#trance pillow protectors

[tranceindia123]

Get the bolster which is comfortable and elegant legacy

When it comes to fine bed linens, the bolster pillow offers a singular chance for both coziness and refined style. The bolster contributes a degree of refinement and aesthetic fascination to your sleeping haven. Trance Home Linen is dedicated to promoting the decorative potential of bolsters. We provide a carefully chosen range of cotton printed bolster covers (Pack of 2 & 200 TC) that take ordinary spaces and turn them into remarkable ones. A bolster has been a feature of bedrooms for generations, growing into a multipurpose accent element that improves comfort and style. The fabric is 100% cotton with a 40's yarn count and is TUV "ISO" certified. A sateen weave made entirely of cotton adds a subtle sheen, while a 200-thread count yarn with 40s gives it an incredibly smooth finish. These are made to precisely fit India's standard bolster cover size, which is 16 by 32 inches. These include ties to the bolster cover on both sides, to be fastened and tugged.

[siverwrites]

Night Protector

Ghost Swap week! Following the prompt: "Kamila has a nightmare, Sissel helps comfort her"

Read below or on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56440273

-

Sissel didn’t need sleep, but that didn’t mean he didn’t partake in the trance state of cats everywhere—when he wasn’t leaving to explore, with or without his body, that is. As it turned out it was a good thing he had stayed in tonight as the sound of a muffled sob reached his ears.

He jumped down from his place amongst her toys and books on her shelf and padded over to her bed where he smoothly jumped. As his weight hit the bed there was a hiccup in Kamila’s breath and he saw her sit up against her pillows.

Sometimes, when she was upset, he would fetch Jowd or Alma, but they were both exhausted tonight, he knew. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he comforted her in this lifetime and another. He couldn’t reach out to her core anymore, thankfully, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t reach out to her at all. He rested a paw on her knee with a low mrrp.

“S-Sissel.” One hand gripped her blanket. The other reached out to scratch behind his ear. He leaned into her hand and purred.

“It was dark,” she whispered. “More than now and cold and I couldn’t find mom or dad or you. I don’t know where I was, but I was so scared. Sissel…Something was really bad.” She sniffled. “I don’t even know what. That’s silly, isn’t it?”

Sissel nudged her head harder. Never silly, especially if the little lady really knew.

“Dad says it’s never silly, but dad’s brave.”

So are you, Sissel thought.

She reached out her other hand to stroke along his side and he felt the nudge in the gesture.

Message received; he stepped into her lap, settled into a loaf across her legs, and purred louder. She stroked his fur.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sissy. And mom and dad are just asleep, right?”

“Brrrp.”

“Yeah… It’s funny. You’re such a little kitten, but I think you keep us safe somehow. I feel safe with you.”

He kneaded the blanket over her lap. It was easier these days certainly, mostly. Kamila gave a breathy little sigh that turned into a tiny giggle.

“And you always make me feel better. Will you stay with me tonight?”

He really needed to figure out a clearer way to communicate with her, but at least she generally seemed to get his meaning. He stepped off her lap, and remained by her side, so she could lay back down. When he was certain she was settled he curled up by her shoulder and started up another low purr.

When Alma passed by Kamila’s room to check on her in the morning, she saw her curled up with Sissel nestled in the crook of her arm, warm and peaceful.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) – Chapter 7

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of violence and torture, non-con/rape, angst, emotional rollercoaster, claustrophobia, PTSD responses, panic attack, mobster AU

I was inspired to start writing this fic when I saw this artwork by @arczism

According to D&D lore, elves rarely sleep (usually only to heal from illnesses, wounds, or severe exhaustion) and prefer to go into reverie, a meditative trance-like state that has sleep-like effects.

This is obviously an AU that isn't related to my other work.

It was pitch-black in the stone coffin, cold, and stuffy. The solid stone wet with blood and tears.

"Let me out, Master, please," Astarion croaked, his voice long gone hoarse from shouting and screaming. Once more, his fingers clawed at the coffin, raw and bloody, and nails all gone. He had no idea how long he was already in his tiny prison, claustrophobia gnawing constantly on the back of his mind.

"I can be good, Master," he whispered. "I promise, I'll be good." A scratchy sob left his sore throat. It hurt. He tasted his own blood on his tongue. "Anything. I'll do anything you want, Master, but please, let me out. I can't stand it anymore."

He waited, listened. His eyes itched, but there were no tears left to cry. It stayed eerily quiet. What if Master had forgotten about him? What if he was trapped in here for eternity? The panic picked up again.

"Master, please, anything! I'll do anything. I'll be good, I promise, I'll be good!"

With a gasp, Astarion shot up from the mattress. It was just a nightmare, he wasn't in the coffin but in Gale's bedroom. He panted and stared at his trembling hands. Everything was fine, everything was fine.

"Hm? Astarion?" mumbled Gale, lifting his head from the pillow half-asleep. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just... just a nightmare," the vampire spawn croaked out.

His nails were intact, his fingers not bloody, his throat not raw. He was alright. Everything was –

"You don't seem fine. What did you dream about? Do you want to talk about it?" asked Gale, voice heavy with concern.

"My master... he likes to punish me. To lock me into a coffin. To whip and flay me. To pull my teeth out, one by one. To rip my nails out. To strip me naked, tie me up, blindfold me, gag me, and then –" Astarion screwed his eyes shut and shook his head vehemently as if he could get rid of the memories this way. "That's the worst, you know," he whispered. "When he's gentle and pretends that he cares. I can live with the cruelty, the torture, but when he's gentle... it makes me want to retch."

For a while, Gale kept quiet, then he said "I see" before falling back into silence.

Astarion had been wrong; silence was worse than Gale's endless talking.

"Can I hug you?" the latter finally asked and the vampire spawn nodded, relieved.

Gale's body was warm around his, the smell of lavender, cedarwood, and sandalwood was calming. Astarion nestle up against the wizard and inhaled deeply.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome. Anything for you," replied Gale and Astarion felt like wheeping.

"Can I stay here for a while longer?" asked the vampire spawn anxiously. "I don't feel safe in the city anymore."

"Of course," answered Gale, kissing his cheek. "Stay as long as you like. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you," whispered Astarion, holding onto the wizard tightly.

The latter fell asleep again soon, but the vampire spawn lay awake for hours, too afraid to go back into reverie and dream of Cazador.

After a while, Astarion carefully released himself from Gale's embrace, sat up, and watched the sleeping wizard.

It would be easy to slip the collar around his neck now. Easy to carry him away.

Astarion sneered at himself and got up to wander around the Dekarios Estate instead.

Gale had said that it was the safest building in all of Waterdeep which meant that it was basically impossible to break in and impossible to leave without being spotted. Thus, Astarion needed to find a way around the aforementioned problem to abduct the wizard. Maybe, he could convince Gale to a nice little nightly stroll through the city, or a visit at a book shop. The wizard seemed like the romantic type...

"Are you lost, saer?"

Astarion jumped, barely able to hold back an embarrassing squeak. Somehow someone had been able to sneak up on him. Those damned wizards!

"Not at all. I'm simply admiring my host's beautiful home," the vampire spawn lied, putting on his sweetest voice and face. The servant didn't seem impressed and kept glaring at him stone-faced.

"Despite being a guest," he said, "you are not allowed to walk freely through these halls. The boss doesn't like strays and won't be pleased when she’s informed about it."

"Apologies," replied Astarion with a saccharine smile. "I was unaware of the rules. I'll go back to Gale's suite immediately."

"I'll lead you there. We wouldn't want that you get lost and something happen to you, would we?"

"Of course not, darling," purred the vampire spawn and let himself be herded back to Gale's quarter.

There, the servant told him: "I advise you to stay in Mr. Dekarios' suite until your departure. But if you wish to part ways, you just have to say so and it'll be done."

"I don't plan to leave yet," retorted Astarion. "I rather like it here and my host's rather... generous."

"Of course he is," spoke the servant icy. He glared daggers at the elf until the latter had closed the door behind him.

With a heavy sigh, Astarion leaned against the oak door and took a breather. This was going to be much more challenging than expected. He needed Gale to fully trust him so that he wouldn't ask stupid questions when being lured outside his home.

Astarion sighed again and went back to bed just when Gale stirred.

"Are you alright? Do you need something?" mumbled the wizard sleepily. Astarion slipped under the covers and snuggled up against the other man.

"No, not at all, darling. Go back to sleep," he answered.

The addressed hummed, closed his eyes, and slung an arm over the vampire spawn who, to his own surprise, didn't mind.

Gale had almost drifted back to sleep when he suddenly realised that Astarion had spoken about his master in the present tense. Shit.

The next day, Gale had to work and start casting the defence spells everywhere across the city, no matter how much he wished to spent more time with Astarion. The latter waved him off with a kiss, promising that he'd still be here when the wizard would come home.

Astarion was used to waiting and finding ways to pass time by himself. He explored Gale's suite a bit more, took another bath in the big, fancy tub, and decided to read one of Gale's many books in front of the fireplace. While he was browsing through the wizard's bookshelves, he suddenly felt like being watched. He swiftly turned around and spotted Tara who was sitting in the doorway.

"Hello, darling," lilted Astarion, "what's the matter?"

The addressed miaowed, but kept sitting there like a statue. The vampire spawn lifted his brows.

"What an attitude! Don't be jealous, I'm sure you'd be a delectable little snack."

At that, the tressym hissed, humping her back, and Astarion laughed gleefully.

"Be careful, darling, I'm always hungry for more."

Tara growled and glared daggers at him. Chuckling, the elf rolled his eyes.

"I'm joking. I'd never eat Gale's sweet little pet."

Growling and grumbling, Tara stomped into the living room and made herself comfortable on the windowsill to bird watch. Astarion observed her amused and finally settled on a epic poem.

It's probably about some damsel in distress and a Prince Charming.

He scoffed, but started to read the book nonetheless.

Thus, imagine the surprise, slight shock, and utter delight, when Astarion realised that the damsel in distress was a male drow bard and Prince Charming turned out to be a wizard instead. And there were certain very detailed scenes... with illustrations. Oh, my!

The vampire spawn grinned at the revelation that Gale enjoyed a gay erotic novel as much as a poetry album. That was perfect blackmail-worthy information to make the wizard blush and squirm in embarrassment. Astarion was already looking forward to it.

It was late at night when Gale returned and reported to his mother.

"I put all the defence sigils in place like you asked me to do and everything's vampire-proof now."

"Well done, my dear," praised Morena. "Thank you for your help, it's appreciated. In the meantime, I was able to calm everyone down and started to increase the patrols. But as expected, I still need more evidence to make my case regarding Cazador. I'm already planning our next steps and I'm sure we'll succeed."

"So am I," smiled Gale and kissed Morena's cheek, before he left her office. He almost collided with someone.

"Astarion! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, I'm just exploring your home and got a bit lost," answered the addressed, batting his lashes. "To be completely honest with you, I'm a bit peckish and looking for the exit, but I seemed to have taken a wrong turn."

"I'll show you the way out," said Gale and led him down the hallway. "Whenever you're hungry or need something, just tell me. There's no need to be embarrassed about your... condition."

"Thank you, darling. You're too sweet," cooed Astarion and leaned against the wizard's arm. Together, they walked downstairs, too wrapped up in each other to notice that they're being watched.

"Boss, I think the vampire's eavesdropping on us," whispered Murk.

"I suspect so too," replied Morena icily. "Keep an eye on him. Usually, Gale's rather good at assessing people, but it seems like his lust is clouding his judgement."

With a harsh head movement, she sent Murk off who made his way down the corridor. The half-orc was rather dexterous and sneaky despite his size and breadth. Morena watched her son's bodyguard go, with a worried frown between her brows. Soft fur slinked around her calves. The Archmage of Waterdeep set her jaw.

"Tara, dearest, we need to talk."

A purr answered her.

[allworkwear]

BABY ESSENTIALS FOR YOUR BABY'S ARRIVAL

Pre-baby shopping trips are an important part of equipping your new family member. Getting ready to welcome a baby into your home can be exciting and thrilling. To take care of the little one you have to fill your house with the things you’ll need. To help you figure out what to buy, the experts at Trance Home Linen have systematized the baby essentials for your baby’s arrival. These are some of the bare necessities of life thus making your caring for the child easier. And also life is more comfortable for you and your partner! We think the top of every baby checklist should be a safe place to put the baby down so you can get some rest too. A Crib and best crib mattress protector. A new, firm mattress that fits the frame. Without affecting its breathability, comes a few baby dry sheet waterproof covers, baby pillows for newborns, and swaddle wrap cloth.

[athys-obelia]

character/s: claude de alger obelia, diana of siodonna, felix robane

synopsis: it's...uhm....an empress!diana x concubine!claude crackfic 😭😭

warning/s: uhh a sprinkle of politics, the robane duchy is now siodonnan and not obelian screw canon, diana is lowkey mean to rogrog

a/n: i'm so sorry this is so bad

part one

felix's foot taps against the tiles of the empress' room impatiently. "you stayed up finalising the agreement all night, your majesty, perhaps some rest is due?"

diana spares him glance, turning sideways from her position on her bed. "what was his name again?"

  "pardon?"

  "the painter," she elaborates, pointing towards the painting on the ceiling above the bed. "i keep...i don't know, i keep finding new things the more i look at it."

  "is that so?"

the painting itself, a coronation gift from felix, depicts the goddess diana reaching out to the children of the world and vice versa. "if you look at the sky closely - remember our old siodonann classes?- 'for the people' is hidden in the stars. isn't that cool?"

the knight squints at the painting. "oh, i see it! i wonder why it's in old siodonann, though?"

  "i would guess it's because the imperial family wasn't worshipped in the old days," diana explains, "for example - right now, in some parts of the empire, my late father - bless him - and i may actually have shrines because people believe the imperial family's descent is from the gods. when the kingdom was just formed, though, kings and queens weren't allowed to ride alone in carriages as they greeted their subjects- they needed to have a slave with them at all times, who kept on repeating 'you are human' to them. 'you are human', 'we are all the same in the eyes of the true gods."

the sound of the army of maids behind the door is enough to pull felix out of his trance. "er...horatius calvus, your majesty."

  "hm?"

  "the artist, that's his name."

  "ah." diana turns to the painting once more, eyes staring at the goddess' hair that melted into the night sky. "would you be able to get in contact with him? i'd like to commission a piece."

felix bows gracefully. "as your majesty commands. oh, and - for the obelian delegates' farewell celebration tonight...has your majesty decided on an escort?"

she groans, falling back on the bed. "i've had so much free time lately, the harem is all i think about!"

  "very funny, ma'am. then...shall i prepare the usual?"

diana shakes her head. "i'll visit viscaria palace later and see for myself. the obelians brought some concubines with them as presents, it's be nice to weed through the bunch."

felix's eyes nearly pop out. "you're visiting the harem?! your majesty! did you find someone you like??"

she chucks a pillow at him before he can continue. "you weren't loud enough just now, fe, i don't think all of siodonna heard you."

  "...apologies, ma'am."

three years ago, when she had only just come into power, diana remembers being afraid of the large, gold doors between her and the council room. she remembers pausing before entering, regaining her breath, preparing her mind. projecting an image.

if there is one thing she has learnt, though, it's that only fools can be afraid of their own property. their assets. the larger-than-life doors swing at her command, allow or deny entrance with solely her permission. confidence comes easy when you act like you own the place - nevermind the fact that she did own most places.

but i have no reason to be afraid.

the obelian delegates stand at her arrival and bow like good little lords should before an empress. one of the more prominent ones stands to address her as soon as the meeting commences.

  "blessings and glory upon the sun of the great siodonnan empire," he says.

diana raises an amused eyebrow. this game, hm? "is that an obelian greeting, duke? how interesting. here, one would usually wish 'a long life to the protector of the siodonnan people'. that's all i am, after all - how could i be the sun?"

duke alpheus sputters. "er...i failed to acquaint myself with siodonnan culture appropriately, my apologies, your majesty. i shall do better next time."

how arrogant. still, she smiles, "i must confess, duke alpheus - i am slightly susceptible to praise, so i'll let you off this time."

  "thank you, ma'am."

  "although making the assumption that there will be a next time at all was quite courageous of you." diana signals the guards, who open the door to let the final participant of the meeting inside. "however -courage and bravery are traits best suited for kings and queens, duke. not lords."

the obelian delegates pale as they watch their - former - emperor, wrists bound, enter the hall with an entourage of knights.

diana glances at the newcomer. "although i suppose even for an emperor, too much of a bravado may cost a war."

anastacius de alger obelia glowers at her.

she frowns at the knights. "how come such a precious friend of mine is tied up like this? is this how we siodonnans treat our guests?"

felix bows deeply. "i apologise, ma'am - he was resisting far too much."

  "whatever the case. get a seat set up right here, beside me - after all," diana smiles at the fuming obelian, "we were dining together just a few months ago, weren't we?"

  "three months ago, to be precise," anastacius spits out, "after which you decided to switch tides and invade us like a coward."

she watches one of the knights set down a fancy chair to the left of hers, reaching out to untie the bindings on anastacius' wrist. diana frowns suddenly, waving over felix, "ah, is this the leash my brother used when he tamed his dragon?"

the former emperor flinches, staring down at it. "someone here tamed a dragon?" a light pink dusts his cheeks - did he really touch the actual leash of a dragon?

felix shakes his head with a small smirk. "this is the leash her majesty the late dowager empress used, ma'am. for her dog."

  "-ah, right, i remember now! all the ones marked with this little purple line are used for tying down senseless animals, aren't they?"

  "yes, your majesty." felix returns to his spot behind her, clear amusement swimming in his grey eyes as he watches the obelians try and maintain their composure.

diana gently lets the leash loose, a hand on the stunned anastacius' shoulder to lightly push him into the seat. "you aren't wrong - i did betray your hospitality, didn't i?"

roger alpheus winces at the sudden authority in her tone as the knights pass out a document to each of the obelian lords.

  "obelia's greeting and offer for peace was kind to me, so i must return this generosity. your country is now part of the siodonnan empire, so we should be parting on a good note. will a little present suffice?"

a brunette diana remembers to be a count speaks up, "...a gift, your majesty?"

felix moves closer to the table, watching the detailed map of siodonna carved into its centre. as he raises his hand, almost as if it were a chess piece, a small island moves to the left. its color flickers between a siodonnan purple and the obelian teal.

diana sighs. "i was planning on the island of delphine, since it not only contains a relatively large gold mine, but also much tourist attraction."

oh, she can see the stars in alpheus' eyes already. "thank you, your ma-"

  "but." he shrivels under her piercing gaze, "but, obelia doesn't need gold, does it? what you need is better foreign relations. and what better way to form an alliance..."

she eyes the map, and with a flick of felix's wrist, a small stretch of land connecting two continents switches from its original purple to a hue of blue.

diana looks up now, meeting even anastacius' shocked eyes. he eyes her suspiciously, "do you really-?"

she nods. "...consider it a gift from your sovereign. it is enough, yes?"

  "i- uh," duke alpheus blinks twice, "the isthmus of erven is...an adequate present, yes, your majesty. the people of obelia shall thrive due to your generosity."

  "it is not generosity, duke. your people are my subjects now. however, i hope you realise the isthmus isn't obelian property for obvious reasons. there is no trust between us. despite this, what i will allow is some access." diana stands, watching the foreign nobles mirror the action. "the terms and conditions of our relationship from this point onwards are in the papers before you and are, obviously, subject to change. feel free to approach me with concerns, should you have any."

  "you were firmer than i'd expected with the obelians, your majesty," felix comments.

diana recoils as his eyes light up at the sight of viscaria palace. "remember when i visited obelia for anastacius' coronation? i was only seventeen, but two years into my studies as heir - and they were all over duke renauld's son! poor cousin ronnie couldn't stop apologising."

felix snorts. "the renaulds wouldn't have dared challenge your majesty's claim, not while the late empress dowager was behind you."

  "ha! that's right, everyone was scared of mama." she grins fondly, "papa most of all."

the knight nods, murmuring a prayer.

  "i want them gone as soon as possible," diana admits, "but there's much to settle before that. i need to fix up anastacius before we can let him back, the second prince is still...what was his name, again?"

  "claude de alger obelia, ma'am."

she winces. "yes, he's an impo-"

a commotion sounds from within viscaria. felix raises an eyebrow at the shouts echoing from the beautiful building, a hand already atop his sheathed sword. "ma'am, stay back, i'll have a look- your majesty! where are you going-?!"

navigating through the decorated halls, diana halts before the entrance of the garden. the argument is between two men she doesn't recognise, as the older concubines gather to the side, amusing twinkling in their eyes.

  "attention!" felix roars, "her imperial majesty, empress diana celeste!"

the two freeze in fear.

  "disrupting my peace. how dare you?" diana demands.

one of them, dressed too finely for someone she hadn't even seen yet, steps forward. "your majesty, my name is xerre, i was only-"

she raises a hand, effectively shutting him up. tone softening, diana turns to the group crowding around the desert table. "lex?"

the group shuffles to let a young, silver haired young man forward. lex bows gracefully, laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. "yes, my lady?"

  "do you know what happened here?"

lex nods. "the monthly salary was being distributed, your majesty, and xerre - being a present from the kingdom of masur - had some trouble believing his amount was the same as a former obelian slave's. verhan stepped in to argue that your majesty was the one to decide this, and they began fighting."

  "shall i prepare for his voyage back to masur, majesty?" felix asks, as the rest of the concubines roll their eyes at his antics.

diana studies the masurian concubine, beckoning him closer. "it is common knowledge i do not generally accept gifted concubines from territories out of my own."

she watches his adam's apple rise and fall, tracing a nail over the well defined jawline. xerre shivers.

  "however, your king is new to his throne, and his queen one of my dearest friends. do you realise how our alliance will look were i to send you back?"

he nods cautiously.

  "i do not wish to withdraw support from someone i consider a brother, xerre. especially when he is engaged in armed conflict on two fronts."

  "i- i am prepared for any punishment your majesty deems appropriate."

diana sighs softly. "i would send you to work for me in the capitol, but the rules state every concubine entering must reside here for a certain amount of time. until then, bear with it. this palace, and a life of luxury, is only meant for my favorites. clear?"

  "yes, your majesty."

  "my apologies, ma'am," felix says once the crowd disperses, his head hanging. "i should've prepared for your arrival with more care."

she waves off the apology, heading to the guest hall to take a look at the new obelian  concubines.

  "vera leaves for her son's wedding for a week and we've already had an incident. honestly, felix."

  "...who's vera?"

diana pauses at the unfamiliar voice. her gaze falls on the figure sitting on the window seat, entirely immersed in the book in his hands. she blinks, stunned, watching the colourful window's filtered light paint the brilliant blonde of his hair.

felix is the first to address him, scoffing, "i believe your majesty's beauty has enchanted one of the gods - who else would dare address the empress of our nation so casually?"

diana chuckles, watching as the man stands, intrigued. she stays silent, breath hitched, as he towers over her, studying her with a curiosity that rivals hers from a moment ago. and only when he finally lowers himself to a knee does his hair part, and diana flushes at the red tinting his ears.

  "greetings to her imperial majesty, may the gods grant the protector of the siodonnan people a life long and blessed."

she offers him her hand. "rise. and tell me your name."

a beat of silence passes as he stares at her outstretched hand before hesitantly accepting. "claude, your majesty."

  "claude," diana tries, finding it rolls of her tongue deliciously.

he raises an eyebrow as she regards him. "your majesty...?"

diana smiles, her hand moving to touch the various jewellery adorning his fingers. gently, she slides off the gold ring off of his ring finger. "you must have a good reason to be donning an unauthorized magical item in my palace."

he doesn't answer, head lowered.

her hand lets go of his, raising to grip the blonde's jaw. diana tilts up his face, meeting his gaze. the dull grey eyes from before have vanished, replaced by glittering blues.

she inhales sharply. "you're...the obelian pr...the second prince of obelia."

he nods.

diana turns, more puzzled than angry. "why is he in my harem?"

  "... didn't your majesty wish for it?" felix tilts his head in confusion.

  "what? no?"

the knight frowns. "but i was so sure...your majesty said you didn't have an heir because you wanted a concubine as beautiful as me...when we took over the imperial palace, as the army swore their allegiance...your majesty said the prince was the prettiest you’ve ever seen?"

  "i- felix, i was kidding!"

  "...oh."

she turns to the prince then, "and you! you're a prince! how come you just went along with this??"

  "well...it was the most peaceful part of the palace..."

diana gapes at the two men, before finally sighing in defeat. "you're telling me i was scouring the lands for you, while you were right...?" she raises a hand to massage her temple, "...gods grant me patience."

felix cautiously steps forward, "your majesty...i understand this is shocking, but... tonight's escort..."

she glances up at the obelian prince. "allow them all to retire. i've found the perfect escort."

a/n: hmmm this was a bit empty claudiana wise, wasn't it? their development is coming though, i had to give empress!diana an intro :) also !! the situation may seem a bit confusing rn, but next chapter will clear things up! or you can just ask me for clarification <3

💕 felix is dying to find a concubine diana likes bc he really really really wants to be an uncle

💕 in siodonna, emperors/empresses are referred to by their first(diana) + middle name(celeste) and not a last name bc they technically can't belong to a house, they belong to the empire. but the middle name is important bc you have to ask for it (from someone you love and respect usually), you're never just born with one (so you could ask a parent / friend / mentor yada yada and they give you a name they believe fits best)

[saphirered]

I just found your account recently! I love your style of writing, and you portray the characters so well! Can I please make a request (if it suits you!!) for Dorian, Opal and Dariax with a reader when they take a watch together by the fire and the reader tells them they look pretty in the light? Just some soft feelings, words, maybe a kiss...?

Welcome and thank you! Hope you like this one just as much as the others! 😘

(Dorian)

The sounds of the night are accompanied by the soft strumming of strings and a hummed lullaby just quiet enough as to not wake the fast asleep companions, save for you and the bard himself. Someone had to take first shift and neither of you were opposed so you were put in charge of keeping the fire going and assuring nothing would succeed at brutally murdering you all. The latter seems to have become a serious concern you could do without. But at least it gives you evenings like these. Who wouldn’t appreciate a private concerto from your favourite genasi bard?

There you are, seated comfortably on a log staring over the flames, captivated by the melody, the nimble and practiced fingers plucking at the strings with an airy grace, staring into the night. The firelight hits Dorian just right. He reminds you of the sunset, right before the last light leaves the sky, that mix between the blue fading dark, with hints of reflected orange and gold; an image of true beauty. Were it not for that beautiful song keeping you grounded, you might as well have drifted into the ethereal and forgotten your task entirely. You find yourself humming along.

You’re pulled out of your trance by Dorian himself whispering your name. By the looks of it you had missed the first few times he called for you, the song coming to a close shaking you back to reality. Dorian had been a little louder than he intended to and you watch some of the others’ steer. Both of you share a look and hold your breath until you’re sure they’re still fast asleep. He beckons you over, something to say and not willing to take the risk of speaking just a little too loud again so you step over the sleeping bodies and find your way to Dorian’s side of the fire, sitting down next to him on the makeshift bench of a fallen tree.

“Hey, everything alright? Not to offend but you looked a bit out of it. Copper for your thoughts?” Dorian whispers as he absentmindedly plucks at the strings.

“Just deliberating wether you’re some sort of siren in disguise enchanting those who’s eyes fall upon your dashing looks and hear your angelic melodies or not.” Dorian’s very glad it’s dark but the fire still allows you visual of the lovely shade of purple he’s turning at the cheeks. He stops playing and puts the instrument to the side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. His plan to prevent you from seeing him so flustered fails as you only get a clearer view looking up at him with a smug grin.

“Is that your way of saying I’m pretty?” The first words may have been a bit more high pitched than he wanted to. You chuckle and feel Dorian’s knuckles jab playfully into your side. It doesn’t deter you from that smug sense of accomplishment remaining.

“Do I have to spell it out for you or would you prefer it in song?” You lean in, grabbing his chin and angling his face down closer to yours.

“I certainly wouldn’t be opposed-“ That’s all you need to hear before you close the distance, placing your lips on his. Dorian’s very happy you can’t see the blush grow or he might never hear the end of it. Your ability to get him all hot and bothered is something he both enjoys and fears but then there’s moments like these where he’s reminded exactly why he likes your occasional smugness.

(Dariax)

Dariax sits by the fire to preserve as much warmth as he can. The night is colder than expected and he had given you his blanket to stay warm yourself. He doesn’t regret the decision because you’re warm and comfy and that’s all worth suffering the cold but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish for some more warmth. Clutching his spear tightly to keep the blood flowing he stands sentry like a valiant guardian. Little does he know you’re still awake, or rather, awake again.

You hear the deep breaths being taken, sounds of movement; pacing. You open your eyes and there you are met with a sight you could wake up to more often. The gentle light of the flames highlight and shadow as they move in the breeze giving Dariax the appearance of a protector watching over you with an air of radiant divinity. There’s even a sense of grace. But you also see him shivering lightly.

Dariax watches you sit up and stretch your arms, blanket still in your grasp. You make eye contact and he offers you a smile. You pat the spot next to you on your bedroll and not one to question, Dariax does as suggested, sitting down next to you. You engulf him in the warm layers and feel Dariax relax just a little at the change of temperature. You lean your head on his shoulder and cuddle up against him as much as you can. He puts the spear aside and wraps one arm around you, the other holding the blankets close against himself. While he continues to keep watch you begin to drift off, not fully asleep, but more daydreaming of the divine sorcerer sitting next to you.

“You know you look real pretty, especially in the light of the fire, right?” You mumble and Dariax has to do a double take if he heard that right. Not that he’s not used to people calling him handsome or any variant of the term but more so you speak so openly and unrestrained.

“You sure you’re not still dreaming?” Dariax pushes back a laugh as he leans his head against yours. You’re cute when you’re sleepy and compliments like this from you are definitely something he could get used.

“If I am, it’s a damn good dream but I don’t think I am. You tell me oh-radiant one.” You smile leaning your chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek feigning innocence and obliviousness. It’s definitely moments like these that have Dariax completely smitten by you and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

“One way to find out?” Dariax pinches you and you gasp. The audacity. You’re clearly awake now. Game over? Not yet. Dariax looks very proud of himself as you swat his arm but put your ‘dreamy’ face back on.

“Hmm. I don’t think I’ve been convinced.” Dariax does not like the mischievous grin peaking through. It’s a look he’s seen many a time and it’s always an omen for something you’re plotting. He fears for what he might have set in motion if you’re seeking revenge.

“Need me to pinch you again?” Dariax asks somewhat hesitant. Sometimes he’s really oblivious and it’s sweet but you might just have to take the lead here or you won’t get anywhere just yet. While Dariax is a very good flirt, being on the receiving end it may just take him a second longer to process. Don’t worry. You’ll help him out.

“I’ve got something else in mind.” You softly place your lips on his. That’s all the explanation Dariax needs. arm around you finds your back and pulls you just a little closer to deepen the kiss.

(Opal)

Opal is tossing and turning. What does she have to do for a nice and comfortable bed? The life of an adventurer is fun and all but she would really appreciate a soft mattress that doesn’t smell of grass, dirt or whatever other surface she has use as a base. Homegirl’s used to the fineries of societies so the life on the road is not and will never be her comfort zone no matter how many times she’s in the situation. She’s used to it though and she likes this life so she’ll accept and embrace every part of it.

Your attention shifts to the human at the sound of moving covers and groans of discomfort trying to find a more suitable position to fall asleep in as you keep watch. With a huff Opal sits up scrunching and readjusting, more like beating her makeshift backpack pillow in annoyance. She tries it one more time, putting her head down but still she doesn’t deem it right. Another huff and she sits up meeting your eyes. You offer her a nod and she grumbles, gets up and places herself next to you.

Grabbing a stick on her way Opal prods at the fire, the flames responding in a small burst of embers but you’re in safe range. Opal relaxes a little having found company in you and something to focus on rather than wallow in annoyance. She doesn’t say anything but the half smile she offers you is enough to make you feel appreciated for just being there.

Opal returns her focus to the flames staring into them getting caught up in her own wandering mind you watch. You can’t help but notice how the flames enhance the opalescent… everything to her, through a beautiful glow. She looks like a living breathing jewel. Just simply breathtaking. Don’t get this wrong, Opal is pretty no matter what. This is simply another angle you had never seen before, the way the light of the fire hits her features just right and how the flames reflect in her eyes, the sparks of ember changing that flow every so often, she’s a true visage.

“Hey, Opal?” She looks at you. “I just wanted to say you look lovely.” Opal lights up at the compliment with a warmth akin to that of the fire in front of you both. She knows damn well she’s gorgeous and looks aren’t everything but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy the compliments you offer her. If anything, she really enjoys it coming from you and makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Why thank you. I have to say you look amazing yourself. What can I say, this light does great things for us gorgeous people.” There’s a hint of jest in her voice as she brushes a hand through her hair, pursing her lips with a wink. You hold back a laugh at the joking self-obsessed tone she uses.

“Even the light of a fire dulls in comparison by the shine of the Gem of Byroden.” You hold the back of your hand to your head as if you’re about to swoon. The gesture sends Opal into a muffled giggle fit as you quickly cover her mouth.

“Shhh. Let’s not wake the others.” You whisper. Opal pulls your hands away, checking over the others as she kisses your palms and making sure the others are still asleep. Luckily they are. Unsatisfied with just your hands to kiss she pulls you closer and kisses your lips instead silencing your surprised squeal.

[pettyprocrastination]

Braiding Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Din Djarin embarks on a slow but caring journey into intimate moments with the child and his partner, who he may want to become more than that. Also Yodito learns to braid!

I’m heading back into work tomorrow so this is sort of a gift to myself, but mostly something I wrote for @captainsamwlsn​ my mf ride or die what an icon. Life be crazy rn but im here for you every step of the way bb!!! 

Warnings: None besides occasional curse words, lots of fluff and din feeling intimate for the first time in a long long time! Mention’s of emotional over-stimulation. Touch starved! Din. 

Din loved your hair. Thick, brown, curls that swayed and moved like the waves of the oceans on Kamino. Beautiful tresses that bounced with each step and framed your face like a priceless picture. Once during a long flight through hyperspace, Din made the mistake to look over at you. Seeing the bright colors from the stars they were speeding by bounce across your face and shine through your hair, he swore for a moment he forgot how to breathe. You looked positively ethereal, smiling down at the sleeping child in your arms like some sort of patron saint, protecting both the innocent and the damned alike.

Sometimes, in moments of silence and solitude, he thought about what it’d be like to touch it. 

Not in the way he saw others do to you so many times. Some self-entitled heap of bantha fodder, waltzing up to you at a market and bringing their hands to stroke and tug at your beautiful locks like an animal on display in a hutt’s lounge. 

No. 

He thought of his fingers working along your scalp in the shower, after a grueling day of hunting a bounty and the trek back to the Razor Crest. To help wash the sweat and grime from your hair and skin. To feel the water trickle off your hair and to his finger tips, your eyes shut and your head tipped back in relaxation as he washed it with care. He thought of feeling it tickle his face as you straddled his lap with a playful smile while covering his face in feather-light kisses, so soft and quick that they tickled his skin and made him grin. He thought of the feeling of it fanned out against his chest while you laid on him, the child snuggled against your own chest, the both of you with drooping eyes and soft smiles, just barely awake. His arms would stay wrapped around you both and his eyes open, a vigilant protector, a loving father and a committed partner. 

Din’s senses have been guarded since he was a child and learned the ways of the Mandalore, any attempt at a touch to his face since then had been either a test from those who taught him, or an attempt on his life by those he hunted. 

He hadn’t felt a tender touch in so long, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d respond to one. 

The Mandalorian was shaken out of his stupor by the excited giggles of the child, which were followed by your smooth voice after. 

“Very good.” You cooed, “Now take this piece and bring it forward just like that and- you're doing so well!”

You were always so great with the child. Kind, patient, and loving. Especially when his little green hands first found purchase in your hair and tugged with glee. Now he would simply wind his tiny fingers into your locks like they were a security blanket and he would drift off to sleep against your chest. Listening to your steady heartbeat and feeling your soft halo made him feel safe. Din understood why. 

When he was young, before the attack that took his parents away, before he was saved by the death watch and taken in as a foundling, Din loved his mother's hair. Her hair was different than yours, jet black and wavy, not as thick or curly, but beautiful just the same. As a child he would brush his mother’s hair whenever he got the chance, his tiny hand fumbling with the brush as it slid through her long hair with ease. One he was done she’d turn to him with that kind smile and kiss his forehead. 

“Would you like to braid it for me, Din?”

His father would watch from the doorway, smiling and biting back a laugh as he watched his little boy, no older than four, try to weave the separated parts of his mother's hair as well as he watched her do so many times. Sometimes it would come out more as a knot that the intricate braids he’d seen her wear. But the action always brought a smile to her face, and she’d kiss the crown of his head, on his own hair with such love the mere memory made him tremble. 

“Thank you my dear, it looks lovely.”

Din set the ship on auto-pilot and followed your voice, taking him down into the lower belly of the crest where you sat in your cot with hair still wet from the shower, a towel draped over your shoulders and hair separated into neat parts as-

His breath hitched, not that you would hear. It was such a soft noise, barely rising from his throat but by the Stars, his knees felt like they would give out in a moment. 

The child sat on your right, holding three separate parts of your hair in his hands, mirroring you as you did a neat and simple braid on the other side of your head. His big eyes watched your hands with such an intense focus Din doesn’t think he’d ever seen from him before. His little hands slowly brought one piece forward, then another to the back and one in front, slowly and carefully as if he were extracting a delicate gem from deep in the ground. 

“That looks lovely, little bean!” The child grinned up at you as he continued the process, moving the parts behind and in front of each other with such concentration his little hands would tremble but never cease their movement. You watched him with such care, such love in your eyes that Din refused to interrupt the moment. Instead he found himself leaning against the rungs of the ladder, watching as a smile grew on his face hidden by his beskar helmet. 

Once the child finished his braid, you neatly wrapped the end in a hair tie and scooped him into your arms. “You did so good!” You cheered, pressed loud kisses to his cheek as he laughed at the sensation, but found his tiny hands patting your cheek for more smooches. 

The child turned his head and grinned wide, letting out a string of babbles while reaching for his father. You smiled at Din and his helmet, once comforting, now felt all too tight on his head. 

“You wanna show your papa what you did?” 

Maybe it was the way you said it, or the implications of you calling him the child's father while you fit the role of the caring mother but he felt himself moving towards the two of you like he was in a trance. The little child grabbed the end of his finished braid and waved it from side to side with excitement, proudly showing off his finished product to the Mandalorian. 

“That looks great buddy.” His gloved hand rubbed the top of his tiny head, fingers twiddling his large green ears as he looked up at Din with a smile. The child reached for Din’s left hand, grabbing the cloth of his glove and leading it to the end of a separated part of your hair that you had begun to braid. The child squawked and garbled and Din tensed up. 

“Oh.” He stammered, looking down at the smiling boy. “I don’t think-”

“You wanna see your papa braid my hair?” The child clapped his hands and nodded. You looked up to Din with a soft smile. “Would you like to?”

Like do? Stars, he didn’t think in that moment, there was anything he wanted more in the goddamn galaxy. But did he deserve to?

“I-” His voice cracked through the modulator. “I don’t know how.”

“No worries, space cowboy.” You padded the spot to your right on the pile of blankets, the only protection between you and the cold metal floor of the Razor Crest, “I can teach you.”

Din found himself sitting at your side, the child in his lap staring up at the two of you with such a big smile Din was worried he’d hurt his cheeks. You held three parted sections of your hair in one hand, motioning for him to take them. He reached out before freezing and looking at his own hands. His gloved finger tips must have had grime on them, sweat and dirt and just filth, whether it be from cleaning his blaster or securing a bounty. There was no way they were clean enough, pure enough, deserving enough to handle your hair, to handle you. 

“One-one second I uh-” His fingers fumbled as he slowly tugged on the tip of his gloves before wiggling them off his hands. He pretended he didn’t see the look of shock on your face that only served to kickstart his nerves once more. “-don’t want to get your hair dirty.”

“Are you sure?” You stared at him with such care and concern Din was worried he might cry if you didn’t look away. 

“Yeah it’s fine.” His breath stuttered when his bare hands gently took hold on the sections of your hair. “I’m fine.”

While instructing him, you took three parts into our own hands and braided slowly so he could follow your movements.

“You’re really good at this.” You told him once he finished off the braid, even going so far as to tie it off with a hair tie for you. The braid he did was a bit looser than yours out of fear of doing it too tightly and hurting you. 

Perhaps it was muscle memory, of those mornings spent sitting behind his mother, brushing and braiding her beautiful hair as his father watched with a smile.

“Could I-” it felt like there was something lodged in his throat when he asked you with a voice just above a whisper. “-Could I do another?”

And so he did. And then another. And another. He braided until the child was asleep and your hair was completely separated into neat little braids, protected for when you head laid on a pillow and found slumber. Which judging by your relaxed shoulders and sleepy smile would be sooner rather than later. 

He looked down at his lap, where the child lay sprawled out, eyes shut and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. 

“Thank you.” Din stood slowly, taking the child into his arms as you turned to him. With any other pair it would be you thanking him, for his help with such a time-extensive task. But you knew what this was to him, what it truly meant. 

He settled the child into his little floating cradle, tucked under the fluffy blankets. “Of course.” You answered, finding solace in wrapping your own blanket tight around yourself.

“I should be getting back to flying now.” He blurted. Turning on his heel to quell his rapidly beating heart in the lonesome of his seat as he piloted the ship through open space. 

“Din.” You called, just like that he stopped on his tracks. 

He didn’t turn to face you. 

“You're very good at braiding.” He wondered if his father felt the same way looking at his mother as he did when he looked at you, blankets bunched up and eyes barely fighting off exhaustion. But you stayed awake, 

For him. 

“Would it be alright if i asked for your help in the future?” He appreciated that you asked him. You knew the underlying meaning of him doing such a thing, the power it had over him, a man who hadn’t laid his bare and on another creature with the intention of care and protection before meeting the child in who knows how long. That sort of power was unknown to him for so long, that too much of it could be overwhelming if taken in too much at once. 

So you gave him an offer. An out if he needed one. 

“Yes.” His hand curled along the rung of the ladder before pushing himself up. “I would like that.”

Authors note: Five pages babey! Really like writing this one because id on’t think it’s mentioned enough that Din most likely has to be like, eased, into such tender and intimate moments otherwise he’ll feel suffocated and uncomfortable. Homeboy has gone years upon years without this type of touch, it’s sort of become a part of his stoic personality. Anyways most likely going to write more pieces like these, about Din slowly being eased into intimacy. That doesn’t necessarily mean sex (but that’s a possibility) but just tender loving moments like this, that leave him exposed, leave him human. Anywhomst if yall want to hit me up with some hc’s or reuqests PLEASE do i love din so much. Pedro is a KING

[the-neverletmegoxo]

The Fae and the Prince

Author: Ok people! This is a doozy! Too be honest I love a good build up! Stay tuned for the next part where Y/N and Caliban spend the night.. :)

Summary: The Carnival!! FINALLY! 

Part 6:

Your eyes quickly readjusted to the inside of the dim tent. The smell of jasmine and incense were so overwhelming, you had to hold a cough in. You glanced around the intimate room, noticing a few candles lit with some plush velvet floor cushions scattered in various places and an old gramophone with a broken pavillon.

“Hello?” you said announcing yourself.

You sat down hoping whoever was telling fortunes would find you ready to spend your tokens. You saw a book that looked as though it had been read over 100 times. Being your curious self, you reached out to turn it towards you, Buckland’s Complete Book of Witchcraft.

‘Why would a fortuneteller have a book on—Oh no. Oh shit.’ As you went to stand up and get the hell out of there, a voice interrupted your next move.

“Here to get your fortune told?”

“Oh, uh, actually I have to leave. I completely forgot I left my oven on at home.”

“I don’t think you’ll be heading home after what happened earlier this evening.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

You stopped in your tracks, slowly turning toward the fortuneteller. She looked as though she had stepped right out of a silent film from the ‘30s. Her short, curly bob was perfectly pinned to frame her face. She was wearing a velvet shawl and a shift nightie. The woman’s eye makeup smoked to make her purple eyes pop out of her face. ‘Purple?’ Normally, this would terrify you, but there was something alluring that made you walk towards her.

“What did you just say?”

“Sit, child. Let me read your fortune.” She formed a smile that caused your heart to start thumping out of your chest.

Some force made you sit back down. “Now let’s read the cards.” She laid out three cards. You had seen readings done before, and you knew this wouldn’t be a typical reading.

“The Devil. Interesting. Opposites attract they say and with where this is placed it could be very pleasurable for you. In way, though, it could mean enslavement for you.”

You glanced away from the card and looked at the woman. She had an enticing smirk on her face. She licked her lips, and it gave you the chills.

“The Tower. Now this does not seem to match, but it could coincide with The Devil in the sense of disaster. It could also mean that you may be challenging outdated beliefs. A lover maybe. Something has been tormenting you, my dear.”

You thought to the conversation you and Caliban had, about never being able to be together. Maybe, somehow, someway, you could figure out a way for the two of you to be together.

‘Y/N. What are you thinking? You ca—. What’s that?’ It sounded like a hum.

You titled your head and looked at the woman. Her grin had grown into full on Cheshire.

“Everything alright, my dear?” Her voice had an angelic tone to it, but at the same time sounded muffled. You nodded your head sleepily. “Now that I have your full attention, let us finish the fortune.” She flipped the last card. Death. ‘How perfect?’ you thought. You giggled to yourself, pulling your hands up to your mouth to try to hush the chortle.

“Yes, my dear, Death. How befitting? Now, let’s get you something to drink.”

She grabbed both of your hands and pulled you out of the chair. The woman twirled you towards the back room. The lullaby still ringing in your ears.

She pushed you onto one of the floor pillows. The weight of your head flew back. It was as if you had no support from your neck. Your body felt completely limp. You were a dead weight. With nothing to support your head, you slowly turned toward the fortuneteller, who was concocting some by her bar cart.

‘Hmm. How funny. Such a silly, silly room.’ You giggled once again.

“Hush, my sweet child, this won’t last for very long.” She walked towards you, carrying what looked like a gold goblet.

Everything was blurry now. You rolled your head back. Something in your gut told you this wasn’t right, but something else said that this song was so sweet; everything was going to be ok. Your eyes slowly rolled back in your head.

A strong scent of what you thought was bubblegum, brought you back to your “senses.” The gold glass was now directly in front of you.

“Now sip, my dear. The warm liquid will just sting a bit, but I promise, you and I will go to someplace fun.”

You tried lifting your head to take a sip, suddenly realizing how dry your mouth was. Something to drink sounded perfect.

The woman reached for the back of your neck to help lift you up. Her hand, surprisingly cold. Your bottom lip touched the stark, cold, metal cup. All of the sudden the liquid spilled all over the pillow.

The cold hand supporting the back of your head disappeared. A warm one replaced the support of your neck. You no longer felt the plush pillow on your back, but instead the cold, autumn air. Your arms were completely limp, but you could feel a body beneath your left one, that was tucked by your side. Someone was carrying you and fast. You could feel the wind whip your hair over your face and suddenly it stopped. You felt the damp grass press into your back. You heard muffled voices moving around you. You moaned and rolled your head to the side, and then everything went black.

--

A warm breath tickled your ear.

“Y/N. Y/N, please wake up. Why isn’t it working? You call yourself a witch?” a voice said through their teeth.

“It should work. Just give it time. It needs time. At least that’s what my aunties said.”

You could feel that same warm hand, that lifted your neck, hold onto yours. Every so often, it would squeeze yours to reassure you, whoever it was, was still there. Your mind, still groggy, recognized that hand. ‘Caliban.’ You moaned from the pain you felt in your head. Your eyes slowly blinked open, and then immediately shut. Too much. You rolled over, forehead against the grass.

“Y/N” a husky tone said, no louder than a whisper. A hand immediately went to the small of your back and then to your shoulder to help you sit up.

“Y/N! Oh, thank Satan! You’re alive!” You slowly opened your eyes and saw Sabrina, Roz and Theo kneeling in front of you. The three of them went in for a hug.

“Oh!” you yelped in pain. The three pulled back, realizing you were sore from whatever happened to you. You didn’t know what the hell happened to you. You just remember a hum. You looked up and saw Harvey, Nick and Robin standing over the group of you. You glanced behind you, remembering the hand at the base of your backside. You looked up to the eyes of your protector, Caliban. He gave you a small smile, accepting your thank you.

“Y/N. What in Lucifer’s name happened to you?” “I have no idea. I walked into the fortuneteller’s tent to get my tarot read and then the last thing I remember is hearing a lullaby and smelling bubblegum.”

Sabrina’s face drained of its natural color. “What? What is going on? What do you know?” you asked the group in an exasperated tone.

“Well we were all doing our own thing at the carnival and Nick and I met up with Roz and Harvey, when Roz saw Caliban running toward the tent you described,” Sabrina said.

Roz jumped in, “Then all of the sudden I received a cunning vision of a mermaid with a drink and she was singing. Harvey had to jerk me awake because my lungs started filling with water.”

“And then Robin and I saw Roz choking and ran over to see what was up. When she woke from the vision, she ran towards the forest. That’s when we saw Caliban kneeling over you trying to wake you.”

“A siren,” a deep voice interrupted the explanation. “It was a siren, not a mermaid.” Caliban turned toward you and went on to tell you the rest of what you couldn’t recall. “I called for Sabrina and told her what I thought had happened. You were pulled into a trance by a siren. I didn’t think you drank any of her potion, so I explained to Sabrina what happened.”

“Well you should have mentioned the bubblegum smell, Caliban. If she had, things would have been a lot worse and that spell wouldn’t have worked,” Sabrina snapped at the Prince of Hell.

“I flung all of the contents out of that siren’s goblet. And besides her color was normal” Caliban gritted through his teeth.

“What do you know about that kind of poisoning, you couldn’t even save her!”

“Enough!” you screamed at the two of them. “Please. Please the ringing in my ears hasn’t gone away yet.”

‘Sorry,’ Sabrina mouthed to you.

You gave her a reassuring smile. “Can someone just, please, take me home?”

“I will,” Caliban whispered to you.

“Caliban. Why must you insert yourself into our problems?” Sabrina snorted.

“’Brina. Stop. Enough already, the both of you. I think Caliban has proven himself worthy to be trusted by our group.” You gave her a glare and she gave in. “Besides, you guys need to figure out what the hell that was that hypnotized me and make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else in Greendale, ok? I’m going to go back to your place, ‘Brina, and sleep this day off.”

She gave you a warm smile. With that, you hugged the group, said your goodbyes and made your way back to the mortuary with Caliban.

As the group walked away to go figure out what was going in this carnival, you still sat on the ground.

“Are you ok to walk? We can wait here for a while, until you feel comfortable to go.” Caliban looked at you with sorrowful eyes.

“I’m totally good. Besides, I wanna get the hell out of here. I never want to see those pagans again.” You went to push yourself off the ground, as you stood for a second, to regain your balance, you wobbled and knew you were head straight for the ground. Caliban immediately caught you. Your hand grasped onto his upper arm. You looked up your savior. “You always seem to be saving me.”

“Someone’s got to” Caliban said in half whisper. “I’ll help you walk, just wrap your arm around my waist.” Your eyes went wide looking back up at the prince.

“Trust me, fae. I’m not going to try anything, especially since you’re incapacitated.” You gave a small laugh. He wrapped one of his hands around your waist the other held your arm that wrapped around his waist.

The two of you walked slowly towards the Spellman’s House, for you were too weak to partake in Caliban’s “fire transportation magic trick.”

Every now and then, you would look up at the Prince of Hell. The moon was perfectly accenting his facial features. You were careful not to stare too long, in case he caught you admiring him. “Like what you see, fae?” he said in a sarcastic tone.

‘How did he know?’ you gave a small laugh-cough. “No it’s just—ha! Umm, how much longer?”

“Well at this pace, we won’t be there until dawn.” Without even giving you a chance to respond, he hoisted you up into his arms, as if you were as light as a feather.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “What, fae? You said how long and that you wanted to get the hell out of there. And besides you’re too weak to walk, not to mention teleport.”

You shook your head in defeat.

Before you knew it, Caliban was setting you down, carefully, on the Spellman’s porch.

Surprisingly the lights weren’t on. You knew Sabrina and Nick wouldn’t be there, but were a little confused as to why the aunties weren’t. On your way in, you saw the guest house lights on. That was reassuring to know your mom was there. You sent her a text, letting her know that you were back safe, although she probably wouldn’t respond, for it was well past her bedtime.

You turned toward Caliban, not realizing his hand was still on your waist. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“You sure you’re going to be ok? I’m happy to escort you inside, fae.” “Caliban, I’m fine. I promise you.”

“Ok, well I’ll be out here. I’ll see you in the morning.” “What? What do you mean you’ll be out here?”

“You think I’m leaving you in this house alone? No way, fae.”

“It’s too cold out her—.”

“Fae, I’m the Prince of Hell. I don’t get cold.”

“Ok, well at least come inside for some tea.” You went to walk towards the door, and your legs felt like Jell-O. You started swaying to the left and Caliban caught you again.

“Ok, this is getting really old…” He laughed, wrapped his arm around your waist and walked you inside. You didn’t know how long he would stay, but it was nice to know you wouldn’t be alone tonight.

[ivy-kissobryos]

On Rose, from the Viridarium Umbris

Rose, being the sweet and time-honoured Bound of Keeping, is loyal to the House and its Master, and antagonistic to those who would harm them. Blossoms taken into the home provide blessing to those within, as does the precious oil of the petals, used to anointed wooden doors.

Rose, whose petals cast down not only purify but serve as a luxurious and comely gift pleasing unto the spirits. All varieties are blessed, but those succulent breeds of Tea-Roses, tenderly cultivated in the garden and having many fragrant petals, produce the greatest profusion. Thus many may be gathered at once.

Rose, for all Dusts of Blessing and Love, and for those made in offering to the spirits, together with powdered Honey.

Rose, the dried buds of which may fill the greater bulk of a love-doll, or that sewn to increase fertility in woman and bring forth children. When sewn into the pillow it bringeth dreams of love-counsel, or matters of honour; when carried in the charm-bag, it serves as a good protector.

Rose, its principle power being the Hidden Virtue, it resides within the beloved arcanum of the Seer. Among its many potencies, the absolute is employed in ils aiding to open the gates of Sight, often in combination with Oud, Immortelle, or Labdanum. Such unguents are used to anoint the crown and temple prior to the Rites of Seeing. The flower or fruit’s appearance in dream is a splendid omen, portending fortune; and success in many endeavors. To dream of a withered Rose is a malignant omen, portending decay of the household.

Rosewater, to Asperge the face for Earthling, after one is taken by spirits in heavy trance. The water is both stimulating and fragrant, effective in Bringing Back those who have wandered far during the operations of the Art. Additionally the Lavation perfumes the body in preparation for the operations of High Magick, and is pleasing unto the gods.

- Viridarium Umbris: The Pleasure-Garden of Shadow by Daniel A. Schulke

[harringtonstilinski]

You’ll Always Be My Hero - Chapter 5 ; The Tell

Author: @harringtonstilinski​​ Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Emma Thomas (OC) Word Count: 5,081 Warnings: mentions of a dead body, Alpha, Jackson(he gets his own warning), Emma’s dad showing up drunk,  A/N: Hi, friends! Chapter five is here! We’re kind of getting introduced to the Alpha (which is a big warning all on it’s own, haha.) We’re also getting closer to one of my favorite episodes this season, which makes me so so excited. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy! 😊

prev | current chapter | next

season masterlist

series masterlist

I was walking through the movie store, trying to find a movie to rent. I was burnt out on watching Star Wars movies with Stiles, so I told him I was gonna go down to the movie store and rent a movie that I really wanted to watch. I had finally finished reading Dear John and wanted to watch the movie. I did this with movies based off of books. As I found what I was looking for, I heard Jackson's voice.

“Can somebody help me find The Notebook?” He looked around, but didn't see anyone, not even the worker, which was odd because I had just seen him like 5 seconds ago working on the light. “Hello? Is anybody working here?” The phone was ringing and it was getting to be annoying.

I peaked over the shelf and snickered to myself. “Over here, Jackson.” 

Either he heard me or he didn't because he said, “You gotta be kidding me.” and turned around, looking in the Romance section. I grabbed my movie and walked out into the aisle. This time, Jackson saw me and put his hand up, trying to stop me from walking any further. 

“Emma, stop. Look,” he said, pointing down to the feet that were sticking out into the aisle. He walked closer as I looked down, only then realizing that I was standing right at the employee. He had deep gash marks on his neck, blood pouring out all over his shirt. I screamed and practically ran into Jackson's arms.

“Just because we're in this position, doesn’t mean we're friends,” I said.

“Noted,” he said, backing us up… only we went back into the ladder that was still standing. The light protector... thing was still hanging down, so when we backed into the ladder, it hit the light thing, sending the entire thing, wires and all, crashing to the ground, sending the power in the building to flicker on and off, almost like a horror movie.

“Way to go, Jackass,” I said, somewhere between a snark and sass. 

He sent me a glare before we both turned around and saw two large red dots staring at us. It was like something hit me as I stared at them, my eyes wide. It was like I was stuck in a trance because the next thing I knew, Jackson had pulled me behind a shelf. The horror movie section. How convenient. 

Jackson was breathing heavily while I was gasping for air. He turned to me and quickly said, “I'm gonna get us out of here. Just follow my lead, okay? You're gonna be okay.”

All I could do was nod my head. It wasn't a secret that the whole town had heard about my second encounter in the woods. He turned and looked out into the aisle, but then quickly faced forward, breathing heavy.

I heard the creature hit the shelves, sending some of the movies in our section to fall down. Shelf after shelf came crashing down. Jackson pulled me out of the way of the shelves, but I guess I didn't move out far enough because we both ended up underneath the shelf we were just hiding against; him face down, me face up.

I heard heavy breathing that wasn't coming from Jackson. 

“Emma,” he said. “Stay still.”

I tightly closed my eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with this beast. I'm not sure what he did to Jackson and at this point I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of here and go come to cuddle with my pillows for all eternity.

I heard glass crashing and growls as the creature left before I heard Lydia scream. 

“Emma, do you have your phone?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah, why?” I replied.

“Either call your alcoholic father or 911 and get us the hell out of here,” he seethed. I'm guessing he was just scared from the event that had just played out. 

“Ya'know, you really are a jackass,” I said, reaching for my phone in my back pocket, dialing dispatch. 

“Emma, quit calling when I'm on duty,” Officer Jason said before he whispered, “You and Stiles, I swear.”

“Jason, listen,” I said. “I'm at the movie rental store. Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin are here, too. Jackson and I saw a dead body inside the store, and we're currently under the shelves. Call Noah-- I--I mean, Sheriff. Tell him it involves his goddaughter.”

“Alright, calm down,” Officer Jason said. “We'll send an ambulance over and we'll let the Sheriff know. Just stay calm.”

I started crying a little and whispered, “I saw the eyes again.”

~~~

I was sitting in the back of an ambulance when I heard a car pull up. I looked up and sighed with relief when I noticed Stiles sitting in the front seat. He turned his head and looked in my direction, eyes wide with worry. He got out of the car and rushed over towards me, yelling my name.

“Stiles, I'm fine,” I reassured. “Why the hell are you with your dad?”

“You said movie night was cancelled, so I decided to hang out with my dad,” he said. “Anyway, this isn't about me. You wanna tell me if you saw anything? You have that look in your eyes.”

I looked at him and then at Sheriff as he walked over to me.

“Hey, kiddo,” Sheriff said. “You doing alright?”

I hesitantly nodded my head. He sighed and dropped his head a little. “You know I'm gonna have to ask you some questions.”

“I know,” I said, taking a breath to start giving him answers when I heard my name again, but this time slurred.

“Dad?” I said. 

Sheriff turned his body to the side, looking at my dad. “Carter, now's not a good time.”

My dad must've been really drunk because he disregarded what Sheriff was trying to tell him. “That's my daughter, I can do what I damn-well please.”

“Daddy, please. Not now,” I begged. I looked down, embarrassed at my dad's current state as Stiles sat next to me in the ambulance.

“Why the hell can't I just go home? I'm fine,” Jackson complained. I looked up and watched that scene in front of me instead. I guess I didn’t notice that Sheriff had walked over to Jackson and started talking to him.

“I hear ya,” Sheriff said. “But the EMT says you and Emma hit your heads pretty hard. They just wanna make sure that the two of you don't have a concussion.”

Jackson's anger got the better of him because he said very rudely to Sheriff, “What part of I'm fine are you having a problem grasping? Okay, I wanna go home!”

“And I understand that,” Sheriff tried reasoning, but Jackson apparently didn't wanna hear it.

“No, you don't understand,” Jackson seethed. “Which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you!” I stood up, ready to go over there and knock the shit out of Jackson as he shouted, “Okay, now, I wanna go home!”

Stiles stood up and wrapped an arm around my waist as I started walking towards Sheriff. “Oh, no, feisty-pants,” he whispered in my ear. “You can't get in trouble for violence. Not again.”

“It was one time, and I didn't mean it,” I said, thinking back. There was this kid in my English class last year named Christopher. He was a really big jerk, but I had a crush on him. Don't know why. Anyway. I had told him I had a crush on him that morning at school. When I walked into the locker room from visiting Coach, all eyes were on me and some of the boys were laughing. 

Apparently, Christopher had told the entire lacrosse team, (yes including Scott and Stiles. They had overheard) that I tried to make a pass at him. This all came after Lydia's rumor about me spread. He just added fuel to the fire, so I went over and decked him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground. I blacked out after that because the next thing I remembered after coming back to reality, Christopher's face was a bloodied mess and my hands had his blood on them. 

Scott and Stiles had pulled me off of Christopher as I was beating him to a pulp and crying. Sheriff and my dad ended up showing up at the school. I was taken back to the station to get questioned and cleaned up. Since then, if I ever wanted to beat the shit out of someone, I would just go to the Sheriff's Gym and take my anger out on the punching bag there.

Stiles' voice brought me back. “Oh, whoa, is that a dead body?”

Sheriff looked over at the stretcher that was being wheeled out of the store, then back to his son. “Everybody back up.”

I looked back at him and smirked. “You just can't help yourself, can you?”

“Nah, it's not in my nature,” he replied, causing me to chuckle. I looked up, seeing Scott and Derek perched on top of the building. I think Scott noticed me because he held a finger up to his lips, telling me to keep quiet about seeing him. We both knew that Stiles would have questions.

~~~

A knocking at the door brought me out of my book; The Choice. I muttered a come in while placing my bookmark in between the pages I was reading.

I looked up as the door opened, and saw that Stiles was standing on the other side. I put my book on the nightstand and sat up, crossing my legs. I patted the space in front of me, and smiled. “Come. Sit.”

Stiles walked over and sat down on the bed, facing me with his leg bent in front of him with the other hanging off, supporting some of his weight.

“How do you think the conferences are going to go tomorrow with your parents?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I couldn't care less. They don't even have to show up.”

He gave me a confused look. “Why?”

Without thinking, I said, “Because of Coach.”

“What's up with Coach?” he asked.

My eyes widened as I realized what I'd just said. “Oh, no,” I groaned, placing my head in my hands. “There's a secret I've been keeping from you, but I think Scott knows.”

“What is it?” he asked, placing a hand on my arm.

I took a deep breath and sighed, looking up at him and putting my arms down. I scrunched my face with closed eyes, and quickly said, “Coach is my uncle.” I opened up one eye to see him smirking at me before he started laughing.

“Oh, man. That is great!” he boasted.

I hit his arm. “Shut up! Your dad's trying to sleep.”

“He's not here,” he said. “He's at the station. Had to finish up paperwork from tonight.”

“Oh,” I said. “So, you're not at all confused or have questions?”

“Well, not really,” he said. “I thought you were gonna say that you and Coach were--” He paused. “Actually, I've got nothing. But, how are you related?”

“He's my mom's older brother,” I explained. “That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. What about you?”

“Eh. Terrible, probably. I don't know,” he shrugged.

I looked at him and leaned back, opening my arms and straightening my legs. “Come here.”

He got under the covers and laid his head on my chest, right above my breasts. “You're comfy,” he said.

I giggled, tossing his head around a little. “That's because I am of the female species. We have these things,” I pointed to my breasts. “Called boobs. Full of tissue and muscle.”

He looked up at me with the most unamused face I think I've ever seen on him. “Alright, smartass,” he said.

It was quiet for a moment before I spoke up again. “Stiles? Can I tell you something?”

He was still for a second longer before sitting up and looking at me. “You know you can tell me anything.”

I sighed. “Uhm... don't tell Scott 'cause he's already got enough on his plate, but I saw the red eyes. A-a-at the movie store. I saw them again.” I looked down at my fingers. I felt Stiles get up from the bed and watched as he walked out of the room. I laid down on my left side, thinking that he wanted to go to bed and forget this conversation, but the closing of the door had me looking up at him. 

He was carrying his laptop in his hand, DVD case in another. I knew exactly what was about to happen, so I flipped over and sat up just a tad, giving him the space he needed. He stuck his left arm out and I immediately laid my head on his chest, hitting the spacebar, and putting my left arm over his stomach, the main titles to The Breakfast Club starting up. 

We got the point where they were all trying to keep themselves entertained when I fell asleep. I think Noah came in and checked on us when he got home because when I woke up the next morning, Stiles and I were in the same position, but the laptop was on the nightstand.

~~~

“Just a friendly reminder-- parent/teacher conferences are tonight,” Mr. Harris stated, standing at the back of the class. I was turned around paying attention, even if I didn't want to. I was, however, definitely paying attention to Stiles. “Students below a C average are required to attend. I won't name you,” he started walking to the front of the class. “because the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment.” He stopped and looked down at Stiles, who was going to town with a highlighter in his chemistry book, the cap to the highlighter in his mouth.

“Has anyone seen Scott McCall?” Mr. Harris asked, looking back and forth between me and Stiles, finally landing back on Stiles, who looked around and then up at Mr. Harris.

 The door opened and closed, so I turned my head, seeing Jackson. He was walking to his work station.

 Mr. Harris walked over and placed his right hand on his back. “Hey, Jackson,” he said, placing his left hand on the edge of the table, leaning down to talk to Jackson. “If you need to leave early for any reason, let me know.” Jackson nodded, and Mr. Harris patted his back once, then turned around to face me. “You, too, Ms. Thomas.” I nodded as well as he started walking back to the front of the class.

“Everyone, start reading Chapter Nine,” he stopped at the chalkboard and kept his back to us. “Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles looked up, that cap still in his mouth. Why did he have to look so freaking cute? Uh...

“Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs,” Mr. Harris said. “It's Chemistry, not a coloring book.”

Stiles tossed his head back and spit the cap out, much like Bender does with his spit at the beginning of TBC. But instead of catching the cap back in his mouth, he simply caught the damn thing… without looking. He leaned closer to Danny, who was sitting in between our stations. “Hey, Danny,” Stiles started. “Can I ask you a question?”

“No,” Danny said. This was going to be fun to watch. I turned a little more towards Danny and Stiles' conversation and rested my head on my left fist, smirking away.

“Well, I'm going to anyway,” Stiles said. I snickered quietly to myself. “Uhm, did Lydia show up in your homeroom today?” he asked. My smirk died and he looked at me like he didn't even want to ask.

Danny sighed and said, “No.” 

My smirk returned as Stiles looked down and over to his right then right back to Danny. “Can I ask you another question?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat. This was going to be gold.

“Answer's still no,” Danny answered.

“Does anyone know what happened to her, Emma and Jackson last night?” he asked.

Danny pointed his pencil at me and said, “Emma's right there. Ask her.”

“He did, Danny,” I said. “Last night before Sheriff took me home.” We smiled lightly at each other, but he said, “But Jackson, he wouldn't... tell me.”

“But he's your best friend,” Stiles said.

Danny stayed silent and looked at me, silently telling me to get my friend. I put my right hand up in surrender as I whispered to him, “I wanna see how this plays out.”

Stiles was leaning so far off of his stool, he was practically standing, while asking “One more question.”

“What?” Danny asked, tired of dealing with Stiles already.

“Do you find me attractive?” Stiles wondered.

Danny had this thoughtful look on his face, but also annoyance. Stiles kept leaning forward trying to get an answer out of Danny, but ended up falling off his stool. I put my hand over my mouth as I snorted out a laugh, trying to keep it contained.

“Idiot,” I muttered.

~~~

Stiles and I walked out of our classroom, him on the phone trying to get a hold of Scott. I guess Scott answered because Stiles said, “Finally! Have you been getting any of mine and Emma's texts?”

Silence as Scott answered. “Hey, Emma,” some random girl greeted me. I smiled and said hey back. No one's done that since the second week of freshman year. Stiles even looked at me weirdly, noticing the exchange. 

“Uh,” he started, partially distracted by me. He shook his head a little. “Do you have any idea what's going on?” he wondered. “Lydia's totally M.I.A., Jackson looks like he's got a time bomb inserted into his face, another random guy's dead, people are saying hey to Emma in the halls like it's eighth grade all over again, and you have to do something about it.”

Silence, and another random greet. I really hope this has nothing to do with last night. Or perhaps Lydia told everyone to be nice to me today like some prank.

“Something,” Stiles said. Sometimes I wish I had wolf hearing.

I guess Scott hung up the phone because Stiles turned his full attention to me, continuing our walk down the halls as about five more people greeted me. 

“Hey, Emma,” a sixth person greeted. I stopped the boy in the middle of the hallway. “You're the sixth person to greet me today. I haven't had that since freshman year. What's up?”

“Lydia's not here,” he explained. “She doesn't have reign over the school.”

I crossed my arms and placed most of my weight onto my left foot. “Well, neither do I.”

One last random person of the day walked up to us and said, “You've always had reign. Lydia just stole it from you when she spread those rumors. That's why she did it. To get on top.”

“But I don't wanna be on top,” I said, switching the weight on my feet. I looked around me and noticed all the smiling faces. I smiled, saying, “Actually... I changed my mind. I do want to be on top, but not in the bitchy way that Lydia is.”

~~~

“You sure you wanna do this?” Stiles asked me as we walked up to the front door.

“I'm sure,” I replied and knocked on the door, Natalie Martin, Lydia's mom, answering. “Emma! What a lovely surprise.”

“Hey, Mrs. Martin,” I smiled. “This is my friend, Stiles. We noticed that Lydia wasn't at school today, so I brought some extra biology notes I copied down for her.”

“That's so thoughtful. She's in her room. Come on in,” she told us.

She led us up to Lydia's bedroom. It'd been about a little over a year since I've been in here.

Mrs. Martin knocked and opened Lydia's bedroom door, revealing Lydia in nothing but a silk nightgown. “Honey, Emma and Stiles are here to see you.”

Lydia was looking at her hand when she asked, “What the hell is a Stiles?”

Stiles was leaning against her door frame, me standing behind him a little, and Mrs. Martin inside the room but at the door.

“She took a little something to ease her nerves,” she said. “You both can-- can go in.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Martin,” I smiled, and walked in behind Stiles.

“Emma, do come by more often,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Lydia misses having you over.” She shut the door just a little, keeping it opened, as Stiles and I looked at each other.

“Alright,” I sighed. “Get her, lover boy.”

He gave me a pointed look as Lydia looked to me and said, “What are you doing here?”

“One, I brought some biology notes,” I said. “And two, we were just making sure you were okay.”

“Hmm.” She looked away as she tried to move some of her hair out of her face... by licking it. She turned back and said, “Why?” before she patted the bed, so Stiles went and sat beside her.

I sighed, already fed up with this whole situation.

“Because I was worried about you today,” Stiles said. It was a good thing his back was facing me and Lydia had her attention on Stiles because I rolled my eyes so hard I swear they were gonna get stuck. He drummed his fingers on his thigh and asked Lydia, “How are you feeling?”

She put a hand on his arm and sat up all sultry like. It was getting way too steamy and uncomfortable in here for me. “Alright, I'm not gonna stand here and watch you guys have sex. I'll be downstairs,” I said. After exiting her room and walking downstairs, like I said I was going to, I sat down at the bar counter in the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mrs. Martin greeted. “How is she?”

“Practically salivating over Stiles,” I murmured in a sassy tone, to which she laughed at. “I don't know. She seems to be doing okay, I guess.”

She stopped washing the dish she had in her hands, grabbed a drying towel and dried her hands. “How are you feeling?” she asked, moving to sit in the chair next to me.

It was the first time all day that someone had asked me that. “I guess I'm okay,” I said. “Having major PTSD from when I had my ‘episode’ a couple years back. But the weirdest thing kept happening today.”

“What was that?” she asked.

I looked at her and sighed. “It's probably not a big deal to some, but it was to me. Random people kept saying hey to me, like I was important. At first I thought it was because they were being sympathetic, but some guy told me it was because Lydia wasn't at school today and that she doesn't have reign. I told him that I didn't either, which I don't care about that stuff. But then this girl came up and said that I've always had reign and that Lydia stole it when she spread the rumor about me.”

She took all of this in and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “The question is; do you want that title back or are you content with who you are now?”

I looked at her with all the seriousness I could give her. “I want it back. Since the rumor was spread and Lydia was crowned Queen of Beacon High, everyone hates it. I see people cower and move out of her way when she's walking the halls. When I was Queen of Beacon Middle, no one had to move. They loved that I was kind to everyone. Ever since she took that from me, there hasn't been one act of kindness from her, from what I can tell.”

She smiled at me a little. “I don't understand why Lydia did what she did, but I can tell you this. Are you listening?”

I nodded. 

“If you want the title back, fight for it,” she said. “I know Lydia can be a little hard sometimes, especially to you, but you know how kind and thoughtful she can be. She actually misses having you around. She told me the night of the first lacrosse game that she had an argument with you at the beginning of math class, and that she didn't understand it...”

“She told me that I date losers and that I surf the net at night for porn, which I do not,” I said. “My parents, well now Sheriff, would literally kill me.”

She chuckled, looking up to someone behind me, so I turned my head over my shoulder and noticed Stiles standing there. 

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.

He bobbed his back and forth. “Long enough. We gotta go.”

I turned back to Mrs. Martin. “Thank you, Mrs. Martin, for the advice. I think I'm just gonna let this scene play out on it's own.” I leaned forward and gave her a hug, which shocked us both. I jumped down from the chair, bidding her a goodbye, and walked out of the house and into Stiles' Jeep. He told me as we got in that he had something to show me when we got back to the house.

~~~

“Hey, it's me again,” Stiles said into his phone. I guess he called Scott and was talking to him as he was pacing his room while I was laying on the bed. “Look, I found something, and I don't know what to do, okay? So if you could turn your phone on right now, that'd be great.” Voicemail. I flipped over onto my stomach and groaned loudly into Stiles' pillow. Damn, I could get used to this scent. “Or else I'll kill you. Do you understand me? I'm gonna kill you. And I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm gonna kill you, but I'm just gonna do it, okay? I'm gonna-- ugh! Goodbye.” He hung up and tossed his phone onto his bed... well, actually, my legs.

“Ow! Watch where you're throwing stuff. Felt like a damn brick.” I sat up and rubbed where his phone hit my leg.

“Sorry,” he grumbled. He sighed and turned his desk chair around to sit backwards in it. He folded his arms and put his head on them. Not ten seconds later, a knock at the door made us both jump. “God,” Stiles exclaimed. It was Sheriff.

He looked at Stiles and said, “Please tell me I'm gonna hear good news at this parent/teacher thing tonight.”

Stiles was messing with something in hands, I couldn't tell what it was. “Depends on how you define 'good news',” he quipped.

“I define it as you getting straight A's with no behavioral issues.” It came out more of a question than a statement. 

“You might wanna rethink that definition,” Stiles said, grimacing.

“Enough said,” Sheriff said. “Emma, what about you?”

I looked up at him with wide eyes and raised brows. “Uh... I thought Coach was gonna get all that info from my teachers?”

“He called your mom, who called your dad, who drunkenly called me and asked if I could do it tonight since Bobby won't be able to because he'll be conducting his own conferences with parents being the Econ teacher and all.”

“Ah. Right,” I said. “Well, everything you assumed of Stiles just now, that's totally me. Good news about me. Yup. Me. Emma Thomas.”

“Emma,” Sheriff said. “You're nervous.”

“I know, I'm sorry, just...” I got up and walked up to him, staring up at him. “What if my dad shows up, drunk?” I whispered.

He put his hands on my shoulders, saying, “If he does, then I'll handle it.” before pulling me in for a quick hug. “Oh, uh. Call your mom. She wants to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” I nodded.

He walked out of the room, leaving me and Stiles alone, who must've turned his chair the right way because when I walked back over to his bed, he was sitting in the chair... the right way. He sighed and picked up his phone, turning his chair to look at me.

“I have to show you something,” he said. “I'm not sure how you're gonna react, so just... don't freak out.”

I nodded my head and sat down as he handed me the phone, telling me to press play. I did, and watched the video on the phone. As soon as I saw the red eyes, I threw the phone on the bed and backed up until I was sitting against his headboard. “Whose phone is that?” I asked, fear lacing my voice.

“Lydia's,” he sighed.

I looked at him, fear on my face. “Delete it. She can't see it,” I said. “If I'm reacting like this, she's probably gonna act worse. Delete it!”

He got up from his chair and sat down on the bed, looking at where the video had paused. “Come on, Scott, where the hell are you?” he asked himself.

“Stiles,” I said.

“Right. I'm sorry,” he said, pressing some buttons on the phone. “There. All deleted.”

He looked at me and said, “Help me with something. Get our mind off of that.”

“Okay,” I said. 

He left the room and came back with a few folders. “Start looking through these.”

“What am I looking for?” I asked.

“Anything that could help us find the actual cause of Hale house fire and who it could lead us to,” he said, sitting down next to me. Picking up a file and opening it, he said, “I've looked through these and they all say possible arson. Like this one here says electrical malfunction; possible arson. We need to know if it really was arson or if it was just an electrical malfunction that caused eight people to their accidental deaths.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let you know what I find, when I find it?” I picked up a file and opened it, reading through its contents. 

“Yeah,” he answered.

I scoffed. “Electrical malfunction, arson suspect.” I laid that file on my lap and grabbed another.  About an hour later, I was growing quite frustrated. “Stiles, all these say the same thing. I'm tired. I'm gonna go to bed.”

“Good night, Emma.”

“Good night, Stiles.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: If you liked it, don’t hesitate to leave a comment or message in my askbox, and to also like and reblog to share with your friends. It really does help me out. Gif found from Google.

~~~

YABMH Taglist : @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellysashcroft @lauren-novak @sammypotato67 @originalamethysthealer @alittlebitofeverythinggg @katemusic @hcomet28​ @good-vibes-and-glitter​ @luckylouiebug​ @luckylovestruck

Taglist was taken from the Forever / Everything taglist. If you want to be added, just let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag 🥺

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​. 

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from Emma and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Jeff Davis. Our home slice Emma was made up all by me. As well we her parents and their storyline throughout the series.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. 

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted September 8, 2020

[tipsycad147]

HERBARIUM: MAGICAL AND MEDICINAL USES OF IVY

By Willow

Gender: Feminine Planet: Saturn Element: Water Powers: Healing, Protection Magical Uses and History: Ivy has a long and rich history, dating back to the Druids and Ancient Greeks, and Romans. Ivy is both the plant of Dionysus and Bacchus (Greek and Roman gods of wine). In one tale of Dionysus, he punished a crew of pirates for their lack of reverence toward him by filling the ship with ivy and turning the oars into serpents. The pirates eventually lost their minds and drown themselves in the ocean. In Roman tradition, Bacchanals, worshipers of Bacchus, would become intoxicated from eating ivy and participate in orgies in Thessaly and Trace during October. In their drunken frenzy, they were said to have wrought havoc on the cities, tearing animals and children apart while carrying fir boughs wrapped in ivy. Furthermore, during the Medieval period, ivy was used to making an intoxicating drink, one still made at Trinity College in Oxford in memory of a deceased student. Surprisingly, ivy, if worn as a crown, was said to prevent intoxication. Ivy was even carved into goblets for the same purpose. As such, ivy can be used to both induce a trance-like state as well as prevent it depending on how you use ivy in your spells. Due to its Pagan associations, particularly with fertility, the Christian Church took a dim view of the plant. In fact, there are still countries that ban churches from using ivy in Christmas decorations. However, ivy is popularly regarded by Christians as one of the many plants to safeguard against witches. Ivy was often planted along a house and allowed to grow along the walls to prevent witches from entering. Its believed that ivy is a protector against negativity and disaster. Use ivy in protection spells and magic or plant around your home for the same purpose. While ivy growing on your home is beautiful, it's actually very damaging. English ivy is also very invasive, so not the best choice to grow in many gardens around the world. One of the most famous Pagan traditions including ivy, however, is the battle between the Holly and Oak King. The Oak King, in some traditions, is also referred to as the Ivy King. One possible tradition accounting for this interpretation is an old English tradition of binding the last sheaf of the harvest with ivy. This bundle was referred to as the Harvest Bride or Maid of the Ivy. It is said to bring bad luck to the farmer who harvested late. The Holly Boy, however, is opposed to the Maid of Ivy. He was said to be the first over the doorstep on Yuletide morning, bringing with him good fortune, with Ivy in tow to bring good luck. Ivy can be carried by women for good luck or worn by brides to ensure a happy marriage. Ivy was also used in divinatory practices, particularly around Yuletide. In one British divination spell, an ivy leaf is placed in a bowl of water and left for twelve nights, usually during the twelve nights of Christmas or Yule and later at New Year's Even to foretell good health or death. A leaf clean of black spots foretold good health while a leaf riddled in them was a sign of illness to come. If one of the spots resembles a coffin, then death looms in the future. The same was true for ivy boughs hung in the home.

The clinging nature of ivy, which is also referred to as bindwood and love stone, also resulted in it being associated with love and fidelity. A single leaf of ivy and holly placed under the pillow was said to bring dreams of a future lover. Other charms say to place an ivy leaf in your pocket to meet your future partner. These divinatory practices can be used today or the leaves used in other love spells and rituals.

Finally, ivy is associated with death and bad luck which seems contradictory to some of its other correspondences. In American folklore, it was believed to be unlucky to give ivy to someone because it was thought to bring death and was thought to end friendships. In England, picking an ivy leaf from a churchyard was believed to invite death. Furthermore, ivy growing on a grave meant a number of things with regards to the deceased. Some say that ivy growing on a grave meant the person suffered from secret love sickness while others believe it means the soul is uneasy in the Otherworld. Either way, ivy can be used in spells to communicate with spirits, to bring about the death of something, or in curses. Ivy can be used in a number of spells including:     Love Spells     Protection Magic     Death Magic     Good Luck Charms     Divination

Medicinal Uses: Ivy can be used to cure a variety of ailments including bronchitis, liver and spleen disorders, gout, burns and cuts, and warts. Research has shown that ivy leaf extracts increase oxygen in the lungs by reducing inflammation of the bronchial, especially in conditions such as asthma and bronchitis. In Germany, ivy leaf extract has been approved as an herbal decongestant. According to folklore, ivy leaves dipped in vinegar can be placed on warts, arthritic areas, gout, and minor skin wounds such as cuts and mild burns, to heal these ailments, sometimes overnight (according to legend). Preparation and Dosage: Internally- For a tincture, take 5-10 drops 4 to 5 times a day. To make a tea, add 1 teaspoon of dried ivy leaves to a cup of water and steep for 10 minutes. Drink up to 3 times a day. Externally- To make a poultice, mix fresh ivy leaves 1:3 with linseed meal and apply to the wound. Folklore also suggests dipping fresh ivy leaves in vinegar and applying directly to the wound.

https://www.flyingthehedge.com/2017/

[tranceindia123]

THE BOLSTER - A COMFORTABLE AND ELEGANT LEGACY

When it comes to fine bed linens, the bolster pillow offers a singular chance for both coziness and refined style. The bolster contributes a degree of refinement and aesthetic fascination to your sleeping haven. Trance Home Linen is dedicated to promoting the decorative potential of bolsters. We provide a carefully chosen range of cotton printed bolster covers (Pack of 2 & 200 TC) that take ordinary spaces and turn them into remarkable ones. A bolster has been a feature of bedrooms for generations, growing into a multipurpose accent element that improves comfort and style. The fabric is 100% cotton with a 40's yarn count and is TUV "ISO" certified. A sateen weave made entirely of cotton adds a subtle sheen, while a 200-thread count yarn with 40s gives it an incredibly smooth finish. These are made to precisely fit India's standard bolster cover size, which is 16 by 32 inches. These include ties to the bolster cover on both sides, to be fastened and tugged.

[awkwardlittlepringle]

Queer ‘n Crazy

CHAPTER 10

Hello, fellow Fanders!

This is chapter 10 of Queer 'n Crazy, which I'm sure you knew, 'cause you can read... Me being an idiot aside-

I have fallen into the tartarus that is the BNHA fandom, and I am dying because Deku and Tamaki are my babies, and HNNNNNNG-

Anyway, I hope you're doing alright in these troubling times, make sure to stay connected with nature (humans tend to go mad if they don't see something green) and be sure to eat and drink properly. Self care is important! Even if self care means crying under the covers at night.

My point is, make sure you take care of yourselves. :) The summary is at the bottom of the chapter, though I doubt anyone will need it, this chapter's more of a filler. Sorry if it's cringy, by the way, I'm not very good at writing pining! I've only ever written established relationships before, if anyone has any tips please help me out!

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

WARNINGS : Swearing, feeling like a disappointment, probably cringy writing, pining gays, mentions of food, mentions of horror movies, I think that's it!

..................

"Virgil... What are you doing?"

Virgil grunted. As much as he loved Logan, he wasn't getting a straight answer this time. Logan sighed, bookmarking his page neatly and setting his book down. He turned around in his desk chair to face Virgil, who was currently face-planting onto his desk, his arms wrapped around his head like walls. Logan watched him disapprovingly.

"Virgil." No answer.

"Virgil." Logan reached across the gap between their desks to give Virgil's shoulder a little push. The cat-like boy frowned, letting out a lethargic hum. Logan decided the best course of action was physical contact. He stood behind his roommate with his arms crossed, watching as Virgil buried his head deeper into the space between his arms.

"Virgil." Nothing. Logan nudged (read kicked) his roommate's ankle. "Virgil!" "Stop!"said Virgil, popping the p. He then raised his head, resting it on one of his arms to glare at Logan, who moved into his field of vision. To his surprise, a small smile was resting on his roommate's face.

"What is it, pocket protector?" "Nothing." Logan hummed. "It's just that I don't see how that's a productive way to study." "Well it's working." "Is it now." Virgli nodded mock-seriously. "Mhm. I'm studying the depths of my brain." "And what have you gathered?" asked Logan, falling back into his chair. Virgil scrunched up his nose, watching as the male adjusted his glasses. "That I am more of a disappointment than I thought I was." Logan sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"How many times must I say this, Virgil-" "Yes?" "You are not a disappointment." Virgil rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. I bet you're sick of me already." he mumbled, leaning back in his chair. "Falsehood. I don't think I'll ever get tired of you, actually." Virgil turned away. A spark of hope ignited in his chest, but he forced it down. He'd heard that one too many times. "Virgil-"

"Anyway, I can't concentrate." said Virgil, cricking his neck. "By this point there isn't any merit in trying to, either." He could practically feel Logan's gaze on his back, but thankfully he let the topic go.

"Well if we go by your thinking, there's no point in sitting around doing nothing either." Logan shut his laptop and stood up, brushing down his sleeves. Virgil looked around at him with an eyebrow raised. "Do you have anything else to do?" Virgil shook his head.

"Then how about we do something together. Only if you want to, of course." Virgil couldn't help the smile that found itself on his face. "Yeah, that would be cool." he said, avoiding Logan's gaze. Logan smiled, before walking over to the cupboards.

"What time is it?" Virgil glanced at the clock by Logan's bedside. "7:30." "Perfect." He turned around to face Virgil. "How would you feel about watching a movie? You do it all the time at night anyway, might as well start early." Virgil's lips curved upward. "That would be nice. Any suggestions?" he asked, reaching for his laptop.

Logan hummed, rummaging through one of his shelves, before turning to Virgil holding a mound of blankets. Virgil snorted at the sight. "Not really... I'm not much of a movie person." Virgil's eyes widened. "We don't have to do something if you don't want to, you know-" Logan rolled his eyes. "Virgil, believe me when I say I know the basic codes of ethics." Logan then proceeded to dump all of the blankets on the foot of Virgil's bed. "Just because I am a movie person, does not mean I don't enjoy them."

Virgil blushed, diverting his eyes to his computer screen. "Right." Logan watched his roommate fondly, before sitting down behind him.

Virgil's body tensed up as he felt Logan's breath fan across his neck, and he felt heat rise up his neck. With trembling fingers he typed in his password.

Denied.

Virgil licked his lips, trying again. This time it worked. Logan smirked. "Messy typer, are you?" "Not usually." It's just that you're so fucking close, pretty-boy-

Virgil logged onto netflix and started scrolling through the movies. After a few moments, he turned to face Logan. "So what do you want to-" Virgil's words died in the back of his throat because holy shit he's close.

Logan's face was mere inches away from his own, which Virgil should have expected, honestly. He could feel heart rate sped up and his eyes widened, staring into deep blue ones. Were Logan's eyes always that pretty? Virgil couldn't tell. A blush mimicking Virgil's started to form on Logan's face, and he drew away (Virgil found himself missing the warmth already), and he started to ramble.

"S-Sorry, I know you're big on personal space, I really shouldn't have-" Virgil sat in place frozen, watching as the usually put-together teen fiddled with his tie, looking anywhere but Virgil's face. Virgil could feel what people would describe as butterflies -although they felt more like an angry moths- swarm around his stomach, his mind racing. Sure Logan's eyes were pretty, but there's no way they were that gorgeous the last time Virgil looked at him. Virgil could feel his throat close up, although this time it was in a way that made Virgil want to smile madly. His entire body was buzzing, even though they hadn't even touched each other.

He was snapped out of  his trance by the voice of his favourite nerd.

"-I'm so so so so so so so so so sorry, I know that's really stupid, but-" Virgil looked at him strangely. "Lo." "-I swear it won't happen again I just-" "Lo!" Logan started, looking at Virgil with what might have been the cutest blush ever. The two stared at each other for a few moments before Virgil broke the silence.

"It's fine." "Are you sure? I mean-" "Lo!" Logan clamped his mouth shut, his ears glowing. "It's all good." Virgil really felt like grinning, why did he feel like grinning? He hadn't been grinning a few seconds ago... he shouldn't grin, maybe just smile. Logan wouldn't feel weirded out  if he smiled, right?

"It's nothing, really. Chill." he chuckled breathily, before turning back to his laptop. Virgil had to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning. That weird feeling from yesterday's back again... Never mind, he was grinning. Logan, who was still blushing, leaned closer to Virgil and peered over his shoulder.

"So... movies." "Movies." Virgil mimicked, his blush finally retreating. He turned around so that Logan was next to him instead of behind him. "What stuff do you like?" Logan shrugged. "I don't know, I'm more of a reader." "What books?" "Um... Pretty much anything, actually." Virgil mock groaned.

"That doesn't help, Lo." "Um, Stephen King? They made a few movies out of his books, didn't they?" Virgil looked at him incredulously. "Did they??? Dude, have you never watched It?" Logan furrowed his brow. "I mean, I've heard of it, aparently it was a turned out to be a hit-"

"Logan, it's like the horror movie." "The book was more of a thriller-" "Thriller, horror, whatever. The point is it's like the horror movie for beginners." "We don't have to watch it if you've already-" "Logan. We're watching it."

Logan smiled hesitantly as the emo lept off his bed, starting to gather various throws and blankets, adding to the pile Logan had placed on his bed. Once he was done it was clear that they had a considerable collection of blankets.

A slightly ruffled Virgil stood at the foot of his bed, looking at Logan.

"So, pillow fort?" Logan nodded. "Pillow fort."

About 10 minutes later they were finished. The two had pushed their beds closer to the center of the room and strung blankets across the gap in between, their desks providing sufficiant support for the "roof" of the fort. The floor was laden with cusions and pillows, which were then covered in yet more blankets, these ones the school issue ones they'd been given. Virgil was just adding the finishing touches when the door opened, revealing Logan, who'd been scouring the building for snacks.

"How'd you do?" asked Virgil, pinning his fairy lights in place. "There's a vending machiene in the lobby, Virgil. So I think I did alright." He smirked, dropping an array of gummies and chocolate across the floor. Virgil snorted, returning to his task.

"You really do have a sweet tooth." "I don't lie if I can help it." shrugged the teen, adjusting his glasses. He then sat down next to Virgil, crossing his lanky legs. He watched the emo with a strange glint in his eyes. Virgil sat back, satisfied with his work, and raised an eyebrow at Logan's expression.

"What?" He said with a defensive edge to his voice. Logan smiled. "Fairy lights?" "You got a problem with them." Virgil muttered, turning away. "Not at all." he replied. "I just didn't peg you as the type." "Loving fairy lights is universal."

The two of them fit quite comfortably in their bundle of blankets, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee. While Virgil was trying his best to ignore the butterflies in his stomach, his skin burned wherever it touched Logan's, and an insufferable blush had found his way onto his face yet again.

"So... Should I be scared?" Virgil looked at Logan, who was munching on a chocolate kiss. "What?" "Should I be scared." Logan repeated, turned to face Virgil. "You said that it's a horror movie...?" "Oh, like that! Nah. It's famous because it was the first movie of it's kind, I think. It's not actually that scary." "Alright."

Logan turned back to face the screen, his muscles relaxing as the beginning credits began. Virgil turned to the screen too, although he wasn't paying much attention to it.

A strange feeling had come over Virgil, it was dizzying and grounding at the same time. An odd warmth that started from his chest and expanded like a balloon to strain against his skin. Virgil's lips were curved in an unconcious smile, his body relaxing against his roommates. The fact he was so calm around Logan was confusing, but it felt so nice that Virgil didn't want to question it.

Regardless of the fact he was facing the screen, all of Virgil's attention was fixed on the figure in his peripheral vision. Logan was slumped against the cusions behind them wearing a sleep-shirt, his eyes fized on the screen. If Virgil looked past the glare on his glasses, he could see those captivating eyes, twinkling with interest. There was a small smear of chocolate next to Logan's lip, and Virgil swore there was no combination of words that could explain his overwhelming urge to kiss it off.

Wait, what the-

..........

Summary: Virgil can't focus on anything, and so Logan suggest watching a movie together. They build a pillow fort, and my probably awkward attempt at fluff ensues.

Tag List : 

@someone-idk-is-here

@tired-babyboy 

@true-chaotic-dumbass

@666frostwolf

@deceits-hat

If you wanna be added to the tag list just shoot me an ask! :)

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Darkness”

The Messengers of Darkness have a clear purpose: to always create havoc and destruction no matter where they go. Lately one of them slowed down for a weird reason: the entity fell in love with a mortal. Such transgression is bound to attract unwanted attention from its peers, yet the Dark One posing as The Joker won’t let anything stand between his kind and the woman he will protect at all costs.  

The sound of distant thunder makes you snuggle to The Joker’s chest; you feel your forehead being kissed before another rumble disrupts the gloomy dawn.

“Is there a storm coming?” you yawn and open one eye. “Should we close the windows?”

“No, it’s fine,” J replies, carefully listening to hidden whispers scattered in the breeze making its way around Gotham.

“Ok…” you mumble and pull the covers higher until your nose sticks out from behind the thickest comforter. Your steady breathing queues J you’re dozing off again and he rolls out of bed, displeased about the unwanted presence he senses nearby.

“I know you’re here,” he growls while sniffing the air.

A low humming confirms his suspicion and The Clown Prince of Crime sneaks outside on the terrace in order to greet the emissary sent with a clear assignment.

“Why are you hiding?” the question echoes in the quietness. “Show yourself!”

“I’m not hiding.”

As soon as the words are spoken, the sinister apparition materializes in front of The Joker: it has human shape, yet is made only of Darkness. The being and its counterpart posing as The Clown Prince of Crime were born from the same abyss: one could say that makes them siblings, although the notion of family doesn’t exist in the Shadow Realm.

“What do you want?” J mutters, unhappy his early morning is interrupted by a visitor bearing ill news.

He can tell.

“The High Council demands your attendance for a meeting.”

“Regarding?” the green haired King bites on his cheek, already guessing on the answer.

“Your relationship with the mortal.”

J is watching the lightning chaotically striking inside the creature’s body since The Dark Ones are in a permanent state of mayhem: their blackness is carried within and enables them to travel between different dimensions.

“What relationship?” The Joker huffs, pretending to brush off any attachment that’s out of character for his kin.

“I was told you slowed down your activities in the past six months after you’ve met the woman.”

“I didn’t slow down. I’m actually planning for more anarchy,” the explanation prompts advice from the entity:

“I hope you won’t dare lie to the members of The Council like this; they will immediately know just like I know.”

The Joker exhales, glaring at the grey clouds above.

“What are you doing anyway?” the wraith lectures out of pure spite. “We don’t engage with these maggots; they’re useless and their lives are gone in a blink of an eye! We’re immortals and unstoppable, designed for a simple purpose: to reign this miserable planet and ensure its doom! So I’m asking: what are you doing?!”

For the first time in the whole eternity, he doesn’t have a reason for his behavior.

“I can’t rationalize what I feel,” J approaches the specter, “but allow me to demonstrate,” he transforms into the wretched monster that he truly is, identical to the one standing before him.

There is a big difference though: the fire bolts illuminating his frame are not randomly striking at once, they keep on hitting the same spots in a very organized pattern.

“What… what is this?!!” the uncanny sister marvels at the view.

“Not sure, it happens when I’m around Y/N. Here, you can feel it also,” he takes her right hand and places it on his chest.

She gasps at the unexpected sensation: quietness. Complete quietness; no crazy havoc, no evil thoughts, no urge to kill.

“How did you do this?!!!” she inquires, dumbfounded.

“I have no clue,” The Joker reclaims his human shell, waiting for her to snap out of trance.

“The Council won’t like this,” the evident truth is spoken aloud. “How did you even connect with the girl on such a level?!”

J lifts his shoulders up, confused.

“I really have no idea.”

Awkward stillness.

“We must leave,” the apparition urges a troubled Joker; it’s strange for him to worry about someone and for the moment he’s concerned about you while dreading the encounter with his kin:

How did a twisted devil like him actually learn the definition of such complicated emotions? How can he justify such abomination to his peers?

It most than likely won’t end well because The Council is already suspicious regarding his bizarre actions.

“I’ll return shortly,” he snarls. “I have to say goodbye.”

*************

You stretch under his weight, J yanking at the sheets to expose your face.

“I have an emergency meeting,” he grumbles in your ear.

“Baaaby…”, you cuddle to his neck half snoozing. “Can I take a shower and join you?”

“No… Stay in bed; I promise I’ll come back for you.”

Y/N smiles, totally oblivious at the meaning.

“You’d better Mister J; your girlfriend might get cold and she’ll need company,” you pout and he stands up, bending over to kiss you.

“I will,” the grin disappears from his face as your eyelids close; he wishes he could linger on the premises yet the messy situation requires hasty measures. Another kiss and he vanishes into thin air, abandoning the woman at The Penthouse.

You sigh in your sleep, the sudden cold gust of wind filling up the room. In a few minutes the chillness intensifies and Y/N is unaware of the grave danger she’s in: another Dark Messenger is there to annihilate the target she became after changing the laws of nature.

The meeting with The High Council was a pretext to send your protector away; The Shadow known as The Joker is a powerful entity among his kind and they didn’t want to risk any trouble. Your faith was sealed the second you bonded with him and although you aren’t guilty of anything, it doesn’t matter: you are guilty to them and that’s the sole logic they bow to.

Invisible to the human eye, the enemy is near: it watches you turn on your side, wondering what’s so damn special about an average mortal; nothing peculiar to indicate you could create trouble and switch the balance hanging in their favor. A woman like so many others.

And yet unique in a way The Dark Ones will never understand.

The wraith awaits for a little bit longer: your guardian has to be far, thus he won’t have an opportunity to save his cherished human. Ten extra minutes… fifteen…twenty…thirty…

The creature unravels his claws, quickly closing the distance between the two of you. Another step and it’s here, smelling your scent with disgust.

“Repulsive being…” he sneers, touching the lump of skin and bones peacefully resting without a care in the universe.

There is no warning, no escape: your body instantly disintegrates, the silver ashes flying on the pillows you were hugging.

The specter chuckles at the sweet victory, reckoning the reward for its mighty deed will be greatly remembered in the centuries to come.

If only…

Ironically enough your demise will set things in motion unseen neither in the world of the living or the Shadow Realm: the ordinary girl might have been just a grain of sand passing through infinity, but they forgot one important detail: she was HIS GIRL.

************

The two companions are almost reaching their final destination at the end of the 7th Gate of Darkness, when the twisted spirit posing as J halts.

“Something is wrong,” he mumbles, the unbearable emotion of impending doom growing stronger.

“What is it?” his escort curiously inquires as the lightning inside his celestial shape strikes chaotically again: no more steady pattern since you are gone.

“Something is very wrong; I can’t feel her anymore!” he shrieks, preparing for an interdimensional jump. “I’m going back!”

“We’re practically home; I’m sure she’s fine,” the soothing lies have the exact opposite effect. “We are expected and The Council hates delays.”

“I don’t care! I’m going back!”

“Wait, I’m coming too!” she offers because the whole charade points out at the ugly reality: they used her to lure him out of the nest without sharing their plan.

************** Ten minutes… fifteen…twenty…thirty…

“I told you I can’t feel her anymore…” his sister hears as soon as she catches up to him in the master bedroom where you were left to nap. “Did you know about this?”

He keeps on caressing the soot scattered on the blankets, numb to her sentences:

“I didn’t know! They just entrusted me with an easy mission and I obeyed. I was only told to bring you in front of Council for questioning; they didn’t share the bigger picture with me.”

The more she defends her innocence, the more her voice fades within the infernal ruckus shaking the building from the ground up.

“Ummm… What are you doing?!” she asks even if she can sense his intentions.

The decorative objects scattered around The Penthouse shatter into tiny particles drifting towards The Joker and he buries his face in the lifeless ashes on the bed, the only proof you were once there.

“You can’t do that!” she screams over the deafening commotion. “You can’t turn back time, it’s forbidden!”

“I want her back!!!!”

“Stop!!!! You can’t control it! You’ll lose your powers for the transgression; how will you even find her?! You’ll end up before you’ve ever met and she won’t know you!”

“That’s my burden to worry about, not yours!” the Dark One hisses amidst the hellish storm created in order to reset The Clock: the sands of time are moving backwards and he doesn’t care about consequences.

It’s better to take the risk and try to recover the lost connection than endure ages of solitude in the eternal murkiness.

*************

You drag your feet on the concrete, squeezing the bag full of groceries to your chest; three more blocks and you’ll finally be home after another exhausting day at work. You keep on admiring the nice clothes and shoes exhibited by the chic boutiques on Main Street: that’s all you can afford anyway….lots of window shopping.

You manage not to cry at the harsh disappointment of finding yourself in a desperate situation courtesy of your boyfriend Mark; I guess ex-boyfriend to be more specific. God knows how difficult it was to save money together for almost a year for a downpayment on a condo situated in a better neighborhood since this one is going downhill!

And the unthinkable happened: you had another terrible fight thus he took his stuff and moved out the following week. You were at work so Mark came to gather his last items; he was supposed to leave the spare key, take half of the money prepared for him and flee. But he didn’t have the decency to split the cash: he snatched his envelope and also searched for your share hidden under the stairs, grabbed it and skipped town.

All ten thousand dollars and the hope for a better future is gone; right when you think you know someone… damn…

Why do you have to be stuck in this district you hate?! So many weirdos popping at every corner, for example the creep that just stopped behind you. You can discern his reflection in the glass: a strange man with toxic green hair, his mouth slightly opened like this is the first time he sees a woman. Jesus!

You shiver at the view, taking one last glance at the pair of earrings displayed by “Zales Jewelry Company”. Maybe if you speed up the guy won’t be able to track you in the crowd. Or maybe you’re paranoid and a glass of wine in the safety of your apartment will make you laugh at how stupid you are while watching a movie on the couch. And then you’ll probably sobb until you doze off…

Every few moments you look to ensure he’s not pursuing; the spooky man gave out an unsettling vibe you can’t shake off. Although you’re dead tired, you find the energy to hurry and you’re finally home.

You place the grocery bag on the counter and freeze: the anxiety you felt earlier is crawling back in your heart. Oh, you know why: did you lock the door?

You instinctively glare at the exit, concealing a scream: the individual you saw earlier sneaked inside! He’s staring you down and it clicks: the mace in your purse! If you can get to it before he does, you could have a better chance of escaping the intruder.

You count to three in your head, gathering your courage; you rush for your handbag yet the guy is faster: he cuts you off and pulls you in his arms, tightening the grip as you fight to break free. You are completely terrified when he swiftly kisses you; you struggle to escape but you realize he’s not attempting to do anything else. He loosens his embrace, still firmly holding on to Y/N’s waist.

Does it sound insane that his touch feels familiar?!

You part from his lips and gaze at the hypnotic blue eyes, faintly whispering:

“Who are you?...”

The devilish smirk gets wider as he utters the words:

“My name is Jay.”

Also read: MASTERLIST

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[justanotherloveaffair]

All Mine (T’Challa x Reader One Shot)

My entry for @brianabreeze‘s 4k Celebration Fic Fest, “You’re not going out in that outfit.”

I’m sorry this took so long. 

Summary:  You give T’Challa a gift - yourself. 

Warnings: BDSM themes - domination/submission, use of collar and leash, spanking, rough/kink sex, hints of hybrid/panther T’Challa, oral sex

Word Count: 6,536

Author’s Note:  If you know and read my work, you probably won’t be surprised to know I am into BDSM. I know it might not be everyone’s thing, so hopefully this doesn’t bother anyone. I've wanted to write this idea for a lonnnnng while. I hope someone out there enjoys this lol

Taglist: @brianabreeze @sarahboseman @kumkaniudaku @grandadchadwick @supersizemeplz, @purple-apricots, @deliciousstreetkidcroissant, @ashanti-notthesinger, @onyour-right,  @maverickabull, @lavitabella87,  @fullonfrenzy,  @builtalongthewayside, @belauriette, @jaeee-http, @airis-paris14,  @fortuitoushappenings , @queentearra, @h-challa @90sinspiredgirl @wildaboutchrisevans @theunsweetenedtruth @stevesthot @afraiddreamingandloving @killmongerrss @nah-imjustfeelinit @tchallaholla @a-heretic-child @simplyyamberr @tacohead13 @heyauntieeee @big3gocandykahn + I really need to do a new taglist sorry if I missed someone!!! 

The morning before the New York Benefit for Science and Technology, where your husband, the King of Wakanda was the keynote speaker, you were out on the town, dressed incognito for a shopping trip while T’Challa was preoccupied with meetings and memorizing his speech.

Disguising yourself was necessary, not just to deter the usual attention you weren’t in the mood to receive, but because what you were shopping for wasn’t exactly something you wanted on the front page of the news. You could see the headlines now. The Kinky King and Queen of Wakanda, with a picture of you below, picking up your custom ordered, diamond-encrusted submissive collar.

It was meant to be a surprise. In the past year, you and your husband had been exploring dominance and submission in bed. There was nobody you trusted more than T’Challa. He was a loving, giving, passionate man, and when it came to experimenting with control, it was no surprise he was a natural at it.

The more you played, the more certain thoughts became fascinating to you, like wearing a collar, a symbol of your submission, and handing him the leash.

The collar was just a frivolous idea of fancy until you found a jeweller who was willing to create exactly what you wanted, and given the amount of money she was getting for it, with no questions asked. Also, she just happened to be in New York, your home away from Wakanda that week.

Her shop was a regular looking jewelry store out front, but when you gave the staff the false name you’d been using in your correspondence, she immediately came to collect you and bring you around back.

She was excited as she presented it to you with a flourish, removing a velvet purple covering atop a pillow to reveal a circular choker studded with hundreds – but glinting as if there were thousands – of sparkling diamonds.

In the center was an O ring, the crucial piece that turned a regular choker into a bondage item with the simple but necessary spot for clipping a chain. For T’Challa to hold and lead you however he desired.

You shivered at the thought, touching your fingers to the cold, shimmering icelike jewels. You had already wire transferred her the money, so you held out your hands to accept your purchase that was nestled protectively inside a black box lined with purple velvet, and closed with a special lock with a pre-agreed code.

You walked out, completely unrecognized, and after stopping for a coffee, you went back to the hotel where you could hardly wait to try it on together with your dress, also custom-made, from a Wakandan designer.

You had a feeling the King wouldn’t approve. The dress was daring, almost shockingly revealing, and T’Challa hated when men ogled you. He was possessive of your body, and wanted all that belonged to him to be his, not plastered all over Twitter and Instagram and the news for all to enjoy and stare at.

Part of you wanted his jealousy and possessiveness to come out that night, hoping the territorial beast inside him would come out and play.

He was still out when you returned to your royal suite. He’d texted you he’d be back in a few hours, giving you time to get ready.

You took your purchase into the giant marble bathroom, undressed until you were naked, and carefully unboxed the necklace. The bathroom walls shimmered with the reflected brilliance of light hitting the jewels.

You found it surprisingly heavy as you lifted it from its velvet home. Holding it up, you secured it with the clasp around your neck, then examined your reflection. It was perfect. Exactly as you had imagined.

Satisfied, you took it off, rehoused it and hid the box away before getting into the shower. You had several hours to prepare, allowing you to take your time.

It was close to 5:00pm, an hour before you were supposed to leave, when you finally heard the door open and saw an exhausted T’Challa walked in.

“Bast, these people, all they want do is talk,” He ranted before the door was even closed. From his tone, you knew he was in a foul mood, but the moment he saw you, standing in only your underwear, he softened.

“Come here,” you held out your arms and like a magnet, he was drawn to the inviting warmth of your body. After wrapping him in a hug, you noticed he was distracted at your nearly naked body.

Just you wait, you ain’t seen nothin yet, you thought devilishly.

“I hate being away from you,” his smooth voice lamented in your ear. The palms of his hands grazed your butt and thighs, pulling you up against him. He smelled incredible, and you desperately wanted to feel underneath the clothes covering the hard body you were pressed up against.

“The car is coming for us in half an hour,” he said regretfully, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. “Otherwise I would take my time enjoying every inch of this body.”

You were already on fire thinking about your present for him, and he was just adding fuel. You had to separate yourself from him or you’d never get ready in time.

“Save that for tonight,” you winked, withdrawing from his arms. “I’m going to get changed. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Your dress was in a black garment protector hanging in the master bedroom closet. You shoo’d T’Challa out to dress in a separate room, and with a mix of nerves and excitement, you zipped into the gown.

The neckline was so low, you would have to be constantly looking down to make sure your nipples were covered, even though the designer promised he’d constructed it to stay up. The colour was an orgasmic, explosion of red that billowed out from two panels in the front around your hips bustle-style to trail behind you in a long train, while at the front, the silky slip part of the dress stopped halfway up your thighs.

Finally, it was time for the showstopper. Your hands were shaking slightly as you lifted the diamonds up to your neck and clasped it, the weight of the cold choker giving you a pleasant shiver.

Lastly, you went back to your cupboard to pick up another item. Lifting it carefully to avoid the sound carrying to T’Challa’s sensitive ears, you arranged the bundle behind your back into one hand, so it would be hidden from view until you were ready to reveal it.

T’Challa knocked on the door. “Y/N, are you ready? The car is waiting outside –“

“Coming!” You reached for the door, knowing he was on the other side and braced yourself as you pulled it open.

T’Challa’s eyes bulged with shock at the cinched, busty, red extravaganza of a dress before him.

Silence and tension brewed between you as T’Challa’s expression hardened, his nostrils flared, and a twitch appeared in his jaw.

“You are not going out in that outfit.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond because T’Challa then noticed what was around your neck. His eyes flickered there, paused, and widened.

“Eh? What is this?”

He closed the distance between you with a single step, until he was close enough for you to hear his breathing, which had quickened noticeably.

You chose that moment to reveal what was behind your back. A slight jangling sound caught T’Challa’s attention, and his eyes snapped up to the chain dangling from your hand.

It was a delicate length of chain made up of thin, silver-plated metal links. On one end was a leather lead, and on the other end, a metal clip designed to attach to the shimmering diamond ring around your neck.  

“It’s a gift … for you.”

You weren’t even sure your words were heard. T’Challa was a million miles away.

You took a small step towards him feeling an intense rush of power at the lust on your husband’s face. After a whole month of planning and anticipating this moment, his stupefied reaction was even better than you hoped.

Wordlessly and trance-like, T’Challa’s pointer and middle finger traced the bumpy, studded jewels, while his eyes blazed with the cold fire reflecting into the dark, inky depths of his eyes. His breathing slowed until you were sure it stopped as he took the lead and chain from your hands. You both watched him lift the clip up, and slowly, carefully, he snapped it onto the ring, leaving the cold length of metal chain to dangle between your breasts.

T’Challa’s expression would have been unreadable if you didn’t know him as well as you did. There were all the signs of a storm raging beneath the surface. His eyes glinted like steel, his jaw twitching, the hand holding the leash clenched in a tight fist. 

Then, he blinked and shook his head, and broke out of the trance with sudden action, quickly unsnapping the lead from your neck and tossing it to the bed.

“We have to go,” he grunted.

“T’Challa?” You bit your lip.

He ran his hand through his coils.  “You know I do not approve of this,” he gestured to all of the skin you had on display, growling, “but I will deal with that later.”

“Do you like my gift?” You touched your neck, worried that his gruffness was a sign of dislike, even though your gut instinct knew better.

He groaned. “I will show you how much I like it later, kitten. We must go.” He put a hand on your back while readjusting the telltale bulge in his slacks.

~ ~ ~

The King and Queen of Wakanda were the darlings of the night. The media loved you. At every red-carpet event, your arrival received the most attention, and tonight was no exception when the stunning King T’Challa stepped out, holding the hand of his gorgeous wife in a gravity-defying gown.

You proudly answered the first question on everyone’s lips, “Who are you wearing?” giving the name of a designer nobody had heard of, and imagined thousands of entertainment reporters, fashion columnists and bloggers furiously googling your answer later.

There was also intrigue surrounding your diamond choker and you had to admit, you did enjoy your husband squirming as you talked nonchalantly about something he’d be leading you around the bedroom with later.

T’Challa was, predictably, uncomfortable at the attention you were receiving, and in more ways than one. On the red carpet, you noticed him staring at your chest during an interview, which was unfortunately captured in a photo later shared online with the caption, We are all King T’Challa.

That night was the most absent minded and nervous you’d ever seen him. Normally he was so composed and in control, but you had to remind him of a few people’s names when you saw him staring blankly, and had to dab spilled wine from his black blazer when he missed his mouth taking a sip. It would have been funny, but you knew somehow, someway, he was going to make you pay for distracting him. Make you pay dearly.

Thank Bast, the speech went perfectly. The moment he was at that podium, the spirit of T’Chaka came to bless him, and you proudly watched as he delivered a beautiful speech that was as engaging and confident as any given by his father. The room erupted with thunderous applause and a standing ovation as T’Challa made his way back, giving a rare smile as he returned to your side.

He kissed your cheek and as the noise around you died down, whispered in your ear, “Can we get out of here now?”

But the curse of being a world leader and a distinguished guest forced you both into several more hours of drinks and conversation. He refused to let you out of his sight, and depending on whether your conversation partner was male or female, he would either be holding your hand, or keeping you locked against his side with his arm possessively around your waist.

At some point, the bottomless glasses of champagne rekindled your desire to enflame T’Challa’s jealousy a bit, and you started getting flirtatious. You began to laugh a little more, give your dreamy smile as you listened, and reached out to subtly brush your arm or hand against whatever man you were talking with.

You felt the heat of T’Challa’s side-eye burning into you, and pretended not to notice.  

As the night was winding down, the venue owner came over to congratulate T’Challa on his speech. Unlike other men, he kept masterful eye contact with you, his gaze avoiding the inviting trap of your ample cleavage.

You were drunk, confident, and still wanting to mess with the jealous beast inside T’Challa, so as the two spoke, you did everything you could to draw his attention down without actually pulling his head into your bosom. “Oops!” You dropped something, and leaned down in front of him. Then, suddenly the front of your dress needed a little readjusting, making you spill out a bit more as they talked.

Then, some champagne missed your mouth. “Oh! I am so clumsy!” All three of you looked down at where it had splashed your breast, and that was when T’Challa had had enough.

Trembling with fury, he abruptly reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you again, but we must go. I am afraid there is an urgent matter to attend to.”

His deadly serious expression and steely tone made the man respond, “Oh, of course King T’Challa,” assuming a serious matter in Wakanda had just presented itself.

It certainly had.

There was a sudden need to handle a certain insolent Wakandan citizen, who happened to be his wife.

A hand, shaking with restrained power, slid around your waist as T’Challa hissed in your ear, “I know what you are doing, and if you think this ends well for you, you are wrong.” His breath was hot on your neck, his words sharp with authority. “Get your things, we are going. And I will not hear another word from you without my permission, is that understood?”

T’Challa’s words sobered you up. Shame crept in and you were about to apologize, but his intense stare made your mouth snap shut.

Silently, you took your purse from the chair and plastered on a fake smile as you passed people on the way out. A few tried to call out to invite you to after parties, but your elbow was in a vice like grip and he yanked you the moment you started to slow, so you waved apologetically instead.

The car took you home in silence. Your hands stayed curled in your lap, playing nervously with the short silk hem on your upper thighs. T’Challa hadn’t spoken since the benefit. When he held the door open for you to enter and exit the car, his eyes were straight ahead, unfocused. Ignoring you.

At the hotel, you both received stares from all directions at the distinguished, royal hotel guests that walked stiffly into the lobby and though you walked close together, a tension and distance kept you emotionally apart.

In the elevator, you could almost hear his thoughts churning. You vibrated with the need to speak, to explain that you were just fucking around, and it was stupid and you were sorry. You wanted your T’Challa back, to be held and cherished in his arms again.

The elevator opened on your private floor directly into your suite. Behind you, T’Challa held the door for you to step in first.

You turned on your heel and for the first time, captured T’Challa’s eyes on yours. You poured every ounce of your regret and apology into your expression but it was as effective as throwing yourself against a brick wall. His eyes were dark and impenetrable, his face a controlled mask.

T’Challa considered you for a long time. So long it made you sweat and shift uncomfortably, while he was perfectly still and composed. When you thought you couldn’t stand his intense gaze any longer, he took a few steps until he was behind you, and his fingers whisked the zipper down your back, parting the dress around you and with a swish it fell to the floor.

“On your hands and knees.” He commanded.

“T’Cha–“

He cut you off. “You are not to speak. Forget one more time, and I will find a way to silence you that you will not enjoy.”

The harsh edge to his words caused a flash of heat all over your body.

“Hands and knees.” He repeated impatiently.

Immediately, you lowered down until your palms and knees made contact with soft carpet. Your black panties were new to T’Challa’s eyes, another surprise you wanted to give him, that he was now taking in without a sign of acknowledgement. A man would have to be dead to ignore the allure of your ass, encased in criss crossing black ribbon. It was all you wore. No bra, no stockings, just barely there ribbons of fabric, and your diamond collar.

He disappeared from your side, and accompanying his return was a metal jangling sound. Turning your head, you saw the chain hanging down from T’Challa’s hands, swinging slightly as he walked to you.

T’Challa bent down, and with a clinking sound, he clasped the chain to your necklace. He tested the tautness of it with a small tug just inches from your neck and at the feeling, goosebumps raised your skin and the hairs on your neck.

You felt as if you were floating into new, unexplored, dark places and there was no turning back.

T’Challa’s finger touched your cheek with unexpected tenderness. Your breathing was rough, nervous, excited.

He took a breath to speak.

“You wanted to provoke my anger and jealousy tonight, is that right? You may speak, kitten.”

You raised your misty eyes, overflowing with emotion, up to his face like two shining moons. “Yes,” you confessed.

“You wanted attention. To be seen and wanted.”

“Yes,” you crumpled. You weren’t proud of it, especially hearing it spoken so plainly.

T’Challa sighed, his perfect features in torment. “Then I think I know a suitable punishment.”

Your eyebrows twitched up as you anticipated his next move.

“Come, kitten.”

The metal chain tightened, and you responded to the pull around your neck the only way you could, by crawling forward. In front of you, T’Challa held the leather leash in one hand, and in the other, he had curled the chain around his fingers to keep it tight and control your pace. He walked you into the bedroom like you were his pet, and instead of feeling demeaned, you felt more powerful than a thousand reigning Queens. A gorgeous, proud animal taking her rightful place in her kingdom.

Your crawling steps were slow and steady, following T’Challa until you were next to the master bed.

He slipped the leather loop over the top of the bedpost and with some of the chain, wrapped it around in the same spot, leaving the remaining chain taut, the length between you and the bed short enough that you would be able to move closer to the bedpost, but not further away.

T’Challa lowered himself down, bent at the knees until he was level with you. His bright eyes studied your face.

“You want attention, is that it? Then to punish you, I will leave you here alone.”

A cry rose in your throat and you looked up at your husband, betrayal in your eyes. “What? You-“

“Ah,” He grabbed your chin. “I did not give you permission to speak. You will stay here, quietly, or you will prolong your punishment.”

Your chin wavered and your eyes blurred over with tears as you looked up at the man you worshipped, adored, admired, and loved, who was taking away the one thing you wanted most – him.

Seeing emotion well up inside you, a compassionate look came into his eyes. T’Challa’s heavy hand gently wrapped around your throat, his thumb rubbing along your esophagus in a soothing gesture.

His tone was soft, sweet. A balm to the sting of his actions.

“You need to be taught a lesson. Do not be angry with me for teaching it. Show me how good you can be, and I will be good to you, my Queen.”

With his words echoing in your head, T’Challa left you in the room and closed the door, cutting you off completely from him. You strained for any sound, even testing the chain to bring your ear closer to the door, but there was no further trace of his footsteps.

You slumped on the floor with defeat. T’Challa had punished you before, but never by removing himself from your reach and you hated it.

Since the day you met him, the soft spoken, thoughtful man who captivated you with his beauty and grace had you hooked, obsessed, with everything he did. You knew the magnitude of your love and want for him was not normal or healthy. Together, your chemistry was explosive. It made headlines, put you on top 10 lists. In bed, he gave you fireworks. Every time. With your every need in life taken care of, the one and only thing you yearned for was more of him. As the leader of a country, you never had enough of his time and attention. You were greedy for it.

Time passed slowly and you had no grasp of how long he was gone for. It could have been hours. Your knees hurt, but still, you were patient, every muscle tight with anticipation for the moment T’Challa returned.

You were so tuned in and sensitive to any trace of him that you sat straight up at the soft shuffling of his feet towards the door with a wildly pounding heart.

The door creaked open. You faced towards it, legs folded under you, back rigid, wearing an expression of hope that you had done enough to absolve yourself.

The sight of T’Challa gave you a powerful injection of excitement, hope, and love. Somehow, he looked more stunning and poised than ever before. You were arrested by his beauty, unable to speak as you looked up into his face.

“My kitten,” his palm touched your cheek and you wanted to cry. The sound of his words after such a long absence were the sweetest drops of warm honey. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, floating in bliss at his nearness. He allowed you to nuzzle him and then he left you to untie the chain at the bedpost.

You watched him with catlike curiosity. He seemed relaxed, moving with slow, purposeful movements as he transferred the leather lead from the bedpost into his hand, then wrapped the chain around in several loops.

He used the leverage to tug at your neck.

“Up.”

After a long time on your knees there was an almighty protest in your bones and muscles as you climbed back up to your full height, standing a whole foot shorter than T’Challa who towered above you.

“Undress me.”

Though spoken just above a whisper, his words, dripping with authority, boomed in your ears.

T’Challa was in a three-piece black suit, while you were nude, making for an erotic contrast as you stood close to each other, almost touching.

With loving care, you began to undress him from his expensive clothes, doing it slowly, while you exchanged occasional glances with T’Challa who watched you intensely.

You took your time as if it was your first time uncovering his body. The sight of his chest as you loosened his shirt filled you with butterflies. Slipping the stiff fabric off his shoulders, your breath caught at the gleaming skin of his musculature. He observed each and every reaction as your hands traced down his chest. He hadn’t said you couldn’t touch him. You wanted to explore him with more than just your fingertips, but knew it would be too much to ask for just yet.

It was difficult to restrain yourself as you unlooped his belt and worked the buttons down. Behind the thin fabric, against your fingers, you felt the press of him and soon you discovered he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. When you pulled the fabric down to reveal him, he bobbed free. It was near impossible to focus on getting his pants off of each leg. It required you to lower yourself to your knees, putting your face so close to his jutting, proud dick and ignore your hunger for it long enough to finish removing his clothes.

When you were done, you looked up, remaining kneeled at his feet. His pleased smile was like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

“Very good, my kitten.”

The small upward curve of his lips and his praise made you flush with heat and pride.

Pressure at your neck forced you up onto your feet as T’Challa tugged the chain. He stepped close to you, so close you felt the brush of his dick at your hip as he whispered, “Now I want to have some fun.”

He leaned back with a sexy, playful smile that made you lose your breath.

T’Challa began a slow walk backwards, letting free some length of chain but keeping you close as you were led to follow. His anger was gone and you were weak with excitement at the way he watched you following with his little grin staying fixed on his mouth.

He backed into the living room and led you towards the sitting area, next to a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window. Two lamps gave off dim, soft light while the city of New York glittered below you.

He bent and confidently lifted you onto the heavy, soft couch.

“Lie back.” His eyes glinted and you obeyed, watching him drop the leash and chain next to you, and you realized what was about to happen as he slid your panties down your legs, then encouraged your thighs wide and kneeled down in front of you.

“You have done just as I asked,” he brushed his nose against your thigh, smiling, “and my Queen deserves a reward.”

Your husband’s mouth lowered to lick the seam between your legs and you screamed.

His tongue, firm and pointed, licked all around your surface, leaving no part of you untasted or unexplored, while you mewled and shook in his hands. He let you make all the sounds you wanted.

His mouth grinded on you, side to side and all around, covering his whole face and beard with you and reveling in your taste and sounds. After withholding his touch from you all night, it was almost too much at once.

All too quickly, your thighs were shaking. No one but T’Challa could get you off this fast. You dug your hands into his coils while the King continued to worship you, moaning with enjoyment, the muscles in his back rippling with movement until you couldn’t hold out any longer. Your toes curled, your thighs and stomach muscles flexed, as you threw your head back and cried with sweet release.

Your moans were music to T’Challa. He licked all around you, inside, along your lips then teasing your clit, until he was satisfied at your dazed, blissful state.

He rested back on his heels, looking so proud of himself, and you caught the movement of his hand moving slowly up and down himself. Horny and hungry for more of you.

Eager for him, you leaned up on your elbows while T’Challa rose onto his knees. His hand gently brushed your stomach, and you both watched his fingers trace along the metal chain between your breasts, following the lead up to your neck. He slowly pulled, and your back parted from the cushions as you rose to meet his waiting lips for your first kiss of the night.

His lips were soft and yielding to yours. He tasted sweet, and you sought out your flavour from his mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. You both made sounds of pleasure as your tongues flickered together in teasing licks. Heat thudded inside you and you parted, your foreheads resting against one another.

You both exchanged the same air, panting as you shared a moment of quiet.

His fingers rubbed along the jagged, rough surface of your necklace.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful your submission is?”

You smiled warmly. “Not out loud. But you have told me in other ways.” You looked suggestively downward.

“I have yet to punish you for wearing this tonight. For distracting me on such an important night. You do not know how difficult it was to see you wearing this in public, knowing what it meant.”

“I have an idea,” you bit your lip. You felt his warmth and kindness slipping away again, as a wave retreats back out to sea, while you stood on the edge of the shore.

“You think you do kitten. But you do not. You have no idea what thoughts went through my head.”

A hard, dominant edge had returned to his voice. The storm you sensed was crashing, booming, thundering above you, and you were about to be caught in its torrent.

“Turn around. Up on your knees.”

A thrill shot through you sensing what was coming and your stomach was in knots as you arranged yourself on the couch. Now you were facing away, your anchor point gone.  

Both of his palms reached out to caress and rub your cheeks, and he pulled the skin into harsh pinches.

“I have every right to beat this ass raw after how you tempted me tonight,” he uttered, more to himself than to you. His hands continued to rub and squeeze in circles.

“Yes,” you agreed in your most obedient voice.

The first hit came but a second later. A loud thwap as the center of his wide palm connected right at the apple of your left cheek and left you with bursts of colour behind your eyes as pain bloomed in your body.

“Bast,” you whimpered quietly. It was only the first one, and you already had tears in your eyes.

He hit the right cheek next, so abruptly you didn’t realize it until a second later. Again, the sound rang out with a loud clap along with your whimper.

“Four more, kitten.”

One, you whispered, and T’Challa’s next spank was so intense you saw stars.

You crawled forward out of instinct, but all it took was one tug of the chain to bring you back.

“Two,” he counted. A second later, the firm, slapping sound of flesh on flesh rang out, as did your cry.

“You think you should be spared the last two?” He challenged.

Tears pricked your eyes. Your mind was swimming. The metal jangled as he tugged the chain, prompting you to respond.

“Eh?”

“No, I-I deserve it.”

T’Challa’s fingers grazed over the sensitive flesh, slow and soothing, before he cracked against each cheek in quick succession, so fast you had no time to process it before he lifted and gathered you in his arms.

“Shhhh,” he whispered into your ear, noticing your tears that you had lost control of, and the shaking in your chest as you gasped.

Your body left the couch and you were floating, carried through the air in a set of strong arms. A hand caressed your back as you clung to his form. “Shhhh, my love,” his words were at your ear, full of warmth.

The chain was unclipped from your neck as he lowered you onto the bed, following with his body. The tingling pain was already subsiding, but T’Challa handled you gently as if you were made of porcelain.

“Did I hurt you?” his eyes twitched with emotion as they roamed your face.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you held both sides of his face and smiled. T’Challa bent and captured your lips, kissing you softly. You savoured the feel of his lips and marvelled at how gentle he could be.  

Gentle sex with T’Challa was wonderful, but it’s not what you were still craving.

You nipped his lip and looked up at him with a little smirk, your eyes twinkling.

“I want to know. What kinds of thoughts went through your head at the benefit tonight?”

At your question he groaned, burying his head in your chest. “I wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you in front of the whole room, then come on you... Remind everyone who you belong to since you seemed so intent on flaunting yourself.”

Your head fell back at the rush of heat his fantasy gave you. “I would have liked that.”

He continued to speak with his mouth grazing your chest. “I imagined pushing you to your knees and putting that insolent mouth on my dick.”

Your thighs twitched at the thought, as excitement pooled in your core.

“Oooh…. anything else?”

His voice came from your chest, where he was alternating licking and kissing. “Oh kitten, I could go all day. When I spilled wine on myself? I was picturing my hand around your throat, pounding you from behind while everyone watched my horny little Queen trying to take all of her King’s dick.”

You stared in awe as T’Challa looked lustily up at you, sucking the tip of your nipple into his mouth and releasing it with a rough bite, testing you. When you groaned, he did it again, grazing your skin with his teeth, taking another sharp bite.

“T’Challa….” you begged.

“Tell me what you are hoping I will do to you.”

His command made you moan again as you tried to articulate your needs.

“I want... “ You closed your eyes, trying to find the right words.

“Mm,” he prompted.

“Use my body T’Challa. Take what’s yours and own me. I want all of you…” your voice dropped to a whisper, “and him.”

T’Challa lowered his face to your stomach, dark eyes peering up at you and the air around you changed. You both knew what you were referring to.

Your voice was husky and low. 

“Let the panther out. Let him come and play, T’Challa.”

His eyes were totally black, the pupils blown wide. He twitched, something between a rumble and a growl coming from deep inside him. There was something distinctly animal that you felt shift behind his eyes. The way he was crouched over you, you knew you were cornered. If you wanted to get up and leave, he would hold you there with his teeth until he was finished with you.

A dangerous, wild energy surrounded you both as he crawled slowly up your body, eyes hooded, nostrils flaring. His fingers pinched your thighs and pulled them wide and you braced, muscles trembling as he revealed you to him. 

He growled in your ear and thrust all of himself, every inch, deep into your heat without hesitation.

The pain of his entry was immediate, sharp and full in your stomach. Even wildly aroused, his massive size needed adjusting to, but there was no time for mercy.

Hot, animal groans left T’Challa’s throat as he began to fuck into you. His body was unnaturally strong, a gift from the herb, and you felt it trembling behind the surface, barely being held back. The panther was the unseen third party in the room, very much a part of what was happening between you. You could see it in his face. There was an absence, and replacing it was pure, raw need.

He shifted your position to hold your legs up against his chest and drove into you with long thrusts, making the headboard smack the wall. You were both usually talkative during sex, but between you now there were no words exchanged, only moans and hot gasps. You weren’t capable of speech. You felt scattered and thrown apart, your mind only frayed threads. He was so deep you couldn’t think. 

It was an intense fucking unlike anything you’d known. It was like you were trying to rip each other apart. You were pinned. Bitten. Torn. Spanked. Held apart and penetrated like he couldn’t get enough, even though he was taking everything you could give.

You suddenly cried out as you were lifted and weightless, until your back crashed against the wall. T’Challa gripped your hips to still you as he began to fuck you again. It was clear this was not about your pleasure. This was purely T’Challa’s desire, the panther’s desire, to fuck and possess you.

For years, you’d kept to yourself a deep desire to have him this way. Always, he held back. Now, all inhibitions were gone and the thrill and excitement of it made your body unspool and let go.

You tried to reach out and hold him as you began to come. Your mind scrambled, your voice was incapable of sound, your inner muscles tensing and tightening where you were creaming on him being the only outward indication of your orgasm.

His hands moved behind you, parting your back from the wall and you were in his arms, flesh to flesh, rocking in his lap and feeling every shiver and shake as he finally released inside you. He growled and groaned against your shoulder where he sank his teeth. There was so much of his seed, it kept coming and coming with each powerful orgasmic wave. He ground his hips in circles up into your warmth until his growls turned into sighs, the release of his come sobering T’Challa back to himself.

You were sticky, exhausted, your muscles liquified and you slumped forward.

Two arms crossed your back, pulling you against a rapid heartbeat.

“Look at me,” he urged and when his eyes met yours, T’Challa’s face was a frown of concern as he studied you. The tear streaks on your exhausted face, the bite marks were the things he noticed first.

“I went too far,” he declared, voice thick with emotion.

“No, no,” you hurried to banish the remorse shining in his eyes. “The last thing you should be is sorry.”

A few sincere smiles and kisses from you convinced T’Challa there was nothing to worry about. You urged him to crawl under the sheets with you and hold you the way you loved, locked together with his knees behind yours, his arms around your stomach and his face in your neck.

T’Challa couldn’t resist running his fingers over your necklace one more time, before he unclasped it and released your neck from the collar.

“It is beautiful,” he examined it, before carefully placing it on the night stand, and returning to the soft skin of your neck where he placed a slow kiss and whispered, “I would have you wear it again some day, but for now, you may have your freedom,” he smiled.

“A merciful King,” you grinned, running your fingers up and down his arms. “I love you, T’Challa.”

He pulled to tighten you in his arms, rumbling his response and covering your newly bare neck with kisses before you both settled in to sleep.

[haven-raven012591]

Taken!

Art work by @wrestling-edits-af

Seth walked into the Castle and bowed to Chad. "You did it then?" Chad asked. "Of course she was put into her trance with the drug and will be waking up soon." Seth said. Chad smiled and looked Seth over. "You saw her new protector?" Chad asked. "I saw Balor." Seth said. He couldn't tell Chad about Dylan. Chad would have Seth kill her and he didn't want that not knowing who she was. "Is that all?" Chad growled. "Yes!" Seth lied. Chad threw him against the wall and Seth yelled in agony.

"You think I don't know you saw your betrothed!" Chad laughed. "I sent another with you, he told me he saw the cat and how you looked at her!" Chad roared. Chad threw Seth to the ground as he panted. "I need that little bitch here and I need you to do your damn job!" Chad panted hard. Seth looked up at the older man and saw why he needed Raven. Chad's power was diminishing by the day. Seth hadn't agreed to something like this! Chad invading her dream and making her scared of him was never the deal.

Seth's eyes flashed blue and he growled at Chad. "Oh no you don't boy!" Chad snapped and kept Seth from changing. That's the most agonizing pain for a shifter to be denyed the ability to do what came natural. Seth yelled in agony for hours as Chad tortured him. Chad would let Seth shift and then bring him back to his human form then force Seth to do it again. "I can't..." Seth panted passing out. "As soon as I have my bitch of a daughter I'll have all the power I need!" Chad said and kicked Seth to his back. Seth laid there all night on the cold stone floor.

~~~~

Raven and Dylan were at her childhood home laughing and talking. "Raven, how do you know Seth?" Dylan asked. "I've known him all my life he was my closest friend." Raven said playing with her necklace. "He left?" Dylan asked. "Yes, he left when we were teenagers." Raven said. "He's the leader of his pack, his clan." Dylan said. "Dylan are you and he from the same clan?" Raven asked. "No, I'm a cat hes a dog." Dylan said. They giggled untill they heard something outside. "Go to your room Raven." Dylan said. Raven got up and went to her room.

Dylan went outside and came face to face with Seth. "You can give me the girl and walk away or I can kill you." Seth said cockily. "You can try." Dylan growled and changed into her panther form. Seth changed into his wolf form and they attacked each other. Raven looked out the window and saw Dylan slash Seth's back open. Seth howled and grabbed her leg with his mouth and threw her through the window. Dylan landed on the bed and Raven ta to her. Dylan hissed and growled at her. Raven put her hands on Dylan's leg healing her.

Seth stepped through what remained of the window and Dylan attacked him. Blood went everywhere as Seth changed back into his wolf form. Dylan was laying on the bed growling as Seth stepped to her. "I let you live Dylan so that maybe someone can save her." Seth whispered. He used her blood to write on the walls. He wrote 'Home Sweet Home' above their bed. Seth found Raven and she looked at him. "Dylan!" Raven screamed and tried to throw him but couldn't. "You can't use magic on me." Seth said.

"Don't do this Seth, Balor will kill you!" Raven said. He looked at her and brought her to the bed room. She started crying and ran to the bed. She tried to heal Dylan and Seth stopped her. Putting her hands on Dylan and then on the wall and the throw pillow. Raven started fighing him and ran down the hall. Seth sighed and appeared in front of her and injected her. Raven fell into his arms and Seth picked her up walking out of the house.

The portal opened and Seth walked through it.

Raven woke up chained to a wall in nothing but her cotton shift. "Balor!" Raven screeched. Chad walked in and looked at her smirking. "You look just like your mom." Chad said. Raven spat at him and it landed on his cheek. "What a lady." Chad scoffed. "My mother was a saint she deserved so much better than you!" Raven growled. "She deserved what she got." Chad said. Raven teared up and looked away. "She died protecting me." Raven whispered. "That's when your demon appeared isn't it?" Chad asked.

"No, Balor didn't appear until I was grown." Raven said. "He won't come here Raven, he can't find you." Chad said. "He will come and so will his army and my best friend!" Raven said proudly. "I am protected here." Chad said. "Balor will not give up until he finds me!" Raven said. Chad grabbed her and she screamed in pain. He took her down and threw her into the wall. He stepped out her and leaned down. "I'll tell you something little bird, she died at my hands." Chad whispered. Raven looked at him her eyes wide with fear.

Her memories of that night flooded back and she screamed in agony and anger! "You're a monster!" Raven panted. Her fear and heart rate sky rocketed. Balor ran into the house seeing the blood in the hall and followed it to the bed room. "Dylan." Balor called. She crawled from under the bed covered in a blanket. "Seth took her." Dylan panted. Balor picked her up and looked at the room. He saw the bloody hand prints on the wall. The 'Home Sweet Home.' Written in blood. Saw the window broken and then the other marks of a battle in the room.

He vanished and took Dylan to Khan in the hospital wing of the palace. "Balor, I am so sorry." Dylan said. "Don't be ya did well Dylan rest now." Balor said. He walked out.

@thegloriousdisaster @kittysilver86 @scuzmunkie @team-elias @alexnine @lauri3strode @hardyfangirl3 @balorbj @balordominion @loveroflive78 @wrestlingxbalorxrollins @adriennegabriella @soulofaravenheartofawolf @ladylucksposts @livelifebeautifully81 @calwitch @briqueenofthenorth @2sweetqueen @meremaidqueen @queenofthearchitect @dolphinpink310 @mohawkmama @alternateafterthought @susanleann1