#old village moodboard

[witchthewriter]

𝑯𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆...

[maryslandkir]

[happyheidi]

[kakusu-shipping]

I forgot to sleep.

Anyway; Growing up running through a castle blissfully unaware of the seriousness of the war around you self ship Gabocha moodboard

[tinycandle]

Dreamin’ of a coastal cottage life...

[tvintedspvrkarc]

tag drop : admin

[1800-fight-me]

Dark Devotion

Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Once again, gothic horror romance vibes. The monster gets the girl. Fear, horror, and explicit PiV sex. Slightly non-con as Aemond compels reader, but reader definitely consents (you'll understand when you read it).

Word count: About 5.2k

Synopsis: Running from your old life somehow leads you directly into the arms of a monster, one that shows you pleasures you never could've dreamed of.

Author’s note: I know I have been completely MIA and inconsistent but tbh my life has been incredibly stresseful and I lost all motivation to write for a while. This is the first thing I've written in months that I am genuinely proud of. I even made a whole ass moodboard for it! I truly hope y'all enjoy. Happy Halloween! P.S. Comments will make my entire day and earn you a kiss on the forehead!

I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

There was a phrase you heard quite a few times in your village as a little girl, ‘the night is dark and full of terrors’. Your mum would always roll her eyes and mumble something about ‘religious fanatics’. You were always inclined to agree with her, that is until this night. 

This night truly was dark and full of terrors. 

Thunder cracked loud enough that your ears rang as rain poured something awful. The harsh droplets pelted at your skin and the sky split in half as a lightning bolt landed merely a stone’s throw before you. 

Your horse neighed in panic loud enough that you could hear him over the bellowing wind as he reared back on his hind legs, causing you to slip and fall off and land directly on your backside in the mud. 

You gasped in shock and did not even have time to call out before your horse bolted away, leaving you drenched and muddy on the forest floor. 

Instead of crying you merely turned your head up towards the sky, embraced the pain of the harsh rain against your cheeks, and screamed at the heavens in frustration. 

You managed to pull yourself up before the mud sucked you in below the surface of the world, adjusted the hood of your cloak once again over your head, and trudged forward. 

Your boots sloshed through the dampened forest floor and you thought that perhaps the naysayers in your village were right. Maybe the gods were punishing you for your promiscuity. 

When you laid with the soldier passing through your village and allowed him to take your maidenhood, you were convinced there would be no consequences. 

You were no one, nothing, and not having your maidenhood intact changed nothing other than the subject the gossipers in town clucked about. 

It seemed it also changed the gods’ vengeance towards you. 

This night was dark and full of terrors, that much you could sense as fear shot down your spine. 

You increased your pace, fearing the creatures that could be lurking in the woods, desperate for some sort of shelter. The feeling of eyes watching you from time to time during your journey became steady and unceasing. You felt uneasy, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight up, and you knew it had nothing to do with the cold in the air. 

Eventually you had no other choice but to ignore the feeling, having looked behind and around you dozens of times in search of your stalker to no avail.

You trudged along for what felt like hours, not once finding anything that could serve as a temporary shelter. That was, until you somehow stumbled upon a near debilitated castle. 

As it came into view, you shuddered at the feeling the crumbling building invoked in you, but any shelter was better than none at this point. 

Stone walls with vines nearly overtaking them towered over you as you rushed forward towards the large wooden doors. You looked up and thought you saw a pair of gemstone blue eyes glowing in the dark from a window at the top of the tower, but you blinked and they were gone. 

You shook your head, sure your tired eyes were playing tricks on you, and reached for the handle of the door. 

You took a shuddering breath and pulled the heavy door open. Shock filled your very being as you were overcome with warmth and light. 

While the outside of the building was shabby, the inside was magnificent. It was well kept and well lit. A home fit for a king, with a grand staircase was directly in front of you and an elderly man in a servant’s outfit was walking down it.

“Young lady! Who are you and how dare you come into this home uninvited?” the man chided as he descended the last of the steps and stood before you. 

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t know anyone lived here, I was merely searching for shelter from the awful storm,” you said, eyes wide- portraying how stunned you felt. 

The man’s stern facade crumbled and he smiled warmly at you, you let go of your held breath and managed a small smile back at him. 

“Ah, yes, I tend to forget the master’s illusion on the outside of the building. He does it to keep the unwanted away,” he said. 

“Illusion? Like magic?” you asked. 

“Well, yes, of course. Come in, let’s get you out of the cold. You must be miserable,” the man said as he ushered you inside and closed the door behind you. 

“Alfred,” you heard the voice of a man call out from another room. His voice caused a shiver to go down your spine. 

“Yes, sire,” Alfred, the man before you replied, and the man with the shiver-inducing voice came into view as he rounded the corner and came into the entryway where you stood. 

Your breath caught once again as you saw the most striking and beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life. 

He was tall, nearly impossibly so, with long silver hair that fell nearly to his waist. He moved with the grace and control of a lethal killer. His facial features were sharp, as if he was cut from marble. His skin of pale white only emphasized his most distinct feature, an eye of sapphire that covered part of a scar that cut across his forehead and cheek. His remaining true eye was also a distinct blue color, nearly matching the sapphire one perfectly.  

Ethereal was the word that arose in your mind as he strode towards you, amusement twinkling in his eye as he took you in. 

“And who might you be, lovely?” he asked. 

After entirely too long of a pause, in which his amusement appeared to only grow as his beautiful lips curved into a smirk, you managed to stutter out your name. 

He repeated it back to you, leaning closer towards you, and your heartbeat sped into a gallop. He titled his head, almost as if he could hear it. You dismissed the thought, deeming it absurd. 

“My name is Aemond. Welcome to my home. Tell me, how exactly did you manage to find your way here?” he asked curiously. 

You leaned in closer with him, not realizing that your face was merely inches from his at this point, utterly drawn in and intoxicated by his presence. 

You were filled with a desire to please him and as a result you began rambling. “I was attempting to move away from my village. Take off and find a new life, but then there was a series of unfortunate events including running for my life, becoming irretrievably lost, and then becoming something I’m certain looks similar to a drowned rat after my horse was startled by the storm and I stumbled around for hours attempting to find shelter.” 

“Oh you poor sweet thing. Let us take care of you,” he purred and rather than set you at ease, something in the words made you feel as if your misadventures were far from over. And yet, you were entranced by his gaze and could not so much as force yourself to look away or take a step back. 

His smile grew wider as you nodded meekly. 

Finally, Aemond released you from his gaze as he turned to Alfred and asked him to fetch the maid Portia to assist you in cleaning yourself up. 

Before you knew it, you were being ushered up the stairs and into a room you could only assume was a guest room by an elderly woman with a sweet round face. 

She helped you to remove your muddy sodden clothes and you groaned in relief as you slid into a warm bath. You smiled warmly at her as you scrubbed your body and she cleaned your hair, all the while chattering to you about her love for her husband Alfred and their happiness working for Master Aemond. 

“Can you tell me about him?” you asked curiously as she helped you to dress. 

The dress she helped you into was of crushed velvet, sapphire blue like the gemstone in Aemond’s eye that had so caught your attention. The dress had a corset and plunging neckline that emphasized your curves. 

Portia hummed as she led you to sit down and began working on your hair. 

“He is a bit odd, yes. Intimidating and perhaps even scary to some, but he has a good heart. And is loyal and protective to those he cares for. He has treated my husband and I very kindly,” she said with a caring smile. 

Her words put your heart more at ease, still slightly worried about the new surprising circumstances you had found yourself in. 

“Does he typically extend that same kindness to visitors?” you asked, nervousness coloring your tone a bit. 

“It depends on the intentions of the visitor. A sweet thing like you? You’ll be well taken care of,” she said. 

“Does he often have ill-intentioned visitors?” you asked curiously. 

“It does happen from time to time, those in the nearest village hold hate for him in their hearts. Old prejudices I suppose, but no matter!” she said, changing the subject and her tone as she turned you around to view yourself in the floor length mirror. 

“Take a look at yourself, my dear. You look stunning, see? All the horror of the day washed completely away,” she said soothingly as she ran her hands up and down your upper arms. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw yourself. She was right, you’d never seen yourself look so beautiful before. You actually looked fit to reside in such a lovely home, unlike before, unlike any other time in your life. You’d never worn such a beautiful and expensive dress. You ran your hands across the soft fabric, up your torso and thought that it was the perfect inviting dress for someone else to touch you in. 

Images flashed in your head of the soldier you allowed to touch you, never while you wore something so pretty, but pleasurable nonetheless. Romps in the hay, literally as the two of you would often meet in your father’s barn and he taught you the art of a pleasure you’d never known before. 

You were not disillusioned about it, you knew there was no love between the two of you. You knew he would one day have to move on without you, but when he left town just as others found out about your affair, you were frustrated at being left alone with the consequences of a choice the both of you made. 

The townspeople, the people you grew up with, turned on you and called you a whore. Even your own father fell victim to their hateful whispers about you and kicked you out of his home. Only your mother helped you, sneaking you out in the dead of night and gifting you her horse to aid you on your journey into another life. 

You shook your head slightly in an attempt to clear those thoughts, the memories of both pleasure and pain, and smiled at your reflection. 

“Thank you, Portia, your efforts are greatly appreciated,” you said as you turned and embraced her in a warm hug. 

She squeezed you before releasing you and leading you out of the guest room and back down the grand staircase. 

You followed her into an elegant dining room, a fireplace lit - the fire crackling and warming the spacious room. The table was large enough to seat ten people, but only two place settings were set next to one another, somehow creating an intimate dinner even in such a large room. 

Aemond sat at the end of the table, and stood as he saw you. 

“Good evening, you look magnificent,” he said, voice as velvety as your dress. 

You did your best to hide how his words flustered you as you smiled softly and curtseyed. 

“Thank you, sire. But, this is too much. I did not mean to interrupt your your evening so and I-I’ll never be able to repay you-” 

He reached a hand out and you placed your hand in his. At the brush of your skin against his, your words fell off. 

His hands were cold, and yet- the mere brush of his fingers against yours filled your body with heat. 

“There is no repayment necessary, the pleasure of your company will be more than enough if you would please dine with me,” he said. 

“Of course,” you breathed out as you allowed him to guide you to your seat. 

Your nose was filled with the aroma of a hearty stew in a bowl before you and your stomach growled in anticipation. 

You gave Aemond a sheepish look even as he chuckled. 

“Eat, of course. You must be near ravenous. I’m familiar with the feeling,” he said, and his voice dipped lower. His eyes appeared to flash at his words, causing your heartbeat to jump, but you were far too hungry to think about it and played it off as a trick of the light, a reflection of the fire in his gemstone eye. 

You tucked in and struggled to hold in your groan of satisfaction at the taste of the soup. 

Aemond poured you both glasses of red wine and you thanked him as he handed you yours. 

“Are you not going to eat?” you asked him, suddenly feeling self conscious that you were shoveling mouthfuls of stew and bread into your mouth while he merely sipped on his wine and watched you. 

“Oh I intend to. Just not right now, I had what you might call a late afternoon snack,” he said and something about his words had a chill run up your spine, despite the warmth of both the room and the soup in your belly. 

“You told me of your journey here, but tell me about yourself. I find myself fascinated by the entirety of you,” he practically purred, and you immediately forgot your apprehension at his previous words. 

“I feel the same way about you,” you replied breathily. 

He smiled, a full glorious smile that made you feel as if the storm had ended and the sun had come out. But there was a glint, a sharpness, and with a start you realized his canine teeth were elongated. 

He must have seen the fear in your eyes as he reached over and grasped your hand gently. You felt that on fire feeling in your skin once again, but also felt all the fear wash out of your body. 

“Tell me about you,” he requested again, voice soft and low, a tone that caused you to wonder if that was how he spoke to his lovers late at night. 

You were filled with compliance, with a desire to please him, and so you did as you were asked, and told him everything about yourself. You told him of your childhood, your parents, your likes and interests, your dreams for a better life. 

He watched you with rapt attention, murmuring questions to prompt you to further share with him about yourself. And, oh gods, when he looked at you that way, his sapphire gaze so intense, you wanted to share yourself completely. 

“What had you so desperately searching for a new life?” he finally asked. 

So you explained, shamefully, how you laid with a man and became the village whore for merely choosing your own pleasure over mediocrity for once in your life. 

You looked down at your empty bowl, toying with the spoon, while you waited for his reaction, for his disgust and dismissal of you. 

Long cold fingers gently grasped your chin and lifted your head up to meet his gaze. 

You were enraptured by his undivided attention. 

“There’s no need to listen to the opinions of small minded individuals. Pleasure is nothing to feel guilty about. Especially when there are so, so many pleasures in life to discover,” he said and the soft lilt of his voice along with the dark tone made your toes curl. 

You wanted to experience unknown pleasures, you wanted him to teach you, to explore with you. 

You bit your lip, nodding slightly in agreement, and his hand slid up from your chin to curl around your jaw. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek and you shivered. 

He pulled your bottom lip from between your teeth and you waited, nearly shaking with anticipation, for him to press his lips against your own, to replace the pressure with some of his own, and he smirked as if he knew what you were thinking, but pulled back. 

He sat back in his chair, far enough from you that you no longer felt intoxicated by his scent and presence, and you let out a soft breath of disappointment. 

Amusement and desire both seemed to dance in his gaze. You took a sip of wine, looking away from him to clear your head, and took a breath to steady yourself. 

“Will you tell me about yourself as well, sire?” you asked. 

“Aemond,” he corrected. “Please call me Aemond, sweet one.” 

“Aemond, I’d love to hear about you,” you requested once more. 

It seemed he had the same response to hearing his name drip from your lips as you had when he said yours, for his eyelid fluttered closed and his hand clenched into a fist, but the next breath he had composed himself once more and nodded. 

“My life… it feels as if it has been an eternity. A lonely one at that,” he said and this time you reached over and took his hand, holding it in support. 

“I was treated as if I were unwanted from the moment I was born, my eye taken hatefully when I was merely a boy, and then as a man I was deemed a monster. I was driven out of my home, my family did naught to protect me, and it took me far too long to find a place to call my own. Still, others that encounter me call me a monster and I find myself alone most of the time,” he explained and your heart hurt for him. 

“Why do others call you a monster? Your gemstone eye?” you asked as you leaned closer to him once again. 

This time you leaned in and placed your hand on his face, tracing the length of his scar with your thumb as you gently held his cheek. 

“Hmmm,” he hummed in a noncommittal sort of agreement. 

“I think it’s beautiful,” you said, your voice so soft it was practically a whisper. 

It was evident he heard you as he practically nuzzled his face into your hand. He gripped your wrist and ran his nose from the palm of your hand to the inside of your wrist, breathing in deeply. 

His actions, though gentle and loving, caused an inexplicable feeling of fear to drip down your spine, particularly when his lips pressed against your skin. You’d never realized what a vulnerable place in the body the wrist was, a bundle of veins, until Aemond pressed his perfectly curved lips against it. 

But as soon as it came, the fear was gone as Aemond looked up at you and you met his gaze once more. 

You reached out and pushed his silver hair out of his face where it had fallen and tucked it behind his ear. 

His long gorgeous hair was so soft you yearned to run your fingers through it and learn of his response, learn of the noises he would make when in pleasure. 

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, appearing as entranced by you as you were by him. 

You could do nothing to hide the way his words flustered you, as the weight of his attention had you pinned down and unable to move. 

He caught your hand and held it in place against his hair. 

As he leaned closer to you, his movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator trying not to spook his prey. 

Your heart began to sprint and you were certain you would never be able to slow it again. 

His sharp nose brushed against yours, and the anticipation was so strong you forgot how to breathe. 

Aemond hummed softly before he finally, finally pressed his lips to yours. 

As his lips moved against yours you felt inherently changed, different. It felt as if a shadowed hand with sharp talons dripping with blood had reached through your chest and gripped your heart and claimed it. 

You were his, his, and you were prepared to swear to him your utter devotion, your life. You didn’t quite understand what you were experiencing, but you didn’t care as he deepened the kiss. As he claimed your mouth you gasped, letting out a small whimper. This gave him the in he needed to slide his tongue against yours. 

You shuddered, gripping his hair tighter as he lifted you with an ease that should not be possible and sat you atop his lap. 

Your dress prevented you from straddling him like you wished, but you could not complain as he gripped your waist tightly. You ran your hands from his face and his hair to his shoulders, down to his arms, gripping him tightly and kissing him deeply, with everything you had, with utter devotion. 

You let out a small yelp of surprise as your tongue explored his mouth and brushed against something entirely too sharp. 

He tore his lips from yours and met your gaze. Your chest brushed against his as it heaved while you attempted to catch your breath. 

Fangs, you recognized. Those were fangs in his mouth, made for sinking his teeth in. 

You could not discern how you felt, what you thought, for the utter fire for him burned through you. 

He traced your jaw, then the line of your neck down to your collarbone, slowly, achingly slowly as you wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you again. Then, his lips followed the same journey his fingers had just taken. You shivered, your head falling back as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Tell me you are mine,” Aemond ordered, and his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck made you shiver. 

“I’m yours,” you replied breathily and you could feel his smile against your throat. 

“Tell me you want me,” he ordered. 

“I want you,” you whined, and his grip on you tightened nearly to the point of pain, but you could not focus on that. No, not when you felt those fangs graze against that most sensitive spot on your neck. 

The night is dark and full of terrors, the words rang through your head once more and your breath stopped as you realized you had fallen into this beautiful monster’s trap. Fear shot down your spine and made your body tense and freeze. 

“Hmm,” he hummed in reassurance as he pressed a kiss against your vulnerability. 

Your body responded immediately, you relaxed completely, becoming nearly ragdoll like in his arms. He lifted you, holding you as he stood, and walked into the next room, a sitting room of sorts, and laid you on a chaise. 

“Aemond,” you breathed out. 

He kneeled next to where you laid. 

“I care for you,” he said as he brushed a hand across your cheek, “I don’t wish to compel you.” 

He kissed you once more. At the feeling of his lips against yours, you were reborn. You had control over your body once again and you yanked him atop of you, deepening the kiss. 

He groaned into your mouth, and pulled back slightly, causing you to whine in protest. 

“You truly want me?” he asked, his tone sounding surprised. 

Your survival instinct had long since gone quiet as a result of you continuously ignoring its protests. 

“Yes,” you said and pulled his lips to yours again. 

“Perhaps we can make a deal then,” he said, trailing his lips down once more to his favorite spot on your neck, where your veins were most vulnerable.

“If you give me what I want, I will reward you with everything you desire and more,” he said and you again felt the sharpness of those fangs. 

You let out a shuddering breath. 

“Yes,” you agreed, all logic disappearing as desire overtook your very being. 

And you knew. You knew and he knew, that his compelling magic was gone, the desire you felt for him this entire time was real and true, not due to compelling whatsoever. There was something more, something deeper at play here, and your choice was your own as you chose him, completely. 

And with that, he groaned lowly and sank his fangs into your neck.  

Sharp indescribable pain is what you expected but instead it was like a dull buzz of pain nearly overwhelmed by pleasure. 

He ran his hands down your body, ensuring he paid special attention to your breasts and you gasped his name. 

Aemond’s hand slipped up your dress, inching up your burning hot skin, and finding the wetness between your legs that awaited him. 

You whimpered softly as he brushed your panties aside and finally touched you where you wanted him the most. 

His nimble fingers spread your slick and quickly found a rhythm circling your bundle of nerves as he continued to drink your blood. 

As the heat inside you built, he pulled his teeth from your neck and slowly dragged his tongue up your neck, licking up every last drop of blood from your skin. His fingers moved in perfect time with his tongue, and with no notice your release hit you, overwhelming you completely as you moaned loud enough to echo through the room. 

“Absolutely exquisite,” he said as he pulled back from your neck and looked deep into your eyes. 

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and you stared at him as your chest heaved, absolutely entranced. He then replaced his thumb with his bloodsoaked lips. 

He groaned as you kissed him eagerly, your blood in his mouth not causing any hesitation whatsoever. 

“I need you,” you gasped. 

“I have needed you for an eternity,” he replied as he began untying the corset of your dress. 

You moaned as the cool air hit your skin and he slowly and gently removed the beautiful dress from your body, leaving you completely bare. You turned and looked at the pile of sapphire velvet on the floor. 

He gripped your chin, turning your head to look at him once more. You helped him to remove his shirt, and then watched eagerly as he unbuckled his belt, beginning to make himself just as bare as you. 

“I must admit something to you,” he said and your mouth ran dry as the hard length of him sprung free. 

“Yes,” you asked breathlessly as you reached and wrapped your hand around him. 

He let out a sound low in his throat, something similar to a growl, as you began to move your hand up and down his length. 

“It is not happenstance that you found yourself in my home. I must confess that I have been watching you for a while now. I needed you. I needed to taste you, to make you mine. I influenced your journey here, guided you, so I could finally show you my devotion,” he said. 

“Then make me yours, completely,” you pleaded and guided his length to line up with your wet heat. 

With a groan he nodded his head and pushed himself inside you. 

He filled you, inch by glorious inch, and you could do nothing but gasp for air as you felt fuller than you’d ever felt in your life. 

You reveled in the press of your naked chest against his, as you pulled him close enough that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and where his began.

You were one with the vampire atop you, and you’d never felt more intense pleasure in your life. 

When he was certain you were ready, he kissed you, surprisingly tenderly, before he pulled out nearly all the way, and pushed back inside you, sinking to the hilt. 

His tempo was slow and deep, as he gazed deep in your eyes and told you how beautiful he found you. 

“Perfect, so perfect,” he praised as you mewled for him when he tilted your hips up and hit a spot of pleasure inside you that had never been found before. 

Aemond continued his pace, holding you tight, as your nails dug into his back. 

“Come for me, darling, I can feel how close you are,” he purred in your ear. 

He slipped his hand between your bodies and found your bundle of nerves once more, stroking it and you nearly screamed as your release wracked through you. 

You felt you had reached heaven, somehow, in the arms of your ethereally beautiful monster lover and it took you several moments to come back down. 

So lost in your pleasure, you had not even felt a sting of pain as he sunk his teeth into your wrist. He gulped your blood, moaning in pleasure, as he continued to pump himself in and out of your tight wet heat, chasing his own release. 

You tangled your other hand in his hair, and gripped tighter around his cock, urging him on, encouraging both his release and for him to continue to drink from you. 

He groaned as his release found him, sinking deep inside you, bringing ecstasy to you both. 

You shuddered a breath as his movements slowed and stopped. He pulled his teeth from your wrist, and murmured your name, like a praise- like a prayer, with utter devotion. 

As he looked at you, you reached up and wiped your blood from where it had dripped down his chin. 

He brought your wrist to his lips once more, and before you could protest that you were beginning to feel lightheaded, he surprised you by licking the wound clean instead of sinking his teeth back in, just as he had with the wound on your neck. 

You watched in fascination, as his saliva magically closed your wound, leaving only a small scar. 

He looked up and grinned at you, your blood coating his teeth, and you whimpered and pulled him into another kiss. 

He kissed you languidly, tongue moving against yours, as if he had all of eternity with you. 

“I have never tasted anything so divine,” he purred against your lips. 

“I have never felt so wonderful in all my life,” you said back as you pulled back enough to look upon him once again. 

“I can feel it. Can you feel it? You are to be my eternity, my everlasting, my one true mate. I give you my utter devotion. You said you wanted to start a new life. Start it with me. Let me turn you and we can be together forever. Stay with me,” he pleaded. 

And so you did. 

Yes, this night was dark and full of terrors, but this terror had wrapped himself around you, sunk deep inside you, and devoted his entire being to you, offering you pleasure and love unlike any you’d ever experienced before. 

And so, later, when Aemond fed you his blood and turned you and you opened your eyes into this new life, becoming a terror yourself, you grinned and kissed your vampire mate, prepared to spend forever by his side. 

[sunnylands-world]

Draco Malfoy's masterlist

Welcome to my Draco Masterlist, readers, and I hope you like my fics! Header, banners, and dividers are all by me

Main masterlist

PART 2 HERE

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You are responsible for your reading choices, please don't report my account or my work. If you are not aware of what smut content is it is usually content meant for 18+ readers, it is up to you what you read, I am not your parents!!

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A lot of my work is old so my writing did improve. it's organized from oldest to newest so that's a warning! if it's cringy sorry [I May Update Them]

After - FLUFF: You and draco make plans for what happens after...

It's okay - FLUFF: When Draco goes missing you run to find him and learn some other things about your best friend...

lies to your deceiving eyes - FLUFF : Draco didn't care much for Hogwarts or the people there that is until he runs into you...

Sick kisses - SMUT: being a deathly eater brings burdens and pain it's lucky you have each other to mend one another's broken pieces...

Choose - ANGST: You and draco are now married what could go wrong? Maybe the past could ruin the future...

muggle things - FLUFF: You and draco go on a trip to the muggle world...

Platinum blondes are superr long - SMUT : When you and pansy make a small joke someone takes it to heart and has to correct your mistake...

Someone bring him back - ANGST: Draco made a lot of mistakes so he tries to fix them but hurts you in the process..

My best friend - FLUFF: So many things happen in your friendship but your to oblivious to see the real big change...

PRETTY LITTLE SINNER - SMUT:

your is put in the room with draco who you secretly like and when you're with the person you like you do crazy things. What if he catches you though...

Punishment - SMUT:

Draco gave you an order and when you don't do what he says, well read and find out...

Feel better - SMUT:

Your insecure about your thighs but Draco knows how to make it better...

Kisses for a sick princess - FLUFF:

y/n on her period and what kinda boyfriend would Draco be if he didn't take care of you...

 

The taller one - FLUFF:

Having a tall boyfriend is great but your boyfriend is a tease and is very possessive when it comes to you even with your friends...

Draco inspired MOODBOARD

Draco MOODBOARD WITH TEXT

Trust me if not everyone else - FLUFF/ANGST:

You go to the yule ball with your best friend but maybe by the end your not friends...

Draco BOOK COVER

For you - ANGST/FLUFF:

So many things are unspoken between you and your foster brother...

For your actions - ANGST:

Draco couldn't complete his task and someone has to pay the price...

Embody - SMUT:

Your village has some rather strange beliefs...

Run away mommy - ANGST TO FLUFF:

When you find out your pregnant you make a run for it afraid of what Draco might say...

Draco SHORT TEXT 1

monster - ANGST:

Draco's not the same and when you got to his room you find out why...

Draco PHOTOSHOPS I MADE

If only you knew - FLUFF/ANGST:

Your sitting on the side watching your best friend love someone else. Maybe he doesn't really love HER...

And after - SMUT:

Draco's parents talk about you and him having kids and it catches Draco's attention...

His - ANGST:

Your taken by Voldemort and draco saves you Making you promise one thing...

I'm here for you sugar - FLUFF/ANGST:

Your Diabetic and make a small dangerous mistake when taking your injections...

Your language - FLUFF:

Your parents are in town and speak a different language so what is Draco gonna do...

Draco TEXT MESSAGE

what my girl wants, my girl gets - SMUT:

Your rather needy when it comes to Draco and who is he to deny you...

Draco TEXT 2

Fuck you - SMUT:

You despise Draco Malfoy and he doesn't like that...

If you were mine - FLUFF:

Draco's life is about to change forever but has to tell you how he feels before it does...

Draco's GIRL COLLAGE

Vampire DRACO COLLAGE

Nightmare - ANGST:

Draco has a really hard time after the wars but you'll always be there for him no matter what happens...

Overflow into my soul and stabs to a wound with no sewing close - FLUFF/ANGST:

It's all a big mess when it comes to you and draco Malfoy. One of you is in love then the roles switch. In the end someone will confess...

"Give yourself to me darling" he whispered in her ear - VAMPIRE SMUT:

Your life's simple you've met the man of your dreams and everything's perfect but everyone's got a secret or a flaw. what's his...

Vampire - SMUT:

Your with a vampire and you a human so things are a bit intense for you because of his lack of control when he's deep inside you...

RAIN BRINGS MORE THAN WET CLOTHES - FLUFF:

it's a girl's dream to dance in the rain but it's a plus if you do it with someone you love...

The second chance - DRACO BOOK

Little Butterfly in the dark - ANGST:

Draco doesn't know what love feels like So where does that leave you...

Hear me - ANGST/FLUFF:

you have a bad habit of tearing yourself down and Draco won't stand for that

What DATING DRACO WOULD BE LIKE

What it's like DATING DEATH EATER DRACO

Vampire charms - Vampire/death eater - SMUT:

the priest little girl is cursed by the walking devil. or is she?...

Yellow - FLUFF:

He wasn't really the type to fall in love But maybe he hasn't met that special girl in yellow...

Purple berry - FLUFF:

You have a crush on your tutor but what are the odds he feels the same..

My crazy death eater - ANGST:

Draco may not have lost just his friends, he may have lost his mind as well...

Someone forbidden - STEP DAD SMUT:

Your step dad is supposed to be off limits but who says either of you follow rules...

Royals - SMUT:

Draco Malfoy is a dick and your a perfect little princess in his eyes But your also not going to back down from a challenge...

Hitting you with snow hearts - FLUFF:

Your not sure how to tell Draco you love him but you love something else maybe that could help...

Wildest dreams - FLUFF/ANGST/KINDA SMUT:

Falling in love slowly is like a Taylor swift song...

Daddy's needy baby - SMUT:

Draco's poor little baby is experiencing a change luckily her daddy is very skilled at helping with it...

Draco TEXT

Brat's punishment - SMUT:

You got a phone for your sixteen birthday and a few years later you use the device for not so appropriate purposes and well your caught...

Deep in your skin - SMUT:

Something about digging your nails in Draco's back while he fucks you just feels right...

Friends to lovers strangers - FLUFF/ANGST:

Draco just wished he would have looked a little closer...

Draco X BLACK READER COLLEGE

New series INFO AND COLLEGE

Something in between - SMUT:

Draco comes back from quidditch and has to have himself buried between your thighs...

Without you - SMUT:

Slytherin parties are known for many things: hookups, drama, and drunk teens but you and your ex bring one more thing...

Happy birthday daddy! - SMUT:

your step dad's birthday comes and of course you come home to celebrate, bringing him cute gifts but he has a better present in mind...

Relax - SMUT:

being a mom is great if you don't count the feeding and other things but Draco is amazing at making you comfortable when you do finally get the chance...

You little brat - SMUT:

your way of coping with your mother's death is not okay with your step father. I mean why sleep with little boys when you have your step dad who is sexy as hell...

The sweetest lies - ANGST:

Draco disappears and pansy comes bringing news about the boy who said he loved you...

The jealous to your possessiveness - SMUT:

you get jealous after a small party and accidentally trigger your possessive husband because of your jealousy and Draco fixes both those problems...

Extremely dangerous - ANGST TO FLUFF:

Draco's a man with a secrets and A few misunderstandings...

Greedy girl - SMUT:

Draco isn't very fond of his girlfriend being a needy slut In front of others and giving them the wrong idea so he's gotta let them know you're only like this for him...

Alpha Draco MOODBOARD

Hero - FLUFF TO SMUT:

your boyfriend stands you up on your eighteenth birthday and your stepdad's there to fill the little hole left in your heart and other things as well…

Draco PHOTOSHOPS WITH STORIES

The famous Bloodline SMUT:

you and the prince are not on the best terms until the truth comes out and he cums in you…

SOFT BLUE ANGST AND FLUFF:

you're attracted to someone you've never seen in human form and your attraction to the said person may cost you everything and it's a risk you're willing to take…

Wrong answer SMUT:

you're gonna fail potions but your professor has an offer to help you pass…

Drive SMUT:

your boyfriend doesn't want to talk about his day, he'd rather show you how shitty it's been…

Came on a train SMUT:

Draco can't control himself around anyone or anywhere when it comes to you...

Okay, today I will be criticizing my first smut EVER! [Draco]

SERIES ↓

STAY QUIET - PART 1 SMUT:

It's Christmas and Draco's favorite present of all lies in his bed but that doesn't mean he'll let you scream...

STAY QUIET PART 2 - SMUT:

You couldn't stay quiet so you'll have to take the punishment for it...

He thinks I'm pretty - FLUFF PART 1:

Your boyfriend's an asshole but you'll always have your best friend...

You should think she's pretty - FLUFF PT.2:

Draco's sees you begin treated bad by your boyfriend and has something to say about it...

Beat me up and break me down - ANGST PART 1:

Something changes about you over the summer...

Sleeping angel - ANGST PART 2: the curse you were put under doesn't just effect Draco in one way in the end...

Everything but not - part 1 *cancelled because it didn't get enough support*

Professor Malfoy series:

It's a brand new year at Hogwarts. You and other children are just beginning their 7th year but you never planned to fall in love with your professor who is also your boyfriend's dad and parents best friend…

Professor Malfoy PART 1

Professor Malfoy PART 2

Professor Malfoy PART 3

Professor Malfoy PART 4

Professor Malfoy PART 5

Part 6 is located in part 2 of the masterlist

[sprout-fics]

Yooo WITCHER AU LETS GET DIS BREEEAAAD.

König being a massive blanket-coat-mattress is nipping at me tootsies

There's so much I want to share about this idea.

So first of all, Witchers 141 are more elite monster hunters than strange magical hybrids. They're men, but strong and knowledgeable. Super soldiers. Mysterious too. They're armed to the teeth, carry blades made only of pure silver, wear dark cloaks and ride black horses through misty midnight forests. I have a whole Pinterest board dedicated to the 🌟Aesthetics🌟. May have to make a moodboard or two on one of my study breaks.

There's more ideas too. I was considering Ghost wearing a plague mask as opposed to a skull mask to fit the era. Soap, instead of being a demolitionist, has some knowledge on potions. Gaz is an archer, still occasionally takes a fall tumble not from helicopters, but from trees. Laswell is a point of contact- still gives the group intelligence, but in monster hunting and the arcane arts as well. She has to tread very carefully to avoid being burned (quite literally) by the people she knows.

Here's a teaser of the chapter so far:

"We shall call the Witchers."

The Witchers.

Monster hunters. You thought they were the stuff of legend, mercenaries who roamed the land in search of powerful prey, hunting down goblins and ghouls and creatures of the night. Born and raised by the silver blade, the closest thing to a demi-god you'd ever heard of.

You shouldn't have been surprised Kate knew of them, with her glinting eyes and many mysterious secrets. The wise woman, they called her, the one who lived on the other side of the woods all by herself, and yet seemed to know more than the rest of the elders combined. It turned out Kate not only knew of the Witchers, but how to contact them.

Cost, she said, was no concern. For she knew the captain, an old friend, one who owed her a debt. If she called him, he would come.

And come he did, before the next moon.

You were in the village square when they arrived. There's chatter and then the sound of hooves, and the sudden motion of their arrival made the scarlet hem of your cape flutter in the breeze. On black horses who chuffed at the frigid autumn air, their withers looming over your height, a man with a beard, a cap and a grim gleam in his eyes stared down at you, flanked by three other riders. Brawny men, scarred, serious, emanating danger from their mere presence.

"We were summoned by Laswell." He told you with no introductions, not that any were needed. You knew from the mere sight of them who the men were, with their ink dyed cloaks and silver blades, the dulled armor glinting in the scant afternoon sunlight. Soldiers, warriors, of a different breed. Ones who had earned their titles from years spent seeping their swords in black blood.

"On the other side of the forest." You told him unflinchingly, refusing to back down from his unwavering stare.

"Guide us." Was all he offered in return, offering a single leather gloved palm down to your form. With a jump and a hoist, you found yourself sat behind him as his steed nickered and stepped uncertainly under you. You clutched at his rider's cloak nervously for a moment, at which point a coy glance was spared your way, and you settled yourself, offering only a small, indignant silence in return.

"Go on then, Rotes Mädchen." He encouraged gruffly. "Lead us to our summoner."

[rebelpeas]

get to know you game!

tagged by @zannolin thanks zanna haiii :]

-> last song you listened to? washing machine heart…. mitski….. it was my I Will Survive This Shift loop choice yesterday. other than that i’ve been listening to the stardew valley soundtrack a whole bunch lately! distant banjo my beloved

-> currently reading? ‘cosmic horror? i hardly know ‘er!’ which is a karlnapity horror fic inspired by one of my old dsmp oneshots :] it’s very fun im enjoying. as far as books uhhh ive been working on finishing six of crows for SOO long but im making painstaking progress nonetheless 💪

-> currently watching? between shows, currently; finished legend of korra and haven’t settled on a new one yet. maybe rewatching the good place to show my housemates! i am about to go catch up on the last two weeks of hermitcraft that i missed, though. the sunday routine 🙏

-> currently obsessed with… this minecraft village renovation i’m working on in my siblings’ minecraft server. it’s a cute riverside plains village and i’m turning it into the tangled village :D havent gotten any screenies yet but here’s the inspo moodboard i put together

low stakes tagging @spaceacealyx @metfell and @lepidopteragirl + anybody who wants to jump in and say they were tagged by me - consider yourself tagged! :]

[legolasbadass]

The Shadows Which Fire Throws

Summary: Thorin thought he had lost everything when the dragon came and forced the dwarves of Erebor out of their homeland, but when his brother Frerin perishes in the climactic battle in their years-long war against the orcs, Thorin discovers the true meaning of loss. A few years after the Battle of Azanulbizar, Thorin travels from village to village, seeking work as a blacksmith so he can help support his family. One day, he catches young boys playing near the forge, and the sight brings back memories of his childhood in Erebor and his brother, whom he misses dearly.

Relationship: Thorin & Dís & Frerin

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is my entry for @thorinsspringforge! Thank you to my amazing friend and partner for this event @lathalea for all your support and feedback. She created a wonderful moodboard (see above) for the event, so make sure you give her some love for that❤️

The fire of the forge burned in Thorin’s eyes as he swung the hammer down on the anvil with such force that he felt the blow reverberate through his body. Another day of work. Another day of enduring suspicions from Men. The skills of the Dwarves were revered in all Middle-earth, but the Dwarves themselves were looked upon with disdain—like a foreign curiosity that did not belong in this part of the world. 

Thorin, once the heir to the most powerful kingdom of Dwarves, was now forced to wander the villages of Men and beg for work. An ache stabbed his chest as the sight of Erebor returned to his mind, unbidden. The halls bathed in golden light. The roaring fires and the songs of the blacksmiths echoing through the forges. Thorin tried to banish the memories by focusing on the task at hand—by reminding himself that he was but a blacksmith now and Erebor was lost, but that only reminded him of just that—everything he had lost. With each blow of the hammer, images of his homeland tore at his soul. But working as a blacksmith was the only way he managed to feed his family, so he swallowed back the pain and carried on. 

It was spring now—but that hardly mattered. It was always warm in the smithy, and Thorin cared not for the little things which made the passing of seasons so marvellous to ordinary folk. Leaves turning to fire and gold and coming to rest on the forest floor. A blanket of glittering snow enveloping the land. Flowers waking from their sleep, bathing in the morning mist. It only reminded him of how quickly his life was slipping by him. And Thorin did not want to be reminded of that. 

Outside the dark smithy, the village carried on as it always did. Farmers visiting from nearby lands and stopping at the dilapidated inn around the corner for a pint or two. Carts rolling on the muddy streets toward the market, where bakers and butchers and even a weaver or two sold goods to their neighbours. Travellers seldom stumbled upon this corner of the world. It was forgotten. A mere shadow of what it had been in days of old.

Just like him.

On the other side of the narrow street from the smithy was a group of young boys. They were playing a game involving dice Thorin knew from his childhood. Thorin found that fascinating—how children of different races, in all corners of the world, played the same games—but he might have found more joy in the sight if it did not remind him so much of his late brother. 

Frerin had been such a lively boy, always pranking his siblings—and unsuspecting adults. Always smiling and laughing. Thorin supposed he must have been that way, too, once. At least, that was what the stories his mother had recounted and his memories told him. But he often felt like those memories did not even belong to him. They belonged to another life. And now, only the cracks in his heart remained as proof that once, he had been that young boy. Full of life. Full of hope. Even his body sometimes did not feel like his own. His mother used to say that there was honour and glory to be found in scars, for they marked a warrior’s victories. Thorin’s body was a map of all the fights he had survived, yes, but there was nothing glorious about it. It was a reminder of all the people he had lost—all those he had failed to protect. 

The sun was rising, lighting the mountains on fire, as the dwarves made their final approach toward the Dimrill Dale. Toward the last battle of this terrible war that had already cost them countless lives. The other houses of dwarves had sent troops to aid the Longbeards from all corners of Middle-earth. Before they marched upon the gate, King Thrain spoke to the soldiers ahead of the battle. He spoke of avenging the late King Thrór, Thorin’s grandfather, and of reclaiming the halls of their forefathers. He spoke of honour and glory, but as Thorin glanced back at Frerin, all he could think of was to protect. His brother was far too young for war—too young for all the atrocities the world had thrown at him—but it was too late. 

Thorin instructed Frerin to stay by his side. He promised he would keep him safe, but even as he spoke, he knew he did not have the power to make such a promise. Only Mahal could have saved him then, but that was not as reassuring to the exiled prince as it once would have been. 

But Frerin smiled back at him. He was afraid, but he was even more determined. Durin’s folk do not flee from a fight, he had said, speaking the ancient words of their house, which their father had so often spoken to them in their youth. 

The swoosh of a blade. Splashes of blood. His sword stained black. It reminded him of a quill dipped in ink before it is thrust into parchment by a poet to write words celebrating life and love and beauty. But this was no such tale. 

This was a tragedy. 

He remembered being a young boy in Erebor, standing in the training grounds, his brother and sister at his side. Always at his side. Together, they mastered the sword, the axe, the bow, and all other such arts their teachers deemed fit for the heirs of Durin to learn. Back then, it had all seemed like a game—a game with no real consequences other than a few bruises the next day. A game at which you always got a second chance. But as the battle drew on and the bodies piled up around him, Thorin knew this was no game. There would be no second chance. 

When the first scream tore through the air, Thorin’s blood froze in his veins, and he felt the blow of the mace as though it had struck his own chest. With a deafening cry that could have brought down the mountains from Angmar to Methedras, Thorin tore through the orcs to stand between his brother and his enemy and raised his shield to cover them both. A pale orc with scars carved deep into his twisted, evil face looked down at him. Thorin used all the strength remaining in his body to defeat the orc, not stopping even when his shield was ripped from his hands and he was forced to defend himself with an oaken branch. And by the time Thorin defeated the orc and he could rush to his brother’s side, it was too late. 

The snow-covered ground was soaked with blood. 

Thorin remembered running through the forest just outside Erebor as a young dwarf, trying to catch up to Frerin and Dís. It was a game; he would close his eyes and let them hide, and then he would have to find them. Thorin was getting old for such activities, but he could never refuse his siblings. The air smelled of bluebells and cornflowers, and golden beams of sunlight snuck through the green canopy overhead, lighting his path deeper into the woods. That day, Thorin was having more trouble than usual finding his siblings, but he was not worried. He could hear their muffled giggles, telling him they were not far, and Thorin knew that no matter the obstacles, they always found their way to each other eventually. 

Frerin always came back to him—until now. 

When the wicked worm attacked Erebor, desecrating their fathers’ halls and robbing them of their home, Thorin thought he had experienced the most terrible tragedy. But as he stood in the grave that had become Azanulbizar, holding onto Frerin’s limp, lifeless body, he finally understood the true meaning of loss. His tears mingled with the blood and dirt on his cheeks. He looked up to the cloudy sky; the moon was hiding that night, but a few stars looked upon the desolation. Was Mahal up there, watching them? If he was, why did he not help them? Had one of Thorin’s ancestors offended Mahal somehow, and thus doomed their line forever? 

When, many hours later, Thorin was forced to bid his brother farewell, he took from his belt a dagger, and as his blood-stained hand wrapped itself around the hilt, he vowed to carry it with him for as long as he lived. Thorin wished Dís had been there, for he truly believed that the three of them together could face anything. They could have protected him together, just like when they were innocent dwarflings. 

“Thorin?” 

A gentle voice, like the melodious singing of the first birds in spring, pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up from the anvil to find Dís standing in the doorway, the golden light of the setting sun making her silhouette glow. A soft, sad smile tugged at her lips as she watched him uncertainly.

“What are you still doing here, brother?” she asked. “Night is falling.” 

“I must have lost track of time,” Thorin replied absently, trying to chase away the memories still floating in his mind, to no avail. “I will join you in a moment.” 

Dís nodded, and as she turned around to wait outside, the silver beads in her raven hair and beard gleamed in the last rays of the sun, and Thorin was reminded of how the sun used to shine upon the highest peak of the Lonely Mountain.

When Thorin stepped out of the smithy some time later and locked the door, night had fallen. Only a thin stream of gold peaking over the horizon remained. 

“Will you tell me what is on your mind?” Dís asked hesitantly. 

Stone walls. The hard floor of the training ground as laughter echoed all around him. Pine needles burning under the dragon’s fiery breath. His shield crashing against the bloodied rocks. 

“I was thinking of Frerin.” 

A shadow fell over Dís’ fair face, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. They had rarely spoken of him since the war. In the months following Azanulbizar, all had wept for Frerin, but the pain was too great, and his memory became a wound that refused to heal. His father had always buried his emotions, and with time, Thorin decided that he must do the same. That was the only way he could survive this agony. And now Dís was married, and soon she would have her own family, so it did not feel right to burden her with his grief. It did not feel right to taint her new life with the horrors of the past which refused to let go of him. As such, he was not sure why he uttered their brother’s name on this spring evening, as night swallowed the village in its blue cloak.

“I miss him terribly.” Dís admitted after a long moment of silence, her voice low, as though she was afraid to speak those words. She surprised Thorin again when she said, “Do you remember when we were children, how the Mountain would sometimes wake and Amad would sing to us to comfort us?” 

Thorin remembered; as a child, the tremors had frightened him, for he had not understood them. His mother would wrap her arms around all three of them, and her voice would banish all evils lurking in the depths of the Mountain. He remembered her fair voice—so similar to his sister’s—and the gentle touch of her hands against his shoulder. He would have smiled at the memory if it did not hurt so much. He desperately wanted to stop talking about it, but he owed it to Dís, whom he had disappointed too often. Despite the tears clouding her vision, she seemed to derive comfort from the memory. 

“Of course, I remember. You would press your little body against me and I would not be allowed to let go until you deemed it was safe—and that often meant holding you until you fell asleep.” 

Dís smiled wistfully, and when she reached out for his hand and leaned her head into his shoulder, Thorin momentarily felt once more like a young dwarf whose only heroic feat to date was chasing his sister’s nightmares away. 

Dís went on, her voice heavy with emotion. “When her singing was not enough to comfort me, I remember her telling me that as long as we had each other—you, me, and Frerin—then all would be well.”

The scream. The blood. His brother’s eyes looking back at him for the last time. 

“I am so sorry, Dís. It is all my fault.” 

His sister’s misty eyes sought his gaze in vain. “You did everything you could to protect him.”

If he had, Frerin would still be here. Thorin had failed him—he had failed them both.

Dís’ sniffling pulled him back to the present, and though Thorin barely had enough strength to maintain his composure, he pulled his sister into his arms and held her tight, hoping he could offer her the comfort he sought so desperately. 

“Even after all this time, I hate myself for not having been at his side. Perhaps things might have turned out differently….” She shook her head. “But I was not, and we cannot change the past. So I beg you, brother, do not torture yourself needlessly. I cannot bear the thought of you suffering in silence.” 

“And you need not worry yourself on my account. I am fine.” 

Dís looked up at him and raised her eyebrows, knowing it was a lie. She was silent for a moment; the wind tore at her blue dress, and in her eyes, the light of the stars and moon shone brightly. “No matter what happens—no matter how much our lives may change—I will always be there for you, Thorin. Please do not ever doubt it. I could not save Frerin, but I am at your side. Always.”

A wistful smile lit up his tired face. He remembered when Dís was born. A storm raged on all day, but as night fell and her cries filled the royal chambers, the sky turned quiet, and the pale light of a crescent moon shone upon the mountain. He remembered, too, how her presence never failed to brighten even the darkest of days. Even after the dragon stole their home and they wandered through the wilderness, cold, starving, and exhausted, Dís could make anyone laugh. She could make anyone feel like there was a reason to keep going—like there was a reason to keep living. She was always the strongest of Durin’s heirs, and now, as Thorin pulled her into his arms, a weight was lifted from his shoulders. A weight that he had been carrying for longer than he could remember.

“And I am at yours, dearest sister.” 

Her smaller hand took refuge in his as they walked in silence the rest of the way. High in the sky, a crescent moon illuminated their path. 

Tag list: @lathalea​ @linasofia​ @mcchberry @fizzyxcustard​ @bitter-sweet-farmgirl​ @i-did-not-mean-to​ @xxbyimm​ @middleearthpixie​ @enchantzz​ @myselfandfantasy​ @notlostgnome​ @laurfilijames​ @swoopswishsward​ @quiall321​ @dianakc​​

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my tag list! 💙

[daisythornes]

moodboard for we're all flesh and bones (so catch me if you can), my tbosas little goody two shoes au <3

summary (still a wip): Poor orphan Coryo Snow is dissatisfied with his lot in life, working as a lowly servant day in and day out for the people of the little Alpine village of Kieferberg. His ever-growing hunger for wealth and power will lead him to the deepest, darkest part of the forest, where something very old and powerful will make him a tantalizing offer: all that he wishes for the price of a humble offering.

But does Coryo have it in him to go all the way down this twisted path, past the point of keeping hold of his humanity? What is he willing to give for the chance to have everything he's ever wanted?

(I'm thinking this will be a choose your own adventure style story when it comes to shipping, to reflect the dating sim elements of the game it's based on 👀. so! snowbaird, snowjanus, and snowcote, all in one place!)

[tato-acm]

sábado - 12. 11. 2022

gwyn berdara moodboard: autumn baby 🍂🔥

>>favorite gwyn fancast: kennedy walsh (13/?)

headcanon: Gwyn is a Vanserra 🍁🔥

*next Solstice party*

Gwyn: *studying a map over a fireplace at the River House* Oh, look! The forest house!

Lucien:

Lucien: *gaping at her* How…do you know about the Forest House?

Gwyn: My grandmother was a river-nymph from Spring who seduced a High Fae male from the Autumn Court. *shrugs irreverently*

Gwyn: My mother was unwanted by either of their people. She could not dwell in the rivers of the Spring Court, but was too untamed to endure the confinement of the forest house of Autumn.

Lucien: The…confinement? Have you ever been there? You might walk from one end of the House to the other and it would take you half the morning. It’s huge.

Gwyn: Woah, really?! I’ve never been there. My mother only lived there for a while when she was a kid, then she was given to the temple at Sangravah, where she was raised.

Lucien: *frowning, connecting the dots*

Gwyn: So, is the forest house a village or-

Lucien: No, it’s the royal house. The High Lord lives there with his family. All the Vanserras. I lived there for many years. *studies Gwyn more closely, her coppery chestnut pin-straight hair, her slender and elegant limbs*

Lucien: So, your grandfather was a High Fae male who lived in The Forest House of Autumn…

Gwyn: *quirks mouth to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose* I believe so… *smirks, big teal eyes bright with amusement* Why? Do you know him?

Lucien: …I might, actually.

Gwyn: *studies Lucien more closely, eyes narrowing*

Lucien: …How old are you again?

*moments later* Lucien: ERIS, WE MUST TALK.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Don’t Blame My English Blood For This American Heartache

Chapter Six: Take U With Me

AO3 info prologue one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve

All my work is 18+.

I try to resist, but the light’s getting low to a glow till you’re touching my lips. I wanna stay when I shouldn’t, wanna go but I wouldn’t, wanna say no but I couldn’t. So meet me in the dark; kiss me in the shadows of every spark.- Marianas Trench, Rhythm of Your Heart 

October, 1984

Hogsmeade, Scotland

The Scottish weather wasn’t too cold yet, and most people got by without any sort of coverings whatsoever, but Sera was a Californian, so she needed something to keep her warm.

She quickly discovered that she very much liked Hogsmeade. It didn’t have the warming charms that the castle did, but it was a cute little village with a bunch of magical stores. Most of the other people there were decked out in that fancy wizarding shit they all wore, but the so-called Muggleborns—what a ridiculous concept, blood purity; as if it mattered—were in regular clothes the way she was. She liked her knee-length black dress; it was fairly low cut and had a little V-shaped thing that she kept closed with a tie, and she wore black leggings, an old pair of Converse, and a long knitted purple sweater.

So yeah, she was protected from the fifty degree weather adequately enough to enjoy a deliciously sweet—and slightly alcoholic—drink at a small bar-slash-inn called The Three Broomsticks. She was listening to her Walkman, humming along to Freddie Mercury singing about how girls with big butts—such as herself, which was nice because, like, how many songs actually praised her body type?—apparently made the world go round. She honestly doubted his claims, but he was Freddie Mercury, so who was she to argue? 

Anyway, point was, she was enjoying her sweet drink, snacking on the magic candy she’d gotten at a place called Honeydukes, and leafing through one of several magical books—mostly romance novels, if she were honest. She’d never had sex and she was curious, alright?—she’d purchased at the local bookstore. It was peaceful.

Until, that is, someone with an irritatingly long body sat down in the chair across from her. She looked up from her book, yanking her headphones down around her neck with a sigh of annoyance.

“What do you want, Regulus?”

He grinned that sickeningly attractive grin of his. “Nobody else who claims to dislike me calls me by my first name, you know.”

She stared at him, nonplussed. “What am I supposed to call you?”

“My surname is the standard.”

Sera pursed her lips. “Your surname is normal. Your first name is weird. I prefer to point out your weirdness.”

He frowned. “My name isn’t unusual in my family.”

“Neither is inbreeding,” she said flatly. “Again: what do you want?”

“To spend time with you, of course,” he said with a grin.

Sera scowled. “No.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “Did you get my letters?”

“Nope.”

Regulus hummed, drumming his fingers on the wood of the table and looking very much like he didn’t believe her. “Pity. I sent you a birthday present.”

Yes, I know. You sent me a fucking family heirloom, you goddamn weirdo.

“What are you wearing to the Christmas ball?”

She stared at him. “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

He frowned. “You don’t? Why not?”

“I’m Jewish.”

He thought for a few long moments. “Is that a religion?” When she nodded, he hummed, looking at her consideringly. “The Malfoys aren’t religious.”

“My parents converted before I was born,” she explained. “I’m not fluent in Hebrew or anything.”

“I see,” he said slowly, and she wasn’t entirely sure that he did, but whatever. Most people didn’t understand shit about Judaism. After a long moment, he decided, “Well, you don’t need to celebrate Christmas in order to attend the ball.”

She scowled at the thought of the last ball she’d attended. “I don’t particularly want to dance with you again.”

“Why not?” he asked, flagging down a waitress to order a drink of his own.

“Because you’re a dick,” she informed him bluntly.

He snorted. “I do so enjoy your language, you know. Most witches titter and blush during a courtship. You don’t.”

“I don’t know how I’d behave,” she said slowly, “as I have never gotten an offer to be courted from someone I’d actually consider saying yes to.”

“You’re already being courted, darling,” he explained, an amused smile playing at his too-perfect lips.

She sipped her drink. “I don’t understand why you’d want to marry someone who doesn’t even like you.”

He hummed thoughtfully, accepting his drink from the waitress with a smile when it was brought over. “You don’t treat me the way most people of my acquaintance do,” he said slowly, “you’re intelligent and magically gifted. I’m unused to being around witches like you, and I find you fascinating, to be perfectly honest.” After a brief pause, he added, “And you’re exceptionally lovely. As for not liking me, I’m winning you over already.” She glared at him, but before she could say anything, he pointed at her novel and asked, “What are you reading?”

“A book,” she snapped, flushed and prickly with embarrassment at the compliments.

“I can see that,” Regulus drawled. “What kind of book?”

“Fiction.”

“Let me see.” Before she could object, he snatched it from her hands.

“Hey!” she griped.

Ignoring her, he read for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. “I never would’ve thought you the type!”

“It’s interesting!” she snapped. “I’ve never read magical novels before!”

“So you choose the ones with sex, do you?” He was smirking, the dickhead. “If you’re interested in it, my dear, just say the word—“

“Even if I was, it wouldn’t be with you,” she hissed, her face bright red.

He chuckled again. “All in due time.”

Regulus showed up on Hogsmeade weekends a lot after that.

One afternoon, they were having a relatively normal conversation when he suddenly asked, “Have you ever been involved with a man before?”

Sera coughed on her own spit. “Gag me with a spoon, what the fuck—“ she sputtered. “That is none of your business.”

He frowned. “I just want to know how to behave with you, that’s all.”

Glaring viciously at him, she crossed her arms and declared, “No, I haven’t. I’ve never met a boy who wasn’t either ugly, stupid, a wastoid, or a super fun combination of the three.”

He looked amused. “A wastoid, hm?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.”

Okay, so maybe she liked him a teeny tiny bit. Seriously, though, it was only a little. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. People got meaningless crushes all the time, and it honestly wasn’t even her fault. She really, sincerely could not be blamed for wanting to French him just a little. She’d never done it before, and she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And Regulus… Well, he reportedly knew what he was doing. He’d probably be pretty good at it, right?

So being around him was getting kinda awkward for her on account of her rapidly growing attraction to him. She was really trying not to like him, but he was so fucking dreamy, and she’d started noticing things about him and couldn’t seem to stop.

His hair, for example, hung in super soft-looking curls, falling over eyes that looked like the ocean after a storm. His lips were pink and perfectly shaped, and he had the most pronounced jawline and cheekbones she’d ever seen, even in movies. The point was, Regulus made Tom Cruise look unattractive.

To make matters even worse, he’d taken it upon himself to start cursing around her and calling her by her first name, citing “adequate familiarity”, whatever the hell that meant. The way his mouth looked when he formed the syllables of her name, the way ‘fuck’ rolled off his tongue— it shot sparks down her spine. 

He was so fucking sexy, and she really didn’t appreciate him getting all close to her and making her already-made decision to continuously reject him all the more difficult. The horrifying reality was, if he kissed her, she’d probably let him.

November, 1984

Hogwarts

Scotland

“Where are you going?” Yarrow asked one Saturday evening in November after even most of the seventh years had snuck back into the dorms. Sera zipped up her black dress and turned around, examining the way the leather made her ass look in the mirror. She had fishnets that went up to her thighs and were held up by garters, as well as her favorite pair of black combat boots, which Beo was currently rubbing against. She wasn’t thin or muscular the way most people seemed to find attractive, but it was a Queen concert, and dammit, she was gonna feel good about her appearance for a change.

She waved a hand around her, casting a quick warming charm to stop her from getting cold on the walk off the grounds. Taking out a tube of bright red lipstick, she addressed her friend. “I’m going to a concert.”

“How are you even leaving the school?”

“Uh, doy, I’m sneaking out.” Sera rolled her eyes. “I’ve been turning myself invisible since I was, like, fourteen. It’s whatever.” She applied the lipstick, tapped her lower lip once to charm it so it wouldn’t smudge or fade, and decided she was satisfied.

“Isn’t your beau coming to visit tonight?”

Sera turned slowly towards her friend. “What?”

“Uh, yeah,” Yarrow said, gesturing towards the pile of letters on Sera’s desk that she liked to pretend she’d never read. “He told you in the most recent one he was coming up for a visit. Said if you didn’t meet him, he’d come find you or something. Flitwick probably wouldn’t mind, but I’ve honestly no idea how he could convince Dumbledore.” Yarrow shrugged. “Whatever, I suppose.”

“Fuck,” Sera gasped. “Did he say when he was coming?” 

“No,” Yarrow said, delicately turning a page in the book they were reading.

“Better see if I can beat him, then,” she decided, and off she went.

Unfortunately, just as she passed the school gate, there was Regulus. 

Fuck.

She’d made herself visible again, which, in retrospect, was a bad idea, but making herself completely invisible was actually pretty difficult.

“Sera?” Regulus frowned, looking her up and down. “What’re you wearing?”

“Go away,” she snapped, irritated. “I’m busy.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You’ve come like I asked, so—“

“I didn’t know you’d asked,” she told him impatiently. “I have plans.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Plans that require you to sneak out of the castle at night?”

Sera glared up at him sharply. “Yes.”

He tensed, examining her outfit again. “Those are your Muggle clothes, yes?”

She pursed her lips and didn’t respond.

“Are you…” He gulped. “Are you meeting a Muggle boy?”

She stared at him in disbelief. She was so annoyed by his audacity that she sniffed and said, “In a manner of speaking.” Regulus looked so displeased at this that Sera couldn’t help but groan. “I’m going to a concert, you wastoid.”

“Oh.” He instantly relaxed. “I’ll come with you, then.”

She lurched back, though he wasn’t particularly close to her to begin with. “You most certainly will not.”

He hummed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Where are we off to, then?”

She scowled at him, marching past him and away from the school gates to get outside the wards so she could relocate. 

“I don’t have my usual friends,” she snapped. “I last saw these guys a couple years ago, and I can’t go with my friends the way I did back then, and it sucks.”

“You can go with me,” he pointed out. 

“You’ve never even heard their music.” She paused. “Which is so fucking weird, by the way. Literally everyone’s heard Queen.”

“Why don’t you show me, then?” he asked. “I might like it.”

He sounded so hopeful that she just didn’t have it in her to turn him down. And, well… she actually enjoyed spending time with him, even though she’d never tell him that.

“Fine,” she eventually decided. “I just do magic to get in anyway. It won’t be hard to get you in, too.”

He fell into step beside her, his eyes wide. “Really? That’s illegal, you know.”

She shrugged. “All the best things are illegal.”

He looked down at her in bewilderment. “Are you quite certain you’ve never been involved with a man before?” he asked.

She glared up at him wordlessly. Once they were outside the wards, she said, “Shut up and hold still.” With that, she grabbed his arm and transported them off to London.

Sera charmed everyone who might otherwise get in their way with basic confusion spells, the same way she and Ta had always done. Her non-magic friends never understood how she and Ta got away with everything they did, but nobody ever questioned it. Not when the two of them could get away with damn near anything. 

When Freddie Mercury took the stage, Sera screamed, jumping up and down. 

She admittedly wasn’t paying much attention to Regulus, but he’d been looking at her for most of the show. She actually noticed some when he watched her dance and shake her ass to Fat Bottomed Girls (along with everybody else; it wasn’t like she was particularly special), but other than that, she didn’t think about him much.

Until the last song of the encore, halfway through Somebody To Love, when she had her eyes closed and was singing along with Freddie when he said, “Someday, I’m gonna be free.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, she was turned around, a hand was in her hair, and lips were on hers.

Sera’s eyes snapped open in shock, but… but Regulus was kissing her. He was kissing her like he was dying.

She was frozen for a moment, and she really should’ve pushed him away, but there was alcohol buzzing in her veins, so she could do nothing but arch into him, clenching her hands in his shirt and trying her best to kiss him back.

Regulus pulled away after what felt like a delicious eternity of his mouth on hers, cupping her cheek with one hand, the other on the small of her back. His eyes were hooded and fixed on her lips, and Sera could only look up at him, breathing heavily and wishing he’d kiss her again.

They stumbled, giggling, up against the wall of a random building in the city.

“God, Sera,” he groaned into her throat.

She hauled his mouth back to hers wordlessly, winding her arms around his neck. Now that she’d given in, she couldn’t really recall why she’d bothered fighting this to begin with.

“We should— we should talk about this—“ he said between gulps of air.

“God, shut up,” she complained. “Just kiss me.”

“I’m supposed to be a gentleman,” he muttered, mouthing wetly at her throat. “You just make it so fucking difficult in these sexy little outfits. Damn near show me your arse, fuck.” He grabbed her ass then, squeezing it roughly. She took a sharp intake of breath, arching into him, her breasts against his chest. “But we have to talk about this.”

“Ugh,” she grumbled in frustration, shoving him away from her. Her head thunked on the brick wall of the building she was leaning against, and she fixed him with a glare. “What do we have to talk about?”

“Us,” he explained, sounding terribly impatient for reasons that most likely directly related to the large tent in his pants. “I’ve been trying to court you properly for months, and tonight, I— I know I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You are just…” He exhaled, his eyes roving over her form, pausing briefly on where the zipper of her dress revealed her cleavage. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so I kissed you. Sorry. It wasn’t how I planned to…” He took a deep breath. “Look, Sera, I fancy you. More than I have done anyone so quickly before. I would very much like it if you would seriously give my offer some consideration.”

“Your offer?” she asked, raking a hand through her curls, still dazed by the kiss, the way he’d touched her.

“I’m not proposing,” he said slowly, carefully, “but if this continues, if you allow me to kiss you again, touch you again, I…” He looked down. “If there is no chance of you ever consenting to marry me, tell me now.”

She was silent for a long moment.

She really did have feelings for him, didn’t she? She was falling for the prick. 

Oh, fuck it.

“I dunno how all this courtship stuff works,” she admitted quietly, “but I do like you, Regulus. A lot. Normally, that’d mean, like, dating. Here, I guess it means—“

“An engagement,” he said flatly. “It means an engagement, if your aunt agrees as your Head of Household. It’s generally… expedited in the event of genuine interest between prospective spouses.”

“You said you weren’t proposing,” she pointed out shakily.

“I’m not. But if you allow me to, I’ll court you with that goal in mind.”

“I thought you were just getting to know me,” Sera recalled.

He nodded once. “I was. I’m satisfied. I want you.” She blushed to the roots of her hair at that, but he continued, “If you’ll allow it, I would like to court you properly with the intent of marriage.”

“I mean…” She gulped, anxiously twirling a curl around her finger. “That’s kinda what all dating is, if it’s serious.”

“This is serious,” he informed her, his voice stern. “Do you want me?”

She looked at his feet, the fancy shoes that were somehow spotless despite having just attended a fucking concert. “Y— yeah.”

He cupped her cheek, lifting her face up—up, up, up. Fucking hell, he really was a tall bastard, wasn’t he?—to his. “Agreeing to allow me to properly court you is to agree to marry me, assuming all goes well. Do you agree?”

She looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes. It was just like they were dating, right? He’d just be her boyfriend. That wasn’t a big deal, really. After a moment, she breathed, “Yes.”

He kissed her before the word was fully out of her mouth.

Yeah, a Queen concert, we’re ignoring what the set list was and the exact date that Queen was in London, okay, cut a bitch some slack and lemme be self indulgent here

Big thanks to @lilmaymayy for betaing!

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[wordsmithic]

Summer in Greece for Greeks is so multifaceted that I decided that more than one moodboard is needed. This is about our experiences during this time, and the parts of our "mundane" summer that leave a special mark on our hearts.

At home: You stay at the city apartment - maybe with your parents - but the atmosphere still feels summer-y and time flows more slowly. From your balcony, you see some distant greenery while you open a book near a blurry glass-and-metal table, perhaps treating yourself to some vanilia and pita. An older neighbor brings you the vyssino spoon sweet they made themselves and it tastes amazing. Cold coffee keeps you alive at this point, and it defines every stage of your day. The paliatzis also acts as an alarm. On your relaxing walks outside you see cats standing outside vintage grocery stores, and old, nostalgic, neoclassical buildings. You dream of going to another country for vacation when you have the money, but for now, you make the best of that welcome domestic break. You talk about your future destinations with your friends, as the "machine ice cream" melts on your hand during your seaside walk.

Calm Greece: Summer feels like a romantic dream you have while gramophone music plays in the background. Your eyes fill with the evening pastel colors and the passing golden light. You admire the street art and the vintage architecture on the streets, and flowers are always there. You wonder about the Greeks of past eras, imagining them sitting in a kafeneio, strolling down the street with a lace umbrella, or waiting to enjoy the new comedy in their marble theater. This city has seen a thousand summers. The peaceful and quiet moments, as the streets empty, are the most precious element of the season.

Idyllic Greece: You are here because of family (maybe your grandparents or uncles live here) and you'd rather be somewhere else, however the place has something special. It's not a touristy location and you are glad about that because you are one of the few who can enjoy this gem of nature. Sometimes it gets boring, and you fidget with the paper table cloth at the psarotaverna, but then you have one evening stroll around the village and you feel strangely rejuvenated. A rooster starts your morning and a dekaokhtoura your evening. Maybe you don't like coming but you also don't like leaving, and secretly you wish you knew everything about the history of that place. Your heart tightens at the thought that one day you may never return.

Dancing summer: Summer thrusts you into a series of celebrations and bright warm lights. Your parents take you to the panigiri, that kapsouri friend drags you to the bouzoukia, this aunty lets you know that your cousin is dancing at a folk festival, and you hear loud songs from your neighbors that resonate strangely with you. It's not that as bad as you thought. The alcohol is as strong as the kefi, and you look amazing. You hear the car kornas of a wedding every weekend and comment about the "poor fellows" to yourself, or with your family. You finally find the time to go to the best concerts of the season but sometimes the artists bring the music to you, inside the suffocatingly hot city. Your heart flatters and you decide to dance.

Colorful Greece: Summer brings out the colors in your everyday life. Mostly because it's tourist season and the souvenir shops are open, but who said that you are not entitled to some of that vibrant joy? You hate the culture sellout, you love the culture sellout, it is what it is. At least you find cool trinkets and your xenoi friends get excited, so that makes you happy. The black dresses of the yayas are unique in that rich scenery, and, most of the time, accompanied by sweet smiles. If your life happens to be too much like a movie, you'll get the "tinos isi sy?" question, followed by a surprising exploration of your lineage. This is also the time to get into heated arguments about the feta-karpouzi dish, and being looked at strangely by the tourists. Thankfully, there are some good stekia around the town that you can go to and feel like you are not becoming a yaya yourself. You have a small fascination with laternas and their unexpected sound on the street momentarily tempts you to leave everything behind and make your living with a laterna, too.

Too close for comfort: Somehow you are pretty satisfied with how your summer turned, even if it's not conventionally "unique". Founding beauty in your land is not that difficult, anyway, and some moments are simple but awe-worthy. You lose at tavli and you win at tavli - but you mostly lose at tavli, and against the cockiest uncle. You swear an oath to copy his behavior, just to annoy him back. You haven't met any new people this summer and it's fine, most of the time. Maybe you are working in the laiki, or in a cafe for extra cash, and the evenings find you in a taverna with amazing roasted meat, or around the oldest tree in the village. Your strolls on the town market, alone or with some friends, may look like nothing special but you'll miss them so fast when winter comes again.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

thief!rhett (but make it medieval, Robin Hood style)

THIS!!! I NEED THIS!!! Please?!?!?!

let me tell a little story then, Vee...it all started when I made this moodboard for my 27th birthday celebration a few months ago...

And I got the idea that Tess helps run her family's tavern/inn in the little village of Wabang, between the old forest and the capital city of whatever made-up kingdom we're in. One stormy night a handsome rogue stumbles into the tavern looking for food and lodging. Only he's injured and bleeding onto their cobblestone floors. Tessa, not exactly wanting this mysterious man to die on their property, forces him up into her room so she can tend to his wounds. The rogue has never been met with such kindness in all his life. He deliriously mumbles in his sleep about her being an angel and it makes her blush. So the next day, when the tax collector comes to call on the tavern only a few days after collecting previously, taking nearly all the Abernathy's have, the rogue decides to steal from the rich and give to the poor.

The Abernathy tavern becomes the rogue's hideout when he's running from the law and just his place of good rest and meal when he needs it. Not to mention, Tessa becomes a source of respite all on her own for him.