes curling.

Each thrust was met with him dragging your hips, using his strength to manipulate his body to his will. He used you like a toy, like a sleeve, nothing more than a means to an end.

His fingers dug into your flesh, nails catching. Every time his hips met cunt you clenched, fluid gushing from your cunt. He harshly fucked into you, the head of his dick abusing your g-spot, hitting it with the expertise of a man who had long memorized your body.

Joshua leaned over you, releasing your hips. He pulled out of you entirely, and immediately your eyes narrowed in on his cock. It slapped against his stomach, tall and angry, glistening with your juices.

His hands returned to your hips, and you allowed Joshua to turn you over and onto your knees. You pressed your head down onto the seat, huffing, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath.

His dick slid into you easily, your cunt thoroughly stretched. Joshua draped himself over your back, putting himself flush against you once more. It was hot, too hot, especially with his body trapping the heat between you two.

You said nothing, however. You just listened to the sound of his pants as he filled you, tilting your neck when he began pressing kisses along it. Joshua's lips trailed over your shoulder blades, moving to follow along your back.

Then Joshua lifted himself off of you, his hands settling on your hips. With less urgency than before he began to slide into you with long, careful thrusts that had you softly crying out, rocking your hips back into him.

It felt delicious the way his cock hit your core, the drag of his length against your walls. His hips slapped against your ass, the sound of skin hitting skin just as lewd as the noises of your cunt.

You were going to have to clean the seats, you faintly realized as your juices gushed from you.

Joshua huffed, moving again to place a foot on the floorboards. When he began thrusting it was powerful, intentional. Every thrust was planned and calculated, Joshua seeking out your release alongside his own.

"Gonna cum in my car, baby?" He cooed, one of his hands moving from your hips. His fingers skimmed along your skin as he moved his hand around, trailing across your stomach as he set out for your clit. "Gonna soak my car seats like a desperate little slut?"

You nodded against the seats, eyes squeezed shut. When his forefingers pressed against your clit you couldn't help the little scream that left you. You could faintly hear Joshua chuckle. "What a good girl you are, letting me fuck you like this. You're a good girl, aren't you?"

Nodding, you let out a soft little moan. Joshua's fingers began rubbing against your clit furiously, his hips picking up pace as he drove into you. He was almost harsh with it, the way he used you.

"Say it for me," he murmured, voice nearly lost to the squelches of your cunt, the slap of his balls against the back of your thighs. "Say it, baby."

"'m a good --" You broke off, mouth involuntarily parting at a particularly good thrust. With a gasp, you continued. "'m a good girl."

"Yes you are." Joshua took your clit between his fingers and squeezed, your body jolting at the roughness. You were cumming before you realized it, however, heat rushing through you and blinding you.

When you came back, Joshua was holding you on his lap. You could feel his cum leaking from your hole, combining with your own orgasm and leaving your thighs soaked.

Both of his arms were around you, your head on his shoulder. Joshua was humming softly, hands gently carding through your hair.

"Joshie?" At his little noise of acknowledgement, you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His dark hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat, eyes slightly tired from the sex. But still he smiled gently, as if he hadn't just fucked your cunt in a car.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He raised a hand, brushing the hair that had stuck to your face from sweat away. "Doing okay?"

You nodded against him, moving to press a kiss to his neck. You let him continue holding you, his soft little song filling your ears.

[moonage-daydreamy]

*grover panicking* HE'S BRUTAL, HE'S RELENTLESS-

*percy in all his perssassy glory* he's still wearing underpants

ladies and gentlemen and slaytheys, i present to you perseus jackson

[rose-pearls]

mentor!finnick x tribute!fem!reader

maybe this is a year or two after finnicks victor

maybe reader had to be extremely brutal in the games and when they come back theyre covered in blood and just traumatized and finnick has to comfort them

Hi! Thank you for the request here it is, hopefully you like it!

The arena is in a blur in front of you, the last tribute dead at your feet while your hands tremble so much that the knife falls out of your hand.

“Hey, listen to me. Are you okay with having blood on your hands during the games?”, the words of Finnick come back to you and although you had assured him before, that it wouldn’t be an issue. You can’t seem to be able to hold back the want to wash your hands a thousand times at the sight of them.

There was blood on your hands, thick dark red blood from the female tribute of district one. But you knew that there wasn’t only her blood on your hands, blood of the other tributes you killed but also the ones she killed. In the end you had the blood of every dead tribute on your hands and suddenly you wished you could go back and tell him you couldn’t do it. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of the 68th Hunger Games-”, they announce your name loud and clear but the only thing you can see is the blood, nothing else is making sense.

A helicopter sound makes you aware that you are still in the same spot as when you gave the female tribute the final blow and you look at her. The blond hair along her shoulder is covered in blood and her eyes are wide open, wounds litter her body just like yours, but she is dead, and you’re alive. 

The strategy had been simple, entering the usual career pact and staying around for as long as needed, your district partner had died quite early and that had left you more defenseless in their eyes. You had found some poisonous plants and had decided to use them when cooking dinner, three careers died. The only survivor was the girl from one, but you hadn’t known that until the evening. 

The rest of the games were a blur of killing people and nearly dying but somehow you made it, you had just won the Hunger Games. It should be a pride, that is why your parents had set you up at the academy in district four, and yet the only thing you felt was disgust.

If someone had to ask you if it was worth it winning the Hunger Games, you would tell them that it wasn’t. Not when you felt like you couldn’t breathe without seeing their faces, their pleading eyes to not kill them.

Someone helps you up the helicopter and you don’t what happens around you; voices are screaming everywhere, and people try to take the blood of your hand, but it seems difficult.

It had dried up on your skin, under your fingernails leaving a trace that even if they took it off of you, you would still remember it on your hands. 

The door opens up as you leave the helicopter, not sure how you are even able to see or make your feet move but one voice manages to break through the daze.

“Hey! Hey!”, Finnick is looking at you with wide eyes, worry can be seen in them, but you aren’t able to read them like before. Too busy trying to wrap your head around all of the bodies that will be returned to their parents because of you.

Your knees buckle and you nearly fall to the ground before a panicked Finnick manages to catch you.

“Listen to me.”, his voice says clearly and after a moment you nod slowly.

“They are going to take you under, to heal your wounds and everything and after that we’ll talk. Alright?”, his tone is pleading, like he is willing you too go along with the plan so you just nod, just wanting everything to stop turning around in your mind.

A doctor comes to you, and you don’t hear what he is saying, looking at Finnick’s shoulder but you feel something puncturing your skin and you feel drowsy before falling on Finnick.

--

Everything is a blur when you wake up, the smell of hospital makes his way to your nose, and you try not to feel sick. You start moving your fingers before looking at your arm in surprise, the last time you had seen your arm it was open due to a knife wound but now it looked perfect. All the scars that you had during your childhood seemed to have been taken off your skin. 

“They take off every scar you’ve ever had to make you look perfect as the winner.”, a soft voice says next to you, and you turn to see Finnick there.

“Hi.”, you manage to croak out and your mentor smiles at your attempt.

“Hi yourself. Here drink something and try to eat.”, he says and after giving you a glass of water and helping you drink it you turn towards a small plate of food, a frown appearing at the sight of it. 

“It might look lite it’s nothing right now, but your stomach got smaller because of the games so you won’t be able to eat much.”, Finnick says after chuckling and you slowly start to eat, quickly feeling like your stomach is full and not being able to eat the rest like he had said. 

“How are you feeling?”, he asks after a moment, looking unsure at the question.

“I don’t know.”, and it’s true, deep down you don’t know how you are feeling.

“I wanted to win, because it’s what I’ve been taught to do but the moment I won I felt like it wasn’t worth it at all.”, he nods at your words and looks at you sadly.

“it’s not going to be easy after the games, but I know you can do it.”, he tells you and you know he isn’t going to tell you everything just yet, so you sit back down.

“How do you sleep at night?”, you can’t help but ask after a moment, memories of the games coming back around, and you don’t know how you are going to survive the nights full of them.

“By trying, even though there will be nightmares I still try to sleep and sometimes it works but sometimes it doesn’t. Talking to people helps you but only for so long.”, you know he is trying to be honest with you and even though it hurts you can’t help but be grateful.

“I know what you feel like right now and I can’t tell you that every day will be easy, but I can tell you that you are not alone. You have your parents, Mags, the other victors and me.”, he whispers the last words a bit later and you turn to look at him.

“I think I realized that I cared more for you then I thought I did.”, you whisper and Finnick smiles softly at your answer.

“I did too. Seeing you in there was hell.”, he whispers back, and you feel emotional at his words, not knowing if it’s because of the lack of sleep or the drugs. 

“You mean so much to me that it’s scary.”, he says after a few minutes while chuckling, looking at his feet with a smile.

“Why is it scary?”, you ask him, wanting to know what was holding him back.

“Because it’s the things we love the most that destroy us. Or so I’ve been told.”, he says, and you can’t help but feel happiness bloom in your chest at the words love. 

“Love is dangerous, but there is more to life than staying safe.”, you tell him after a moment, and he chuckles at your words before taking your hand.

“I guess it’s time I’m the brave one in here.”, you smile softly at him while looking at him and taking your time of noting every detail.

“You’ve always been brave, just in your own way.”, Finnick squeezes your hand, and you squeeze it back. 

The two of you stay there, holding each other’s hands while talking about anything you can talk about, not wanting to think about what’s to come. You don’t know what you are just yet, just that the two of you love each other and for the moment that’s enough.

And although there is darkness to come and darkness in the memories it would show you with time just how important Finnick will always be to you. 

[mrs5sn0w]

Serenade of Shadows

I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak -> IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Decent

Series Masterlist

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

warnings: Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers

Reader's surname : Flare

Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas

Synopsis: In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.

The air was thick with unspoken tension as the First Lady, confronted President Snow about the revelation made by Mrs. Crane. The coming days brought a heavy shift in the Capitol's political landscape as she embarked on her plan to modify the Hunger Games and expose the Crane couple's illicit dealings.

---

The preparations for the 16th annual Hunger Games were in full swing, and the first lady was at the forefront, orchestrating the changes she envisioned.

The air in the control room hummed with anticipation as she outlined her modifications to the Game Makers.

"I want these Games to be more intense, more unpredictable. We need to give the districts a show they'll never forget,"

she asserted, her eyes ablaze with a newfound determination.

The head Gamemaker, Octavius, raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement. "Very well, Mrs Snow. We'll implement your changes."

As the arena was transformed into a nightmarish landscape, her influence was evident in every diabolical detail. The once calculated brutality of the Hunger Games took a macabre turn under her direction.

The night before the Games, the Capitol gathered for the traditional pre-Games banquet. She was adorned in a dress that mirrored the ominous atmosphere she had cultivated, took the stage. The cheers from the Capitol citizens echoed through the grand hall as she began her speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed citizens of the Capitol, thank you for joining me tonight. As your First Lady, I have taken it upon myself to enhance the grand tradition of the Hunger Games. This year, you will witness a spectacle like never before. I've modified the Games to push the limits of survival and test the resilience of our tributes. May the odds be ever in their favor."

The applause that followed was thunderous, but Coriolanus Snow, watching from the shadows, felt a pang of unease. He had underestimated the extent to which she would go to assert her influence.

---

The night after her speech and the modifications to the Hunger Games, tension hung in the air of the Presidential Mansion. Coriolanus Snow, unable to contain his frustration and anger, confronted her in their private chambers. The conversation quickly escalated into a heated argument.

Coriolanus, his voice laced with disdain, accused her,

"You've turned the Games into a bloodbath ! What were you thinking ?"

She was undeterred as she met his gaze with determination.

"I'm doing what needs to be done, Coriolanus. This is the Capitol's game, and I'm playing it better than anyone expected."

He scoffed,

"Playing it? You're reveling in the bloodshed! You think this is power? This is madness!"

"Madness or not, it's the reality of our world," she retorted, her words a counterpunch to his condemnation.

Coriolanus, fueled by frustration and a sense of superiority, underestimated her resolve.

"You're nothing more than a pawn in this game. Your modifications won't change a thing. You're not capable of understanding the true nature of power."

She was stung by his words but shot back, "You underestimate me, Coriolanus. I understand power better than you ever will. This," she gestured to the opulence surrounding them, "is just a façade. True power lies in the ability to shape the narrative, to control the minds of the Capitol."

His laughter was mocking. "You think you can control anything? You're a naive idealist. Your little modifications won't change a thing. The Capitol will continue to thrive, and you'll be nothing more than a forgotten First Lady."

The words cut deep, and she, despite her resolve, felt the sting of his disdain. Yet, she refused to back down.

"You may think I'm naive, but I'm not blind. I see the rot within the Capitol, and I refuse to be a silent spectator. I will change things, with or without your approval."

Coriolanus, unyielding, dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"Change? You don't even understand the concept. This is the way things have always been, and this is the way they'll always be. Your feeble attempts at change are nothing more than a momentary disturbance."

In the midst of their heated argument, she was undeterred by Coriolanus Snow's verbal assault as she seized a moment to confront him about his own role in the brutality of the Hunger Games.

"Why are you so pressed, Coriolanus? Isn't this what you wanted?" her voice, though tinged with anger, carried a genuine curiosity.

Coriolanus, momentarily taken aback by her question, retorted,

"I wanted control, not chaos! There's a difference between maintaining order and descending into senseless brutality."

She countered, her tone cutting through the tension,

"But you've always admired the Games for their brutality, haven't you? You've reveled in the suffering of others. This is merely an extension of your own desires."

Coriolanus, unwilling to admit his own culpability, deflected,

"This isn't about me. This is about the Capitol, about preserving our way of life."

Her gaze bore into him, her eyes challenging his evasion, she scoffed.

"No, Coriolanus, this is about you. You've always been fascinated by the Games, by the power it gives you. You can't distance yourself from the very brutality you championed."

A tense silence settled between them as Coriolanus struggled to find a response. While she refused to back down, she continued,

"You can't play the victim now. You wanted a spectacle, and that's precisely what I'm giving the Capitol. You can't stand the reality of your own desires staring back at you."

Coriolanus, his composure slipping, snapped,

"This isn't what I wanted. You've taken it too far. You're jeopardizing everything."

"Jeopardizing what, Coriolanus?" she questioned, a note of frustration in her voice.

"The illusion of control? The carefully constructed façade of Capitol ideals? You can't blame me for embracing the very darkness you've always admired."

Their verbal sparring continued, each accusation and retort revealing the cracks in their marriage. The grandeur of the Presidential Mansion became a witness to the unraveling of a relationship built on political convenience and masked desires.

In that charged moment, Coriolanus Snow found himself confronted not just by the changes in the Hunger Games but by the undeniable truth of his own desires. The power he had sought now manifested in a form that challenged even his own convictions. His wife, unapologetic in her pursuit of change, stood as a reflection of the consequences of the very brutality he had championed. The intricacies of their relationship, once carefully hidden behind political maneuvers, were laid bare in the battlefield of their private chambers.

The argument reached its climax as her frustration collided with Coriolanus's arrogance. Hurtful words were exchanged, each sentence a dagger that severed the fragile threads holding their marriage together. The room echoed with the intensity of their discord.

"You're incapable of understanding anything beyond your thirst for power," Coriolanus sneered.

Her eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and hurt, shot back,

"And you're incapable of seeing anything beyond your own reflection. This marriage is nothing more than a political transaction to you."

The wounds of their verbal sparring ran deep, leaving a chasm between them that seemed insurmountable. The realization that they were on opposing sides of a battle, not just politically but emotionally, cast a shadow over the grandeur of the Presidential Mansion.

---

The Hunger Games arena became a grotesque stage where the First lady, his unexpected tether to humanity, faced an imminent, brutal demise.

In the grim arena, her delicate frame seemed fragile against the brutal backdrop. The poison, a sinister creation of Coriolanus Snow, introduced an insidious element to the already perilous games.

Coriolanus Snow's heart clenched as he watched her lift the poisoned chalice to her lips in the arena. A chilling fear gripped him, and he couldn't contain his desperation.

"No, don't drink it!" he pleaded, his voice echoing unheard in the arena's cruel expanse.

too late.

As she consumed the toxic drink, the effect was swift, a cruel dance of life slipping away.

The poison's tendrils took hold, and a cascade of reactions unfolded within her. A subtle tremor betrayed the onset of its deadly influence. Her gaze, once vibrant with determination, now flickered like a fading ember. The poison worked its way through her, a silent assassin claiming its victim.

Unaware of the treacherous nature of the drink, she looked toward him, a trusting gaze that stabbed him with guilt.

"Coryo, what is this?"

In that moment, fear etched lines on his face as he struggled to find words.

"It's poisoned, y/n. Drop it ! Please!"

A flicker of realization crossed her eyes, and the glass slipped from her trembling hands, crashing to the ground. The poison, however, had already claimed its place in her system, and an unspoken horror hung in the air

Every step she took became a struggle, the arena's terrain now a treacherous adversary. The poison's cruel progression manifested in her weakening limbs, each movement a testament to the inescapable grip of impending doom.

The tributes, initially mere pawns in the Capitol's game, sensed the shift in dynamics. As she faltered, they closed in like vultures, seizing the opportunity presented by her deteriorating state. The once defiant first lady, now weakened by the poison's relentless advance, faced the impending threat of the tributes' brutality.

In the cruel ballet of the arena, her demise unfolded with a tragic inevitability. The poison, a manifestation of Coriolanus Snow's malevolence, became the instrument of her tragic end,

His wife, weakened by the poison's relentless advance, managed a feeble smile while stuttering,

"do you hate me that bad ?"

"I didn't want this"

"I just wanted....the Coryo i knew back" she gently caressed his cheek while blood came out from her mouth, coughing the crimson red liquid out.

His heart ached.

The arena, once a grand stage for political machinations, now bore witness to a personal tragedy. In that moment of shared terror, the boundaries of power dissolved, leaving behind only the raw emotions of a man who had unwittingly set in motion the demise of the woman he had never intended to love.

Her skin grew colder beneath his touch, each passing moment stealing away the warmth he had come to associate with her. The vibrant life that animated her seemed to wane, replaced by an unsettling chill that permeated the very air.

His fingers, once intertwined with hers, now registered a subtle but undeniable drop in temperature.

He could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat slowing, each thud echoing a painful countdown. The heartbeat, once a steady cadence that resonated with life, now played a haunting melody of departure. It was as if time itself conspired against him, dragging out the inevitable moment of separation.

In that dream-induced reality, the fear of losing her intensified with every passing moment, a visceral force that gripped him in its merciless jaws. It wasn’t just the loss of a piece on the Capitol’s chessboard; it was the unraveling of a connection he had fiercely denied.

In the disorienting aftermath of Coriolanus Snow's harrowing nightmare, the dimly lit room bore witness to the lingering echoes of his distress. The air was thick with tension as he gasped for breath, still caught in the clutches of the haunting visions that had unfolded within the recesses of his dreams.

Coriolanus Snow woke with a start, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. The remnants of the dream lingered, casting a shadow over the reality of the dimly lit room.

His breaths were ragged, and he could feel the wet trails of tears on his cheeks. In the disorienting transition between the nightmare and wakefulness, he whispered to himself,

“y/n…”

The room seemed to close in on him, the weight of the dream still clinging to his consciousness. He wiped away the lingering tears, the vulnerability of the nightmare etched in his expression.

As he gathered himself, the echoes of her imagined demise reverberated in his mind. He couldn’t shake the visceral emotions, and the tears that escaped his eyes were a testament to the tumult within.

“Why does it hurt so much?” he murmured, a question left hanging in the air, unanswered.

Sensing his palpable distress, she rose from her position on the sofa, sprang into action. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied her swift movements across the room. Her usually composed demeanor gave way to urgency, her eyes reflecting concern as she approached him.

"Coryo," she called out softly, her voice a soothing cadence cutting through the lingering echoes of the nightmare. Her measured steps brought her to his side, where she knelt down with a graceful ease, a silhouette against the dimly lit room.

Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on his trembling shoulder, a gesture of reassurance and comfort. The warmth of her touch aimed to ground him in the reality that surrounded them, a stark contrast to the surreal horrors he had experienced in the dream.

"It's just a dream," she murmured, her voice a delicate melody attempting to calm the tempest within him. Her words were spoken with a tenderness that hoped to dissolve the lingering fear that had wrapped itself around his consciousness.

Coriolanus, still caught between the realms of dream and wakefulness, turned his gaze toward her. The dim light accentuated the concern etched on her face, the lines of worry contrasting with the usually composed features.

"I saw you die in the arena," he confessed, the vulnerability in his voice revealing a facet of himself he rarely exposed. The weight of the nightmare clung to him like a shroud, and she, perceptive to his unspoken turmoil, continued to provide solace.

Her eyes, pools of understanding, met his, and she whispered,

"It wasn't real. I'm right here."

With a graceful movement, she enveloped him in a comforting embrace, her arms a sanctuary against the residual fear that lingered in the air.

As she held him, the room became a haven, shielded from the phantoms of the nightmare. her touch was a balm, an anchor grounding him in the present.

The soothing repetition of her words became a mantra, gradually dispelling the haunting images that had plagued his subconscious.

Coriolanus, his voice a mixture of relief and lingering unease, responded,

"I don't know why it scared me so much. It felt too real, I hate you but I'm scared of losing you."

Her embrace tightened as she whispered,

"Fear doesn't always make sense. I'm here with you, safe and sound. The nightmare can't hurt you."

He nodded, the weight of the nightmare gradually lifting as her words sank in.

"I just... I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," he admitted, the admission hanging in the air.

"Then is it so hard to love me back?" she uttered, the words hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. Coriolanus, taken aback, felt a pang of discomfort. The question pierced through the layers of his stoicism, and for a moment, the vulnerability he rarely displayed surfaced.

His gaze, usually unwavering, flickered with uncertainty. The weight of her inquiry lingered, and as she held him in that fragile moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his response.

She did not get a response from him but Snow began to confront a truth he had fervently avoided—the fear of losing the woman who had become an unintended anchor to his existence. As she held him, the barriers that had once defined their relationship crumbled, and the night unfolded with a raw honesty.

In that vulnerable moment, Coriolanus Snow, usually composed and stoic, let down his defenses. As he kissed his wife, there was a rawness to the emotion—an unspoken language that surpassed the political complexities of their relationship.

His lips, once reserved, now conveyed a longing that echoed the fears and vulnerabilities stirred by the haunting nightmare. The kiss held a passion that spoke of a connection beyond the Capitol's facade, an unexpected bridge between two souls navigating the intricate dance of power.

She who felt the intensity of his kiss, reciprocated with a tenderness that transcended the lingering unease. The dimly lit room bore witness to this unspoken exchange, where the weight of nightmares was replaced by the warmth of a shared moment—a moment that hinted at the complexities of love and longing in the tumultuous world they inhabited.

The lingering echoes of the nightmare were replaced by the warmth of genuine emotions, as if the haunting specter had unintentionally ushered in a new chapter in their shared existence, marked by the scars of anguish and the fragile threads of a newfound connection.

yet, she remained oblivious whether he would end up loving her or not.

Taglist : @randomgurl2326 @princessloveweird @rosewine-5 @cookielovesbook-akie @qoopeeya @corpsebridenightmare @bl0ndelilac @unclecrunkle @puredreamagination @lofhdfn