#old miser 💕

[ineffable-romantics]

It's 10000°F in SoCal right now and I need a fun distraction lmao

Send me an ask with the name of any character from Good Omens s1 or s2, no matter how minor, and I'll answer with a highly specific personal headcanon about them

[sm-baby]

Most exciting part of the trailer for the next TADC episode for you?

More so an Analysis rather than things I'm excited about X3

I watched the sneak peek on loop I can process everything! Waahh!! I'm so excited for episode 2 💞 only a few weeks away! 💕

I wanna get this out of the way, I love Lizzie Freeman and Alex Rochon's Improv work on this promo 😭 they were really put in a booth together, were told to say things to promote episode two, and came up with that 😭 Genius.

The environment work is GORGEOUS! I love the look of everything, the world-building, the colors! It looks like a full-fledged movie guys! Absolutely beautiful and WONDEROUS work from the Glitch team-- it's so beautiful for half a year of work??? God damn!!

Haha! As an in-universe creation, Despite his little gags, Caine is genuinely such a good AI to make something so cool!

You'll also notice that Ragatha is taking charge of talking with the princess! That would make sense for such fellow beautiful well-mannered women!

More on them later at the end! :3

Dream sequence theory

Also, we all agree that these ones are all part of a dream right? Pomni is panicked, the strange sort of "slow woozy wobbly" animation exactly like a dream... even the dolly zoom!

Then she is sent to the cellar with a an abstracted arm, but that shouldn't be the case since Caine could easily fix an abstracted arm with a snap of a finger.

And then she wakes up, freaked out!!

Wahaha! Shout out to the Showtime server for pointing this out while we were discussing!

This is either and "end of episode prize" from Caine, or he jumps in mid-episode to hand them a helpful item, ooorr he's telling them that that's their objective for the adventure :3

also!! people have pointed out that Zooble isn't with the carriage with the others! Either this means that Zooble was given a surprise roll in the adventure, or she's off to have a fun solo adventure with Caine! Ohh! How exciting!

Zooble is a favorite character of Goose's, so to learn more about him and why Goose loves them so much would be so exciting!!

Whats up with Jax?

hunched down, writing in the sand, hugging his knees, this topped with Goose's two-word description of the next episode to be "I"m nothing"... Oh Jax is gonna have a MOMENT...

We all know that no one likes the dude and he's going to get worse. I'm unsure if this will make me like the guy, but I'm optimistic!

I'm open to understanding and seeing another side of him that would make me like him! I already quite like how this scene is framed, how lonely he looks, the acting in these few seconds already tells me what kind of guy he is.

...despite one of the gummis being tied up in the corner

If i had to hypothesize, this probably stemmed with Jax acting out, you know, the usual "being a nuisance" to make everyone miserable,

Then It escalates

This gets on Ragatha's nerves, first starting out as a silly "haha cute interaction" between them and it escalates while the episode goes on where Ragatha genuinely gets mad at him and tells him to stay put while they do the work.

Speaking of Ragatha, She seems to be quite fond of the Princess! There is a part of me that wonders if she wants to sort of-- "prove" herself in a way, as a leader or otherwise. Ragatha does give me the "smart yet nice kid in class that everyone copies off of" energy... TwT This poor woman.

I don't know, just the way The Princess bends down and holds her hand, it's sort of sweetly mentorly or motherly in a way. I'm not saying this to infantilize Ragatha, I respect her so much as a mature 30-year-old adult, I say it as a testament to The Princesses' character. Princesses, Queens, and any sort of royalty have been characterized as the sort of "mother/father of all" sort of character type, which is sweet! And would be quite interesting!

I know that people are quick to do the shipping with these two, but I kind of like the idea of Ragatha wanting approval and validation.

BUT THATS JUST A THEORY!! A FILM THEORY!!! ANDDD CUT!!

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Needs Must — Rhysand x Reader

While I put the finishing touches to the next part of Bluebird, enjoy this Rhys x Reader that I got a sudden burst of inspiration to finish this morning!

Summary: War changes everything, and the human-fae war changed the trajectory of your life completely — most pointedly decimating the relations between you and those closest to you. It’s been a long while since you’ve seen your brother, Cassian, and your friends. But that’s all about to change.

Warnings: Suggestions of solicitation/sex work/brothels. Nothing else, really!

Word Count: 1.5k

Enjoy! 💕

It’s all pointless, you think — the red velvet drapes, the burning candles, the sandalwood-scented smoke that clouds the air and creates a thick layer of fog that hovers just above the shag carpet. Pointless, because no amount of pretty décor will change Salt’s Pleasure Hall from the vacuous and miserable place it is.

Not miserable for you, no. There is no misery in the hefty sum of gold you’ll take home on a night. You are a master of pretty smiles and hooded gazes and saying all the right things that desperate, lonely males wish to hear. There is so much coin to be had in feigning interest and attraction. Bringing their fantasy to life for a night. There is talent in making them feel as though you’ve bared yourself to them, without having removed a single item of clothing.

And to think you once begged your older brother to train you, make you like him. Turn me into a weapon like you are, Cassian. We cannot change what filth sired us. But we can stamp it out from our blood and be better, be more.

And oh, he’d trained you, alright. Turned you into a weapon. Into something he was so fucking proud of. You knew the pride it had once brought him to strut around Illyrian lands with you at his side, clad in leathers just as he was, armed to the teeth just as he was. His way of showing off that he had done something good, something useful.

Oh, how things have changed. How the mighty have fallen.

For all you are confident, comfortable, used to the job you have now worked for some time, you are nervous tonight.

Tonight is different. Tonight is territory that has so far been untouched. Tonight, this room of velvet and silk and sensuality is your domain.

The Juniper Suite is part of the most expensive package that Salt’s Pleasure Hall has to offer. The package is similar to your usual night’s work in that you will smile prettily and pour drinks and ply whichever lonely male arrives with mindless conversation.

The difference is that in Juniper, those things lead to sex. And this is the first time since becoming one of Salt’s girls that you’re crossing that boundary.

So, yeah, you’re a little bit nervous. But — needs must, and all that.

With a soft sigh and butterflies dancing around in your belly, you slowly pace the circumference of the room, stopping every now and then to study the weird little trinkets that Salt has picked up over the years. A strange mishmash of things that you suppose he thinks creates a certain ambience. But tiny metal lions and old, fraying maps will be the furthest thing from your client’s thoughts when the two of you sink into the feathered sheets.

They will be here any minute, and for the first time since you started your work here, you allow yourself to wonder what they might be like. You never usually bother, because the other girls warned you on day one what to expect — that this place attracts a certain clientele, and that never wavers.

So, your guest will likely be far older than you. He will likely have dark smudges beneath his eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders. There will likely be the faint mark of a removed wedding band on his left ring finger. He will likely want to talk to you about why he is a victim of life itself.

And you will coo sympathetically and pour him drinks, drag your hand down his arm and hold his hand. You will let him know how sorry you feel that life is so cruel to him. You will offer him the bliss of touch and feel, and make him think, for a short while, that you genuinely care about his shortcomings.

And then when he hands you the heavy pouch of coins you so desperately covet, you’ll switch it all off.

You swallow down another sigh and cross the room to the small, compact bar in the corner. You need a stiff drink yourself, something to settle your nerves—

But a knock lands on the door, and there’s no time.

For a split second, you doubt whether you can go through with this. Playing hostess for a few hours is one thing, but giving your body to a client is something you’ve never had the courage to do, despite the extra coin it would bring. But — needs must. You repeat it to yourself as you stride to the door. Needs must, needs must, needs must. You can do this.

You brace yourself, feeling suddenly too hot and sticky in the scant clothing that covers you — a pink lingerie set, barely covered by the sheer robe that sits open and threatens to slip down your arms. You are beautiful — and strong and sexy and confident. This is your body to do with whatever you want. And if this is the course you are taking, that is fine. This will be fine.

You lay your palm on the handle and yank the door open before you have to give yourself another pep talk.

But at the sight of who stands on the other side, you freeze. Your lips part in surprise.

A pep talk is not what you need — but rather a huge hole to open in the floor and swallow you down.

“What the fuck?”

It takes you a moment to realise that you’ve uttered those three words at the exact same moment your client did — Rhysand did.

He’s just like when you last saw him, but…older, now. Even though you were adults back then, too, he seems…more mature, somehow. He’s regal and stunning and night itself.

And fuck, he’s High Lord of the Night Court now.

And yet he’s ruffled, as he takes you in, gapes at you. Neither of you know what to do.

His eyes dip down to what you’re wearing, before travelling back up to your face. And he blurts, “Pixie?”

Pixie. You haven’t heard that name in years. The fond nickname that both Rhys and Azriel had coined for you, because you were so much like Cassian and yet so much smaller, a little pixie buzzing around.

But you are not her anymore. You haven’t been her since before the human-fae war. You had changed, just like the others had changed.

And the new you doesn’t need to explain to an old friend what has brought you to a pleasure hall in Sangravah. Nor does that old friend need to explain what’s brought him here, either. You owe him nothing. He owes you nothing.

But the situation is so bizarre that your mind freezes. You don’t know what to do. All you know is that you do not want to be in front of him, almost naked. You do not want to look him in the eye. The mere thought is humiliating.

So you move fast and try to slam the door shut in his face. You don’t care what kind of reprimand Salt will give you because of it.

But, of course, he is Rhysand, and may you never forget that. He’s quick as lightning, something about him always having been wildly feline. He always bested you when you sparred, always had the upper hand.

He has the upper hand now as he wedges his foot in the door and stops it from closing.

You grit your teeth, feeling just like when you used to bicker with him in Illyria as you bite out, “Move your fucking foot.”

“No,” Rhys snaps, shoving it in further. “Open the fucking—” he growls as he shoulders himself forward. “Pixie.”

“Don’t call me that. Go away—”

You’re not exactly sure what happens next. Either he loses his footing, or you do, or perhaps you both do. All you know is that the door is swinging fully open, and your balance is suddenly off, and Rhysand’s hand is gripping onto you as you fall backwards. Your attempts to right yourself are far too late and seem to make it worse. Down you go to that musty shag carpet, and down Rhysand goes with you,

Air whooshes from your lungs as he lands on top of you, far too close than is comfortable when you’re wearing so little clothing. You attempt to sit up, shove him off you.

But he holds you firm and stares at you with wide eyes. His face is inches from yours. He gives what seems to be a baffled shake of his head.

“Pix, what the fuck?” he blurts.

[1d1195]

Protection

She hates her security detail and everything it stands for. So if she’s going to be miserable she’s going to take everyone responsible for her safety down with her.

But then she meets the newest agent in charge of her protection: Harry. Harry has one job and that’s to protect her; it should be easy enough. How much trouble can a 24-year old student get up to?

Fan art by @tiredinwinter inspired by Part IV 🥹💕

Miss Wildflower and Harry’s ideal home

@harrysonlylover sent me this quote from Miss Wildflower

Head Above Water by Avril Lavigne (esp during Extra I)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

Extra I

Extra II

Extra III

Extra IV

[halsteadlover]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

*Gif and pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: yes by anon.

• Summary: Connor shows his possessive and jealous side and you love every bit of it.

• Warnings: jealousy, few curse words and I don’t know what else, please let me know if I missed any lol.

• Word count: 1930.

• A/N: I’m not sure about this one but here it is anyway since I was too lazy to write it all over again 😭 I hope you’ll like it, looking forward for your opinion. Comment, like and reblog, it’d would mean the world 💕 I love you all xx

Connor's first case since coming back to Med’s was fairly simple.

He thought that day would go uneventful. He thought.

An elementary school girl was taken to the ER after her teacher called 911 because of an intense abdominal pain and after an ultrasound it turned out to be a case of acute appendicitis.

“She’ll need surgery, where are the parents? We need their consent,” Connor had asked Natalie while they examined the little patient who was still writhing in pain. She was given a small dose of morphine to calm some of her excruciating pain.

At that same moment Maggie entered the room and Connor glanced at her as he tried to calm the little girl, whose name turned out to be Daisy. “Her teacher is here and asked about a doctor.”

“I'll talk to her,” Connor said and Natalie nodded.

Connor and Maggie exited the patient's room and his gaze fell on a figure near the nurses' station who was filling out some forms.

He tried to keep an expression as serious and impassive as possible even though internally a flock of butterflies had just exploded in his stomach.

There was no need to even take a double take, he would’ve recognized that figure even in a crowd of thousands of people. After all, how could he not recognize his own girlfriend?

You were a teacher and taught science in an elementary school but what were the chances that you would’ve been the little girl’s teacher?

You and Connor had been together for about few months them so none of his colleagues knew you existed yet. He had to act like he didn’t know you, like he didn’t want to breathtakingly kiss you right then and there.

He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over your body suppressing the innate desire to approach you and grab your ass like he always did.

He approached the nurses' station, hands shoved in his uniform pocket. “Ma’am.”

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard not a voice but his voice. You immediately tried to suppress the smile that threatened to appear on your face as well as the urge to giggle since he knew how much it annoyed you when he’d call you ‘ma’am’.

“It’s ‘miss’, actually.”

You said when you turned to him, pen still in your fingers as you gave him a polite smile and chuckling to yourself when you saw Connor press his lips together in an attempt not to burst out laughing.

“Nice to meet you miss, I’m doctor Rhodes. I’m treating Daisy.”

Your eyes quickly scanned his body, trying to maintain composure and not blush like a fourteen year old when thoughts about you and him in his bed that morning crept into your mind.

“How is she, doctor?” You asked, failing miserably at not giving him a little mischievou smile.

“Unfortunately I cannot discuss my patient's health status with people outside of her family. I wanted to ask you if you have by any chance notified her parents? We need to talk to them,” he replied in a professional tone although the way his eyes shone as they spoke to you and the way he couldn't help but check you out gave him away.

Maggie and April, who were there at the time and witnessing your conversation, couldn't help but exchange a knowing look.

They had both thought the exact same thing.

There was no way you and Connor didn't know each other.

It was so obvious and even funny how you both tried to maintain a professional and unemotional facade. But the way he looked at you, the way his eyes had never left yours, the way his body was totally turned towards you and in which he seemed to be imperceptibly drawn continuously towards yours had revealed there was no way in hell that he didn't know you.

But it was also how your head was tilted slightly as you spoke to him, how you kept touching your hair, how you batted your eyelashes and the shadow of a smile that never left your lips that had given definitive confirmation that you two knew each other very well.

And not talking about the fact you two were blatantly flirting.

“I came here in a hurry so I didn't have time to call them, but I'll do it right away,” you had said and Connor had nodded, trying to keep himself from following you with his eyes as you walked away to make the call but failing miserably.

“Connor oh my god! What was that?!” April screamed/whispered, approaching Connor with Maggie, a look of pure surprise and amazement on both their faces. “You know her?!”.

Connor shrugged nonchalantly. “N-no of course not.”

“Oh come on we saw the way you looked at each other, you clearly know her and there is definitely something going on!” Maggie retorted.

“She's just a good looking woman, that's all,” Connor remarked even if ‘good looking’ didn’t even come close to how gorgeous you were.

All his attention though had shifted from Maggie and April for a moment, his eyes falling on the two doctors that were talking as they looked through some patients' medical records.

He saw the direction of their gaze, hearing the comments about the object – or rather the person – that had attracted their attention.

“Man if she was a stripper I would’ve spent my whole salary on her, did you see that ass?”. One of them had confessed to one of them while he was pretending to fill out the medical records even though he was watching you like a hawk while you were talking on the phone.

“I would’ve never skipped a class if I had a teacher as hot as her,” the other continued laughing.

“You think she has someone?”.

“Oh I hope not, but if it is he is a damn lucky bastard.”

Connor clenched his hands into two fists, almost having a brain aneurysm.

A wave of jealousy washed over him, every cell of his body exploding with anger at hearing the words directed towards you who unawarely continued to talk on the phone.

His jaw clenched as he struggled to stay calm, but God how much he wanted to beat the shit out of those two sons of bitches. He hated the way they looked at you, the way they made those disgusting comments about your body.

He hated it so much because that was the way he looked at you.

He was the only one who could make those comments about you, the only one who could have those sinful thoughts about you, the only one who could touch and admire you.

Your ass, your legs, your smile, your laugh, that twinkle in your eyes when you looked at him, that body, all of this were his.

It was as if his mind had gone into blackout, as if all his reasoning, judgment and common sense had just flown away because now all he could do was imagine the bastards' heads banging against the wall over and over again.

Drastic? Perhaps. Excessive? Probably. But Connor didn't give a fuck.

And it was in fact at that precise moment that he did something he’d never have thought of doing for anyone.

“Daisy's parents are…-” you announced as you ended the call and walked back to the nurses' station but stopped on your tracks when Connor came towards you, and a confused expression appeared on your face.

Your eyes widened and you almost had a heart attack when he grabbed your face and crushed his lips on yours.

He didn't give a shit.

Neither that you both were keeping your relationship a secret anymore, nor that you were in the middle of the ER, nor that everyone at that moment had stopped to witness that scene.

He wasn’t thinking clearly and in that moment it was that part of him with which he had never come face to face before that controlled him, that primitive and caveman part he was hating so much.

Even though that gesture had taken you completely by surprise, your body reacted before your mind could even understand what was happening, so you kissed him back, feeling your breath stopping in your lungs. Your hands slid up his chest and fisted his uniform as he wrapped his arms around your hips, sliding his hands down to your ass.

He didn't care he’d receive an endless scolding for what he was doing, he didn't care about the voices that commented the scene, he didn't care that everyone saw his hands squeezing your ass.

He didn't care because he wanted them to see, he wanted everyone to know you belonged to him, that he was the only one who could kiss you, fuck you, squeeze that stripper ass, that loved you.

You broke away from the kiss before the situation could escalate, your heart pounding and your legs shaking like jelly. “Babe oh my god…-”.

“You’re mine, you know that right?” He whispered. “Only mine.” His hands moved up from your ass back to your face and his thumbs caressed your cheekbones before placing a small kiss on his lips. “And I love you.”

Woah hold on.

Did he fucking say ‘I love you’? In an ER?

Wait. Connor loves me?

You looked at him in shock but you didn't have time to process and figure out what the hell was going on because he grabbed your hand and led you back towards the nurses' station, where Maggie and April's jaws were now on the floor.

“Meet my girlfriend, Y/n,” he announced, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close as you were about to faint. Your heart was beating so fast you feared you’d need a defibrillator to revive you sooner or later.

You were so shocked you couldn’t elaborate a word, fuck you couldn’t even think about one.

Connor's eyes focused on the two doctors that had been talking about you until recently but who at that moment were looking around embarrassed.

“You wanted to know if she was taken? Yes, she is. I’m the lucky bastard who gets to have her and now let me hear one more thing about my girlfriend, I fucking dare you.”

You looked with confusion at your boyfriend, then at the doctors he was glaring at, and then back at him. You had no idea what he was talking about and you were so dazed and confused that your mind didn't know what to process first.

From the way Connor’s hand was gripping your hip, the way he held you so close to him, and the way he glared at the two doctors, you imagined it was somehow about you. And although the embarrassment of being the center of attention made you want to be swallowed by the floor, you couldn't help but feel… Flattered.

Was this the right word?

You didn’t know.

You couldn't even describe it, but that jealous, protective side of him lit a fire inside you that burned every single fucking cell of your body.

You knew Connor always had this protective instinct towards you but knowing he had ‘marked his territory’ so blatantly, just to stop whatever they were saying, made you giggle to yourself like a teenage girl.

It was so damn hot and sexy, more than you would’ve ever expected.

And instead of thinking about how out of place or inappropriate that gesture was, the only thing you could think about as you looked at Connor was how good he was going to get it that night.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @klovesreading, @firetruckstuckley

Connor Rhodes tag list: @rsquared31, @novabckly, @wnbweasley, @thebejeweledwatercat

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[corroded-hellfire]

Jitters - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs

Summary: It's the first day of school for the Munson children--ever for Eliza, but their dad is being the biggest baby of them all.

Note: With all the back-to-school excitement going on I thought, "What would Eddie be like when Eliza first starts school?" So, voila. As always, I am so thankful for all of you who read and have the loveliest things to say 💕

Words: 3.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

If someone were to take bets on which Munson is the most miserable on the first day of school, they might pick Ryan. Sixteen years old, starting his junior year, and seemingly irritated by every move someone makes. 

They might pick fourteen-year-old Luke, the Tasmanian Devil himself, constantly lamenting about how boring his teachers are. 

Or they might pick Eliza, no longer getting to be the big fish in the daycare’s small pond, but now a full-fledged preschooler—one who is not happy about getting up early. 

Any of these would be fine guesses. But they would also be dead wrong. 

“My babies are all grown up!” Eddie bemoans, watching Eliza slide a comically oversized Little Mermaid backpack over her tiny shoulders. He stares at his sons as they shove their feet into their new sneakers, conveniently ignoring the repeated warnings not to break their shoes. 

Ryan catches his dad looking at them and rolls his eyes. “Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” he quips, groaning when Eddie dashes into the bedroom to grab his camera. “Crap, I didn’t mean literally.”

“Swear jar!” Luke chirps, all-too excited to catch his big brother slipping up. 

“‘Crap’ isn’t a swear word, dumbass.”

“Another dollar in the swear jar!” Luke roars, nearly colliding with the wall as he darts away from Ryan before the elder boy can get his hands on him. 

You give the two boys a biting glare from across the room. If you can't keep them from using bad language all the time, they at least need to adhere to the rule when their little sister is in the room. Luckily, Eliza is currently admiring her new black Mary Jane shoes and was paying no mind to what was happening around her. 

Before Ryan and Luke can start bickering again, you herd them over to the side of the living room where the lighting is the best for pictures. 

“Come on, come on,” you say as you practically push them across the space. “Dad’s getting the camera, let’s get this show on the road.” 

Ryan groans and drops his head back in irritation. “Can’t you just take some of Eliza? You have enough of us.”

“We never have enough of you,” you tell him, moving towards him on instinct to press a kiss to the top of his head—only to come face to face with the reminder that he’s taller than you now. “Eliza, come on over here, baby girl.”

Eliza looks up from where she’s now inspecting the pink overall dress she’s wearing. Her two curly little pigtails bounce with every motion. She hikes up her green sparkly princess backpack as she skips towards you. She becomes derailed, however, when Eddie walks back into the room. Eliza diverts her attention and makes a not-quite-a-surprise attack on his legs.

“Rawr! Gotchu Daddy!”

“Oh no!” Eddie feigns, clasping the camera to his chest. “I guess I can’t take you to preschool then, huh? Such a shame.”

“Nice try,” you tell him. “She’s still going.” 

Eddie’s brows furrow together in another one of the little pouts he’s been giving you for the past few days. He thinks his baby girl is growing up too fast—does he think you don’t feel the same way? You just don’t show your emotions as expressively as your husband does. 

“She’s only three,” Eddie says about your daughter. “Shouldn’t we wait until she’s at least four?”

“She’ll be four next month, Eddie,” you remind him. “This is when she’s supposed to start preschool.” 

The sullen father has nothing to say in response to that, so he just looks down at the camera and fiddles with it, making sure there’s enough film and that it’s on the right settings. You take the opportunity to walk over towards Ryan.

“Was he this bad when Luke started school?” you ask in a hushed voice. 

Ryan considers it for a moment before shrugging. “In my childhood mind, no. But I also used to believe it when Dad told me I’d look like Popeye if I ate my spinach, so who knows?”

“I can only imagine how he was with you.” With a small smirk, you grab Ryan’s arms and give him a small shake from side to side. “His first born,” you coo in a sickeningly sweet tone. Ryan shoos you away from him, but you can see the smile on his face that he’s trying his damndest to hide. 

In the meantime, Luke grabs a Kleenex box from the kitchen counter, lowering onto bended knee and presenting it to Eddie. 

“A gift for thou, Sir Sobs-a-Lot,” he says, adopting an exaggerated British accent. 

Eddie thumps him on the back of the head, but takes a tissue regardless. 

“Wayne always said I’d be screwed if my kids were as weird as me,” he muses. 

“Dad,” Luke fake-whines, “don’t say that about Eliza!”

Eliza furrows her little eyebrows and makes a run for her brother, charging towards him like a provoked rhinoceros. 

Luke is quicker, though, and holds her prisoner against his chest with a menacing cackle.  

“Mean brother,” Eliza mumbles, face smushed against him. 

He grins triumphantly. “That’s why you love me so much.” He presses a big smacking kiss to her cheek and lets her go, gasping in feigned offense when she wipes it away and wanders back to Eddie.

“Time for school! Let’s gooooooo, Daddy!” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door, equal parts eager and exasperated. 

Eddie obliges, but you can tell that this isn’t easy for him. “Why is she so eager to leave?” he asks you under his breath. “Ryan and Luke were practically wrapped around my ankles begging me to let them stay home.”

“I think she’s just excited to meet new friends and learn new things!” you say with a smile, trying to hold back your own tears. “Isn’t that right, Liza Bean?”

Eliza nods vigorously. “Luke says I get Play-Doh!”

“Remember,” Luke crouches down to tell her, “it’s important that you taste the Play-Doh before you use it.”

The comment earns him another thump to the head from Eddie. 

“Please don’t eat Play-Doh,” you beg your daughter. Or listen to anything Luke says, you silently add. 

“Yeah, just stick to your lunch,” Ryan offers, always the voice of reason. 

“Lots of fruits and veggies,” Luke jumps in. “Remember why?”

“SCURVY!” Eliza proudly shouts, beaming from ear to ear. 

Eddie exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose, at a total loss for words. “Can you crazy children just take the pictures so we can go?” he finally manages, patience sufficiently worn thin. 

“Sir, yes, sir!” the boys salute in unison. 

“Yes, sir!” Eliza chimes in, happy to emulate her big brothers. 

You take the camera from Eddie when you see his jaw clench. You’d been afraid of your daughter having a meltdown today, but you obviously should have been worrying about her dad. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding for them to arrange themselves in front of the wall for a picture, “all three of you, first.” 

Begrudgingly on the part of the teenagers, and happily on the part of the little girl exiting toddlerhood, they come together and manage to stand still while you grab a few shots of them.

“Now just Ryan, then Luke, then Liza,” you instruct. Ryan rolls his eyes as his two younger siblings step away from him.

“This is never going to end,” he mumbles. 

Figuring it’s just easier to ignore him, you get your pictures of Ryan before moving on to solo Luke and then Eliza. “Now get in there, Dad,” you tell Eddie, gesturing him over to join the kids.

The moment Eddie is within reaching distance of her, Eliza raises her tiny arms to her father and insists that he holds her in the picture. Eddie, unable to deny her anything as always, complies. 

“Just me and Daddy!” Eliza says.

“Eliza’s will be done,” you say before snapping one of just the pair of them.

“All right, all right,” Luke says, motioning for you to give him the camera. “You get in there, too. We’ve got a monumental day here. Another Munson in the school system.”

As you pose next to your daughter and husband, you see Ryan out of the corner of your eye. He leans in behind you and holds up two fingers as bunny ears behind Eliza’s head. His little sister didn’t see him, but she was going to get a kick out of that once you got the pictures developed. Luke also noticed the photobomber, so he takes another nicer picture. 

“We ready to go now?” Luke asks. “Big day for me too, ya know. Starting high school and all. No one’s all fussy over me and I bet it’s because I don’t have pigtails. Damn.”

Eddie claps Luke on the shoulder as you take the camera from your son. “Didn’t wanna make ya nervous, kid,” Eddie says. “Also, dollar in the swear jar.”

Luke scoffs and presses a hand to his chest. “Have I ever been nervous a day in my life?” 

“Well,” Ryan starts with a smug smile, “that depends if you count the time that you got paired up with Missy Collins for that science project.”

Luke’s face turns pink and his nostrils flare. You’re almost taken aback because you think this is the most flustered you’ve ever seen the usually cool and mischievous boy. Luke goes from standing perfectly still to lunging toward his older brother in milliseconds. 

Ryan just lets out a whooping laugh and dodges him by heading outside. Luke is hot on his tail.

Eliza looks up at you and shakes her head, little brown pigtails swaying with the motion. 

“Boys,” she says, an air of sophistication older than her three years in her tone. 

“Boys,” you agree, offering her your hand. Her little fingers slide into your own and you head out the front door behind the two teenagers. Eddie grabs his keys and follows his family out. 

The keys jingle in your husband’s hand, a nervous tic as he walks over to the car and unlocks it. The three kids pile into the back and Eliza and Luke bicker over buckling her car seat as you slip into the passenger’s side.

“Everyone have everything?” Eddie asks as soon as the arguing stops. “Backpacks? Lunches? Or lunch money?”

A chorus of “yes” comes from the backseat so Eddie starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, instantly wishing he could turn around and take everyone back home.

You, Eddie, and Eliza somehow arrive at the preschool on time, but not before your daughter had thoroughly embarrassed her brothers on the high school drop-off line. She’d begged Eddie to roll down her window so she could yell to them as they joined their friends. 

“Bye, Ryan! Bye, Lukie!” she’d shouted. “I love you!” 

You and Eddie thought it was hilarious. Luke and Ryan? Not so much. 

But now, your husband is a total wreck as Eliza marches full steam ahead towards the school’s doors. Truthfully, you’re almost as bad as he is, but you’re trying to keep it together—for Eliza’s sake and for Eddie’s. 

“You ready, Eliza?” You crouch down and place your hands on her shoulders. 

“Yep!” She nods, baby teeth on full display when she grins excitedly.  

Eddie narrows his eyes in disbelief. “Are you sure?” he asks, making you roll your eyes. 

“Yep!” Eliza repeats; thankfully, she’s oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

“You’re going to have a great time and make lots of new friends,” you tell her. 

“And I’ll be right here, ready to pick you up when it’s over,” Eddie adds as he crouches down next to you.

It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes again or elbow Eddie in the ribs.  

Eliza nods her head, little pigtails bouncing with the movement. She hikes her backpack up higher and gives you both another wide smile. 

“Ready to go in?” you ask. 

“Uh huh.”

You take her hand and she leads you into her new classroom, Eddie following along behind you. He’s quite literally dragging his feet, a human version of Eeyore the donkey. 

A teacher, not too much younger than you, comes up to greet you all. “Hi, everyone!” she chirps in a tone that signals over-caffeination. “Welcome to preschool! I’m Miss Riley, your teacher.”

For the first time this morning, Eliza seems hesitant. She looks up at you for approval and you nod your head at her. 

“I’m Eliza Marie Munson,” she announces, and you bite back a laugh at her formality. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Eliza,” Miss Riley says. “You’ve got both Mommy and Daddy with you here today, huh?”

“Yep! Was just gonna be Daddy but then Mommy said she didn’t think he’d really take me here.” 

You squeeze your lips together as your daughter calls out your husband’s behavior; Eddie closes his eyes, a small smile appearing on his face. Both of you know (partially due to your experiences with Luke and Ryan when they were younger) that anything that went on in your house that Eliza knew about would be fair game to be shared with her whole class. 

“Well, I’m very glad you’re here,” Miss Riley replies, holding a hand out for a high-five that your daughter eagerly returns. “Would you like me to show you where your cubby is?”

“Okay!” Eliza turns around and waves to you and Eddie.  “Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy!”

“No hugs?” Eddie asks, a pout forming on his plush lips.

Eliza rolls her eyes as if this is the most unreasonable request she’s ever heard, but obliges. 

You give her a tight squeeze, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re gonna have an amazing day, baby girl,” you remind her. 

“I know, Mommy.”

Eddie’s hug can only be described as bone-crushing, with Eliza letting out a dramatic grunt as he holds her. 

“Eliza Munson, you are the smartest, bravest little girl I know,” he says, voice catching in his throat. “I want you to go out there and kick some a—butt,” he hurriedly amends, but not before earning a glare from you. 

“Most importantly, be nice,” you emphasize, hoping your advice trumps Eddie’s little half-time pep talk. 

“I will!” Eliza happily declares before following Miss Riley over to the cubbies.

Eddie looks back and forth from her to you. “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all we get?”

“What did you want?” you ask as you slip your hand into your husband’s. “Want her to cry and beg you to take her back home?”

“Well, no.” At your disbelieving eyebrow raise Eddie shrugs and amends his statement. “Not entirely.”

“We got hugs and goodbyes,” you point out. “Ryan barely acknowledged us, and Luke gave you a Wet Willy. I think we should cut our losses.”

“I know,” Eddie says, letting out a defeated sigh.

You gently tug him in the direction of the door to exit. “She’ll be fine,” you reassure him with a whisper. “And she’ll be so excited to tell you all about it later.”

Eddie nods, and just as the two of you are about to walk out the door, something rams into Eddie’s legs. He looks down to see Eliza grinning up at him, little arms wrapped around his knees.  

“What’s up, Sweet Pea?” he asks, suddenly worried that something’s wrong. Was someone mean to her? Did she forget her lunch at home?

She jumps like a little jumping bean until she’s right in front of the two of you. 

“I love you!”

Your heart swells and the pressure of tears is heavy behind your eyes. There’s no way you can look at Eddie because clocking his emotion will absolutely send you over the edge. 

Eddie’s already tearing up though and has a bright smile on his face. “We love you too, Liza Bean,” he tells her. “So much.”

She giggles and you scoop her up in your arms. “We love you more than anything.”

You and Eddie press kisses to her cheeks at the same time, and Eddie blows a raspberry with his, making her giggle. 

Once you set her down, Eliza blows you both a kiss before skipping over to a table where a few kids are drawing, already settling in. 

Eddie wipes at his eyes as the two of you step out of the classroom and into the hall. “That’s what I wanted,” he admits with a tearful chuckle. 

You wrap your arms around one of Eddie’s and lay your head on his shoulder. “You okay?” you ask him.

“No.” He sighs when you press a reassuring kiss against his shoulder. “I’m just trying to keep it together for your sake,” he says.

At his words, you pull away to look at him, eyebrows raised. “This was you holding it together?” you ask. 

“Oh, this could’ve been way worse, babe.”

You chuckle as he slips his hand into yours, knowing that he’s likely telling the truth. 

The two of you take one last look inside the classroom and see Eliza talking and laughing with a little girl and boy at her table. 

“Come on,” you say, patting the back of Eddie’s hand with your free one. 

With a reluctant sigh, Eddie starts to walk with you towards the exit. 

“And I know Miss Riley is younger than me but don’t get any ideas.” You smirk and nudge his shoulder with your own, trying to joke around and cheer him up a bit.

Eddie puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, she’s a teacher. I only go for babysitters.”

The late summer morning is hot as you make the journey back to your car. Still the gentleman as always, Eddie opens your door for you. 

“Man,” he shakes his head as you slip into the passenger’s seat. “I can’t believe my baby is in preschool.” 

He closes your door and walks around to his side, giving you time to open your purse and pull out a small object, hiding it beneath your hands in your lap. He starts the car, though you’re fairly certain your heartbeat is louder than the engine. 

“Well,” you start before clearing your throat. Eddie looks over at you and there’s suddenly a million butterflies not only in your stomach, but throughout your whole body. “She’s not going to be the baby for long…”

You hand Eddie the test, watching as his expression shifts from sadness to confusion to awe as he stares at the two pink lines. 

“You’re pregnant?” The excitement in his voice rivals that of a kid on Christmas morning.

“I’m pregnant,” you confirm, grinning with your own excitement. The emotions that you've been trying to corral all day finally come out, relief and giddiness flowing through you as you tell your husband what you've been dying to amongst all the other chaos of the day.  

Eddie lunges across the center console to wrap you up in his arms, letting the positive test drop into his lap. “Holy shit, princess.”

“I know,” you say with a giggle.

Eddie’s still in shock, grinning from ear to ear and rubs his hands over his face. “We’re gonna have another baby,” he says, just to hear it aloud. 

“And just think,” you say, “you get to do this first day of preschool thing again.”

His nose wrinkles at that prospect. “Maybe I’ll just homeschool this one.”

[lowkeyrobin]

hi! I got a kitten yesterday and i was thinking about a sparrow!ben hargreeves x reader where the reader brings home a kitten and at first he hates it but then she catches him like cuddling or playing with it. Just a thought! Have a perfect day! 💕

oooo okay I can try! ; and omg I bet ur kitten is so cute okgnghehjajd ; fun fact I started feeding one stray cat and this mofo brought along his wife and then his 3 or 4 kids 💀 ; anyway thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy!

SPARROW! BEN ; feline friend

summary ; you come home with a cat to surprise ben

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; reader had some similar familial neglect growing up

word count ; 791

masterlist

Ben, growing up in the Sparrow Academy, never got a little kitten or puppy for Christmas. Christmas didn't even exist. The best Christmas they ever got as kids was when Grace brought home special treats for the Sparrow kids on the special day. That day was special for every other kid in the world except them. They didn't get presents, or new toys, new books, new clothes, they didn't get to spend solid family time together.

Reginald wasn't as bad as he was to the Umbrella Academy in this timeline, but he was like one of those parents who refused to do anything fun. Any childish belief or dream would be shot down instantly. You shoot down the idea of Santa Clause to a bunch of little kids with superpowers and act like it's outrageous they ever believed it in the first place.

All Ben ever wanted growing up for Christmas was a cat. He had a soft spot for them.

He always felt bad for the stray cats on the street that he'd sneak out to feed with Fei. They were always too scared to want to be pet, but they were confident enough to sit with the still little kids. Ben didn't have that many great childish memories either. Instead of trying to hold it all together like the glue of the family, like he was in another timeline, he was miserable. He grew cold.

He essentially had nothing to really live for until you came along.

And you brought a cat home one random evening after learning how he'd always wanted a cat. You kind of forgot that he wasn't much different from you. He didn't have the chance to have a pet growing up unless you counted Christopher because he was a high-maintenance little asshole. Over time, he grew up into an adult, too mature and old to want to care about Christmas or wanting a cat for Christmas.

You carry the kitten in your hands, entering with a bit of struggle through the front door. A litter box, food, toys, and other essentials sit in your car as you'd wanted to surprise Ben first, then make him help you drag everything inside.

You find him sitting on the couch, his attention halfed between the television on Cartoon Network and his phone in his hand, scrolling through the hellscape that is Twitter. He looks up at you, quickly saying hello, asking how your day was.

You're silent, a wide smile on your face as the kitten looks up at you, curled up in your hand.

He then notices the little creature and he furrows his eyebrows. He sets his phone down and stands in front of you, seeing the little kitten in your hands.

"Where- why?"

"You never got to have a pet growing up, neither did I. We both deserve to have something else to live for, especially something so adorable," you smile.

You hand him the kitten, allowing the small animal to sniff out Ben and begin to trust him. He softly strokes the kitten's small head, unknowing of how to react. After becoming cold and miserable, he didn't really care for animals anymore.

"When I told you about never being able to take in strays as a kid, I didn't insinuate I wanted one now"

...

"Oh"

Safe to say Ben didn't want the cat, then.

You didn't get rid of her, though. You couldn't do that to your soul or to her. You deserved that kitten even if Ben didn't. He didn't even have to look at her for all you cared. She was yours then. You didn't really understand why he was being such an ass about it, though.

But, you return home from work once more, expecting to see Ben on the couch glaring at your playful kitten once again. But, as you enter the living room, that's not what you'd found.

Ben was on the floor, his right hand swiftly moving over the carpet, the kitten's eyes quickly following as she sits in front of him. The cat lays down, her butt in the air, ready to pounce. Ben sits with a smile on his face, allowing the cat to tackle and scratch his hand up. He picks her up, cradling her in his arms as he pets her small head.

You raise an eyebrow, setting your things to the side. "I thought you hated the idea of having a cat?"

Ben quickly looks up at you, allowing the cat to run free. "Uh..."

You shake your head with a smile, "Glad you warmed up to her, dickwad"

"I've honestly been hiding it since, like, week two," he shrugs. "I was trying to hold my grudge."

"That's mean."

"I didn't ask."

[gallusrostromegalus]

Who in the Gotei 13 abuses emojis and how

The Groupchat Crimes of the Gotei-13:

Yamamoto: responds everything with an inscrutable "😎 👍". Announcing your engagement? 😎 👍 Telling him there is a scheduling conflict? 😎 👍 The seireitei is being invaded? 😎 👍 Tonkatasu Tuesday at 6:30 tonight? 😎 👍

Sasakibe: Endlessly persnickety about grammar. Despite having the fact that grammar is fluid and changes with context and what many of the new conventions mean explained to him, a total lack of punctuation to create an informal tone will make him literally foam at the mouth like a rabid boar.

Soi Fon: refuses to relegate fun facts about hornets to the #bugs channel, including unspoilered images of what assorted stings will do to human flesh.

Yoruichi: nudes in the SFW channels

Rose: 🌹❤️🌹 brackets his messages with emoji chains like quotation marks 🌹❤️🌹

Kira: vent posting/generally being a miserable little shit in the general channel

Retsu: consistently forgets to spoiler medical gore, keeps sharing medical "Fun" facts that give people nightmares.

Isane: "Hey guys, I need some advice on how to deal with *insane situation literally nobody that ever experienced before*"

Hanataro: unironically posting scorpions and venomous snakes to the cute animals channel

Shinji: ti xif ton lliw/tonnac dna segassem sih lla desrever wohemoS

Momo: crying for real about how cute the animals in the cute animals chat are

Hiyori: destroying things in rage about how cute the animals in the cute animals chat are.

Byakuya: Signs all his messages, as this is is official Gotei-13 correspondence. -from the desk of Captain Kuchiki Byakuya

Renji: no caps no punctuation no worries

Komamura: spent three *months* pretending to be friends with a pair of rural veterinarians and getting people emotionally involved in the saga of them trying to cure a mystery chicken affliction before finally ending his shaggy dog story with an ATROCIOUS pun.

Iba: unappealing thirst traps.

Shunsui: keeps falling for and linking obviously false clickbait articles.

Nanao: digging up literally decades-old drama

Tousen: setting his text color to match the background color to fuck with people.

Shuuhei: normal messages sent from bizarre locations "-sent from the secret downstairs microwave" "-sent from the captain general's iPhone" "-sent from Massachusetts"

Matsumoto: 💕 Putting ❤️ emoji 💋 between ❤️ every 😘 word ❤️ for 💋 the ❤️ aesthetic 💕

Hitsugaya: 2AM post @ing everyone of a single inscrutable emoji such as "🦆". Claims to have no memory of making this

Kenpachi: ALL CAPS LOCK ALL THE TIME NO PUNCTUATION ALSO FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE THE YELLING BUTTON LOUDER

Ikkaku: figured out how to use image-editing software specifically to make bespoke image macros at astonishing speed so he always has a meme on hand, including the infamous Zaraki Caused Another Bisexual Awakening Counter aka "GOT ANOTHER ONE LADS!!" meme.

Yumichika: ✨ 🦚 ✨ Worst 💙 possible 🪩 combination 💙 of 🪩 Rose 💙 and 🪩 Matsumoto 💙 quirks ✨🦚✨

Yachiru: Pink Text

Mayuri: immediately silenced all notifications from the Groupchat, forgot it exists

Nemu: Tracks Groupchat statistics and presentation them quarterly like a thesis defense and/or stockholders meeting.

Urahara: keeps finding obviously false clickbait articles to send to Shunsui

Ukitake: you can directly track how much Percocet he's on by how colorful, emoji 🤣 filled and ✨ WhImSiClE 🐟 🐟 hIs 💻 TeXtInG 💻 sTyLe 🐟 🐟 GeTS ✨

Rukia: signs her texts like Byakuya, but "-sent from Lieutenant Rukia 🐰 Kuchiki "

Harmless, until somehow her medical records appear under "Rukia Usagi Kuchiki" like she has a middle name.

[sunfyresrider]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Widow!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ever since Alicent Hightower’s husband died her life had changed exponentially. It’s a hard thing, knowing what to do with freedom you’ve never had. In her attempt to expand her horizons she reaches many bumps in the road she didn’t realize existed, until she met you. Tags: mentions of death, sexuality crisis, struggling to accept change, heavy anxiety, eventual smut and a lot of self-healing. Author’s Note: @ilikeitbetterangsty THIS IS FOR YOU BABES💕 I really hope I did your request justice . Thank you so much for being an amazing mutual and beautiful person. Ps I’ve never been on a date, let alone a first date so I’m sorry if that scene was a little awkward. ALSO dividers are made by @saradika !!!!

His death was expected, anticipated even, yet the day she woke up next to a cold corpse seared itself inside her brain forever. She should be mourning. She should have been more upset, shed more tears for her husband of nearly twenty years. Instead, all Alicent could feel was an odd relief, a weight being lifted from her shoulders. She was finally free.

However, what does someone do with freedom when they’ve never had it? She could do anything in the world, she had more than enough money for it. But what do free people do? Alicent had to read up on what widows were into. They travel, indulge in hobbies, and go out for brunch and gossip. The main factor in all of these is they’re never alone. 

Twenty years of marriage and four children and Alicent couldn’t remember a time where she wasn’t alone. She had no friends, too busy caring for a sick old man, children, and running a company. Alicent didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t want to die knowing she had never truly loved. There was nothing holding her back, no father pushing religious guilt, no husband taking her time, and no children to judge.

At first, she made no moves for change. She continued staying at home and running her life as she always did. Although now she spent more time fussing over her only child at home rather than Viserys. Unfortunately, Aegon, her eldest and most troubled child finally declared he was moving out. He also said she needed to get a life in the exact same sentence. 

It was time to take a real look in the mirror at the woman Alicent Hightower had become. It was not the best feeling in the world. In the past she was happy, determined, and beautiful in some eyes. Now she was tired, a bit of a pushover and unbearably lonely. All she had done her whole life was serve other people, her father, her husband, her children and never herself. Alicent needed to change that before she died old and miserable. 

There was another thing she needed to come to terms with. She never loved Viserys, she never loved any man for that matter. Marriage wasn’t something she enjoyed but endured. Alicent wanted to love someone, which was something she never truly had. Except for once when she was young until she married her friend’s father. Maybe she didn’t hate sex just who it was with. Maybe she was capable of love just not for men. Maybe it was time she started attempting to live her truth.

That was the final push she needed to do something. So, Alicent took a leap of faith after reading a pop news article and downloading HER. It’s an app for lgbt dating, specifically lesbians… It still sounded like a dirty word even if she only said it in her head. There was still a twinge of guilt when she made her first match. It’ll pass, the article on women struggling being their true selves said so. 

Twenty years of marriage and Alicent didn’t even know how to flirt, let alone with a woman. The first woman she matched with was only slightly younger yet had no children. She called Alicent a milf, which is a compliment nowadays. It didn’t go much farther, the lack of knowledge on slang really did not bode well with people. 

Anyone younger than her wouldn’t do, so she changed the settings. The second match was one that made her excited. From the outside they seemed to share the same values and she was a mother too. They went on a singular date that might not have been the greatest. Alicent was a little awkward, still too insecure about herself to initiate anything, and avoided the goodnight kiss that was offered. It didn’t seem to bother the woman, which made her believe this could be the one. They could grow together, maybe even build a new life together. Alicent genuinely thought she found the perfect one. Until they ghosted her. 

The app was deleted that same night. Maybe dating wasn’t in the cards for her. It stung, surprisingly worse than when Viserys died. For a few days she sat in her house and sulked. She strictly ordered takeaway, and binge watched the housewives of Orange County. Braunwyn was without a doubt closeted, it was like looking in a mirror, a very fucked up mirror. 

Alicent did a quick deep dive only to find out her suspicions were correct. Right now, Braunwyn was happily outed and living with her girlfriend… It was a mix of jealousy and hope. Someone just like her was living her dream life, which was unfair, but maybe it meant she could manage to live her dream too. 

She finally decided to get off her ass and do something. She was a free woman, she could do whatever she wanted, she told herself as she did a rather intense spa routine. All of her expensive skincare products and fancy tools were being put to use today.  Alicent actually changed out of her pajamas and into a nice dress she hadn’t worn in ages. It was a black bodycon dress, the only one she owned. Very out of character for her but she was a free woman, she could wear whatever she wanted.

She was going to take herself on a date, to a fancy restaurant. Alicent arrived at the venue feeling nervous but excited at the same time. It was the first time she had gone here alone; the servers were quite surprised to say the least. As she was led to her table, she noticed the looks she was getting from some of the other diners. Maybe it was the dress, or maybe it was the fact she was alone for once.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. “Hey, is this seat taken?” Her head whipped to the side, “N-oh! No.” You let out a small laugh, “I'm only joking, I have my parents waiting for me. How’ve you been Ali?” The last person she expected to meet was Aegon’s old tutor. You hadn’t seen each other in several years maybe. It wasn’t a bad surprise, actually it was amazing to see you again. “I’ve been great, better than ever! How are you?” 

“Oh, I’ve been thriving! After quitting I went on a self-healing journey and haven’t gone back.” Your smile reached from ear to ear, you were absolutely glowing in every sense of the word. Alicent was captivated, maybe a little nervous trying to find the right words to say. She hasn’t felt this way since she was what? Fourteen and heavily in the closet. So, she did something way out of her comfort zone, a first step of sorts. 

“If you’re free, I’d love for you to come over for dinner sometime and hear more about how you’ve been.” You seemed shocked, cocking an eyebrow at her question. “Is the Alicent Hightower asking me on a date?” She froze, it didn’t even cross her mind what she was actually asking. 

So, she blurted out the first thing on her mind. "I...um…if you want it to be." You flashed a smile that was different from the one from earlier. You picked up a napkin, scribbling something on it. “Let me know the time and I’ll be there.”  She let out a sigh of relief when you walked away, feeling as if she was going to burst any moment now. Her head was spinning, her heart was racing. She actually asked someone out, on a date no less.

She was nervous, it had been so long since anyone besides her immediate family came into her home. At least it was clean now that Aegon wasn’t here to make messes everywhere he went. In her opinion the modern green color scheme looks great but maybe you hated green. Or maybe she was overthinking this. 

Alicent hadn’t ever really cooked besides a select few times the personal chef got sick. In her mind it would be more meaningful for her to cook something for the both of you. However, making homemade penne vodka was a lot harder than she thought. 

She wanted it to be perfect, she wanted to impress you in every way. The dining table was set with a vase of roses, her best silverware, and very expensive wine she was saving for a special occasion. She even bought a new dress for this evening, a form-fitting silk one with flowing sleeves.

It was a few hours into her cooking when you rang the doorbell. Alicent took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm and not make a fool of herself. It didn't stop her from tripping over the edge of the rug on the way to the front door. She jumped up, dusting off herself.

You were there, just as beautiful as you were earlier. "Hey!" Your smile was contagious, making her grin in return. You looked absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black jeans. You pulled her into a hug, you smelled like strawberries, and a scent she could only describe as happiness.

"It’s so good to see you!" She ushered you in, letting you take a seat while she went back to finish cooking. You looked around, taking everything in. “It's still as big as I remember, though you definitely changed the decor.” She snickered, "Well it was in desperate need of a facelift, I just couldn't stand the red and black anymore."

Ali returned with a big bowl, carefully plating both of yours. "I didn’t know you knew how to cook! I thought you had personal chefs for this kind of stuff.” She grinned proudly, "Well, I wanted to do something special for you tonight." 

"Aren’t you romantic," You smiled at her. You took a bite, letting out a pleasured sigh. "So good!" Her smile was practically radiant at your praise. You made small talk during dinner, talking about anything and everything. Catching up on what’s happened in the few years you hadn’t seen each other. 

She told you about how Aegon is doing, how he has a girlfriend now. You told her about how he was the reason you inevitably quit teaching and decided to travel. You talked about your life, how you took the time to really get to know yourself, and how that was the best decision of your life. She vaguely talked about hers, only giving you bits and pieces. 

What you did learn was that she was fucking hilarious, and so much more welcoming than other rich housewives you’ve met. You didn’t ask about the dead husband; it was pretty clear by the lack of a ring and her finally smiling. 

Alicent listened to every word intently, her big brown eyes staring into yours. She used to always have a sad look inside them but now she was practically beaming. It might have been the wine flushing her cheeks, but you chose to believe it was because of you.

At some point you ended up on the couch watching housewives, at least pretending to. You were both still talking over the noise, slowly leaning into each other each time you laughed. 

You leaned forward, brushing a stray hair from Alicent’s face. Your lips brushed together, “you’re beautiful, you know.” Alicent let out a laugh, "You're too much." Her eyes closed, taking the lead and kissing you first.

 When your lips met her, it felt as if fireworks had gone off. Your lips were soft like peaches but tasted sweet like cherries. Your hands touched her face gently, leaving trails of electricity where your fingers were touching. 

Her own hands gently tracing down your neck, shoulder, and side to rest on your hips. Alicent’s body sunk down on the mattress, letting you move on top of her to do as you pleased. When she broke the kiss to take a deep breath, you kissed down to her neck and jawline, sending vibrations throughout her. She made a sickly-sweet sound that made your ears tingle. 

Her hands moved slowly, almost cautiously as she moved your shirt up to feel your bare skin. She delicately traced lines up and down the curves of your waist. Your sweet kisses trailed down her neck, chest, and slowly you lifted up the dress she was wearing. Moving to suckle at the skin around her core, worshiping her thighs. 

Alicent let out a soft moan, curling her fingers into your hair. Her soft noises only encouraged you. Your fingers traced her folds, moving their way around the fabric. You looked up, watching her cheeks flush red in embarrassment. A simple nod was the encouragement you needed to continue.

Your lips kissed over the fabric, hearing her breathe become labored. Her fingers tugged lightly at your hair. You pulled down her underwear, moving it down to the end of her legs. It was your turn to blush, seeing how wet she was already.

Her hips twitched when you dragged a finger through her slit, your finger coming back glistening. You eased it inside of her, quickly finding the sweet spongy spot. Her back arched as you moved your finger, soon another one joining. Your tongue sucked at her clit, moving in circles.

Alicent bucked her hips into your hand, her moans filling the air. Her eyes were shut as you made her legs shake. Your tongue moved faster, hearing her sweet cries. She pulled your hair, pressing your mouth harder against her. Her walls tighten around your fingers, letting you know she was close.

Alicent shuddered, gripping your hair harder as she came. Her back arched off the couch, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Her body finally relaxed, laying on the couch. Her eyes closed, a blissful smile on her lips.

You crawled up, leaning over her. You brushed her hair behind her ear, gazing into her brown eyes. They were still sparkling, like two polished stones. Alicent slowly moved her hands down your back, lifting your shirt over your head. She sat up, kissing you softly. 

Her hand slowly moved down, grasping your thighs and opening them. Her kisses trailed down your neck, breasts, and stomach. You let out a small noise as she rubbed you through your pants. Her kisses got hungrier as she undid your belt and pulled down everything that covered you.

You let out a squeal of surprise, feeling her pull you on top. Your cheeks flushed red, as she angled your cunt above her mouth. Alicent was precise, her mouth sucking at you gently. Her hands pressed against your hips, keeping you in place.

Your fingers threaded into her hair, holding her face to your cunt. She flicked her tongue against you, moving it in circles. Her hands moved up to squeeze your ass. You grinded against her face, your juices coating her chin and the couch. Alicent hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

Her fingers pressed into you, curling up to prod at your sweet spot. She let out a purring noise, making you move your hips faster. Your breath hitched as she moved her fingers faster, sucking at you with a new intensity. Her tongue moved quickly, lapping up all the juices coming from you.

Your thighs quivered as you came, your voice shaking as you did. Alicent kept going, eating you out until she was satisfied. Your legs gave out, dropping you in a pile on top of her. You laid there, letting her wrap her arms around you as you caught your breath. 

"Did I do good?" You laughed, leaning forward to kiss her. "You were amazing,” you peppered kisses on her face, eliciting the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard. You rested your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Her fingers played with your hair as you both laid there, tangled in each other's arms.

Last night had been one of the most out of character nights of Alicent’s life. She never invited someone over, let alone hooked up with someone. It was new, it was exciting, it was also borderline terrifying. Now that she was alone again her thoughts could once again consume her. 

You texted her back, at the very least you weren’t ghosting her. That eased the part of her that was afraid the sex was so bad you would never speak to her again. But now there were other things that bothered her. Your question, to be more specific. “Would you want to be my girlfriend?” 

It was too soon to do anything drastic, like a real relationship. Did she want that? The idea of being in a relationship with you was something that sounded nice in her head, But would it be good in reality. Not only was she freshly widowed as well as struggling to come to terms with her sexuality. By now, she should be over caring about what other people thought… She wasn’t over it in the slightest. 

There was still this guilt and overwhelming anxiety that was holding her back, the same things that held her back her entire life.  Alicent laid in her bed, trying to figure out how to answer your text... “I’m not sure if I’m ready, yet.” She wanted to say more, but her thoughts were quickly turning into a jumbled mess. 

“I used to tutor Aegon in mathematics… I’m very patient;)” Alicent rolled her eyes at the winky face, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. “But…  I bought two tickets to the Bahamas last week… and my mom canceled so there’s an opening.” Her fingers hovered over the screen, she had never been to the Bahamas before. 

To be fair, she had never been anywhere but home. Alicent wasn’t one to drop everything and go on vacation… 

You made her want to.

Her thumb hovered over the send button for a moment.

Why was this so difficult?

She was free now; she could leave anytime she wanted.

So why did she keep waiting?

She could just let her phone fall out of her hand and pretend she didn’t see the text.

It took everything in her power to hit send, “I’d love too:)” 

You had been talking to each other every day for weeks. You’ve gone on several more ‘dates,’ which all ended in someone’s bedroom. She hadn’t ever felt this happy, but right now she was freaking the f out. She might have under-packed or maybe over packed her suitcase. What if the swimsuit didn’t fit like it did in the store? Should she have brought snacks? What if she forgot to lock the house? 

The airport was crowded to the point it made everything feel excruciatingly hot. Maybe it was her anxiety that was making her hot. Alicent glanced around at everyone, a million scenarios running through her head. There was no reason for her to be this nervous. Except there were a thousand reasons, she’s never left the country, the plane could crash, and maybe you wouldn’t show up. 

The last one wasn’t realistic. You promised to be waiting at the terminal. You always kept your promises, so she had no reason to worry. But what if you changed your mind? What if the flight was canceled? Or you got sick and didn't feel up to flying.

Was her mind just coming up with different scenarios so she wouldn’t get on the plane? Maybe she should turn around and go home. No, she was free now, she was finally over all the bad that happened. So, there was no reason to not get on the plane.

She had been so caught up in her own thoughts she didn't realize they called her boarding group. She slowly made her way to the gate, getting in the very back of the line. Alicent glanced around the terminal, no sign of you anywhere. She started picking at her fingers, a bad habit. When she was younger, she used to dig at them until they bled. 

The line moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every second felt like an hour and every step felt like a mile. However, she had made it to her seat on the plane in one piece.  She was able to get a window seat, something she was thankful for. At least if something bad happened Alicent could watch the plane crash into the waves.

You still hadn’t shown up and her heart rate showed no signs of going down. She could turn back right now, walk off this plane like nothing happened. She could go back to her old life, tucked away safely in her home. She could stop taking risks, what was she even trying to prove? There were thousands of excuses to turn back, and she was using them all. 

By letting this plane take off it meant a new beginning, a real one. The real first step, proof she was living differently and for herself. That scared her, did she even deserve to live for herself? What was her worth if she wasn’t serving someone else? Her fingers dug deeper into the bed of her nails; this was a stupid fucking idea. 

Alicent heard the flight attendant preparing to close the doors, She glanced down at her leg, preparing to jump out of this seat and run out the door. 

Back home.

Back to safety.

Back to what she was used to. 

“Hey! Sorry I took so long I was sat in the wrong seat,” your voice was soft and sweet like honey. Alicent turned around, staring into your eyes. You were gorgeous, to the point it made her temporarily forget what was going on in her head. "You made it," she spoke breathlessly, realizing she had been holding her breath the entire time. 

“I wouldn’t miss going on a trip with you for the world.” You smiled at her, intertwining your fingers with her own. A sense of calm washed over her, like the waves hitting the sand in the early morning. She finally let herself settle back into the seat, letting her eyes flutter close.

This was okay.

She could do this.

This is freedom. 

Alicent Hightower was finally living, 

For herself.

[steviewashere]

Soothed

Rating: General CW: Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Minor Discussion of Bullying Tags: Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Hurt Eddie Munson, Injured Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Worried Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, And Gets One

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is a warm hug."

💕—————💕

There was a knock at Steve’s front door.

Which is unusual to him. If somebody from the group—teenagers, adults, and preteens alike—then they’d use the spare key in the potted flower on the porch. Just barge right in, announce themself in the foyer, and let Steve find them first. They were told to be respectful, so that’s the least thing they can do.

But a knock? Unheard of. Steve pauses the movie he’s watching in the living room, stands from the couch, pops his back, and shuffles over to the front door. He turns the lock, twists the knob, and pulls the door from its jamb. On his porch: sopping wet, shivering, and down right miserable…is Eddie.

It’s late May, which means spring is in full swing. Which also means that there’s been forecasted rain. And, for some odd reason, Eddie hasn’t taken note of that. At least, that’s what Steve can gather.

Eddie’s hunched into himself. Hands gripping to his elbows. Dressed in a plain grey t-shirt and dark blue Levis, the same Reeboks he always wears. His hair, which was shaved back in March for surgery, is flat to his skull, frizzy from the rain. But, what scares Steve the most, is the dark purple bruise cupping a terribly swollen left eye. The eyeball itself is glazed over and bloodshot. His bottom lip is slightly puffy, sluggishly bleeding down his chin. And his nose, well Steve doesn’t think it’s broken, but it definitely is bloody, too. If the oddball patch below his right nostril has anything to say about it.

Steve moves to drag Eddie inside, but drops his hands when Eddie flinches away, nearly stumbling down to the concrete. He lets go of his elbows, which are now decorated with fine small crescents, and shields himself. There’s a couple smaller, red bruises decorating his wrists. As if somebody grabbed him. Steve fumes at the sight.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes, “why don’t you come inside?” He steps away from the door, letting it sit open and waiting. On shuffled, hesitant feet, Eddie comes in. His eyes dart around the room before they land back on Steve. Immediately, some of the tension and fear in his big brown eyes falls away. Instead, a layer of relief and gratitude seems to fill him. Enough that his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, Eds,” Steve can only coo.

Sniffling, mumbling, “They hurt me so bad,” Eddie says. He’s shivering. Whether that be from the cold or anxiety that’s surely swimming in Eddie’s stomach, Steve can’t tell. He inhales a wet gasp. Almost choking with it. “I just—I was trying to help this girl—And then they screamed at me and they—They hurt me,” he sobs. One of his hands flies up to his face, roughly wiping away the tears that try to travel down his cheeks. He presses too hard on his bruise and hisses.

“Okay, Eddie,” Steve mutters, “you’re safe here. It’s okay. They can’t get you here.” He doesn’t know who They is. But whoever they are, Steve knows he can rely on old reliable to do a good job. (Old reliable sits at the back of his closet, still crusted with blood, more nails than wood at this point). He hesitantly steps closer, palm out, ushering for Eddie to follow him to the downstairs master bathroom. There’s a part of him that hates treating Eddie like he’s a spooked little animal, defenseless and wrecked on the side of the road, one that’s been hit by a car, one that’s too afraid to realize they’ll live. But, what else is he supposed to do? Getting too close in his space seems to make Eddie freak, which is the last thing Steve wants.

Without any other words, just some wet sobs and aching cries that crumble Steve’s heart, Eddie follows on his heels. Head down to the floor, arms loose at his sides, his fingers flexing as if to press into the soft flesh of his palm. He settles over the closed toilet seat while Steve rummages through the cabinets, coming out successful with a red first aid bag in his hands. It’s heavy between his palms, overstocked and readily loaded for any and all emergencies. This feels like something detrimental, Steve hates how he’s shaking, too.

He grabs necessary first aid. Just a little bit of rubbing alcohol to get the dried blood off of Eddie’s skin, a half used tube of Neosporin, and a wad of toilet paper to hold to the wound. His nose seems to have stopped bleeding many minutes ago, so Steve’s not worried about that needing to be plugged up. But he still stands in front of Eddie—Well, actually, he crouches down onto the tiled flooring. Hard on his knees, but that puts him at eye level with the poor guy. He sets out his supplies on the lip of the bathtub, just to his right. And sets his palms softly on Eddie’s knees. He’s shaking there, too.

“Alright, Eds, tell me where it hurts. I gotta make sure you don’t have anything broken or anything that requires stitches, that’s all,” he coaxes.

Instead of speaking, Eddie displays his wrists. Turning them slowly so that Steve can see every dark splotching of bruises. He points to his eye, which was all too obvious to Steve. At his lip. The bridge of his nose. And then, he splays his left hand over his heart. Bunching the fabric of his t-shirt there. His eyes are mournful, still at the floor, not exactly looking at Steve. More like he’s looking through the floor. There are tears cascading down his face. His skin a blotchy, red and white mess, puffy from injuries and emotion.

Steve sets his own right hand over Eddie’s left. “Your heart hurts?” He asks, thumb swiping over his soft cotton shirt. “What did they do to your chest, Eds?”

Eddie shrugs and shakes his head. “They didn’t—Nothing physical.”

“Oh.” Oh. “Eddie,” Steve breathes. His own eyes are burning.

Eddie’s shoulders shake with the onslaught of new sobs and tears. But he reigns himself in quickly. His eyes finding Steve’s in a dizzyingly fast twitch. “Please help me, Steve,” he quietly pleads. “I’ll tell you, but I—I can’t—“

Steve hushes him. He grabs for the wad of toilet paper and guides it gently to Eddie’s lip. The bleeding has started anew, faster and steadier. With the press, Steve whispers, “I’ve got you. Never have to beg for my help, Eddie. Never, ever.” He holds it there for a few silent minutes. And when he takes it away, the bleeding has soothed. “I’m gonna put some Neosporin on your lip, okay? It might sting.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie lowly whispers. Still though, he winces with the small swipe of cream to his lip. Hissing minutely behind his teeth. Steve runs his other palm down Eddie’s right arm.

Once his lip is taken care of, the other areas follow easy. Wiping carefully at the tacky areas of drying blood on his skin. Underneath his lower lip, dipping a little into his right nostril, the underside of his chin. And when the first aid is done, Steve settles back on the bathroom floor, hands pressed warmly to Eddie’s knees. “Let’s get you a change of warm clothes,” he starts, “and some ice for that bruise. Do you need any ice for the ones on your wrist?” Eddie just shakes his head. “Okay,” Steve mutters, nodding. “The good news is that nothing’s broken. Just some gnarly coloring and swelling that needs remedied. How about you follow me upstairs and we can hang out in my room?”

They don’t speak as they ascend the stairs. Or as Steve hands over a small stack of clothes: green sweatpants, white long sleeve undershirt, thick grey socks. Neither of them speak as Eddie changes in the ensuite bathroom or when he slithers back into the bedroom, still hunched, still small. As they clamber into Steve’s bed, sitting up at the headboard, legs stretched in front of them, hands to themselves.

The silence is almost suffocating. Hates the small sniffles coming from his left. Hates how one of his closest friends has been reduced to the skeleton of a boy, surely somebody that Wayne met many years ago. Hates it all. Hates it.

“Do you want to know what happened?” Eddie finally croaks.

“Only if you want me to know,” Steve easily replies. Because, sure, he loves his gossip. Loves the drama that swirls around Hawkins. But Eddie’s business is his own, and if he’s embarrassed by what happened, Steve won’t force. Fuck, he knows what it’s like to get your ass beat and then want to remain silent in the aftermath.

Eddie nods slow, eyes at his folded hands, searching for the words. His tongue rolls over his top teeth. And he sighs through his nose. His voice is raspy and small when he speaks. Steve instinctually leans closer. They’re both warm, or at least, Eddie’s nearing that. “I was eating lunch in the cafeteria today,” he begins. “I ate alone because I didn’t—It’s not worth dragging attention to the rest of Hellfire. Not anymore. Didn’t even want to do one of my stupid speeches, y’know?” Steve hums.

He continues, “This girl—probably a sophomore, I don’t know—had walked behind my table. But she tripped over something and fell straight to the ground, her lunch was spilled all over the place, down the front of her shirt. She was crying. And I—“ He huffs, closes his eyes, and roams his teeth again. His head falls back, hitting the headboard with a soft Thud. Opening his eyes up at the ceiling, it’s all too obvious that they’re filling with tears again. “All I did was stand up from my seat and offer my hand to her. That’s all I did. But…Fuck,” he softly swears. His hand coming up and swiping at his eyes. “Jason’s stupid buddies saw me. Shoved me down to the ground. Scared off that girl. That poor girl. And they just beat me,” he rushes out, unwavering, though congested. “Beat me in front of all my fucking peers. So I just ran, Steve. Ran away like I always do. Back to my car and then I—I didn’t really know where I was going. Ended up here, I guess.”

Steve rests the side of his head on the board of his bed. Just looking over at Eddie. “I’m sorry, Eds,” he states sincerely. “For what they did.” He wishes there was more he could say. Could do. Eddie definitely won’t allow him to go on a rampage in his honor. But, Steve weighs the consequences in his head.

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie whispers after a moment. Sighing with the sentiment.

“I can still be sorry on your behalf,” Steve shoots right back. “I’m glad you came here, though. I’d probably worry otherwise.” He rests his left hand over Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “Is there anything else that I can do for you right now?”

For a moment, Eddie hesitates. Seemingly mulling over whatever it is he wants. Until, his head drops down and his eyes are set on Steve. Big and wet. They dart between Steve’s, searching. With whatever he found, he softly requests, “Can you hug me?”

Without another thought, Steve scoots as close as he possibly can. Their thighs hot on each other. And he scoops Eddie up between his arms. One over his shoulder blades, the other resting on his lower back. His hands splay over Eddie’s warm body. Head tucked to the side of Eddie’s. 

And Eddie, he wraps back enthusiastically. A hand going to Steve’s head, the other to his right side. Fingers simply toying with the ends of Steve’s hair. He goes boneless in the embrace, sighing into it. Shoving his forehead into Steve’s shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Steve shakes his head. “No need.” And it’s true. Because, gosh, Steve would do anything for Eddie. If it means ridding him of all the hurt he’ll ever experience, taking it on as his own, he’d do it. In a heartbeat. “Does your chest still hurt?”

“No,” Eddie whispers, his own head knocking into Steve’s neck. “Think you fixed me. Think this fixed me.” He squeezes Steve’s torso. And then he goes quiet again. His breaths heavy, relaxed, deep into Steve’s soul. The frizzy bits to his hair tickle against Steve’s jaw with every small shuffle, like he’s trying to burrow deep between them. Steve almost wants to open up his ribcage and let him in. Then, Eddie sighs completely sated. He whispers, “Reminds me of my mom.”

“That a good thing?”

“It’s the best, Stevie,” Eddie swears. “Her hugs were like sunshine. Like just one touch and suddenly my day would just—“ And he makes a soft “Poof” noise near Steve’s ear. It warms his chest, the way Eddie animates things. “—No clouds.”

Steve nuzzles closer. “You can always come to me,” he promises. “I’ll hug you even if you don’t have the words to ask.”

I’d find you in the dark, anywhere, anytime, he almost wants to say. I’d find you by touch alone.

Eddie’s content sigh is enough of a response. It’s enough for Steve to remain pressed to him. It’s enough to make his heart beat molasses slow and comfortable.

It’s enough to make him say, “I’ve got you.” What he truly means: “I love you."

💕—————💕 Okay, I am so sorry for how long it took to get to the hug. But I literally couldn't think of a hugging interaction without a lot of information leading into it. Hope this is good, though!

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — One

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none for this chapter, just Tom being grumpy and hating the world

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— A/N: This is a fic that was commissioned by @localravenclaw as a gift for @esolean 💕 It's going to be a bit of a rollercoaster, with angst and fluff and smut galore. I plan to post twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you will have fun reading it, my dears! 💚

I

Tom was twenty-five. It had been seven years since he graduated from Hogwarts, and just as many since he started working at Borgin and Burkes. Now, he found himself in a sweltering place with the world passing him by. Trapped, for his sins, in a moving metal coffin. If this was hell, it looked like rolling hills, houses nestled in the fog, narrow rows of poplars and puffs of grazing sheep, all set to the tune of clinking chains and carriage shuffles. He hated this assignment.

After taking the train from London to Dover, he caught the ferry that sailed to Calais, and from there took a series of coaches and trains meant to take him on to Italy. To Rome. They had just stopped in Lyon to pick up more passengers, and now they were on their way again.

He had fought with Burke regarding the logistics of the whole thing. Why couldn’t he just use Floo like a normal wizard? But the miserable old stoat said he’d sooner trust muggle transportation than Tom’s pronunciation of Italian or French — and besides, was Floo even networked all the way down there? It didn’t matter anymore.

Tom was convinced it was all done to save costs, and perhaps for Burke to not have to call in any favours. So off he went with one measly suitcase and two billfolds of franks and lira — all of which were merely enchanted oak leaves. They would inevitably transfigure back to their original form in a couple of weeks or so, but by then Tom should be long gone. Who said money didn’t grow on trees?

He tried to distract himself from all this misery by checking his notes again. His little book cracked open, snapping at the spine, and its insides were revealed to him like a cadaver cut through with a black spidery scrawl. It was a list of books and authors, with observations added vertically on the side to save space.

“The Secrets of Wisdom, N. Tamisso 1650 — high priority, any edition. The Lost Word, B. Trevisan 1661 — low priority, optional. Delomelanicon (or The Invocation of Darkness), A. Torchia 1666 — first edition, mandatory.” The latter word was underlined three times. His notes continued with the instructions Burke had given. “Check the rare book dealers, antiquaries, private collectors if necessary. If you can not find it, find out who can. If they will not sell it, take it anyway.”

Tom’s lip curled. Whatever joy there was in being away from the squalor of Knockturn Alley was soiled by what he had to do in Rome. It wasn’t the books he minded, and in fact, he quite admired Burke’s taste in this matter. But to be flung so far away from home on such short notice, and for such a length of time, was pitiful to him. The heir of Slytherin turned errand boy…

“Excuse-moi, est-ce que — Oh, bonjour.”

Tom turned his frown toward the sliding doors of the compartment, between which stood a young man in his twenties. Lanky brown locks fell into his eyes veiling the crinkles of a smile.

“Yes?” sighed Tom.

“I was wondering if this was free,” said the boy. And without waiting for an answer, he dragged his luggage inside — three suitcases, all leather with copper fittings looking ready to burst — and closed the doors behind him.

“I suppose it is,” mumbled Tom. He subtly closed his notebook and tucked it back into the messenger bag at his feet while he kept track of the stranger from the corner of his eyes.

The fine quality of the newcomer’s clothes was somewhat disguised by how carelessly they hung around him. His white and starched shirt was loosened at the top, revealing a hint of tanned skin sprinkled with sparse curls. A golden pin kept a red and blue striped tie affixed to it, and around his pinky finger was a silver ring thickly laid with marcasites and crowned with a malachite stone. His lips were full and purple-stained from wine. His eyes were a bright blue. Judging by his pressed trousers and clean leather shoes, he was a gentleman who had arrived at the station by car — or, at least, he was the spoilt brat of one.

“Clement,” the boy grinned, extending his hand.

“Tom,” he replied, giving him a firm, brief shake.

“I’m on my way to Rome!” Clement sighed, plopping down onto the seat opposite him. Almost immediately, he cracked open a cigarette case and started fishing for a lighter in his trouser pocket. His luggage lay strewn all around the floor, suitcases filled with junk, no doubt. “You?”

“The same,” Tom said and instantly regretted sharing anything at all. With people like these — the overly friendly types — it was best to not encourage conversation.

“Oh, magnificent. Vacation?”

“Work.”

“How sad,” tutted Clement as he popped a cigarette between his lips. He offered one to Tom as well.

“Don’t smoke.”

“Ah.”

He closed the case with a loud click and set it on the table between them. With a smooth, almost theatrical motion, he lit up his pocket lighter — silver, older than him, probably an heirloom, engraved with an elaborate floral motif featuring a fleur-de-lis — and let the flame dance on the tip of his cigarette until he was satisfied.

“Don’t talk much, either,” the boy chuckled. He kept his eyes on Tom as he took a drag, then started puffing away without a care. He attempted to blow rings of smoke but failed. “What do you use your mouth for, then?”

“Cursing, mostly.”

Clement laughed. “The same!”

Tom doubted it.

The compartment soon filled with smoke, and the narrow window open at the top only made it dance around inside. The muggy summer fumes were driving Tom to madness already, and he could only hope the train moved fast enough to clear the air. But as they went further into the rural parts of France, the scent of sheep took over. Maybe it’s not too late to try to Apparate directly at the station, he thought.

“So, what do you do?” asked the French boy, vowels gliding altogether in one breath between his lips. His arm extended elegantly to tap the ash into a cheap tray by the window.

It took Tom a moment to look at him and answer. “I’m in, er, publishing.”

“Truly?” he said, excited enough to lean over the table. “That’s magnificent. I intend to be published too.”

“Oh? What do you write?”

“Poesies.”

“Poetry? Ah, not my area, I’m afraid.”

“But you must know some people…”

Tom wanted to tell him that if he were any good he’d have found a publisher already, but intuition told him to temper himself.

“I might,” he said, “but I’m afraid I’m full up at the moment.”

The boy puffed away nervously as he tapped the round gemstone of his ring against the window, and kept his eyes on him. Tom turned to watch the view rolling past them, seeing without seeing. The sensation of being watched was as familiar as it was discomforting. It crawled down his thin cheeks, his narrow neck, and from there sank into his clothes like sweat. He gazed briefly at the tapping ring from the corner of his eyes in irritation, before focusing away again. For a few moments, he thought he’d successfully ended their conversation.

“Well, I’m in show business,” Clement said instead, grinning brilliantly. There was a gap between his first incisors that made him look boyish and pure. “Theatre.”

“Your parents must be very happy.”

“No,” he laughed. “Miserable. But,” he shrugged, “it is not their decision.”

Tom hummed and said nothing else.

“Your parents are happy with your job, no? You go on important business trips to France, to Rome, and… erm. Well, it is a good job, for sure. Makes them proud, yes?”

Whatever sunshine beamed through the window was chilled and clouded by the glare in Tom’s dark eyes. Why did this bothersome Frenchman have to talk to him? He wasn’t going to keep doing it the whole way to Rome, surely…

“I wouldn’t know,” he finally said. “They’re dead.”

“Oh… Oh, I am so sorry...”

“I’m not,” he mumbled. He didn’t think Clement had heard him, but he wouldn’t care even if he did.

The boy pulled the ashtray closer and put out his cigarette, then leaned his head against the glass. Fidgeting, he held the silver case in his hands and clicked it open and closed, open and closed… He did that for quite a while.

Tom could feel him staring. Could even sense to some extent the messy thoughts inside that head: curiosity, intrigue, and joy.

What could be joyful about that moment?

Well, if Tom was being honest, this wasn’t the first time he’d had such an effect on people. Memories of Burke’s clients came back to him accompanied by the customary shiver down his spine. Clement had the same flippant merriment about him that all the others did, those careless old witches and wizards. That unguarded look of innocence surrounded by the fog of greed. An airy absence of thought and feeling. Must’ve been the side effect of all that money.

Tom had once envied such people. Had even flattered himself with the knowledge that he, however distantly, was one of them. What greater destiny than to be born to glorious old blood? What greater tragedy than to be fallen from it…? He could even remember, with much clarity and shame, how he’d spent several months during his third year obsessing over the Gaunts and Riddles, chasing up on genealogies, and smattering the back pages of his diary with heraldic designs.

But the more he understood the upper classes — their uselessness, their inborn idiocy, their paradoxical sense of superiority which stood impervious to anything reality threw at them — the more he grew to hate them.

“I am sorry if I offended…” said Clement rather softly. “Sometimes, I talk too much.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice.”

“No, but I do, I do…”

Tom had overshot his subtleties, apparently.

“So you are not happy with your job? Forgive me for asking…”

“No, it’s quite alright.”

“A pity, you know…”

“Why?”

“To not like it.”

“Oh, it’s not too much trouble most of the time. Why? Do you like your job?”

“But of course!” he said, blue eyes twinkling.

Tom cast a scathing look his way. How strange… He couldn’t imagine enjoying any form of employment — other than the coveted post of DADA professor at Hogwarts.

“Why are you in Rome, then?” Tom asked.

“On vacation. I am, erm, meeting a friend,” he whispered with a grin.

“A girlfriend?” asked Tom with a smirk.

Clement shook his head and giggled. “A boy friend.”

Tom’s brows nearly reached his hairline. He’d never heard of such things being bandied about quite that openly before, at least not in England. Clement seemed not to care. Must’ve been a habit of his, as he seemed to not care about much at all other than enjoying life.

“You have a fun vacation ahead of you, then.”

“More than you know,” he winked.

Tom curled his nose at that and sat back, away from the whole conversation. But Clement leaned closer, arms braced over the table lazily, eyes flashing excitedly.

“We will rob this old fool, and run with his money.”

That captured Tom’s attention again. The boy was waiting eagerly for his reaction, and not a thought ran through his head that Tom might’ve been untrustworthy. Of course, far be it from him to ruin someone else’s fun, but the scenario Clement proposed was too absurd to be believed.

So what else could Tom do but laugh? The sound of it filled the cabin, and so out of use were those muscles that his cheeks began to ache. The sight of it seemed to delight young Clement. He leaned back and gave another one of his brilliant smiles.

“You can join us, if you like,” he offered smoothly.

“Sorry,” said Tom, his cheeks still flushed. “My schedule is full.”

“Oh, pity, pity… You would like my friend, I think. His name is Donatien. He is more serious, like you.”

“Is that so,” said Tom distractedly.

“By the way, what is your hotel?”

II

They entered Rome on a train that ran six hours late, and wobbled on its tracks, and stank of mouldy cheese and wine rust.

Clement talked most of the way there, and seemed to be satisfied with Tom mostly reacting with brief hums and tilted smiles. They even exchanged gifts. The French boy was enchanted by what was, in Tom’s estimation, a fairly average switchblade. He’d only taken it out to peel an orange. It was something he’d bought in London right before his seventh year, and although it was quite plain, it did have some delicate embellishments on its ivory handle of two writhing snakes. That seemed to appeal to Clement, who offered his own blade in exchange — a Swiss army knife that also had a screwdriver and bottle opener tucked in its red body. Considering it a more efficient deal, Tom shrugged and accepted the trade.

Faint details came up now and then about his plans with this Donatien, but most of it was lost in smoke and loud metallic rattles. As much as Tom hated flying on brooms, even he could agree it would’ve been preferable to this…

But at least he didn’t have to fear any Ministry or Aurors in these parts. Not any that were familiar with him, anyway. The Italians had their own Ministry of Magic, of course, but it was all the way down in Mirto, Sicily, and foreigners were a low priority for them. There were so many people from all over the world in Italy those days that it wasn’t worth keeping track of them all, or at least so Burke had told him.

The train slowed and pulled into the station, and pulled, and pulled… It groaned as if in pain. Clement took the jolt of inertia as it all came to a stop with cheerful clapping, and promptly got up to collect his bags.

“So, we are agreed?”

“Absolutely not agreed. Besides, I doubt my lodgings would be to your taste.”

“Ah Tom, you do not know my taste!”

“Very well, but best keep your complaints to a minimum once we get there.”

They struggled to get everything off the train with four suitcases between them. Tom was travelling light with just the one, about which Clement made some snide comment that he soon forgot, but he helped him anyway. His own belongings consisted of plain muggle clothes and some books that Burke wished him to barter with, if it came to that. Between the lines, and between Burke’s sparse and slimy brows, Tom understood he was expected to use his charms to get a bargain price — as per usual — but he did not intend to let some fat old antiquary put his grimy hands on him. Not this time. Besides, conversing with Clement had stained his dignity enough.

Being away on the continent had one advantage, at least: he was no longer under the vulturous watch of his employer.

Tom stepped out onto the platform, muscles sore from days of sitting down, and looked ahead as if he knew where he was going. People were chatting all around him, filling the cool hall with murmurs all the way up to its dome — some in German, some in French, others in variously accented English. Tom wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve and picked up his suitcase to follow Clement, who was hunting for a trolley to load his luggage onto.

As soon as they stepped out onto the street, the heat of Rome in August hit Tom in the face like an oven door and he, frail and pallid thing, was not prepared for it. He squinted in displeasure, to Clement’s great amusement.

“This way, Tom!” he said as he popped on a pair of sunglasses. “I see a taxi!”

Tom had spent most of the journey brushing up on his Italian with the help of a conversation guide he picked up at the Gare du Nord. His extensive knowledge of Latin came in pretty handy. But now that he saw Clement handle things, perhaps he needn’t have bothered. His companion could easily direct the driver to the dingy old hotel Tom was staying at, the Gallienus on Via Domenichino, and chatted a bit more besides.

“Vacation in Rome often, then?” he asked.

“I just know some phrases,” Clement smiled. “You don’t need much with these people.”

The driver pretended not to understand the slight.

“Where do you want to have lunch, then?” Clement asked.

“Lunch? I’m certainly not in the mood, not now.”

“Oh come ooon…”

“You can eat on your own.”

“We can leave our stuff and take the taxi to this place I know on Via della Mercede. They make the best seafood, the best!”

It had not been until now, with this journey to somewhere far away, that Tom realised how limited his world had been at Hogwarts. He’d once felt equal parts ashamed and at a strange advantage next to the other Slytherins, his peers, all purebloods, for knowing both the magical and muggle worlds. Now, exiled for this assignment among strangers, it seemed to Tom as if he were starting life all over again. He looked out the window and everything was new, everything was strange. The buildings, the street, the people, even the clothes were different. The city, like London, was massive, but the streets were broader, blazing white. Some disappeared into little alleyways that slithered like dark serpents. Tom could easily see himself getting lost in such a place.

It was… humbling. He didn’t like it.

[devondespresso]

Wiggly Worm Wednesday!! 🧠🪱

tagged by @little-annie this Wednesday, @pearynice and @hotluncheddie last time, @queenie-ofthe-void (and hotluncheddie again💕) the time before, and @carolperkinsexgirlfriend the time before that. Thank you guys so much for tagging me even when i can't get to it right away 💖💗💝

Lately I've been kinda swamped with fic commitments and rushing stuff last-minute (my own fault ofc 😅) writing mostly romance, so now im just itching to go back to my platonic stuff! nothing against romance, im enjoying writing it for sure, but god i can't wait to work on my Steve Henderson au again

for now tho the probably-never-to-be-written worms are about Steve bunking with the Buckleys post s4. maybe his parents just never came home, maybe they were there and had a big blowup argument with Steve about leaving, but they're not around now and Robins not about to let Mr Walking-Sepsis-Risk live alone for the apocalypse

in my head i imagine the buckleys house is kinda like max's before s4, a smaller 1-story but cozy, and no guest room so Steve stays in Robin's room.

her parents let them but they're definitely a little wary and a little lost but at least a little used to it, both thanking whatever power they believe in that no matter how freakishly clingy they are now, its still world's better than the violently freakishly clingy stobin was right after starcourt, when both of them looked to be hanging on by a thread and that thread was each other.

so they're like. chill. they plow through an awkward conversation about how bad an idea it would be to be up to something right now with steves injuries and robin sees herself out like halfway through, piling all the old stuffed animal onto her bed and keeping them there for the next week to avoid thinking about it. And Steve, abandoned by his partner in crime, stumbles through his own awkward explanation along the lines of 'you don't have to worry about that, i promise' before joining Robin in her embarrassed cringing-party, featuring notable guests such as Mr. Cat, Doodles, and Floppsy Bunny.

Not much of a plot in my head really, I'm just enjoying all the vague ideas floating around this premise. theres lots of details about Steve and his wounds, like wearing button downs that are easier to put on than pull-overs, Mr. Buckley letting him borrow some when Steve only finds a couple (or when he packs his normal clothes not realizing how miserable itd be to take them on and off constantly to check how things are healing).

Also Steve helping around the house and the Buckley's getting to know him better and not just the Polite Steve that they usually see because Steve couldn't risk his best friends parents not liking him (and because usually robin would go to his house, its a lot easier to sneak out than it is to smuggle someone in, especially with freaky upside down nightmares). Maybe Steve gets to actually joke around with Robin's dad, talk real shit with her mom (maybe about the future, hippie mom offering a different perspective on what life can be, how you can figure things out, just try things even if you don't have a perfect plan)

Steve finding safety not just with Robin, but with Robins family. the four of them growing this sweet relationship, not like a second child for the buckleys but more like a second home for Steve. stobin are firmly strange best friends to me (as opposed to siblings), and i like the dynamic of steve and robin's parents as 'my kids best friend' type stuff, not cause there's any less love but more like they're not trying to replace Steve's parents, they just end up filling in the gaps.

oki tagging presumably for next time (tho if you guys wanna do it late anyway you go for it, time isn't real wahoo): @marvel-ous-m @momotonescreaming @puppy-steve @lightoftheseraph @lingeringmirth

@writing-kiki @eriquin @scriptorbemi @sourw0lfs @soaringornithopter

@solarmorrigan @eddiethebrave @steddiecameraroll @imfinereallyy @yabakuboi

@kikidoesfanfic @tinytalkingtina @hairstevington @stellarspecter @sunflowerharrington

[lexirosewrites]

Hi Lexi!

I kind of read about your break and the fear of your hyper fixation going away. Just wanted to say that I've been through the same thing 2 months ago. I couldn't write anything at all for 6 months. I had the inspiration but not the motivation. I had stopped reading fanfictions as well even from friends. I feared that the one thing that helped me through a hard time was leaving me, which was my hyperfixation that lead me to write. I didn't want to lose it, but I felt like it was. I was ready to make a post about me just simply quitting writing because my fingers didn't cooperate.

It wasn't. I just needed a break. A long one. One day I just rewatched stranger things, and I started reading old fics, ones that I read that made me get into writing for the Fandom. I did things I did back in May 2022. Even lighting candles of the scent I used back then. Music as well.

After that, one day I sat down, and the words came through by themselves. It's not in the magnitude they were before. That I know. I'm not the same person from 2 years ago, but just because you cannot write now, doesn't mean you won't ever be able to.

It will get better, you just need to find that love again, however you find it necessary to do so 💓 I just simply went back in time.

You don't have to answer this, I just wanted you to know that I understand your fear, but just because it's not as intense, it means that is gone. 💕

You'll find your way back! Just give yourself time, all that you need! Be it weeks, months or a year, just don't beat yourself up for it. You are human after all 💖

i love to hear this! it’s so hard to pin point why i started writing in the first place, but i think i had a lot of feelings to process back then… and now that i’ve said them, my brain is empty? who knows!

i will say my job has been making me especially miserable lately, but i’m officially putting in my two week resignation notice tomorrow! i’ve decided to quit nursing entirely and i got a job teaching math and science for middle schoolers, which is so exciting! it is a huge change for me, but i think it will be a good thing and hopefully put me in a better mind space to enjoy hobbies again💛

[chocoenvy]

Hi there! I love your mommy Signora post, but ofc I love all the mommy fics hehe💕

But what happens in the day to day life with mommy Signora once reader got over the shock a lil bit?

I headcannon that maybe Signora can bring them around the palace and feed them Snezhnayan food? Maybe find out they have a fav and would have some as back up in case.

And maybe little creator would be angry at anyone who talks bad about her fire moth mama?

Keep note that you don't have to do this if you're too busy okay? Stay hydrated and rest well💕

hi im sad rn so i have to project apologies for making you hurt in advance <3

Child of Fire, Raised in Ice

warnings: fluff with an angst ending, sagau, a child (that is ten but turns 11-12 throughout this) is considered god, mild blood, death

6,115 words

There was no separating you and your mama. Ever since the day she had found you in the snow, held you with such tenderness. Despite being considered a "big kid", you still imprinted onto her like you were a young child. Growing by her side, soon enough in your pre-teen years.

Still, you stuck by her side. No matter how old you got.

This was a side of Teyvat you had never dreamed of seeing. Each of the harbingers, in all their horror and glory, and a new ideal against the gods. Signora, who you thought was so bad and evil, was now your hero.

Was this brainwashing? Were you too young and naïve to understand fully what was happening? Maybe, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were safe. Signora was safe.

All the harbingers found it odd, Signora's behavior. How she didn't ask for anything from you in return, and yet your young mind already had an understand of give and take - of goods and services - was eager to please her.

"I can help!" "Do you need me to help?" A smaller hand holding onto her coat, you were basically her shadow. But you were desperate to be helpful.

Signora was scared to let you go alone, despite your exalted status, there were those that would hurt you to spite her, and those with a hatred for gods that extended beyond reason. Despite her insistence she had no earthly attachments to you - that this was merely business - she would never be able to forgive herself if something happened to you.

But she wouldn't be by your side forever. So slowly but surely, she helped you grow. To no longer rely so heavily on her.

Running errands to Childe first, who always had a soft spot for kids. He became your friend quickly, your brother. A familiar and friendly face to go to when you didn't have Signora. Next was Arlecchino, brash and sadistic, but had a calm façade. You grew close with her at a slower rate, but eventually caught yourself growing fonder of her. Asking to visit the orphanage, making care packages for the kids, playing with those your own age.

Signora watched you grow physically and mentally with a fond smile. One that no one had seen in centuries.

You became quite famous in the Zapolyarny palace quite quickly. Going from being always a step behind Signora, to always a step ahead of her. Sometimes even running ahead to greet someone you knew - such as flinging yourself into Capitano who merely gently patted your head. Or excitedly shouting something to Pierro, always eager to see his nod of approval when you've done something worthy. You'd always seen Signora give reports to him, so you attempted to keep your conversations the same as that. You failed miserably, but it was funny to see you talk so formally and informally at the same time and tacking "sir" onto the end of all of your sentences. Until one day he finally caved and told you to just call him Pierro.

Despite your image of Signora changing drastically from what you used to think of her, Dottore never really changed in your mind. His smile freaked you out, almost like if you got too close he'd snatch you up and tear you apart. Like the magic tricks you'd see of people being torn apart, but you didn't think he'd be able to - or want - to fix you.

You thought your wariness was warranted. Which caught the attention of The Damsel.

Oddly, you were never afraid of Pierro. He reminded you of the nice old men that were from your old home, and despite everything, when you got close to him, he smelled like one of your male family members. He reminded you of home.

However The Damsel was the opposite. She smelled of nothing but the ice cold tundra, she appeared sickly, weak, but her voice was powerful.

Her first words to you were, "You think the Doctor is so frightening? What has he done to you so far?"

You couldn't see her eyes, but her voice sounded as though she was awaiting a grand story, an utterly horrid story, like she wanted to tear you apart and see the deepest and darkest parts of you.

"He-he's scary looking," You pouted, distressed.

A dainty giggle danced in the air, and the sound made you relaxed against your better judgement.

"Am I scary looking?" She leaned down a bit, the height difference not being that much, but it felt like she was towering over you.

You blinked, throat tightening and mouth flapping open and closed. You felt Signora's hand touch your upper arm before the words tumbled out of your mouth, "A wendigo." You realized what you just said and fumbled to fix your mistake, "A pretty wendigo! Wait-! Uh-!"

Even Signora snickered at the comment. The Damsel giggled, "Perhaps you're not far off from the mark. Call me Columbina. A child of Signora's is a child I shall protect."

Suddenly, Dottore didn't seem as scary anymore.

You were slowly but surely becoming more and more independent as the months passed, almost seeming like you were a mini-harbinger with how often you hung around them. Everyone was still aware of your "godhood" but that was overshadowed with over half a year of you being at the palace. Over half a year after Signora had saved you.

"Fair Lady, your grace." One of Signora's personal servants entered Signora's study, where the two of you were sorting through important paperwork and writing reports to officials, townsfolk, and the Tsartisa herself.

Signora nodded for her to speak.

"The Tsaritsa has requested their grace's presence."

Those words sent a shiver up your spine, you glanced nervously at Signora but her face was completely neutral.

"Thank you, we'll be on our way immediately." Signora stood from her chair and the servant scurried off.

"Signora-"

"You'll be okay." Her smile was so uncharacteristically warm. A smile that melted away the snow, a smile that saved you when you were dying in the cold.

You opened your mouth to say something doubtful, to argue or protest, but you didn't, "...okay..."

She grabbed your hand in hers, and it was warm, and she led you to the Tsaritsa. To the heart of the palace, a place you had never been.

Signora had told you a handful of times that the Tsarist was aware of your presence in the palace and condoned it. That when you had passed out in her arms after she had saved you, the Tsaritsa herself had made sure you had healed at your bedside.

You didn't ask why, throat closed up and mouth dry. You never questioned why. Signora was safe, she'd tell you all you needed to know, and what you didn't need to know... was fine by you.

"Here," Signora slipped her hand out of yours, pushing you forwards towards a staggeringly tall door, "I will be right here-"

"Why can't you come with me?" You looked up at her with wide fearful eyes, barely managing a shaky breath in and out.

Signora's eyes softened, a sight you and one other lost to the snow has seen, her hand on your shoulder tightened and she lowered herself to your level, "The Tsaritsa has not requested me, remember we are living in her palace, in her land. She would never put you in danger, and neither would I." She cupped your face and lifted your wandering eyes to hers, "You believe me, right?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded.

She patted your cheek, "Good." A rare moment of fondness, she pressed her lips to your forehead softly, "Now go, don't keep her Majesty waiting too long."

You nodded, Signora's gentle and warm touch leaving your form. The cold surrounded you as you pressed your palm to the handle of the door. The cold spread throughout your veins, freezing your lungs and heart.

You used all your might to push the heavy door open, squeezing past it. It shut with a thud behind you.

You kept your eyes on the ground, barely wandering to fully take in the room.

You could feel her Majesty's presence, but you'd never formally met her before. How were you supposed to greet her? Were you supposed to greet her? What titles should you use? She was far scarier than any of the harbingers, you couldn't tell if your limbs were shaking from the cold or pure fear.

"Raise your head, child." A deep, baritone voice came from the throne, jostling you out of your frozen state.

You followed her command immediately, raising your head to meet her eyes- were covered. Her eyes were covered.

Her height was staggering as well, she must've towered over everyone in the palace including the harbingers. Her throne was completely made out of ice too, everything in the room as well. If you weren't careful, you'd slip and fall.

On her stoic face, the ghost of a smile played at her lips.

She stood from her throne, a grand and intricate dress falling gracefully behind her as she made her for you.

You could feel each step in your chest, the dread building up. You bit your tongue to stop tears from welling in your eyes.

She gracefully swooped into a kneel and grabbed your hand with surprising gentleness. Her hand, despite bearing a glove, was ice cold and pulsated with power.

It made you dizzy, the pure cryo energy in one human body and the power of three gnosis in her possession.

"It's an honor to formally meet you, your grace." Her deep voice reverberated in your head.

You stumbled on your words, "Y-y-y-you too your majesty." You squeaked.

She chuckled, "No need to be so formal, you've lived in my palace for quite some time now, haven't you. I know you well."

"You've been... watching..?" The question slowly died on your throat as you realized the absurdity of it. You were in her palace, her home territory. Of course she'd be watching you.

"I have. Everything that goes on in my home I am aware of. Not only in the palace, but in the whole of Snezhnaya." She answered with a smile, one that seemed oddly sinister, "There are many things I wish to tell you, many questions I believe you have. Those will all be answered in due time, you are still far too young for all of these dealings." Her hand slipped away from yours and you felt the blood flow resume - you hadn't even noticed it had slowed.

"First," An intricate box materialized itself in her hand, the same way the Traveler's weapon would appear and disappear on command, "I want you to know, your grace, that these are yours." She opened the box and you gasped, nearly tripping on the ice in your shock, "I have gathered two of the other archons' gnosis as well as my own, and soon to be all seven, all to give to you. I understand that this must be overwhelming which is why I don't expect you to accept or take them." Her smile grew and you swore you saw fangs peak out, "I merely want you to know that these are here for you, all you must do is call for them and they shall be yours."

"Why-?" You choked out, shock grasping at your throat, "You've worked so hard-"

"That is something that you must find out on your own." She closed the box, her smile ever present, "Snezhnaya has no room for tears and childhood, you've had to grow up faster than you could've ever imagined. I will give you some more time, but when you feel that spark of childhood extinguish, come to me."

"H-h-" The world spun, "H-How will I know?"

"You just will." The box disappeared from her hands, and in the same place Signora had left a warm and gentle kiss on your forehead, The Tsaritsa had done the same, chasing away whatever warmth lay on or underneath your skin. "Goodbye, child, it was wonderful meeting you."

You nodded, "You as well."

You scurried out the door, and just as she had promised; Signora was there.

Signora noticed the difference your meeting with the Tsaritsa had made immediately. You were shaken, your eyes had the beginnings of the frozen tundra in them.

Signora knew she wouldn't be able to preserve the warmth of your innocence and childhood forever, and it seems the threads of the Tsaritsa's grand plan were making themselves seen.

However, you still melted into her touch, smiling so widely when you saw her. Even with your ever-growing independence, you made sure to always stick next to her. You were never out of her sight, and that childish smile still remained when you saw her, or Childe, or Capitano, Pulcinella, Pierro, even Arlecchino, Columbina and Dottore got to see your childish smile. You were happy, and that was all Signora could ask for.

"Signora! Signora!" Your childish voice resounded through the halls.

"Yes, yes I'm right here dear, what is it?"

"Look!" You held out your hands to her, they were cupped together and on top of them rested a pyro moth.

Signora's eyes widened in shock, "Where did this come from?" There was no way you'd know these belonged to her, she had only ever used her cryo powers around you. Except-

"I don't know! It just kinda showed up, I think it likes me!" You smiled ear-to-ear, "It kinda reminds me of you, it's the same warmth I felt when you found me, you know?"

Signora hummed, her gloved hand coming up to lightly touch the wing of the moth, "I see." She smiled warmly, "Well, since it likes you so much, make sure to take good care of it."

You nodded enthusiastically.

Signora seemed to have been unaware of how close she had gotten to you. She knew her moth only had one objective: to watch over you.

Perhaps it was a good thing.

-

"What do you mean?!" You screeched, the moth that had shown up just a few days before fluttering distressed at your shoulder, "You're going away?" You whined, clutching onto her dress, "Why are you just telling me-?"

"(Y/n)." You froze at the use of your name, "You are still aware of the fact that I am a harbinger, this was going to happen eventually, I have a duty to the Tsaritsa and Snezhnaya. I must go, you know this. Everything has been set up, all that's left is for me to grab the gnosis and come right back. You understand."

It wasn't a question, and it wasn't a statement you would argue. You nodded miserably, stray tears falling down your cheeks.

Signora sighed, "Please don't cry." Her hands cupped your face and wiped away the fallen tears, "The other Fatui have taken care of most of the work, it will be quick and I'll come right back. You can be a big kid for a month can't you?" She smiled encouragingly

You sniffled and nodded, "I- I think so."

"Good, thank you, (Y/n). And if you don't think you can be a big kid there's always Childe and Columbina and the other harbingers." Signora smiled, "You can visit the orphanage with Arlecchino, do whatever you want. So long as you stay safe and keep Little Ayin with you. Understand?"

"Yes Signora!" You saluted like one of the Fatui underlings, Little Ayin fluttering encouragingly around you.

"Good!" She patted your head, "Now come on, you can follow me to the boat but you can't come with me."

You grinned, holding her hand and leading the way to the front doors of the palace, "Don't worry! One day I'll become a harbinger and be able to come with you to all of your missions!"

"Really? Will you be the 12th harbinger?" Signora asked ammused.

"Nope! I'll be first!"

"And what of Pierro?"

"He'll be retired. He already has back problems."

Signora snorted, "Don't be saying things like that so boldly, you might make an enemy of Pierro." She ruffled your hair playfully.

It didn't take long enough to reach the boat. You squeezed her hand, almost silently begging her to not go.

"I'll see you soon, (Y/n)." Signora smiled.

You flung yourself into her arms, "See you soon!" You pulled back with a grin, barely managing to hold back the tears.

Signora softly smiled, grasping your hands in hers. You felt her place a solid and cold object in your hands. She closed your hands together and patted them, "I'll be back in a month. Make sure not to cause the others too much grief."

You grinned, "No promises!"

She nodded and pulled away, you stopped yourself from chasing her warmth. She boarded the ship and you watched as they prepared for travel. You stood there the entire time as they prepared to leave, and then followed the boat as far as you could until they were too far at sea. Not for a second did you stop waving at Signora until the boat was out of view. Your hand fell to your side slowly but definitively.

"(Y/n)."

You swallowed down the tears and turned to grin at Arlecchino, "Yes. We should go home."

Arlecchino nodded, walking beside you.

You kept your hand next to Little Ayin, the other grasping whatever item Signora had entrusted to you.

"You look miserable." Arlecchino commented, "Come with me to the orphanage, it's been a while since your last visit."

You glanced up at her, and nodded, smiling softly, "Sure. Just- once we get there do you think I could have a moment to myself?"

Arlecchino gave you an undecipherable look, "Of course, (Y/n)."

Once at the orphanage, all the kids who you had grown close to over the past year swarmed you.

But just as she had promised, you were allowed a moment to yourself alone.

You took the item from your pocket and inspected it.

It was a locket. You stared at it, dumbfounded, your confusion doubling at the clearly Mondstadt design of the locket.

You opened the locket and a folded piece of paper fell out. However the picture in the locket was... Signora? And a man?

"Who..." You diverted your attention to the small piece of paper, unfolding it to read the message, "Dear (Y/n), I'm sorry for never having the strength to explain to you in person. Ask Pierro about the locket. I shall tell you more once I am back. -Signora"

You stared dumbfounded at the piece of paper and locket you now had in your hands. Was this even Signora? Maybe it was a family member of hers? But why would she give this to you-?

"(Y/n)?" There was a knock on the door, "The children are getting impatient."

"Oops! Coming!" You turned around and rushed through the door, past Arlecchino.

Immediately a genuine smile tugged at your lips as you spend the day at the orphanage, with those you could almost call your family.

-

You couldn't sleep in the orphanage. You and the kids had played for hours on end, a distraction from Signora's absence. However you refused to sleep there. No matter how inconvenient or spoiled and bratty you sounded.

Thankfully, after some pushing, Arlecchino relented and took you back to the palace even though it was well after midnight.

Being in an orphanage and staying there after Signora had left... you couldn't do it. Not after you had been ripped away from your other family.

"You know, I'm starting to really hate agreeing to babysitting duty." Arlecchino huffed, grimacing.

You snickered, "Did Signora ask you to babysit me?"

She sighed, "Not explicitly, but she did enough passive aggressive hints for me to get the message."

You giggled at the mental image, "Well you won't have to worry about me tomorrow, I have plans in mind to bother another Fatui member." You grinned sadistically, a grin you've seen on Arlecchino before.

"May the Tsaritsa help their soul then."

-

You hunted down Pierro as quickly as you could the next day, following him around like a lost duck.

"Is there something you need?" He asked gruffly.

"Yes, but it'd take up a lot of your time."

He sighed, "Is it important?"

"Yes." You stared up at him with wide, child-like, yet gravely serious eyes.

His visible eye searched yours for a moment, as if noticing something that wasn't there before. Maybe there was.

Pierro nodded, "Alright then, come with me."

He turned and briskly walked towards his office, you scurried after him, gently holding onto his coat so you could keep up with him.

The locket and note were held in your pocket, and Little Ayin was snuggled against your neck comfortably. Signora was still, in a way, with you. She'd come back in a month, and you'd be here waiting for her. You'd be able to ask all the questions you want about the locket and the couple in it.

He opened the door to his office and held the door open to allow you inside, "Go ahead and have a seat." He shut the door and sat opposite of you. With a rough sigh, he said, "So, what is it that you need to tell me?"

You pulled the note and locket out of your pocket, laying it on the table in front of you.

"Signora gave this to me before she had left." You looked up at him, searching his expression.

For a moment, confusion and shock made his eyebrows furrow, before they became neutral. Almost as though he had expected this.

"I see." She gently grabbed the note and read it, nodding to himself.

Opening the locket, he turned it so it faced you, the couple staring at you. The woman's smile one you had seen before.

"This was 500 years ago. The woman is Signora, and the man beside her was her husband, Rostam."

"Husband?" You sputtered, Little Ayin resting on your shoulder solemnly, "She has... why did she never tell me?"

"Because he is no longer with us." Pierro said, his eyes meeting your steadily, like he was telling a story that had already been finished. "He was once a Knight of Favonius, and after the calamity of Khaenri’ah the Knights were tasked with purging the monsters that had emerged. Here, Rostam had died. Signora had been at the Akademiya in Sumeru studying while he had died, and when she returned to find him dead she went insane. Swearing to burn away the world and cleanse it."

You remained silent, staring at the picture of such a happy couple. Unsure of what you should be feeling.

"I believe," He said carefully, but retaining all the power in his voice, "That she hesitated on telling you because of how much it hurt her. I never expected her to tell you at all." His hand gently came up to pat the top of your head, and you didn't realize all the tears that were falling onto your lap. "Rostam was Signora's family. The only one she had. I believe she sees you the same way now."

You screwed your eyes shut and curled in on yourself, sobbing into your hands.

"I-I want her back!" You wailed, "I don't- don't want her leaving." You hiccupped, "I miss my old family, she's-she's all I have."

"She'll return." Pierro said so assuredly that you couldn't help but believe him, "You must have faith in her. She's captured two gnosis successfully. She will return with one more. Trust me when I say this is just as painful for her as it is you."

You nodded, sniffling. Reminding yourself over and over that she would return.

-

The first night on the ship, Signora had cried. She cried like she had just lost someone, cried like her first night in the Akademiya. Like she was alone for the first time in a long time.

It was the longest and hardest month she'd had in centuries. It was foolish - stupid of her to get so close to you. She feared that history had a habit of repeating itself, and she was petrified for the latter half of her history repeating.

But you were in the Zapolyarny Palace, under the protection of the Tsaritsa and the harbingers. T here was no way you would be hurt while under Her Majesty's care.

But her subordinates could see her stress, how she was snappier and any semblance of leniency she had shown in their homeland had evaporated. She chalked it up to this being an important mission, the most important one since last year when she and Childe obtained the Geo Gnosis. Of course, any leniency allowed by her could put the whole mission in jeopardy.

She'd get this mission finished with soon. At this point all that was left was to take the damn thing and go home.

-

"Filthy rats... all of you!"

She was desperate, insane, a witch.

All the heartbreak she went through after she lost Rostam, the pain and fear you felt when you awoke in this world to never see your family again, you would not feel it again. She had to go back to Snezhnaya, she had to go back to you-!

In the end, she did make it back to Snezhnaya. In a casket.

-

"Pierro! Pierro! She's here! She's here!" You squealed, bounding out of the palace.

"(Y/n)..." You were too excited to notice his odd tone, "Slow down."

From the day he had told you of Signora's past, you kept the locket around your neck. Even if you never knew Rostam, if he made Signora happy then he had your approval.

"Come on, Little Ayin! Why are you so slow?" You gently but hurriedly scooped the strangely forlorn fire moth into your hands. "I thought you'd be more excited for Signora's return." You giggled, running through the snow even before the sun had begun to rise, Pierro following slowly behind.

You waited at the dock, "How long will it take for them to be here?" You questioned Pierro, staring up at him with wide and excited eyes.

Pierro watched the child-like nature flutter with hope in your eyes. He sighed, "The report said they'd be here by sunrise."

"How long until sunrise?" You bounced on your tippy-toes, stretching your neck to see as far out into the ocean as you could.

"Far too long, child, it's 3 in the morning." He patted your shoulder hardily, "And you've been up since midnight."

"I just can't wait!" You grinned.

Oh how Pierro was dreading the morning sun.

-

Quite a few Fatui were gathered around the docks, and of course, you were the first to spot the boat carrying Signora.

"There! That's her! That's her!" You screeched, pointing at the boat.

But no one cheered.

You didn't think to question it, Pierro having to hold you back from sprinting up the plank laid down from the boat to the dock.

You saw ginger hair and a red scarf at the top of the plank.

"Childe? What's he-?"

You felt your heart drop to your feet and then somehow tumbling even further away from your grasp. Your stomach churned and twisted. You wanted to throw up and cry out your insides.

Childe didn't smile at you when his eyes met you, as he led a group of people carrying a human-sized box off of the ship.

You broke away from Pierro's grasp, hitting his hand away from you when he reached for you.

"(Y/n)-!" He barked after you sternly.

"Childe!" You crashed into his front, holding onto the front of his shirt even though he towered above you, "Where is she?"

His eyes somehow managed to look even more dead, hope chased away long ago.

Fear grappled your heart, stopping it's beating entirely. You shook him, your voice raising dangerously, "Where is she Tartaglia!"

He shakily inhaled, pity in his dark blue orbs, an ocean swallowing you in the beginnings of grief. He closed his eyes and turned his head to look at the box that was being carried by six Fatui.

"There."

"..."

There was silence, quieter than the deathly snow at night, waiting for its next victim. Your limbs and organs stopped working, halting their movements to stare at the box.

"Stop lying." You whispered.

"I'm not-"

"She's not!" You choked, shaking Tartaglia desperately, "You're lying!"

"(Y/n)." A firm hand gripped your shoulder, Pierro softly yet firmly said, "Please-"

"Did you know?!" You whipped around to face him, eyes wide and pupils pinpricks, breathing erratic - angry - and tears falling furious from your eyes.

"... yes. We got a report-"

"Why didn't you tell me!" You screeched, pushing him away from you and backing away, your hands clenched as fists at your side.

Pierro lowered his hand with a frown, "Because we knew you wouldn't believe us and that you'd react like this."

"She's not- she can't be- she's still in Inazuma you just left her behind. You- you-" You choked on your words and sobs, crying into your sleeves.

You clutched Little Ayin to your chest, its warmth the only comfort.

Without even realizing it, you were running, your name being shouted from behind you before stopping. But you kept running. And running.

And running.

-

You were once again lost in the tundra, snow billowing past. Except now you were accustomed to it, and attuned to the world in a way you nor anyone else could begin to imagine.

However one thing remained the same. You had lost your home. Your family. Once again, it had happened.

You fell into the snow, curling into a pathetic, sobbing ball. Crying into your arms and knees and hands until you couldn't feel your body. Everything was numb, even your heart and mind.

There was no point, no reason, no rhyme or love or life.

You wailed into the snow, into the tundra and wild of Snezhnaya. You screamed and cried like a wounded animal, begging and screaming for someone to bring Signora back. To bring your family back.

Your prayers were only slightly listened to. A warmth floated by your ear and you jerked away. You were laying on your stomach, face numb in the snow, until Little Ayin encouraged you to roll onto your back as it laid on your chest. Right where your heart was beating erratically.

It brought warmth throughout your chest and your raised your hands to gently hold it. Your wails and sobs turning into pitiful sniffles and whimpers. It was as though a limb had been torn off you and you were desperately trying to convince yourself you could reattach it. That you'd still have it good as new.

That Signora would come back. She'd come back she promised she promised, they all promised, she'll come back one day.

You gulped in breathes of cold air, stabilizing yourself in the warmth you pretended was Signora's hand. When suddenly the temperature dropped even more. Your tears turned into icicles after they fell, your entire body numb.

You didn't even move your eyes when you saw a pair of hands come up to wipe at your face. When they moved away, you saw tear and blood stains.

"Dear, you've certainly made quite a mess of yourself." It was the deep baritone of Her Majesty, yet despite that you couldn't bring yourself to care. Your heart didn't jump in recognition and neither did your eyes widen. You lay there motionless.

"Come, it is far too harsh out here for a wounded heart." She easily picked your limp body up, Ayin still laying against your chest, its pulsating warmth weaker than ever.

-

The Tsaritsa noticed a pattern within her kingdom. The cycle of love repeating endlessly, so everlasting even the Raiden Shogun would be envious.

How cruel this cycle was to her subjects and even the ruler of them all. To allow attachments to grow and fester and wrap thorns and roots in one's heart only to have them brutally torn out. Leaving you with nothing but scars.

Right now you were a bleeding wound, not even the most adept and knowledgeable would be able to know how to help you.

Not even the Tsaritsa, who had seen and experienced this pattern countless times, did not know the solution.

But she knew different outcomes. She merely awaited to see which one you would set down.

-

The day of Signora's official funeral you were much quieter. The harbingers gathered around her cold casket. You had grieved alone with her corpse some days earlier, pretending her hand was grasping your own and she was hugging you closely to her chest. That you were missing your old family as she comforted you, back when you were younger and more of a crybaby.

That she'd allow you to be weak again, to be a crybaby again and weep for what you missed.

She had never responded to your questions about her and Rostam.

Her cold casket didn't burn bright red like Little Ayin. It was white in the white snow and ice. Columbina sang with a smile, the other harbingers bickering. Your hand rested against her coffin.

The creeps of the Tsaritsa's power made themselves known, frost creeping their way through the building. You comforted the cold metal of the coffin the same way her hand comforted you. Perhaps you could pretend that somewhere, somehow, she could feel it.

Little Ayin fluttered away from you, landing on the fallen pawn on the chessboard.

"We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade..."

The words from Pulcinella's mouth made you sick. Your teeth grit in anger.

The traveler had defeated The Fair Lady in a duel before the throne. Childe's words were engraved into your very mind, anger burning through your veins. It was customary for her to be executed after their fight by the shogun.

The harbinger's heartless and stupid words made it worse, your gaze flickering between them like a caged animal ready to strike. You tapped your finger against the coffin, willing yourself to believe it was empty.

"It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics." Pierro stepped out of the shadows, the frost spreading across the floor away from you, "Right now you have no captive audience."

You unclenched your fist and stood straighter as the harbingers gathered around her. Blood dribbled from your palm where you had cut them with your nails.

Little Ayin rested on her coffin, and it burned away. Your last source of her warmth gone. You had to bite your tongue to keep from crying or yelling.

Pierro's every word hung in the air like the ending of an act to a play. And at the end of the act, the entire building was encased in ice. Never to be disturbed again, Signora would rest in absolute peace.

"As was Her Majesty's benevolence."

But it wasn't until after you had returned to the palace, with a demand to meet with Her Majesty, when you realized she was no where near the vacinity.

The Tsaritsa hadn't frozen Signora's burial site. You had.

"Your Majesty." You faced her, head lifted to meet her eyes.

"Yes, your grace?" She responded with a wicked grin.

"I am no longer a child." Your eyes resembled her eleventh harbinger, Hell having greeted you firsthand, "My birth mother and family cruelly torn away from me, and my mother from this world now dead. My childhood is dead and I wish to accept the gnosis."

Your eyes, wide with youth, were steadfast and set in determination and - the Tsaritsa amusedly noticed - rage.

She grinned, fangs peaking from behind her lips, "Then... I am sorry...to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world. Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn? Then, burn away the old world for me. That is all I ask of you. Surely you can fulfill it."

The box materialized in her hands and you reached to take it.

"I will burn away the old world." You said through gritted teeth, your knuckles turning white from your grip on the gnosis, "I will cleanse this world, and I will kill the traveler."

The Tsaritsa nodded, her smile never faltering, "Then welcome to the Fatui, your grace. I know you shall become a wonderful ruler for the new world, and a vengeful soldier for your lost mother."

The patterns that love followed truly were amusing.

[minisugakoobies]

ME AND NAMJOON AND HIM PINNING ME AGAINST THE WALL PLS 👀👀👀🙈

I combined these requests because they worked so perfectly together! Hope y'all don't mind 💕

Title: A Dangerous Game Pairing: Royal Advisor!Namjoon x Queen!Reader Genre: smut, forbidden romance, Royalty!AU Rating: M(18+) Warnings: groping, making out, a little light fingering, infidelity (reader has been forced into marriage with a horrible King)

"Quiet, love, or they'll hear you."

A shudder rolls through you as Namjoon whispers in your ear. He's right, of course. If you're any louder, the guards standing outside your chambers will hear and come investigate. They'll barge right through that door, swords swinging, not knowing that the tiny whimpers falling from your lips are cries of pleasure, not pain.

They won't care, either, if you're caught with the king's most trusted advisor's hands beneath your gown. It's a dangerous game the two of you are playing right now. And Namjoon appears to be winning, given the way he smirks at you while his dancing hands caress your breasts, thumbs flicking over your pert nipples.

"That's better," he sighs in relief when you fall silent. "Now, my Queen, tell me what you want."

What you want is for him to tear the nightgown from your body, throw you on your bed, and have his unholy way with you. That's not just what you want, it's what you need. But a lifetime of holding your tongue and doing as you're told, not as you please, makes it difficult to voice these desires.

"I - I want…" you begin, but falter when his palm skims over the swell of your bare belly. It's so wrong, the way he's touching you as if he has any right, any claim to your body. You belong to the King, that miserable old wretch who keeps you locked away in this room day and night, only ever allowing you to leave to perform your royal duties.

Fuck the King, a quiet voice in your mind hisses.

"Come, love, no need to be shy," Namjoon purrs. You love the way he looks at you. While the King views you as a duty to be done, no matter how much he repels you, Namjoon sees you as a person - and one to be treasured, at that. He's told you often enough that your presence in this palace and this realm is a gift - and now, as he smiles at you, you know he means it.

He steps closer, backing you towards the wall, trapping you against it. He dares to lower his lips to your bare neck, hot kisses blazing against your cold skin. Your room is always chilly this time of morning, but you don't care, basking in the heat of Namjoon's strong body as he leans into you.

"Do you wish to hear what I want?" he asks, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, one by one. Relieved, you nod. "I want to explore your body… if you'll let me."

Despite your firmly pressed lips, another whine escapes you. Swiftly, he kisses you, hastily swallowing your noises. You fall into him, eyes closing, lost in the sensation of his wet tongue as it glides along yours. His left hand is still drifting lower, lower….

With a gasp, you break the kiss and glance down, watching as his hand disappears between your legs. He traces a finger through your sodden folds, back and forth, and you can't stop your hips from canting forward, seeking more of his touch.

"It appears that you want this too, my Queen. But I need to hear you say it." You're so distracted by his left hand that you don't even notice the right one is gripping your chin until he tips your head, forcing you to meet his gaze. His dragon eyes smolder as he licks his lips. "Words, love. I need to hear you say the words."

"T-take me. Namjoon." His expression darkens. It ignites a fire within you. "Now."

"As my Queen demands."

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[pseudowho]

i quit my job today . It was hard, and embarrassing, and miserable. I had walked out crying because I cry over everything. My manager is an asshole who likes to yell at the teenage cashier (I'm 18 so I guess still a kid in their eyes). She'd throw stuff a lot..that also sucked. I don't really know why im mentioning it, let alone here, but I find comfort in the small community you've built here.

I'm looking for a new job though! I won't miss the old one, just the money (ha) . Any crazy job stories?

Oh, I'm sorry 😭💕 It's better to walk away from something that makes you miserable. Sounds like your Manager is horrible with a filthy temper.

I feel like I haven't done much to build a community, I've just been fortunate enough to be welcomed into one. Thank you for being here.

I have crazy job stories. My first job (when I was 16-18) was in a seaside theme park, and it was really rough. I once had a man loudly threaten to rape me if I didn't give him a refund on something non-refundable. My Midwife work stories are of course extra-crazy.

People, right??

You're doing well. Find something better and safer for you.

Proud of you!

Love,

-- Haitch xxx