#then he LEFT he left me in the hallway mouth open gaping like a little goldfish

[panb1mbo]

i was done doing a bowl so i went to do chores around the house, and ran into my dom in the hallway. he cornered me, tilted my chin to force eye contact, and said "you look so pretty with tears in your eyes." this happened this morning and i haven't been able to stop thinking about that one interaction all day wdkjdwdkjw

[natalievoncatte]

Alex slowed her breathing, finally. She was okay. Kara was okay. Her sister was okay. There was a lot for her to think about after the last few days but right now all that mattered was that she was sitting on Kara’s couch holding a beer, just relaxing with her sister and the two cold ones she’d already slammed back.

Alex stretched out her legs and put her feet on the table. Things were going good. This Children of Liberty were getting mopped up, Kara was… Kara seemed okay, she had a date with Jimmy (James! *James!*) Olsen’s hot sister that she had a feeling was going places, and it looked like the next few weeks or months would settle into a run of the mill routine of alien mop-ups and bank robberies, while Kara was in the running for a Pulitzer.

Alex sighed, contentedly, and then Kara popped up from the couch and said “Lena’s in the hallway.”

Alex smiled secretly to herself.

“Go get ‘er,” she said, stifling a burp. “Tiger.”

Kara shot back an odd look, and Alex wondered when she’d figure it out herself.

After all, filling an office with flowers was not a romantic gesture. Nor were the saves and hugs and little forehead touches. Alex and Nia had talked about starting a betting pool. Shit, there were rumors in the press.

It seemed that Lena and Kara were the only two people in the world that didn’t realize that dropping almost a billion dollars on a whim for someone is not what friends are fucking for.

Kara rushed to the door and yanked it open.

Lena stood in the hallway looking shellshocked and shaken, eyes wide and trembling. Kara half-lifted, half ushered her inside and slammed the door.

“Lena?” she said. “Lena what is it, what’s wrong?”

Alex sobered up in an instant -mostly- and was on her feet. She saw the bulge in the pocket of Lena’s hoodie and fixed her eyes on it. Lena seemed to remember that she had something in there and pulled out a gun.

“Lena?!” Kara chirped.

Alex’s hand flew to the nonexistent holster on her hip; she’d locked her gun in a drawer when she started with the beer. She caught herself, scolded herself. Lena was a friend. To Kara she was more than a friend.

Alex rushed forward instead. Lena didn’t resist as Alex took the gun, a brightly polished and valuable classic Colt Python six shot with a chopped barrel and coco bolo wood stocks, a real high end custom job. A rich girl’s gun, if a bit bigger than a girl would normally carry.

“Whoa, you have a permit for this?” Alex said, trying to be cute.

“I shot Lex.”

Kara tensed, rushing from behind Lena, dipping down as she put her hands on the other woman’s shoulders.

Oh fuck.

“You couldn’t have,” said Lena. “I… it was me, when we fought in Sentinel Island.”

“He used this,” said Lena, pulling her hand out of her pocket with a watch in her fingers. “It’s a portal watch. He can teleport with it.”

“He must have had it as a backup,” said Alex. “Teleported out before impact.”

Kara shot her a shocked look.

“What do you mean?” said Kara, “What do you mean you shot him?”

“Two to the chest, one to the head,” Lena repeated, robotically. “We want ‘em alive but we’ll take ‘em dead. Lex taught me when I was twelve.”

“Lena,” Alex said, as she flicked open the cylinder and saw there were three shells left in the gun. “You’re not making sense.”

Lena looked at her.

“I knew where he’d go. I knew what he’d do. So I got there first. I was going to stop him, make sure that he didn’t get away, then call for help. I didn’t want to do it. He made me.”

“Lena,” Kara began.

Lena looked at her and Alex tensed.

Kara wasn’t wearing her glasses.

Oh shit.

“He was going to kill you. You were becoming his latest fixation. He couldn’t get to Superman so he’d get you. I tried to stop him but I was too late.”

“Me? Why would he care about me?” said Kara. “I’m nobody.”

Lena stared at her, looking directly into her eyes.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Alex almost dropped the gun. She gaped at Lena, open-mouthed. Kara’s eyes went wide and panic shocked through her face.

Alex waited for the excuse, the denial, the deflection.

“Yes,” said Kara. “I am. I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, I swear I was,” her voice cracked and began to waver. “I know I lied. I,”

Lena grabbed the collar of Kara’s sweater, and when she pulled, Alex briefly thought that she was lunging in to kiss Kara. Instead she pulled her into a hug and Kara hugged her back, fiercely and protectively. Alex stood there dumbly with the murder weapon hanging from her hand.

“I was too late. I’m sorry. I was too late.”

“Too late for what?” Alex demanded, panic rising hot in her chest. “Too late for what, Lena?”

Still tucked in Kara’s arms, Lena turned her head and looked at Alex.

“He already did it. Turn on the TV.”

Alex swallowed, hard.

She walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning off Netflix and switching back to cable.

She didn’t have to flip channels. It was on every station. Every network. Alex and Kara’s phones were buzzing wildly on the table.

“Oh shit,” said Alex.

***

Should I continue this one?

[eeboshmeebo]

[Fake Shameless vs Stoic Shameless]

I can't take it. I can't take it no more. I HAVE TO WRITE IT BEFORE IT DIES, AAAAHHH!

Neito Monoma x Very straightforward Fem-Reader

"Hahahahaha! I heard that you've gotten a new member today, 1-A! I'm guessing that they're just as pathetic as the rest of you!"

The classroom door had been left open, the only reason that this boy could've ever opened it without the keys.

This... boy. Short blonde hair. Blue eyes that made you think of both forget-me-not flowers and blue granite at the same time. Perfect teeth. The odd way he bent over. His eyelashes and his lips, vitally noticeable yet unnoticeable like the texture of a canvas underneath the paint. His voice, which you'd normally find irritating on another, seemed perfectly suited for him. The white pupils he had, instead of the 'dead fish' eyes you were reminded of with others, looked like pearls inlaid into a tourmaline and white quartz of some sort.

Oh, you were smitten the moment you saw him. Your classmates didn't seem to share the same sentiment, however.

"So not manly to judge a person before you even met her, Monoma!" said Kirishima. Monoma was one of the few people he didn't get along with, which was a surprise only to you.

"Yeah! Go away, leave us alone!" said Denki after Kirishima finished speaking, looking up from his conversation with Mineta to get Monoma to go away. Mineta wandered off now that the attention was off of him.

"Sorry about that, he comes around often..." said Mina, her lips forming a pout and her eyes slightly narrowed in obvious annoyance.

You knew that she was actually more upset about having her 'conversation' with you interrupted, a one-sided talk with her speaking endlessly while you were completely silent, but you patted her on the shoulder, much to her surprise, and walked up to him

"Oh, what's this, the new 1-A student, trying to fight with-"

"You're cute. Go out with me."

...!?!?!

The entire class was silent. Wide eyes, gaping mouths, even Mineta had frozen before he snuck up on Yaoyorozu and promptly got stopped by Jiro.

"W-well, I never! You could be j-joking and trying to trick me, f-f-for all I know!" Monoma stuttered out, pointing his trembling finger at you as he fixed his posture.

Ah, he was blushing... he looked so much better with a blush on- no, wait, scratch that. He looked good all the time. His cuteness was just enhanced when he was blushing and stuttering.

Before he could continue, however, you had unlocked your phone and gently grabbed his hand, placing your phone into the palm of his hand.

"Put your phone number into my calls list. I like your voice."

He blushed even more with that, little half-attempted words coming out of his mouth at how... assertive you were. Did you have no shame, no awareness of the multiple people filming this!?

"...okay."

Monoma, under your abnormally intense, wide-eyed stare that seemed to see through him (you wish), input his phone number into yours and gave your phone back to you.

You intentionally held his hand as you took your phone back, and once you did, he fled...

"I'll get my vengeance for this, 1-AAaaaaaaaaaa!"

He was surprisingly quick but you could hear that he ran into someone down the hallways outside.

...

You smiled to yourself in your newfound victory.

And, of course, someone just had to ruin it.

"This feels a lot like the story of how my dad and the old hag got together, damn it! I don't want to relive that!"

...Bakugo was quickly silenced by the death stares from a few of the more... gossipy girls. Namely Mina and Tooru. For such energetic girls they sure can silence a man.

[diremoone]

sweet dedication | g. satoru

a year after his fight with sukuna, satoru finally gets to enjoy his birthday in peace, with no one but his beloved wife.

w — fluff, post-canon, lots of food :3, i incorporated a doggo sue me, vv short but hopefully sweet 🥰

Happy Birthday, My Beloved Satoru ❤️❤️

[ line divider credit to @/saradika ]

The last thing Satoru expected to smell coming through the front door of his home was a mixture of cinnamon and cherries. He shrugged off the jacket from his shoulders and curiously stepped further into his home. Upon seeing the kitchen table and every counter, his eyes went wide and mouth fell open.

On the kitchen table was at least four boxes of pizza, chicken wings, fried chicken, and brisket. Towards the end of the table farther fell the front door were sides, like green bean casserole and corn. His mouth began to water, his inner food junkie rearing it’s hungry head.

Across the counters and clearly in the oven were desserts, desserts, and more desserts — apple and cherry pie, cheesecake, fruit kebabs, crepes, mochi, brownies, kikufuku from Sendai. Gosh, what was the occasion?

And then the man sees above the hallway entrance that leads to the other rooms: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Satoru gapes.

Was it really December 7th?

He checks his phone and his brows raise in surprise. How in the world did he forget?

But you didn’t. You would’ve been the only one available to have made such a feast for him (even if it was mostly sweets), since everyone else was out on missions, still trying to tidy up Japan after the Culling Games’ toll.

He feels his heart swell with love and happiness, happy that you’ve remembered a date that he’s thrown to the side for so many years. He’s happy that you’ve done so much here for him, a genuine showcase of how much you really loved him and knew him by cooking all of his favorites. This must’ve taken you hours and hours to do; this being a clear proclamation of how much you’ve dedicated yourself to him and to knowing him.

“Babe?” he calls out to open air. No response. He’s smart by checking the kitchen first; you’d never leave cooking food unattended.

Satoru’s mouth quirks up into a sweet smile at the sight of passed out, sitting on the kitchen floor with your inseparable corgi Maple snoozing away right next to you. Although he squints at the sight of your neck lolled to the side in the corner of the cabinets. That didn’t look comfortable at all.

He’s not sure if he should take you to bed or wake you up right now. After a moment, he decides the former. But as soon as you’re scooped up and secured against his broad chest, your eyes flutter open. Maple wakes up too, barking and wiggling her butt, happy to see her dad.

“Oh, my god. Satoru!”

He winks. “The one and only baby.”

Your brain has always been fast about remembering all of the events prior to any sort of sleep or nap you’ve had. This time was no different, and he chuckles when you begin to groan and complain about your surprise being ruined.

“God, I can’t believe I fell asleep! How does one even sleep on the kitchen floor. My ass hurts, Jesus,” you complain. You burrow your head into the crook of his neck in embarrassment as he carries you to the couch and sits down with you on his lap. Maple bounds up behind him and miraculously uses her little legs to hop up on the couch. Satoru chuckles and takes a moment to briefly give her belly rubs.

“Thank you for trying to make this day special for me,” your ‘Toru says. It’s sweet, the tone of his voice, filled with love and adoration. “Don’t feel bad. That looks like a lot of cooking you did, so it’s only natural you’d fall asleep at some point. So don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

You grumble but nod anyway. It was true. You’d been awake ever since he’d left earlier this morning, putting the pedal to the floor on your attempt to swamp the love of your life with all of his favorite foods made by hand.

“I love you, Satoru,” you mumble, still tired and sleepy from overextending yourself.

“I love you, too, baby.” His lips press a long kiss to the side of your temple. He pulls away to gaze down into your eyes, chuckles escaping him again at seeing the sleepy haze in them. “Thank you for trying to make my special day special.”

“But I still didn’t get to surprise you,” you complain.

“I wasn’t expecting it when I came home, especially now with everything going on. I think that’s a big enough surprise for me,” he argues. “So come on, cheer up! We have some delicious delicious food to eat made by my sweet, adorable, wonderful wifey-poo! Except the pizza of course!”

You deadpan. “Call me that again and I’ll smash the strawberry shortcake I made as your birthday cake in that expensive jacket you bought last week.”

Satoru gasps dramatically in horror.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

“Not if I eat it first!”

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut @heresan @4sat0ruu and @/all my satoru lovers also i shouldn’t have taken that nap otherwise this taglist would be longer lmaoo

let’s raise a glass to this man who deserves the entire fucking world

[3cremepie3]

Slither 2

Synopsis - Jamil and you continue your relations which stim from blackmail and manipulation.

A/n - Read part one for more context. Pls reblog if you enjoyed and finally read my tags please this fic is heavier then other I wrote.

Warnings - drugs, intoxication, objectification, manipulation, unprotected sex, saliva, sadism, sir kink, harsh language, degradation, slapping, oxygen play

.

.

.

.

.

“Ahh fuck,” he groaned. Jamil was currently painting your face for what you felt like was the thousandth time. To put it frankly you were tired of it. You had sucked his cock plenty to the point where you were starting to enjoy it.

You were left all dirty like a slut but you weren’t being used like one. Jamil had plenty to blackmail you with. He could have you do anything. If he wanted you to service someone else you would. But he hadn’t made a second move yet. And you he was as slippery as a snake so you were scared to put it frankly. You looked back up at him by now he was done cumming and his eyes were no longer a gape.

So you stared at him he had given you a set of rules not to break. But staring was not a part of them. “What are you looking at me for like what you see,” he smirked. “Of course, I get to see the real you like this, not the fake one that passes me in the hallways.”

“Not the fake one that cooks for me whenever I come and hang with Kalim. But the one that calls me what I am when you cum down my throat.” So you’re telling me that you’re enjoying this,” he asked.

“I’m more than enjoying it.” By now your shyness was slipping away your embarrassment gone with it. “Jamil i need more than your dick in my mouth. I need you.” He was silent for a moment before opening his mouth to respond.

“JAMIL WHERE ON YOU I THINK SOMETHING IS ON FIRE!!” You heard Kalim scream his name. Jamil’s soft expression shifted to a panicked one. “We’ll continue this later Y/n.” He blurted out while fixing himself.

You sighed still kneeling in the closet. You used your sleeve to wipe the cum and tears off your face. One good thing about the fire was the fact that you were able to slip out without notice.

You walked to the mirror chamber and then back home where you got a good rest. Grim slept on top of your head. He kept tossing and turning probably having some kind of nightmare. It was enough to wake you up completely. For a while you sat in bed trying to sleep again.

But sleep didn’t come to you even after counting sheep. So you decided to go smoke. You had gotten your hands on a surprisingly rare thing on campus weed. Ace had some leftovers that he had to get rid of before Riddle found out. So he gave it to you now you had the perfect thing to take your mind off today. You sat on your back steps taking a couple of drags. You closed your eyes inhaling in the air.

You haven’t smoked since you came from Earth This felt so good nothing could ruin the moment or so you thought. Your eyes opened to Jamil standing in front of you. If the weed hadn’t relaxed your senses you would’ve screamed. “When did you get here,” you asked. “A minute ago you probably didn’t hear me since my footsteps are silenced.” Sorry, I had to run out earlier the kitchen was on fire,” he explained.

“Yeah, it’s okay I believe you.” And I have an answer for you Y/n but you may not like it.” Really what is it, Jamil?” You stopped smoking and he grabbed your joint from you. “I need to smoke before saying it let me take off some of the edge.” He sat down next to you taking a couple of puffs you watched as he formed shapes in the air. Even a little heart which amazed you. “ I thought you were innocent how do you know how to smoke so well?”

“I’ve been doing it since forever how else will I deal with Kalim?” Ha right about that,” you laughed. “But hey my joint is getting low can I have it back?” No,” he replied. “We can share.”

“How are we gonna do that if you’re hogging it?” Just shut up and open your mouth.” Huh,” you wondered. You were confused so you didn’t listen. He leaned in closer his hand gripping your jaw open. His mouth blew smoke into yours and you instantly inhaled it.

For some reason, you felt much higher now than a second ago your eyes barely able to stay open. They fluttered open quickly when the gap between you Jamil and the smoke was closed. You couldn’t believe it he was kissing you after a month of no contact with anything but his dick.

His tongue invaded your mouth that was slightly agape from shock. He broke apart from you a string of drool from your dopey mouth hanging. “I’ve been holding that back for so long, he groaned.

“Can you do that again? Your ask was his command this time you leaned forward after taking a drag. Your hands rested on his chest and his shoulder while one of his trailed down your back.

Your eyes watched as the smoke disappeared. The joint was practically over but you never wanted it to end. You guys kissed one last time before the remainder of the joint was gone. You froze for a minute staring back at him.

“Y/n let’s finish this in my room.” What do you mean by finishing Jamil? Because these past times haven’t been finishing for me.” I mean that we can go all the way Y/n if you’d like.”

“Of course, I’d like to.” You sat up reaching your hand down to him and he grabbed yours. You guys walked to Scarabia with your arms linked. You were glad for his support because you were starting to get dizzy.

“Wow, that kush was strong. I feel like I can fall asleep right here,” you yawned. “We’re close to home stay up.” Mmkay.” After what felt like forever you arrived at Scarabia. You snuck in through the vault and into Jamil’s room.

You had never been in there before but as you suspected it was clean. You collapsed on the bed the relaxation taking over your sleepy eyes. Jamil looked back at you after locking his door shocked to see you already asleep.

“We’ll look who can’t handle their joint.” He laughed while stripping your layers of clothing off. He did the same to himself before he got down on his knees for the first time. He spread your legs and slipped in between them your legs now resting on his shoulders. “Hmm, so this is the cunt I’ve seen all over your Twitter. It looks even needier in person look at it dripping. And all from a little kiss too you’re pathetic,” he snickered.

If you were fully conscious you would protest but you were on cloud nine. Your body reacted at the slightest touch so when Jamil’s tongue slid up your thigh you quivered.

When his tongue reached your clit giving you the relief you’ve been begging for weeks you shook. He was precise in his attack eating you as he had already pre-examined your body. Your legs wrapped tightly around his head pulling his pretty nose into your clit.

Your impatient body ground against it chasing your high. You felt like you were going at a thousand miles an hour. You wanted to treat Jamil the same way he treated you. But to your surprise, your drug-filled mind was tricking you.

You were moving slowly in Jamils point of view. “I find your desperation cute you just can’t control yourself huh? Don’t worry I’ll control this pussy for you.” His hands gripped your legs into a mating press so he could have better access.

“Jamil!” You moaned as he spit a fat glob of saliva on your pussy. Your eyes closed on themselves and squeezed together as you began your ecstasy. He began to practically make out with your pussy. Your toes curled as he sucked on your heat. “So how does it feel now that your dreams are becoming a reality Y/n?” It feels sogoood! Fuck.” You yelled as he continued while never letting any of your juices escape his tongue.

Tonight he wanted all of you so why would he waste your perfect whore juices? “Mmm right there.” You directed his head closer to your throbbing hole. It needed to be filled before it overflowed.

But your inexperience caused your theory to fail you still came even with his tongue inside of you. His movement back in forth caused you to cum harder than you ever did before. After your orgasm, you were left speechless. But Jamil’s tongue had a lot to say.

He continued to eat you until you came over and over. You quickly lost count due to them being so frequent. “Fuck,” you screamed. “You better shut up unless you want everyone to know how much of a whore you are.”

“I would love that honestly as long as they know who’s making me feel like this,” you teased. Jamil’s cheeks heated up he didn’t know how others would feel if he stepped out of his great image.

He was too busy with you to focus on your volume. He watched as you bit your lip to refrain from your moans. “Look at you,” he cooed. “Melting into my hands like you should be.” I wonder what’ll happen if I do this?”

He inserted two fingers in your dripping wetness. You arched your back in surprise. He used that as an opportunity to slip his hand behind you. Now you sat on his lap your legs were spread and your head was on his shoulder.

His fingers worked on stretching out your insides. While his other hand grazed your nipples. Your body pressed closer into his. “Good, I can reach you better that way.” He pulled you into a kiss which felt even more suffocating than your forced orgasm.

“I’m cumming again,” you squeaked. “Shouldn’t you thank me for making you feel so good?” Yes, thank you, sir! Ahh, I feel so good fuck. I’m gonna mmm!” I’m that instant you spilled all over Jamil. He hit your sweet spot just right.

“Thank you, sir, thank you so much,” you chanted. That’s my perfect girl cumming just for me.” You kissed his neck as a thank you for his praise. “Wow even after all that you still want my dick. You’re insatiable.”

“Yes I need you, Jamil,” you whined. “Okay get in the bed ass up.” You followed his commands getting on all fours and arching your back. His hand crept up your spine and then around your neck. He didn’t start and he still had a vice grip on you.

“Are you ready for me?” He asked while lining up with your hole. You looked back after feeling his cock twitch. “You don’t have a condom?” No why would I need that don’t you want to feel me? All of me Y/n?”

“I mean of course I do but what if?” There’s no what ifs don’t worry I’ll pull out.” Your feelings were not reassured but he just felt so good rubbing against your clit. He looked too good to stop in the moment his cheeky smile didn’t need to disappear.

Your smile left your face as he stretched you out. You cried out as you stuffed your face in the pillows. “Damn, your so tight fuck are you bleeding?” It’s okay it’ll all feel good soon.” You heaved his grip on your neck remaining.

After what felt like forever he bottomed out inside of you. His balls dragged across your clit with each slow thrust. The bed shook as he put his weight into each movement. The sound of harsh slapping began to echo throughout the room.

His free hand grabbed your ass cheek and spread it. He spit which rolled down to your broken-in hole. “Jamil it hurts,” you groaned through the pillows. “But you were just so cock hungry what happened. Look at you all bark no bite,” he chuckled.

“I guess I’ll be nice even though you’re just a fuckhole.” He pulled you up by your neck onto his chest so he could hold you close. His free hand went to rub your aching clit. He sped up his pace he still was going slow but now he was taking such painful drags with his cock. Maybe he wasn't as sadistic as you thought.

“How are you gonna tell me not to cum in you if you’re grilling me like you can never let go?” He breathed heavily in your ear. You could tell by his sound and expression that he was feeling the pleasure you were. “Is it like you talked about on Twitter Y/n, he asked.” No Jamil your way softer than my Twitter doms I would’ve already been a brainless mess with them.”

“Who’s to say I can’t make that happen?” I doubt it your natural ability is to nurture,” you teased. “I’m tired of everyone putting that caring shit on me.” He slapped your face firmly. “You dirty fucking whore did you just get tighter,” he questioned.

You wanted to hide your face in your hands but he slapped those away. “You especially should know how far I can go,” He whispered.” Now say sorry.” He demanded slapping you again.

“I’m sorry sir,” you moaned. “That’s right dirty bitch now take my cock like you fucking should.” His arm locked your legs into a mating press. “Don’t you wanna be my cum rag Y/n? Your pussy isn’t letting me go.”

“What if - mmff,” you groaned before getting slapped repeatedly. “ I think you meant yes sir. You should be appreciative I’m touching you or do you want to go back to being my human throat sucker?” Your brain was melting you should never let him treat you like this but damn it’s like he had a power that caused you to act a certain way.

“Yes sir cum in me please fill me up I need all of you even your semen.” Jamil was close you could tell because of your cut-off of oxygen. His hand was still around your throat this time it wrapped around tighter. Instinctively you tightened up against him causing his cum to flood in you.

He continued to thrust inside of you through his high. You watched in your own blissful last breath as his eyes rolled back. What a beautiful sight you saw before you fainted with so much pleasure.

“Oh come on I wasn’t that brutal.”

[cambion-companion]

Hey lovely! Can I request a Aemond x reader where the reader is also a princess, but it is said that she is a witch and in fact she is just a bit weird and intimidating, an outsider, also maybe fierce warrior (but indeed she has a gift for seeing things, has dreams and reads tarot, in really into astrology); she catches his attention and from there on you can develop the story further, like how their relationship evolves? I ADORE how you write to i trust you 10000% Also, thank you to all 7 Gods if you do this :D (and sorry if the request is a bit...all over the place? i suck at expressing my ideas)

I adore this idea, it took me a while to get to it because I want to write a longer oneshot for it. If any of you have seen Merlin...yes I am imagine Morgana and her powers. A little more magick than simply tarot and astrology, hope you don't mind Nonny :)

word count: 2516

Aemond x sorceress!reader

“Princess Y/N, it is a pleasure to welcome you to the Red Keep.”  Queen Alicent smiled at you from where she stood upon the steps leading to the Iron Throne.  

You curtsied low, your keen eyes flickering over the faces of the rest of the royal family, lingering only slightly longer on that of the tallest Targaryen boy.  He wore a black leather eyepatch over his left eye, a vertical scar running from brow to cheek, his hands clasped neatly behind his straight back.  

Your lips remained smiling as Aemond noticed your attention focus on him, giving you a short nod, his lilac eye flicking down to the ground before returning to your face.  He had the most lovely plush lips, you noticed, pushed together in a perpetual pout.  His long silver hair also gave you pause, only when Alicent cleared her throat delicately did you tear your eyes away, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Thank you, my queen.  It is an honor to be invited here for the Festival.” You gave her a winning smile before stepping to the side, allowing those behind you to have their turn to be greeted by the royal family.  

You felt Aemond’s gaze still upon you, Aegon’s as well, so you kept your eyes straight ahead, studying the seven-pointed star with forced interest.  Truth be told, you cared not for the new religion spreading across Westeros.  It held little power when compared to the Old Ways.  Though you were now forced to practice in secret lest you be discovered and held accountable for heresy.

Your feet ached by the time people started to disperse, Alicent descending the steps and motioning her children to depart the throne room.  You glanced surreptitiously to where Aemond and his siblings walked, following them out of the grand hall.  The Targaryen princess, Helaena, looked around, catching your eye.  She smiled and beckoned you to join her. “It’s so rare for anyone my age to come visit the Keep.  I do hope we will be friends.”

“As do I, princess!”  You were thrilled to make an acquaintance so quickly, having traveled to the Red Keep with only your retinue of servants to accompany you.

“I hope you also enjoy the company of many insects.”  Aegon noticed you walking with them.  He smiled ruefully as he appraised you with an appreciative eye. “My beloved sister knows more bugs than she does most people.”

The four of you had stopped upon reaching the courtyard hallway, standing in a circle together.  Aemond looked down his nose at Aegon, opening his mouth as if to reprimand him but you beat him to it. “When they are as charming as you, who can blame her?”

Aemond choked, hiding his laughter by coughing loudly behind a hand.  Helaena, who had been frowning, brightened slightly, looking at you with newfound fondness.  Aegon was gaping at you like a fish, it took him a moment to rearrange his shocked expression into a petulant glare.  “I am a prince and won’t suffer some insolent woman to speak to me in such a manner.”

“I am a princess and so is your sister…wife…Helaena. You will treat us with respect.”

Aemond placed a restraining hand upon Aegon’s arm as the latter moved menacingly toward you. “Brother, leave it be.”  He warned.

“Women are made to serve men, not give them lectures.”  Aegon snarled, trying to pry Aemond’s fingers off his arm. “Your pretty mouth has much better uses.”

A gout of burning anger flared in your chest, a familiar electric sensation coursing under your skin.  The cold torch beside Aegon’s head burst into suddenly into flame, almost catching his silver hair on fire as it singed a few strands before he had the time to leap away.  Aegon cursed, his attention completely diverted.  Helaena covered her ears and turned away, distraut.  Aemond, however, looked in confusion at the burning torch before looking at you with a calculating gleam in his eye.

“Might I have a word, princess Y/N?”  He stepped away from the wall, motioning down the corridor.

“I almost caught fire!”  Aegon continued to bat at his smoking hair.

“That would be appropriate for a Targaryen.”  You muttered, only Aemond heard you.  He frowned, taking your elbow non-too-gently and steered you away from his panicked siblings.

“Let go.” You yanked your arm free, the two of you facing each other in a narrow stone hallway.  

“What was that?”  Aemond asked bluntly, his eye intent upon your face.

“What was what?”

“That torch caught fire out of nothing.”

“I have no idea!  How would I know?”  You blustered, putting on a show of brushing invisible dust from your dress.

“So, your eyes turning yellow is just a normal occurrence?”

Shit.

You smoothed your expression into what you hoped was careful indifference. “What you are suggesting is impossible, my prince.  My eyes are certainly not yellow.”

Aemond’s mouth thinned into a line as he looked down at you, displeased. You raised your eyebrows at him.  The two of you stared at each other for several long moments before he relented, breathing sharply out of his nose, making a “hmm” sound in his throat.

“If you’ll excuse me, it is time for me to retire.” You gathered your skirts, moving to leave for your chambers.

Aemond nodded curtly, still looking you over with suspicious interest. You felt his gaze hot on your back all the way down the hallway, until you rounded the corner and out of sight.

That night sleep would not come to you.  

Donning your velvet nightgown, you slipped out of your chambers, padding down the labyrinthian halls until you found the great oaken door to the library.  It was late enough that the large book-filled room was empty, the door swung shut silently behind you on oiled hinges, a large fireplace the only source of light within the massive space.

You had lost control earlier with Aegon, the anger you had felt acted of its own accord, sparking your magick to life, quite literally in the case of the torch.  You twisted your hands together as you moved deeper into the library, looking around at all the dusty books.  Sitting at one of the many wooden tables, you pulled a candelabra over to you, looking at the cold wax of the candles intently.  

You closed your eyes, focusing your attention, arms resting loosely atop the table, on either side of the candle.  You felt your skin prickle, the familiar magick flowing through your blood to your fingertips.  You felt it everywhere all the time, but when you concentrated on expelling it into the world it burned at your fingers and behind your eyes more than anywhere else on your body.

A sound, like a sharp gust of wind through trees, and all six candles ignited, the flames spouting high into the air before they settled to flicker on the wicks.  You sat back, satisfied.

“Fascinating.”  

The chair clattered to the stone floor as you whirled from your seat, a ball of purple flame instinctively held aloft ready in your palm.  

Aemond Targaryen stood near the fireplace, his posture tense, on hand upon the hilt of his sword.  You straightened, looking at him warily, the magickal fire still conjured in your hand.  

“I knew it.”  Aemond breathed, stepping carefully toward you, his hand slipping off the pommel of his sword. “You’re like those I’ve read about in the Forgotten Histories.”

He was very close to you now; you could’ve reached out and set him on fire if you wanted.  He looked at you in fascination, still talking, his voice low and soothing as though he approached a dangerous creature. “A sorceress.”

“Most would name me ‘witch’ and have me executed.”  You snapped, still very much on the defensive.

“Do you plan to kill me here and now?”  Aemond asked, tilting his head, his silver hair falling across his shoulders as he leaned forward. “Murder me in cold blood when I mean you no harm?”

“I wouldn’t trust you if you were the last person in the world.”  Still, you let the lilac fire die in your palm.

Aemond watched it vanish, his lips parting slightly.  His expression was awed. “I thought your kind had all but gone extinct.”

“My kind?”  You scoffed, stepping away from him, just out of arm’s reach. “You should know of magic better than anyone, having the blood of Old Valyria running in your veins.”

“I do.”  He said softly, still poised as if he expected you to strike at any moment. “That is why you will find me more forgiving than most.”

“Forgiving.”  You sneered, a spark gold flashing in your eyes.

“You know as well as I the Faith of the Seven harbors no tender feelings toward magick.”  Aemond’s voice sharpened, almost as though he reprimanded you. “You would do well to temper your emotions before they get you in trouble.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be an outsider!”  You cried, your raised voice muffled by the many tomes surrounding you. “To have to be ashamed of what you can do, to have to hide who you are!”

“I know all too well.”  He murmured, a flicker of pain twisting his features.  “Please, princess.”  He extended a hand. “Allow me to help you.”

“How?”  

“There are many books, restricted as they are, that I have saved from being purged from the archives.”  Aemond explained, speaking quickly now. “They detail the use of Old Magick and how it can be controlled. My study of these texts is how I recognized what you did with the torch earlier today.”

“I didn’t mean to almost roast your brother.”

“No indeed, your cutting words did that quite well on their own.”  Aemond chuckled, the sound sending pleasant tingles across your skin, quite unrelated to magick.  

You hesitated a moment longer before reaching forward to accept his proffered hand.  Aemond smiled. “We will need to be discreet, if you are capable.”  His smile widened as you scowled at him. “The books are hidden safe in my chambers.”

“This isn’t some elaborate ruse to get me into bed with you, is it?”  You teased, Aemond rewarded you with another delicious huff of low laughter.

“I will admit you are…alluring even aside from your ability to wield magick.”

“How forward of you, my prince.”

“Don’t get used to it.”  

Aemond led you on quick, quiet feet up flights of stairs and winding through corridors.  You had to duck around corners, waiting together for patrols of guards to pass before continuing on.  Soon you reached your destination, Aemond leading the way into his lavish quarters.  “Make yourself comfortable.”  He instructed.

You sat down by one of the many bookshelves, the space of his chambers reminding you very much of the library as you watched him rummage under his large bed.  “I know they’re here somewhere.” You heard him mutter. “Aha!”

He retrieved two very aged books, they looked to be barely held together by the fraying spines, their pages crumpled and yellow.  You took on into your lap, leafing gingerly through, the smell of old book burning your nostrils.  “It’s in Old Valyrian.” You commented, looking despairingly up to where Aemond still stood. “I don’t know Old Valyrian.”

“I do.”  He placed the other book carefully into your lap for you to comb through. “I offered to help, and so I shall.”

“Teaching me Valyrian?”  Incredulity laced your tone. “That seems like a mammoth task for someone you just met today.”  You shut the book with a dusty snap. “Why are you helping me, really?”

Aemond was silent a moment, taking back the books when you offered them up to him. “There are few things I take interest in, and even fewer people.  You should be grateful.”  He moved to place the tomes gently atop his bed, sitting beside them. “I could just as easily be your enemy and give you over to the Faith.”

“You think so, do you?”  Magick fire sparked lilac along the exposed skin of your arms, gathering at your fingertips.

Aemond’s gaze dropped to watch the energy gather along your hands, his pupil dilating slightly.  “Focus your will, channel that emotion you feel into purpose.”

You did as he suggested, honing your attention on pinpointing the exact emotion you were feeling strongest.  Your focus settled on the growing hope swirling in your chest, the thought of a future where you didn’t have to be afraid of being found, where you could become powerful and practiced in who you were born to be.  

The fire dancing along your fingers flashed brightly, your eyes glowed briefly once more, then the magickal fire transformed from a violent shade of purple to a soft pastel yellow.  It felt different in your blood, you could taste it like citrus on your tongue.  “What…”  You wondered aloud, raising your hand to appraise the sparkling yellow light.

“I believe…if memory serves.  That is the color associated with healing magicks.”  Aemond remarked from his perch atop the mattress.  

“How do you know all this?  You aren’t a magick user too, are you?”

“No, I am not.”  Aemond shook his head. “I have simply studied…and I know what it is like to temper my emotions, to channel what I feel into action rather than reaction.”  He tapped his long fingers upon his knee. “It’s a work in progress.”

“Thank you.”  You said, finally allowing your guard to drop a little. “I still don’t know why you’re so intent on helping me, but I am grateful.”

“I’m not entirely sure myself, Y/N.”  Aemond rose, ushering you back to the door. “I do know, however, that dawn is soon approaching and if you are found in my room…there would be such an uproar not even your powers could save us.”

You laughed, raising your hands up in mock defeat as you stepped into the cool hall. “Thank you again, prince Aemond.  I…I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Please, Aemond is how I wish you to address me if we are to be friends.”  He said graciously. “As for repayment, I’m sure we can come up with something.”

You nodded, trying to fight down the blush rising to your cheeks. “Goodnight, Aemond.”

“Sleep well, Y/N.”  

You departed, artfully dodging the King’s Guard patrols as you made your way stealthily back to your rooms, still wondering how you’d gotten so lucky as to fall into the good graces of Aemond Targaryen.  Rumors had reached your ears of how harsh and cruel the prince was, but the man you’d met and befriended was nothing like what the gossipers whispered.  He had alluded to being familiar with hiding who he was, being ashamed much the same as you.

You mused to yourself as you slipped beneath the covers of your bed, perhaps it had something to do with the eyepatch and the scar that ran down his face.  You did not know the prince well, not yet, but you were eager to learn more about him. Especially since you found him so appealing to look at, and by the way his eye had trailed across your features, he felt the same. Your heart fluttered with something other than fear for the first time in too long.  Smiling to yourself, you curled up and soon drifted into sleep, dreaming of a silver dragon engulfed in lilac flame.

[stromuprisahat]

You know how girls will disappear for months and give a bunch of hokey as the reason when they're actually having a baby

The rumour mill after Alina suddenly went on an amplifier hunt after like 3 months of training when other Grisha trained for years must have been crazy

And I'm pretty sure half of the Little Palace was already certain she and Aleksander are fucking.

“And what about her?” cried another Squaller. “How do we know she isn’t working with the Darkling? She helped him destroy Novokribirsk.” “And she shared his bed!” shouted another. Never deign to deny, said Nikolai’s voice in my head. “Just what is your relationship with Nikolai Lantsov?” demanded a Fabrikator. “What was your relationship with the Darkling?” came a shrill voice.

Siege and Storm Chapter 13

It's pretty obvious when you look at it. Especially Alina's Fete outfit screams MISTRESS! Even before that, all signs are there:

Dinner seemed to last forever. I nursed a glass of tea and endured another round of endless Summoner chatter. I was getting ready to excuse myself and escape back to my room when the doors behind the Darkling’s table opened and the domed hall fell silent. Ivan emerged and sauntered over to the Summoners’ table, seemingly oblivious to the stares of the other Grisha. With a sinking sensation, I realized he was walking straight toward me. “Come with me, Starkov,” he said when he reached us, then added a mocking “please.” I pushed my chair back and rose on legs that felt suddenly weak. Had Baghra told the Darkling that I was hopeless? Had Botkin told him just how badly I’d failed at my lessons? The Grisha were goggling at me. Nadia’s jaw was actually hanging open. I followed Ivan across the silent hall and through the huge ebony doors. He led me down a hallway and through another door emblazoned with the Darkling’s symbol. ...

Shadow and Bone Chapter 9

“Why did she do it?” I asked as I tried to sit up. I’d had plenty of people ignore me or look down on me. But Zoya actually seemed to hate me. Marie and Nadia gaped at me as if I’d taken a crack to the skull instead of the ribs. “Because she’s jealous!” said Nadia. “Of me?” I said incredulously. Marie rolled her eyes. “She can’t bear the idea of anyone being the Darkling’s favorite.”

Shadow and Bone Chapter 11

Since none of the other Grisha knew that I’d had so much trouble summoning, they were all a little baffled by the change in me. I didn’t offer any explanations, and Genya let me in on some of the more hilarious rumors. “Marie and Ivo were speculating that the Fjerdans had infected you with some disease.” “I thought Grisha didn’t get sick.” “Exactly!” she said. “That’s why it was so very sinister. But apparently the Darkling cured you by feeding you his own blood and an extract of diamonds.” “That’s disgusting,” I said, laughing. “Oh that’s nothing. Zoya actually tried to put it around that you were possessed.”

Shadow and Bone Chapter 13

Genya squeaked, and I just stood there gaping at the contents. When I didn’t move, she reached into the box and pulled out yards of rippling black silk. The sleeves and neckline were delicately embroidered in gold and glittered with tiny jet beads. “Black,” Genya whispered. His color. What did it mean? “Look!” she gasped. The neckline of the gown was laced with a black velvet ribbon, and from it hung a small golden charm: the sun in eclipse, the Darkling’s symbol. ... “Excuse us!” announced Genya. “But we have need of this chamber. Darkling’s orders!” Zoya’s beautiful blue eyes slitted dangerously. “If you think—” she began and then she caught sight of me. Her jaw dropped, and the blood drained from her face. “Out!” commanded Genya. Zoya snapped her mouth shut, but to my amazement, she left the room without another word. Genya slammed the door behind her. ... The sad, sickly girl with hollowed-out cheeks and bony shoulders was gone. In her place was a Grisha with sparkling eyes and shimmering waves of bronze hair. The black silk clung to my new form, shifting and sliding like sewn-together shadows. And Genya had done something marvelous to my eyes so that they looked dark and almost catlike. ... In the other boxes on my bed, we found golden silk slippers, glittering jet and gold earrings, and a thick fur muff. When I was ready, I examined myself in the little mirror above the basin. I felt exotic and mysterious, like I was wearing some other, far more glamorous girl’s clothes.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 14

Sure, the reader knows Alina didn't summon, but other Grisha don't. ... and when a girl suddenly radically changes her behaviour, while gaining a shape, EVERYONE knows she's the boss' new favourite AND they sneak off somewhere TOGETHER...

... and once Alina returns, the sickly, frail girl is back:

When we finally pulled up to the immense black silk tent, a crowd of Grisha swarmed around the coach. Marie and Ivo and Sergei rushed forward to greet me. I was surprised at how good it felt to see them again. As they caught sight of me, their excitement vanished, replaced by worry and concern. They’d expected a triumphant Sun Summoner, wearing the greatest amplifier ever known, radiant with power and the favor of the Darkling. Instead, they saw a pale, tired girl, broken by misery. “Are you all right?” Marie whispered when she hugged me. “Yes,” I promised. “Just worn out from the journey.” I did my best to smile convincingly and reassure them. I tried to feign enthusiasm as they marveled at Morozova’s collar and reached out to touch it.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 20

I don't know how other Grisha, but I'd suspect some tragedy.

Miscarriage?

Stillbirth?

If Grisha can have hard time conceiving, how likely is it those won't be unusual either?!

[pokopippitypop]

Eddie needs a break.

Shitty pop music has been blasting in his eardrums for the better half of the night and if he had to listen to one more preppy asshole try to talk him into giving them a discount, he was going to go rabid and bite someone.

The second it seems there was no one scowling at him or watching him in any way, Eddie packs up his tin box and slinks out of the kitchen and closer to the front of the house, where he'd previously passed the staircase. God, he didn't even know whose stupid house this was but the decor had been pissing him off all night. Upstairs was no better, just white walls and scratchy beige carpet. Eddie takes a moment to consider the ugliest painting of an empty vase he's ever seen. Who the actual fuck would want to look at this? The music is still dully thudding in his brain as he lurks deeper into the upstairs of the house and down an unlit hallway. He could finally breathe up here, no flashing lights or droning music or stuck-up rich kids, just a nice dark corridor, maybe there was even a bathroom up here he could smoke in for a minute. Just a short break, one more round for potential buyers and then he's outta here, he tells himself. Eddie surveys the selection of doors before him, trying to determine which would most likely be a bathroom and settles on the end one that's been left slightly ajar. 

Eddie's jaw all but drops when he gently pushes the door fully open. Not a bathroom and also most definitely not empty. There are two boys pressed together, leaning up against the room's desk and very much making out. Eddie blanks for a moment, far too caught up in being suddenly treated with the vision of strong hands sliding up under the back of one of the guys shirt and the soft, breathy sounds they're making together and- for fuck's sake this really isn't a safe place for these two idiots, the door wasn't even shut!

"Dudes-" the two jolt apart and Eddie's next words die in his throat as his brain decides to absolutely fry itself because holy shit, holy fucking shit that was Steve motherfucking Harrington now glaring at him with dark, startled eyes and wet, red lips. What the actual fever dream was going on here? The other boy just bolts, head down as he brushes past Eddie. Eddie doesn't even turn to look at him, just stands in the doorway clutching his tin and gaping at The Steve Harrington and having not a single clue how this situation is supposed to go. Before Eddie can even begin to think of anything to say or do Steve pulls himself to his full height and is dragging Eddie by the collar of his jacket into the room. Steve slams Eddie up against the wall, his forearm pinned across Eddie's chest almost painfully. 

"The fuck are you doing, Munson? Creeping around my house, like the little freak you are. You didn't fucking see anything, got it?" Steve demands sharply, "no one'll believe you anyway but if I hear you've been running that big mouth of yours, I'll ruin you, yeah?" Steve jerks Eddie against the wall roughly. "Got it?" He scowls meanly, waiting for an answer. 

Eddie just looks at Steve, can feel his pulse hammering against his chest. His eyes, although dark and angry are too frantic, too pleading for Eddie to take his threats at a surface level. Eddie knows the feeling, the terror of being found out. He can see it in Steve's face now. He's more scared than anything, fear blatantly etched into his expression, the snarling anger very thinly hiding the fact that Steve Harrington was terrified. 

“Steve, hey, Steve it’s okay, I'm not gonna tell anyone. I promise, it’s cool, man," Eddie starts softly, still trying to push aside his shock at the situation. "I’m uh well come on surely you know about me,” Eddie fixes him with a titled little smile, trying for a playful, calming tone, “I’m gay too, dumbass." 

Eddie watches as Steve seems to calm down a little and properly assess who he's talking to. His hand against Eddie's collar twitches and he seems to be deep in thought for a moment before looking back down at Eddie, his eyes having lost their desperate edge. Steve lets out a breath, pushing back from Eddie slightly, “I’m not gay.”

Eddie can't help but to snort, “I dunno man, kissing boys at parties is pretty gay, Steve.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Steve snaps, releasing Eddie with a pissy little shove, but there's no real bite in his voice anymore. 

“Uh huh, sureee oh! and if you ever wanna casually make out with a boy, you know, in a very straight way, let me know yeah?” Eddie offers just to rile him up. 

“No, Eddie, I’m bisexual.”

Eddie pauses and stares at Steve, not even trying to not seem fully surprised. Steve is just watching him expectantly with a mildly annoyed yet unsettlingly genuine expression. Eddie just blinks at him dumbly before taking on his favourite shit eating grin. 

“That’s a big word for you, Harrington. Congratulations.”

Steve rolls his eyes, his defensive stance melting away into a hand on his hip as he moves away to lean against the desk again. “Jesus Christ, you're a real little shit, aren't you?” He scoffs, very obviously trying not to smile and God, if that doesn't just simultaneously kill all of Eddie's brain cells. Eddie is back to staring at Steve blankly, taking in his messed up hair and the way it droops softly over his face, the way the denim of his jeans sits oh so snugly against his hips, how the sleeves of his stupid polo shirt cut across the muscle of his biceps, the shadow of his eyelashes, how stupidly pretty his eyes are. Eddie is suddenly being confronted by many thoughts and possibilities that he would never have even dreamed of including Steve Harrington in. It had been so outside of Eddie's bounds of reality that he hadn't even fantasized about this, but dear God the floodgates were open now. 

“Well, uh my offer still stands.” Eddie cringes at his own voice, scolding himself for practically throwing himself at goddamn Steve Harrington of all people. 

Steve smiles at him, his eyes flicking over Eddie and holy shit, holy fucking shit Eddie was well and truly fucked. 

“Uh huh, and was that the offer to make out with you in a straight way?” He asks sarcastically, with his prissy little smirk. 

Eddie just shrugs, totally chill and feeling incredibly normal and sane about this situation, “or in a gay way, I’m not too picky.”

Steve eyes him with a wide smile, “Oh, so you’re easy, are you?”

“Steve Harrington!” Eddie gasps dramatically, a hand over his heart, “I am not! You gotta at least buy me dinner first, sweetheart." Eddie knows he’s lying out loud, he would sleep with Steve at the drop of a hat. From the look on Steve’s face, he knows this too.

Steve's looking at him with lingering eyes and this devilish little grin, "I'm sure I could manage that," he muses. 

Eddie must have some insane automatic cockblock protocol installed in his brain though because just when Steve is looking at him like he could eat him alive Eddie blurts out, "you should go find your friend, your boy, uh that guy that- ya know, he's probably freaking out, man but I didn't see who it was, so, tell him not to worry." Eddie finishes his reel with what he can actually, physically feel in an awkward smile.

Steve's hungry expression drops into something soft and affectionate and, nope that's somehow worse. Eddie's stomach goes all fluttery because now Steve Harrington is truly just looking at him. He breaks out into this cute little, appreciative smile, head tilted as he considers Eddie for a moment. Steve runs a hand over his face, and Eddie mourns every second he can no longer see that smile. Steve finally sighs and stands up from leaning on the desk, glancing at the door, "Yeah, shit, you're right, I don't want him getting all paranoid." 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees lamely.

Steve doesn’t make a move to leave though, looking back at Eddie and shifting awkwardly, “uh, sorry for threatening you and shit, man, I was just... you know.” He makes a lame hand gesture in the place of elaborating.

“Nah man, I get it, you’re all good, just close the fucking door next time, better yet, lock it. For fuck’s sake you gotta be careful with this Steve.” Eddie scolds lightly.

Steve signs and looks to the floor, “yeah, I know.” Steve just nods once, easily dismissing the topic. He looks back up and finally moves to the door, pausing to give Eddie one last famous Harrington grin. “I’ll be seeing you around, Munson.” Steve practically promises, like it’s a request rather than a simple goodbye, before slipping out into the hallway.

Eddie stands there for several minutes, gaping at the empty space Steve had just left, wondering if he was going to wake up tomorrow morning and find out this was all some convoluted wet dream.

//

hi hi :) might add to this (might not)

[scorpiussage]

The Ghost of Margate Manor

(Alfie Solomons x Reader) - Oneshot 

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Y/N

Summary: Everyone in Margate knows the mansion on top of the hill is haunted. Y/N finds this out first hand. 

Warnings: none, swearing 

Everyone who lives in Margate knows that the mansion on top of the hill is haunted. They say some gruesomely ugly ghost haunts the corridors and eats those who trespass. Really, it’s all rubbish, but when you’re five drinks deep like Y/N is, the idea doesn’t seem so far fetched. Her friends are no help, either, as they are also horrendously drunk and daring her to break into the manor if she’s so sure there’s no ghost. 

That was thirty minutes ago and now that Y/N is standing at the top of the hill next to the mansion, she’s suddenly worried that those tall tales might be true. Her friends are all waiting at the bottom of the hill, though, and she absolutely cannot go back without following through; she’d never live it down. So here she is, rock in hand, breaking into a side patio door into what used to have been a ballroom of some kind. The few pieces of furniture (and the chandelier) are all covered in eerie white sheets that billow in the breeze from the open doorway. 

Tamping down on her fear, Y/N continues forward, exiting the ballroom into the main corridor. That’s all the further she gets before she encounters him. 

…

Alfie is just trying to enjoy his first night on his own. Since getting shot in the face by that Peaky cunt, he’s been laid up in bed being tended to by nurses and maids. But now, now, he’s finally healed enough to be alone for extended periods of time and he’s been looking forward to it for months. 

He’s got a nice pot of tea, hot and ready, his newspaper in his hand and a big fire in the hearth. With an excited giggle he moves to sit down in his favorite chair when he hears the sound of glass breaking. He looks at the pot of tea and newspaper forlornly, already knowing that the relaxation of this night is gone. Throwing down his newspaper, he surges out into the hallway while readying his pistol, ready to kill the fucker who thought it was a good idea to break into Alfie Solomon’s house. 

Something rams into his chest and lets out an ‘oof’. Raising his brow in surprise, he looks down at who broke into his house. 

It’s a woman, a tiny one at that, and she reeks of bourbon like there’s no tomorrow. She looks up at him, the color draining from that pretty face of hers. 

Before Alfie can say something, she shrieks, “Ah! A ghost!” 

And then she punches him in the face. 

Alfie lets out a loud curse and clutches his sore cheek. Little bit got him right on his wounded side too, “What the bloody fuck was that for?!”

They stare at each other for a long moment before the woman drunkenly asks, “Wait, you’re not a ghost?”

“I’m fuckin’ what?” he demands, reaching out and grabbing her by her arm. 

She gapes up at him stupidly, and says, “Everyone in Margate knows that this mansion is haunted.” 

What sort of looney bin did he move to? 

“Well as you can clearly see, I am not a ghost, love. Now, why the fuck are you in me house?”

The woman doesn’t get a chance to answer because in the next moment she’s bending over and vomiting all over Alfie’s slippers. Yeah, the peace that he’d been promised tonight is long gone. 

…

Y/N wakes up with a pounding headache and a terrible taste in her mouth. She looks around herself in confusion. She’s in some plushly decorated bedroom with extravagant curtains and warm hand carved furniture. This doesn’t look like her room or the room of anyone she knows. 

Looking to her left, she sees a man slouched down in an armchair, his loud snores telling her he’s asleep. 

That’s when she remembers what happened and feels a wash of horror and embarrassment overcome her. God, she was such an idiot and to top it all off she assaulted this poor man. Reaching over, she gently shakes the man’s shoulder to wake him. He does so with a snort and he squints over at her with a contemplative gaze. 

“I just want to say that I am so terribly sorry,” Y/N says while wringing the edge of the blanket on her lap, “I can’t believe I broke into your house! I will pay for whatever repairs that are needed, I swear.” 

The man smacks his lips as he takes in what she’s just said before he reaches his hand out, “‘It’s alright, love. No harm done. I’m Alfie.” 

He’s an oddly handsome man under his unkempt beard and the large scar on his face. And his hands are large and warm as they engulf hers in a handshake. Y/N introduces herself in return. 

“Surely there’s something I can do to make it up to you? I did break your window after all,” she tells him fretfully while climbing out of the bed.

 He watches her while rubbing his chin and says, “Yeah, ‘suppose there’s one thing you could do.” 

That’s how Y/N finds herself returning to the not-so-haunted manor later that night and having dinner with a one Alfie Solomons. 

[mistresskayla-blog1]

Descension Upon Jupiter

Lyn's Writing Event Day 11 - Week 2

Characters: Joe Burkett x OC Sephira

May 11th: Week 2: Jupiter                                                

Characters: (AU) Joe Burkett x OC Sephira

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Joe Burkett – Fool Me Once

The character Joe Burkett was created by Harlan Coben and adapted for television by Danny Brocklehurst

Warnings: thriller, character death, terror, science fiction, violence, gun play, knife play, transmorphic reptiles,

Word count: 1.5k

Terror filled her lungs, as she struggled to breathe, she saw him just around the edge of the corner of the terraform medical room. If he saw you, you would be dead. Joe huffed, his side bleeding from the knife Sephira gripped in her scaly hand, “Sephira!” He shouted, panting a little, as he shoved his fist into his side and stumbled out of the medical room.

“I know it was you, (grunt) that reported me” He called coming down the hallway.

Sephira shifted a bit and flattened against the crevice of the wall, her skin blending into the color of the wall. Sephira closed her eyes and held her breath, slits on her neck, gaping a bit for a moment, gaining air.

Joe passed her spot, and kept grunting, shaking his head and pressing harder into his wound, “You can’t hide forever, I will find you”.

He stopped dead about 10 feet from her. Sephira peaked an eye, and saw him shake his head again, “Tsk Tsk, my dear, I can smell you,” he grinned sinisterly. Joe spun and Sephira appeared, and ran down the hallway, scurrying as fast as she could go, gripping the floor with her webbed claws.

Sephira made it to the paddock and punched in the codes. Joe was still approaching. Sephira had just scanned her hand when he clamped his hand on the back of her neck in one clean grab and shoved her into the room as the door opened. The door slid closed and locked behind him. Joe tossed her to the ground with his brute force.

Sephira hissed, and flipped over, putting distance and objects, like a table between them, “What do you want from me Joe?”

“My revenge”, Joe smirked.

“What are you talking about?” Sephira spat back at him, he scales in full form now and shining.

“Ooh, you’re really pretty when your angry” Joe smiled again, “Now tell me what you said, so we can just clear this up, right now”.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I have nothing to do with your work” Sephira explained. She watched him, as he sat down at the table and sighed, removing a gun from his pants and setting it down on the table. It clinked loudly in the airlocked space. Sephira’s eyes grew wider, “Where did you get that?”

Joe smiled, as he spun it with a finger on the table, “Jet had it. He didn’t need it anymore”, Joe sighed and kept watching the gun spin on the table, chuckling slightly, sweat covering his forehead from the shock that set in every moment.

Sephira stood against the cabinet, her hand to her mouth, registering Joe’s explanation, “You.. killed Jet?” her voice climbed a bit at the end, in emphasis of disbelief.

Joe chuckled again, stopping the gun, and resting his hand on it, his eyes snapped up to her sharply, “Yeah, I did. And I don’t have a problem with it. Do you?”  

Sephira shook her head, “I don’t understand, what did Jet do?”

Joe looked at her again, “Well aside from making a pass at you last week, he told corporate that my work was subpar, when I know my data was better than his on the project,” Joe gritted his teeth.  Joe looked down again, and then back up at her, “Well his data won’t be better now, will it?” Joe’s voice was gravely and his breath was a bit labored. Sephira wondered if she had punctured his lung, even slightly.

Joe shook off dizziness again, and pressed his hand into his side, “So, are you going to patch me up, so we can get out of the airlock on time”.

Sephira’s watch beeped at that second, indicating a time count of 1 hour 10 minutes left on shift, She covered with her hand to silence it.

“Right on time, huh. We have to get out soon, or this jetty will be our gravesite, right?” Joe asserted.

Sephira nodded, keeping eye contact with him, “Yeah, yes. We have an hour to get back to the base or we float off into the gaseous infinity”,

Joe cut in, “And how long to get over there, from our distance now?”

Sephira turned slightly to see the base panel to her right. Her eyes scanned the readout, “45 minutes I’d guess”.

“That doesn’t leave us much time to play then” he grinned, and Sephira visibly shuddered in his eye line. “What? You don’t like me now?” a low smirk stroud on his face, as his eyebrows playfully quirked up.

Sephira swallowed and looked at him, shifting her scales a bit down and curving her hips towards his view, she had to play this a certain way, if she wanted to survive the next hour, “I didn’t say that. I just want to know what the plan is”.

Joe shifted on his chair, his face ashen, but the blood not seeping through his jumpsuit as much now. Sephira looked at his wound, “Sorry about that? You scared me”.

“Well, you can make it up to me by fixing it, cant you?” Joe asked, tilting his head at her. Sephira moved to a cabinet and punched in a medic code. Gathered a kit and approached him, kneeling by the chair. Joe watched her closely, reaching out to touch her skin.  

Sephira looked at his wound, pressing into it with her hand, “How does that feel?”

Joe sucked in a breath, “Like it fucking hurts”, he cursed.

Sephira tried not to smile, as she palpated his ribs, “Take a breath, Joe” she said her breath warm through his blood-soaked fabric. She unzipped the jumpsuit and examined the cut. Popping open the kit with one hand and grabbing the cauterizer. Sephira flicked the latch and looked up at Joe, “This may sting”, Joe grimaced as the fire hit his wound, and he panted a bit and roared under his breath, “You fuck--- cu ---” he tried to get out, before Sephira sealed the wound and slapped a cool gauze onto it. The curse died beneath his lips as the shock resonated and the burn reintroduced adrenaline to this system. Sephira went to stand and step away, and a sweaty palm gripped her arm, Joe pulled her down into his lap, “How about a kiss, sweetheart?”

Sephira pulled her arm away, “You’ll be fine now. Let’s get back to the station”. Sephira moved away from him and went to replace the kit in the cabinet. Joe’s panting subsided, as he felt his strength renew a little. His smirk grew even more and he looked at her calculatingly.

“Thanks babe, for helping me out. I appreciate it,” he drawled ingratiatingly.

Sephira turned to him, a cocked eyebrow, and then shook her head, “Joe? What is wrong with you?”

---

Before Thursday

Aboard the Galileo 3, the earth year is 2043, The space station had been orbiting for several years now, but Sephira had only been on it for a few months now. The development of transitional sleep travel made it easy to get on and off the station without too much “human” degradation. However, Sephira wasn’t human, they are a reptilian hybrid. They can breathe in high helium conditions and are able to collect samples off the “surface” of Jupiter while on flying expeditions.

              The airlock sealed and a large clock started counting down, 10 hours for Jupiter’s rotational day. Collections keep Sephira busy most of that time. They have two breaks for meals and resets and that is when they will have to interact with the other researchers. But for the most part, Sephira is alone in the jetty. It has to float through the gases like a submersible in the water. It pilots on a program, so Sephira can do their collection by hand.  

               On such an expedition, a new crew member arrived. He was part of the pilot regeneration program. Those who had people died and were very wealthy could elect to freeze their dead, and enroll them in a program for Renewal, as the company called it. The Juno Company mined gases and supplied the world with helium and hydrogen which was infinite on Jupiter. 

              He was tall, dark haired and charming. Joe Burkett had been the son of a drug magnate decades ago and suffered a fatal gunshot wound. His mother, wanting to continue the legacy, had him repaired and placed in the Renewal program. Sephira scoffed when they looked at him. He was instantly attracted to them, and that made Sephira express feminine on the shifts they shared. But as the days and weeks grew, Sephira had a strange feeling about him. He became obsessed with his work and started to get aggressive with the other staff.

Competition was his trigger, and Sephira noticed it more and more. Sometimes some humans are not suited to the decompression and transition of space, and Joe seemed to be unable to distinguish moral behavior. Sephira watched him surreptitiously a few days and nights. Joe became suspicious of Sephira, and now that the elective system they were studying was under review by corporate, there couldn’t be any mistakes. Joe started showing up on Sephira’s shifts when it was not his shift.

(more to come, just too late again for me. goodnight all)

Taglist:

@scariusaquarius @legolasbadass @riepu10 @sweetestgbye @lathalea @evenstaredits @middleearthpixie

Lyn's Writing Event 2024

[lunecherreys]

“Mama”, a low whisper sounded through the night. A young boy sat in bed, peeking his head out from a mountain of covers. His voice was almost completely drowned out by the soft pattering of rain on the roof.

The darkness in the bare room was lit only by the moon and the occasional crackle of lightning. “Mama?”, a little louder now, the child desperately held the blankets around himself as a shield of protection despite his intense sweating. He was terrified of the grotesque faces and figures that emerged after sunset. Where was his mother? Even as he was so utterly alone, Yevgeny was sure that his mother would come for him.

“Maybe his mama needed him”, he thought. Yevgeny imagined her. “Help me Zhenya!”, she cried in his mind and reached out. If his mother needed his help, he would do whatever she needed.

Yevgeny tossed the blankets to the side and stepped out of the bed against his better judgment. The floor creaked and groaned under his weight.

Yevgeny didn’t expect staying with his father would be a lovely vacation, but his mother expected -no- needed him to do this. She stressed this before she left- “Zhenya, you will stay with your father and his friend. You will be good boy and they will be good to you”. Her eyes were wet with tears as she pulled him in for the tightest hug they’d shared in ages.

Right now, he felt as if he were in a haunted house. He repeated his mantra with each chilling step progressing towards the door. Show no fear. Show no fear.

His small hand made contact with the doorknob and with a surge of courage, he shoves the door open and peaks down the hallway. It expands and appears to stretch miles before him. He remembers the nice man from earlier.

“If you need anything, I’m right down the hallway, on the right”, Ian lovingly spread and tucked the blanket onto Yevgeny. He then leans down and places a kiss to the young boy’s forehead. “I love you, goodnight”. He walks to the door, taking one last glance at the already sleeping Yevgeny and sighing before the room is engulfed in darkness.

———

Yevgeny’ lip quivered when he stepped out into the infinite hallway. The house seemed to squeak, not only when he stepped, but also on its own- distantly. Soft footsteps sounded down the hall in an unnatural pattern. Just then, there was a boom, and a flash illuminated a beast nose to nose with Yevgeny.

Yevgeny let out a loud scream and stumbled desperately through the nearest door. His heartbeat raced as he backed further into the cramped space until his back met the wall with a thud. A panicked sob escaped his mouth. Yevgeny's foot slipped on a fabric and he lost his footing, his elbow connecting roughly with the wooden floor. He immediately curled himself tightly like a scared animal. He sniffled and reminded himself that monsters aren't real, but he couldn’t ignore the sight he saw.

An aggressive repeated noise bounced off the walls, barely muffled through the door and rang in his mind. He recalled how the creature snarled and a wet substance oozed from its gaping mouth down to Yevgeny’s feet.. Horns that shot up and twisted to the side threatened his imagination. For all he knew, it was waiting outside this very door. The fierce yellow teeth of its mouth was enough to make the child’s eyes water. The next thunder’s volume was rivaled only by Yevgeny’s next scream.

“Mother”, he cried weakly through hiccups and sobs, “Where are you?”. What if the monsters already got her? Now it would eat him next!

The beast would rip him limb from limb with its sharp teeth and as it chewed his flesh, Yevgeny would feel every moment of agony. Yevgeny felt like he was going to be sick. Someone rapidly stomped down the hallway. Yevgeny flinched with each footstep and tucked his head deeper into his arms.

“Please don’t come this way”. He pressed his palms against his ears to block the noise.

He let out a sigh of relief when the footsteps diminished to silence. Then they come back. There was a rough sound that repeated, the same as the monster made. Though this felt like a hopeless situation, Yevgeny remembered to stay strong for his mama. He lifted his head to eye the door continuously and used his sleeve to wipe snot from his face. “Please leave”. Although he tried to sound tough, his voice was wobbly and nasally.

The door slowly creaked open and light spread into the small room where Yevgeny froze in fear. After his eyes adjusted to the light, he registered his father looking down at him with eyes of relief.

“Yevgeny, would you please come out of the closet?”, Mickey scoops his son into his arms and the boy instantly clings to him. Ian appears beside Mickey and embraces them both. Yevgeny buries his head into the crook of Mickey’s neck.

———

“So what the hell happened?”, Mickey asked as the three lay on their King-sized bed. They were snug under the heavy covers and Ian’s arms rested around his husband’s shoulder with Yevgeny tucked in between. Yevgeny looks up to his dad with eyes of dread as he recalls his troubles. Right away, Mickey notices Svetlana’s resemblance in the young boy. He has her nose, sly lips, and exact skin tone. His small age gave him a round face with chubby cheeks. Yevgeny is truly concerned, Mickey can tell, but he just can’t take his son seriously. He’s tiny, of course. Six years didn’t do much for you in the height department.

Yevgeny meekly chokes his words out,” I saw a monster”.

“Oh no”, Ian recites like a second nature and anticipating Mickey's lack of parental conditioning, Ian elbows Mickey meaningfully and gestures for Mickey to follow. Mickey forces his eyebrows up in surprise and mock concern. “Poor baby…”, Mickey almost gives up and bursts out laughing.

“I am not a baby”, Yevgeny protests while genuinely confused.

“Absolutely not!”, Ian looks at Mickey in dramatic disbelief and protectively pulls Yevgeny closer.

Yevgeny looks at Ian this time. “The monster was mean and it had sharp teeth”.

“It was a nightmare, Yevgeny”, Mickey quickly dismissed the boy’s concerns.

Yevgeny pouted, “It was real! And it growled at me when I didn’t do anything bad!”

With that there was a pause. The couple slowly turned from Yevgeny to face each other. An amused smile threatened Ian’s lips. It couldn’t be…

———

“Nyet!”, Yevgeny frantically wiggled in Mickey’s arms. “I don’t want to see the monster!”, Yevgeny recalled his traumatic encounter with the feral beast.

“She’s nice, don’t worry”. Yevgeny isn’t reassured, but decides to trust his step-father.

“Libby, come here!”, Ian’s voice was amplified through the corridor. Yevgeny was shivering in his dad’s lap on the couch, although the room was anything but cold.

On command, a big caramel German shepherd with a dark umber back and snout, proudly stalked through the archway. Yevgeny flinched at the sight. Though not as scary as he imagined, it was still intimidating. There were no horns, just pointed ears. The rough sound was merely barking and the squeaking of the house was the dog’s whimpering. It wasn’t a beast, it was only scared of the storm just like him.

Ian brought the dog closer and closer to Yevgeny. “Pet her. You’re safe, I promise”. Ian tried and failed at calming the young child.

“What would your mom think?”. Ian’s eyes widened in alarm while Yevgeny got ready to refute when he realized- Mickey was right. Mother never tolerated fear of a lesser being. She taught him to be brave. Not coward. He wouldn’t lose to this dog. After all, it was his responsibility to protect his mother.

Yevgeny straightened his posture and lifted his head until his childish pout appeared more as a disappointed frown. With borrowed courage, Yevgeny hopped off the couch and slowly approached the relaxing animal.

He’s careful to avoid standing on the tail and continuously taps the dogs back. Libby laying on the rug, remained unresponsive. Yevgeny then tentatively rubs Libby’s back. Libby wags her tail.

“She likes you”, Ian chuckles.

A slow smile spread across Yevgeny’s face. He sat on the rug with Libby and excitedly pet his new friend. “This is nice”, Yevgeny thought, finally feeling content. Having two fathers and a dog felt like the best case scenario for a comfortable home.

[mrfelixfischoeder]

21. For Murderella for the Soft OTP Prompts!

21- Write about your ship showing each other physical affection. 

this turned a lil nsfw so uhh readmore!!! tysm i loved writing this ehhehe. 

They had come back early from the bar before everyone else – unable to stay off each other. Zorya leads him through the eerily quiet Mordhaus, but it’s taking too long, and he pushes her up against the stone wall. His bedroom door is practically miles away at the end of the hallway. His bowtie hangs from his neck - he’s lucky he still has it at all, after Zorya ripped his shirt open in the limo. But it means she can run her hands up through the curly hair on his chest. Her nails dig in just under his neck, as she can’t help herself. She loves touching him.

“The room’s just there, Will,” she giggles as his lips lead down from her neck to her chest. She tries to hold his head back by gripping his curly hair, but there’s so little effort behind it. “Someone might see.”

“You don’t care.”

He’s right, but she thought she might as well try. He falls to his knees before her, and she holds his head, looking down at him, cheeks flushed. He looks up, his large hands holding her hips – his thumbs can almost touch as his fingers spread, and they’re nearly putting pressure on her already throbbing clit. When their eyes meet, he feels his own face go red. “You’re, scho…”

“Hm?” she tilts her head, unable to hear him.

“Perfect.” His eyes trail down from her lips, down her long neck to her prominent collar bones. He stares at the curve of her breasts, barely contained by the tiny green corset top she has, and then her little belly button, and the creases on her hips acting as two neon arrows pointing down to her pussy. Where he can see the hint of her happy trail growing back (he doesn’t mention it, but he loves it) under her skirt, which leaves so little to the imagination with the two giant slits on either side, she might as well be wearing nothing (and he knows she actually is underneath, because she’s sat on his lap for a majority of the night, on his hand, and left a scent that drove him fucking nuts and was why they left in the first place).

His left hand drags down onto her thigh, and thumbs over the healed scars on her skin, appreciative and loving of them. Understanding on a level Zorya wishes he wasn’t – but it also makes her heart beat faster. Chapped lips grace them with a peck, before he leads his lips to her inner thigh, biting down as he shifts the skirt out of his way.

“Will,” he’s parting her legs with his head, wanting to hear her say his name again. To beg for it. Because so few women put in the effort of acting like he turns them on like Zorya – to the level he is comfortable saying that hey, maybe it’s all genuine. So until she decides to reveal that this has all been some big prank, he decides to lap it up – literally – for as long as he can. To show her what he can do, what he wants to do, and to devour the way she says his name, and the attention she gives him while she deigns to give it. She’s his patron saint of indulgence, and he will pray.

Before meeting Zorya, he’d never be able to say that he’s tasted divinity. Now he can boast that his large tongue has pressed against the wetness of Aphrodite’s waves themselves – he has touched and studied godliness so closely he could recognise it in a line up blindfolded.

His head is dragged away from her as she almost screams, her chest heaving as she catches her breath, and he looks at her with a gaping mouth, tongue licking the juices from his lips. “What,” he asks, chin on her hip, his hands going to her behind to wriggle her around in his grip, “Lemme keep goin’,”

Zorya takes his chin and brings him back up to his feet, “In-in your room,” she asks with a smile. She strokes his cheek, and her smile and her blushing makes him grin. “Worships me in private tonight.”

“Yesch ma’am.” he obeys, allowing her to finally move from the wall and lead him down to their temple.

[insom-nom-nom-niatic]

...Redheads...

Fandom: Vox Machina (Critical Role)

Pairing: Vaxleth

Rating: E (if you are in the fandom of CR... this is like child's play let's be honest)

AN: I have a thing of not liking to go very much over 500 words, so this little drabble is a 2 part thing. It's also my first time getting back in the writing saddle for a very very very long time so... it is what it is. I also am a redhead, we all know what I mean when I say... what I say.

“Oh sweet Percy, do tell these folks of our last trip to Whitestone.” Vex’ahlia wrapped her fingers tightly around the snowy-haired man beside her. Glancing quickly towards Vax with an all-knowing nod. He quickly turns on his heels, headed for the door, and grabs Keyleths hand on the way. “Oh me too?!” She gasps as she gets whipped from the group. 

Green shoes make the slightest thuds against the hard wood floor panels, sending vibrations through Vax’s knee like an un-rhythmatic massage to the joints while he continued his work on what had to be the grandest lock he’d ever seen.  

“I'm not used to going on the super stealth missions.”

“No? Really?” Vax whispered with a smirk. It was pure luck for both of them that the guard dogs had all been preoccupied with the abundance of guests and Grogs loud belly laughs downstairs. 

“Yeah! Don’t know why though, this is kinda fun.” Vax just smirks at the redhead’s ideals of a ‘joyous’ time. 

2 minutes pass: Keylth is leaning on the door, her forehead rubbing back and forth on the cold wood whilst her eyes roll back and forth. Her red locks covering her features but Vax can tell her ‘joy’ was shortly lived.  

“Vaaaaaaaaaaaax. Hurry uuuuuuuuuuup. This is so boring.”

“Kiki-“

“I know I know,” she stands to mock his posture and accent in a low tone; “if it was easy, there would be no need for locks.”

Vax slowly cocks his head to meet the woman beside him. His brown eyes glaring up at her green ones peering back, causing slightest giggle echoing in her chest making his heart skip a beat. 

Footsteps begin pounding on the ground down the hall. Only a heartbeat later, the footsteps stop. Keyleth’s eyes widen as she every so slowly takes a step back, peering down the hall at 2 heavily armed guards looking directly her, They move their heads down and back up as they take in the strangers frame. “Uh, hello there.” Keyleth’s fingers fiddle with the side of her dress. 

“Get rid of them,” Vax murmurs. His eyes never leaving the lock he has sworn is ‘almost there’ for over 5 songs now. A small pink nub of tongue peeking through the side of hi lips a another tumbler of the lock settles. 

“How do I do that?” Keyleth wasn;t sure how loud she had spoken. But given how the guards’ faces contourted in confusion made her assume it wasn;t as ‘stealthy’ as she hoped. The guard further to the left gripped the sword tied to his hip a bit more. She could feel a small ball of sweat roll down the back of her neck when both guards began stalking forwards. 

“I don’t know! Do what you red heads do best!” Vax couldn’t help the grin that arose to the corner of his mouth at the words. She was innocent of course, but there was something in that woman that was much more than what she thought she was. 

But as Keyleth stood still, fright taking over her body as she stared at the guards inching closer by the heartbeat, Vax’s words replayed in her mind. She was sure she didn’t understand the meaning of what he had mumbled.  

Then instinct kicked in. 

Keyleth brought her 2 hands together with clenched eyes and a small gasp at what was going to happen. Simultaneously,  2 vines sprung from the floorboards, cracking through the wood and snapping both men together with a quick clash. Both men lay unconscious, possibly dead, in the middle of the hallway. Beside them, the 2 large vines slithered back into the holes they had left gaping on the floor. 

Vax arose to his feet. His mouth hung partially open trying to catch his breath as he stared at the, once formidable foes that are now at their feet, That definitely wasn’t what he meant… but it works he supposed. 

Keyleth stepped back quietly, heals carefully laying flat on the small area rug directly behind. Her ever green eyes still wide as they caught a look at Elven rogue beside her, the glimpse of a smile pulling at his lips caused a knot to begin growing in her stomach, before his smile infectiously rose to her own features.  

She did good?

She did good.

[surpriserose]

Guys please help i think i got a haunted copy of papas freezeria deluxe and now im scared

Like a lot of people, I was excited to see Papa’s Freezeria Deluxe come to Steam. It was a dream come true. Until it became a nightmare. I thought I was in for a weekend of nostalgic fun. Boy was I wrong. 

It started okay, I didn’t get it from a sketchy source or anything. I'm against piracy and I would never pirate a game so near and dear to my heart. I just downloaded it off Steam like any other game. And it looked like a normal children’s game too. The starting screen was bright and happy, the smoothies on either side of the start button beckoning me in. 

The problems didn’t start until I hit my first payday. Since I finally had the money from a week’s worth of drinks, I clicked on the shop page. When I looked at the furniture it was all purple and black and orange. The whole shop was Halloween themed and I hadn’t even unlocked holidays yet. I thought it was a little odd, but figured it was just a visual glitch in the end. The video game equivalent of colors bleeding in the wash. I bought a few bats and hung them up in the spirit of things. 

When I clicked to start the next day, it was like I really had skipped forward to Halloween. My first customer was Marty and he was in costume. He was dressed as a zombie, but the thing was, his costume just looked so realistic. His skin was gray and cracked in places, showing muscle and bone underneath. His model lurched forward, hands with long black nails raised up. He left a trail of hyper realistic blood on the floor. Then my avatar spotted Marty and he looked scared. My simulacrum contorted his cartoonish brows and his mouth gaped open.

Quickly, I pressed to go to the blender station, hoping to save my avatar. Instead of the usual head on counter view, I was in a hallway with a third person view of my avatar. I could see the entire kitchen and it was horrifying. The ice cream machine was slowly churning what looked like more hyper realistic blood. I hoped it was just strawberry flavored. Bloody handprints were smeared on the walls and counters. There were about five bloody knives on the floor. The toppings section was awash in human viscera. I had to get my little guy out of here. I spotted a door at the end of the hallway.

I started pressing the W key, which is forward in most games. My avatar moved forward slowly, as if he was hesitating. As if somehow whatever was in front of him was worse than what was behind him. But that couldn’t be possible, right? I smashed the W key down and my avatar started sprinting. He slammed into the door and flung it open, revealing an alleyway behind the Freezeria. One that was crawling with 30 of those hyper realistic zombies. They all looked like the other customers. Neither I or my avatar had any time to react before they leapt at him. Where my avatar once stood was now a mass of gray and green hands and a slowly growing pool of blood beneath them. But my avatar could still scream, and did. They sounded so real and chilled me to the bone. 

The curtains swooped down from either side of my screen and the familiar after work minigame popped up. Sundae shot. I only had one ticket to play and there was no way to exit the game. I pressed start.

The curtains retreated, revealing a horde of realistic zombies. I was in first person, a pistol in my cartoon hands. I grabbed my mouse and switched to FPS mode. I shot the first Zombie in the head, and Boomer went down, the remains of her head splattered on the wall behind her. I was able to take out four more of them before the gun clicked in my hand. Empty. I swore and started trying to move using WASD, but I remained rooted in place as the horde marched forward. I threw my arms up in front of my face, bracing for gory impact. But the curtains swung down right as the first zombie reached me.

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath, and let out a sigh. The game had closed itself. I was tired after this ordeal, so I figured I’d save deleting it from my Steam library for tomorrow. I stood up from my chair and stretched my arms above my head before I heard the satisfying click in my back. It was another click I heard first. The click of a lock being turned. I swung towards the door of my studio apartment. It creaked open a few inches and I heard a harmony of low groans. It was when the first rotted hand stuck out from the shadows outside that I knew I had nowhere to run.

[aevyndzn]

Vainglory

Chapter 1: Before

Word Count: 1900 Fandom: Villains Series - V. E. Schwab Characters: Victor Vale, Victor Vale's Parents Warning/content: Alternate canon, young Victor Vale Summary: What was Victor like as a teenager? Before everything became ruined? Before he became the villain?

A/N: I just wanted to see what Victor would be like as a teenager :)

At 15 years old, Victor had just gotten in his first fight. He sat in the hallway to the right of the office door, waiting for whatever negotiation was happening behind closed doors to end. He rubbed the bruised side of his jaw, trying to stretch out the soreness in his mouth. A boy of similar age sat to the left of the office, about a body’s width away, sending wary glances in his direction. Victor forgot what his name was…James? Jake? Something starting with a J… maybe. He was feeling usually impatient, the urge to walk off was beginning to feel very appealing.

He looked straight at the boy, resting his head in his hand, amused by how his classmate fidgeted on his chair. He tapped his feet on the carpeted floor to stave off the growing boredom, studying the boy with little interest. Jack was it? Whatever it was, he finally noticed Victor’s stare and shifted in his seat.

Victor tilted his head slightly to the side and continued staring straight into him.

The boy looked angry as his brows furrowed, he moved his shoulders and knees until they were angled in. He finally spoke up. “Stop that.” 

Victor blinked. “Stop what?”

Annoyance flitted over the boy’s face, cheeks reddening. “Staring at me like a fucking weirdo? What’s wrong with you anyway? First, you spread rumors about me that weren't even true and then lied about everything? Now you got me in trouble for punching you 'cause God knows how much you deserve it with your stuck-up attitude.”

“Why are you accusing me of spreading false rumors? It’s been proven true and everyone saw you walking me to the back of the school didn’t they?” 

The boy's mouth gaped open, seeming to want to cuss him out but the sound died in his throat.

The door finally opened, a rush of air carrying the sound of polite laughter and empty promises. The Vale's in their designer clothes smiled graciously, accepting apologies from the other set of parents. Victor released a small exhale, taking it as his cue to stand up beside his parents. His dad put his hands on Victor's back and pushed him forward until he could take a good look at the boy’s parents. Their smiles looked strained like they were trying their best to be so painfully nice. He hated how fake people could be.

“Well, I guess that concludes the little scuffle we had, why don't you two shake hands on it?" The principal stood behind the door frame, feigning cheerfulness. He quickly gestured for the boys to make up for their fight. Victor shrugged, bringing his arm up and holding out his hand. The boy begrudgingly took it, his hand squeezing hard. “Now Jason–” Oh, it was Jason. Names were hard to remember, “–as you know we have a no-tolerance policy on assault against other students, but Mr. and Mrs. Vale have been very generous with your sentence, and even Victor agreed that you would only need to be suspended for a week. This won’t be put on your school records at all. I'm sure you both have learned your lesson since this is only the first infraction but I expect you to carry on as better individuals, understand?”

A few other pleasantries were exchanged soon after, some of which made Victor want to roll his eyes, puke, or do both. Jason just refused to look at him, his face clouded with anger. It was fine, he supposed, at least he got to know what a real punch felt like (not good). His dad made a joke about the boy reading their self-help book which earned the adults a few chuckles and soon Victor was pulled away from the awkward setting and into the school parking lot.

...

Strips of road blurred underneath him, the ride home being suspiciously quiet. Victor kept his arm propped up on the window ledge of the car door, his head resting on his hand as the constant bumps and turns shook his vision. He didn't feel satisfied, not yet exactly. He had only wanted to cause a little drama for the boring excuse of a school, it was supposed to be something small anyway, he didn’t mean to get roped into it too or get anybody in trouble. It wasn’t as bad as he thought though, Jason was one of those kids on a scholarship, someone no one would care to sympathize with. He was a natural troublemaker, after all, there were already rumors that he used to steal things from people, although that was never proven. But it proved to work because his classmates often kept a wide berth away from him. Not that Victor had anything to do with it.

He’d only wanted to see how rumors could affect someone’s reputation and behavior, it was supposed to be on a small scale, but the rumors he made continued to reverberate throughout the school, students adding more details, entirely making up new ones. It was all traced back to Victor, of course, Jason wanted to confront him over the rumors behind the school building after classes ended, and when Victor promptly denied any association with it, he got hit.

If he had been more careful, he could've avoided that interaction. Next time he would be smarter, at least he could twist the incident in his favor. He wondered what his parents were thinking. Were they trying to find words to reprimand him? Simply speechless? He had no clue, the look on their faces was neutral. He hated not knowing what they were feeling, it would be easier to plan what to do or say ahead of time. 

Instead, the silence stretched the whole ride home where his dad had rolled into the driveway and parked. Victor waited for them to open their doors and head into the house but a heavy sigh left his dad’s mouth. He braced for a lecture. “Victor, I know your teenage hormones are making you act out but can you please behave yourself for us? We're about to release the second volume, your mom and I. The media is going to swarm like flies and I don't need you being on the news, okay?”

Victor rolled his eyes.

“You can tell us anything honey," his mom added gently. “We'll always be here for you, you don't have to go through all these confusing emotions alone. I'm sorry that we have been lacking as a family unit, but we aren't the only ones that are trying. You have a responsibility to participate too. We've always loved and supported you and maybe that book we’ve been writing has been pulling our attention away but that doesn't mean we still care.”

Victor drummed his fingers on the ledge, itching to get out. “Can I go?" 

His mom’s shoulders slumped in defeat. 

His dad waved him off with a tired hand. “You can go, we’ll talk about it later.”

...

Victor tapped the eraser side of his pencil on his lips, trying to brainstorm a sentence for his English assignment. His eyes strayed to the forms of his parents on their pristine white couch, the large TV a warble of unintelligible voices. He was about to return to his homework when the flash of Breaking News caught his eyes and he stayed a little longer to see what had happened.

“There’s been a report of a serious car crash…”

“That’s unfortunate,” his dad remarked. “Oh, doesn’t that face look familiar?”

“Wasn’t it about that terrible accident at the church? That poor boy, maybe we should consider adopting him. Tragedy after tragedy…” his mom added. “Maybe we should follow along with his case and write something about it while the media is trending.”

“And branch out into a new genre? Let’s not, we still have a couple more books planned out. We should…”

Victor turned back to his homework, rereading the question again, frustrated that his attention was taken away. The assignment was to work on their creativity and whatnot. Mr. Gall always had a knack for making his students think out of the box, except Victor found all his peers’ out-of-the-box thinking to fall inside the borders. 

If you had a superpower, what would it be? Don’t settle with ordinary ones, be creative!

He thought about it. People always chose mundane ones like flying or invisibility, they were useful in their own ways he supposed. But nothing new came to mind, he wasn’t a very creative person now that he thought about it. Victor circled back to what happened earlier today, he got punched and it didn’t feel very good. Maybe getting healing powers? No, that probably would be put in the ordinary section. What about-

His parents left the couch and his dad came up to him, patting his back with a heavy hand. “Finished with homework yet?” he was acting like he cared about him which irked Victor more than he would've liked.

“Dinner yet? What would you like?” his mom offered. “I have spaghetti leftover from yesterday, or maybe…" 

Victor grumbled and squared his shoulders, hiding the sheet of paper under his arm. Maybe getting rid of people so he could be alone in sweet silence was an idea. That sounded more pessimistic than he needed it to be. Whatever, everything seemed annoying these days, all he wanted to do was turn everything down like the volume dials of a radio. Wouldn't the world be more peaceful this way? 

“Victor,” a stern voice intervened. “Your mom was asking you what you wanted to eat.”

“I don't care," he muttered, chewing on the eraser part of the pencil. “I'm not hungry anyway.” Victor grabbed his binder and papers and headed for his room. He could hear the sighs of his disappointed parents, wondering what they had done wrong to raise such a rebellious son. Nevermind what they thought, he never particularly cared anyway, they never seemed to care about him even if they said so. They’ll be back to nurturing their self-help books as soon as they were done with their obligated parental duties.

Once he was in his room, he spread out the assignment on his table and was back to having his back hunched over the assignment and lamp pointed down at his head. Victor skipped the question and made a mental note to go back later, it was taking too long for him to think about something. Still, it lingered on his mind, rooting itself like a stubborn splinter. He leaned back on his chair, letting the two front legs lift into the air, suspending him in a careful balance. He let himself wander on, closing his eyes to imagine something, anything. 

What would it feel like to be God? Victor never really found interest in religion, but it was funny to think that people could believe in something they couldn’t see. People were so gullible, so easily manipulated, it could be understood that they could be led to believe in a higher power. Life would be so much better if he were a god, able to do anything, make anything, be anything (without consequences either). He leaned forward and scribbled down his answer.

My superpower would be to manipulate matter and minds.

Maybe if superpowers existed, he could have parents that truly loved him, rather than ones that pretended to be.

[pookha]

All Animals Love Luna

Luna's gone missing from a D.A. meeting. Harry and Hermione find her in the Charms classroom surrounded by animals.

A micro-fic that I wrote inspired by a post on the Harry/Luna and Harry/Cho Discord about Luna stealing pets. The original context was quite different, but this is what it inspired me to write.

Harry looked at the map again, Luna’s icon showed she was inside the Charms classroom. Hermione peered over his shoulder and pointed. He nodded. They both crept through the corridors, and Harry carefully opened the door. Luna was sitting at one of the desks with Crookshanks sleeping in her lap and Trevor resting on her head. She was reading a book by dim witchlight. Pigwidgeon and Hedwig perched on the back of her chair. A spectacled tabby that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Professor McGonagall curled around the witchlight jar. Mrs Norris sat on the edge of the desk and regarded Luna with adoration in her lamp-like eyes.

Luna didn’t turn at the opening door, but Crookshanks woke and his ears twitched toward them. He lifted his head and sniffed, then uttered a small meow that Hermione knew was her name.

Luna lifted her head from the book.

“Come in, Hermione.” She closed the book.

Harry and Hermione slipped into the room and closed the door. Luna seemed unperturbed by the door closing on its own.

Harry removed the cloak and he and Hermione sat at the desk next to Luna.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked.

“What do you mean?” Luna responded.

“I mean, you disappeared from the D.A. meeting and we find you here, surrounded by animals.” Harry waved at all of them. As he did, two more owls flew in through the open window and a white cat pushed the classroom door open, slunk in, and closed the door behind itself. Hermione’s mouth gaped open. The cat regarded her with a blank expression, trotted across to Luna and leapt into her lap. There was a brief scuffle with Crookshanks until Luna intervened and they both settled down.

“Oh, I just wanted to read and it was too loud and busy there.” Luna petted Crookshanks absently.

“But, what’s up with the animals?” Harry asked.

“They just like me,” Luna said matter-of-factly.

“I…see,” Hermione said. She reached out her hand to Crookshanks who sniffed it, stretched in Luna’s lap and then leapt into Hermione’s waiting arms.

“It’s always been like this if I don’t control it.” Luna closed her eyes, obviously making some internal effort.

“Is it a curse?” Hermione asked.

Luna looked down at the white cat purring in her lap.

“No, it’s a blessing.” She scratched the cat under its chin and its rumbling purrs intensified.

“But how?” Hermione spluttered.

Luna shrugged.

“I’ve always been like this, even as a little girl wild animals would come up to me. Daddy was worried when a Muggle farmer’s bull charged me, but then it stopped and let me rub its horns and touch its velvety nose. Mummy said it was because I was like ‘Snow White,’ whatever that means.” She smiled wanly at the memory of her mother.

“Was your mother Muggleborn?” Harry asked.

Luna shook her head.

“No, pureblood, but she loved everything Muggle.”

“We should get out of here before Umbridge finds us, or Filch,” Harry said.

Luna turned to Mrs Norris.

“You won’t tell Filch, will you?” she asked Mrs Norris, who slow-blinked at her, then looked away in the polite cat manner.

“Still,” Harry said uneasily.

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed, still wide-eyed at all the creatures.

Luna stood and handed Trevor to Harry. Trevor climbed into Harry’s pocket. She closed her book and the birds all took off out the open window. Hedwig paused just a moment to circle Harry and brush him with her wing before she flew off. Luna went to the window and closed it, then gathered her witchlight jar into her pack.

The tabby opened the door and stood guard while all the other animals left one by one.

“Do you want to come under the cloak with us?” Harry asked Luna who shook her head.

“No, I’ll be okay.” She walked out of the room and down the hallway, unconcerned. Mrs Norris led the way and Luna followed. Harry and Hermione waited for thirty seconds, then covered themselves with the cloak and crept back to the Gryffindor common room.