#circular wooden dining table
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Great Room Boston
Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless light wood floor great room remodel with beige walls
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The Marine's Mistake
Masterlist here.
Word Count: 1,700+ (just a small little drabble for me!!)
Warnings: Clean-shaven Mihawk, lots of flirting, mentions of drinking.
@feral-artistry requested this a while ago, and I finally had enough in me to pump out this little drabble. I can easily see myself adding to this little relationship down the line, but for now it's all short, sweet and innocent.
Hushed whispers travelled along the rotund dining table in the dimly-lit tavern. Hands shielding lips, narrowed eyes, the smallest tilt of chins spread like the trickle of seawater through a crack in the ship’s hull to litter the hallway with the salty liquid.
“What do you think happened?” a red-headed marine uttered to her comrade beside her, eyes widening the longer her sights were held to the table in the centre of the tavern.
“He wouldn’t have shaved it,” another shook their head, raising the cool glass of bitter beer to their lips. A small foam line falling to their top lip as they pulled the glass back to utter: “it’s a part of his look, right? It wouldn’t be intentional.”
“Perhaps it was an accident,” a blonde, tall cadet uttered with a curt nod, “cannon fire, a blast or something.”
“I don’t think he’d be close enough to the end of a cannon for that to happen,” a smaller, pink-haired cadet offered in response as he adjusted his circular glasses up the bridge of his nose.
You sat at the corner of the table, not quite following the conversation falling amongst your peers of marines. This was the third transfer you’d been a part of in the span of a month: the latest ship needing to utilise your skills as a hand-to-hand combat specialist to better the skills of the marines.
Vice-Admiral Garp and his marine cadets were in the early stages of building rapport with you, you only truly interacting with your peers and subordinates while running drills or swapping over watch shifts so far. This venture in land for the replenishment of supplies and to fix up any chipped wood for the ship was truly your first opportunity to really get to know your new crew on a deeper level.
You looked down at the end of your pint-glass, the slosh of the final dregs of the beaded liquid swaying as you held your gaze firmly to it.
“Marines,” you addressed your peers, bringing the attention of your drinking companions over to you, “I’m getting another round,” you rose to your feet, pushing your wooden bar-stool back beneath the table below, “speak now if you’d like another, I think it’s my turn this time?”
A chorus of a resounding “yes!” fell to your ears, prompting a small giggle rise in your chest. The “yes!” gained the attention of the rest of the small dining room, prompting you to lower your palm to the floor with a playful “shh”, the laugh falling as you began taking orders.
“I’m assuming all ales then?” you asked as your laughter diminished, “I should just get a jug, at this stage.”
“Yes to the jug!” the red-head began to chant, a broad smile displayed openly on her lips.
“Aye!” the marine beside her confirmed with a similar amount of enthusiasm.
Another giggle fell from your lips as you turned to make your way to the wooden bar, the barkeeper meeting your gaze with a nod in your approach. As you stood your torso up against the bar with a handful of berry clutched in your hand, your eyes travelled to the body which began their own approach to the bar.
The gentleman was adorning an open, cream-coloured silk shirt, frills embellishing the low collar with a crossed draw-string revealing the crevasses of his muscular chest. Dark and loose curls framed his face, angular and strong arches of his jaw and cheek bones comparable to carved marble. His yellow eyes beneath his long, dark eyelashes held an intensity you hadn’t seen before.
He was breathtaking. Your eyes travelled to his dark, leather pants held by a woven belt with a large, brass buckle. Trailing your eyes back up, you found your gaze met by the gentleman you were shamelessly undressing with your eyes; a warmth rising to your cheeks under the knowledge that you were found out.
“Marine,” he offered in a bored tone as he drew his body beside yours at the bar.
“Beautiful,” you challenged him, a small smirk rising to your lips. He arched his brow upwards in response, his intense frown no longer present atop his handsome features. He hummed, leaning his elbows against the wooden bar and flicking out his index and middle finger to gain the attention of the bartender.
“What are we drinking, gorgeous?” you asked him, turning your shoulders to offer him your full attention.
“We?” he scoffed, yellow eyes trailing over your face as his shaven chin pointed towards your own, “I am not buying you a drink, Marine.”
He turned back towards the bar, completely ignoring your presence beside him as he focussed on trailing the bartender with his eyes.
“I never suggested such a thing, charming,” you taunted him, your index finger trailing the benchtop beside him slowly; drawing his gaze to your digits. He arched his brow upwards, intrigue gracing his honey-coloured eyes briefly. The bartender finally gracing the both of you with his presence, brushing down the benchtop with a tea-towel and smiling broadly.
“What’ll it be?” he asked, placing his white and blue tea-towel over his shoulder and leaning against the counter.
“Three jugs of ale for the table in the corner,” you smiled, turning again to the man beside you, “and add his drinks to my tab, along with two more of what he’s having.”
The dark-haired man snapped his face back towards you, eyes wide at your boldness. His eyes narrowed at you, training over your playful expression.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he uttered in a low tone.
“None in the slightest,” you shrugged, your bottom lip falling into a small pout, “but I sure would like to.”
The man was taken aback, his eyes widening before a small smirk grew itself against his lips.
“A bottle of Sangiovese,” he tilted his chin back at the bartender, “and two glasses.”
You scrunched your nose upwards in delight, drawing out the berry to cover your tab and handing it over to the bartender. You turned to face your torso to the room, your elbows finding the bar behind you as you arched your back outwards in your leaning.
“Sangiovese?” you questioned the mysterious man beside you, “you in the mood for something more on the tart and sour side, handsome?”
“There you are again with the pet-names, Marine,” he taunted you with a small purr in his tone, prompting a warm flush to once again draw over your face. You broke away your eye contact with him and looked to the table of your peers; who seemed to have widening eyes and the colour drained from their faces. You shook your head a little, brows furrowing in question as they witnessed a waitress bring over their jugs of ale.
“And here I was thinking my poor mood would travel back home with me, after that meeting,” he uttered under his breath as the bartender came back with a decanted bottle of sangiovese and two crystal wine-glasses.
“What was that?” you asked him, turning your gaze back towards the gentleman who currently captivated you with his mysterious aura.
“Indeed, sweetheart,” he leant his body over yours, towering you beneath his intimidating aura, “something tart that I can roll over my palate with subtle spice is what the current mood of the hour calls for.”
Instead of backing away and cowering beneath his towered stoop, you instead arched your back upwards further and lulled your head to the side with your jaw revealed to him. He hummed down at you, reaching behind you both to collect the glasses and the decanter within his wide fingertips.
“You are intriguing,” he praised you in a deep rumbly whisper, his lips falling dangerously close to your own as he retrieved the objects behind you, “allow me to escort you outside to continue this delicious conversation over the wine you graciously paid for, that is-.”
You tilted your head, awaiting for him to continue his sentence. He turned his head to look to your commanding officer, Bogard and Vice-Admiral Garp, with his brow arched upwards. His lips curled up into a smirk, you watching how truly beautiful his smile grew to become.
“That is…-?” you trailed in question for him to continue, drawing your right hand up to his cheek. You utilised your index finger and thumb to collect his smooth chin and draw his attention back to you. Upon slowly sweeping the room before drawing his attention back towards you.
“That is, if you’re completely ‘off-duty’ for the rest of the evening,” his lips grew into a soft, playful grin. Oh, how gorgeous.
“A whole evening with a gorgeous stranger?” you questioned him, releasing his chin from your fingers and opting to caress his cheek, “and here I thought we were just sharing wine. Honey, you spoil me.”
A small rumbly growl released itself from within his chest to almost purr at you. He withdrew from his stoop, turning with the collected decanter and glasses within his right hand and turning to offer you the crook of his left elbow to escort you out of the tavern.
“You truly have no idea who I am?” he chuckled at you as he led you from the tavern doors, the room falling almost silent amongst the gasps and whispers from your peers.
“Should I, beautiful?” you asked him giving his bicep a small squeeze as you praised him. He sighed with a small chuckle, drawing his forehead in to press against your own briefly as he allowed the doors of the tavern to swing shut behind him.
The sunset hovering over the sea was a welcome sight, the warmth of the day falling on your skin and welcoming it into the romantic atmosphere you had both found yourselves in for the evening.
Dracule Mihawk was going to enjoy this unbridled and flirtatious attention for as long as you would allow yourself to play along with him. It had been a while since his aura of intimidation had been shed from his body, and even longer still since he was the one being approached at a bar rather than himself finding someone to toy with. He simply can’t wait for the pin to drop against the floor and you realise you are literally dancing with death.
And it was all thanks to a horrible prank performed by the chop-chop devil-fruit user. The devil-fruit user who was currently pinned against the hull of his ship by harsh chains of sea-stone as punishment fitting the crime. Perhaps he should even thank the infamous clown-captain for his idiocy, but for now: the promise of wine and a beautiful, flirtatious companion for the evening awaits. How Mihawk adored this attention.
#one piece#opla#opla fic#one piece live action#x reader#mihawk#mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk#dracule mihawk x reader
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IM SORRY BUT THAT ANON WHO REQUESTED FUCKING QUIETLY IN THE SAME ROOM IN A SAFE HOUSE??? THEY ARE A GENIUS PLEASE I NEED IT
(love ur work btw 🤭)
combined with this:
Anonymous asked:
Humbly requesting a part 2 to Rock Bottom (or more voyeurism Soap in general, good lord 😠)
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Rock Bottom pt. 2
voyeur!Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x gn!reader
[“Rock Bottom” by KISS]
[18+]
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• summary - what the request says but soap can't help but listen in when you sound so good lol.
• rating - 18+
• wordcount - 1.6k
• warnings - gn!reader, you and price fuck and soap listens idk what else to tell you 😭, strong language
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Soap wondered if he'd died and gone to heaven.
Was he shot on the battlefield? Had he bled out after being stabbed when pursuing the enemy?
Either way, he was stuck inside his head. Gone. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The 141 had taken shelter in a safe house, miles from any kind of civilisation. It was a small house— well, more like a glorified shed, anyway— so everyone was packed into the one space. Closest to the kitchen— not really a kitchen since it had an oven and one cabinet— was Gaz. He was passed out with his head on his pack. Soap was situated a few feet away, laying near the small, circular dining table in the middle of the room.
The dining table separated Soap and Gaz, from you and Price. When everyone settled in for the night, with Ghost situating himself on the front porch for watch, you had curled up on the other side of the table, your head resting on Price's chest. The captain had curled you into his side, and everyone fell asleep.
The rain was heavy outside— pelting the roof like hail, hard and icy. The wind was howling, too, causing the wooden structure of the small house to creak and groan, the old windowpanes shuddering.
It had been about an hour since everyone went to sleep. An hour since Ghost went outside to watch. He insisted on being out on the porch for another couple of hours yet, despite Gaz's offer to take over.
And that's how Soap found himself in something he'd never expected.
It wasn't the initial soft noises that woke him up. Sleep was evading him, and he managed to only fade away for fifteen minutes at a time. So, when he woke up again for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, he gave up. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness as he stared at the ceiling. A small window on the other side of the room sent ghostly light streaming in, only just illuminating shadows and silhouettes.
But, through the rain and wind, Soap's ears caught something else. Sounds that he'd heard numerous times before, and sounds that he fucking loved.
At first, he didn't dare look away from the ceiling. He tried to gauge what was happening, but he already knew. Of course he knew. He knew that just a couple of metres to his left, Price would be fucking you. Fucking you quietly as to not wake the sleeping boys on the other side of the dining table.
"Price..." Soap heard you whisper, your voice soft and angelic and on the verge of a whimper.
It made his cock harden in his cargos, the weight of the fabric making Soap clench his jaw.
"Shh, shh, quiet love," Price whispered back. "You don't want to wake the boys, do you?"
Soap listened, his own heart rate quickening. He heard the soft rustle of fabric— Price pulling your pants down— and then a gentle grunt from the captain's throat. Then, you whimpered. This was followed by the lightest sound— slick, wet. There wasn't enough movement yet for it to be anything other than Price's fingers.
You whimpered again, this time, more muffled. Then, kissing— wet and needy, echoing with your soft mewls that were pushed deeper into your mouth by Price's tongue. Soap bit his lip hard, his cock throbbing in his pants, his face growing hot.
He wanted to see you. He'd never had the chance before, always listening. But now, if he could be careful, he could see you.
The kissing stopped, but slick sounds continued.
Fucking hell. You sounded so wet. So fucking good. Had Price spat on his fingers to make your hole take more of him? Was it your own arousal that he'd use to get you sounding so needy?
You were whimpering again, biting your lip probably. Soap could hear the movement of a body, the rustle of fabric, the clink of a belt. His whole body grew warmer as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shadows shift. The moonlight silhouetting Price's frame as he crawled carefully, silently, over your body.
Cock painfully hard in his cargos, Soap realised this was as good a time as any.
So, he released a sigh, mimicking a sound he'd probably make in his sleep. Then, he shifted to his side, slowly moving his hand to the front of his cargos. Eyes closed, Soap ended his movements with a small yawn. Then, he calmed his breathing.
The entire time he did that, you and Price froze. They were listening over the rain and wind for any more noises from Soap. Soap lay as still as he could, slowing his breathing as he squinted through the darkness, watching the way you and Price were illuminated perfectly by the cloud-hazed moonlight.
"Price—" Soap heard you whine. "He's gonna wake—"
"Shh, he won't, s'fine," Price whispered. "You just have to be quiet for me, love."
Soap opened his eyes, and felt his heart clench.
You looked stunning. So pretty. Face, all fucked out and dazed, bathed in ghostly light that made your skin shine and your eyes appear glossy with pleasure. The light was in your eyes, and Soap knew you could see no one else but Price, who was on top of you, settling between your spread legs.
Lucky bastard, Soap thought.
Then, he watched as you stared up at Price as the captain placed a hand over your mouth. Then, with a muted grunt, Price surged forward and shoved his cock into your wet hole.
You choked on a moan behind his hand, your eyes rolling. Soap watched, pressing his palm to the front of his cargos, trying desperately to relieve the building pleasure.
You whimpered in the back of your throat as Price pulled back and thrust back in, your bodies welding together under the shimmering grey light. The rain and wind was growing heavier, and disguised most of the old creaky floorboards as Price shoved your legs around his hips and drove into you harder.
Soap was amazed that Price could keep so quiet. If he was in the captain's position, it'd be you having to slap a hand to his mouth. He'd moan and grunt and whimper as he fucked his cock into your tight hole, wet and dripping after Soap had fucked it with his tongue for hours, prepping you for him so well.
That thought made Soap bite down harder on his lip, splitting the pink skin. He tasted copper, bitter and tangy, against his tongue. He didn't release his lip, though. The sharp tinge of pain helped distract him momentarily from the hot, throbbing sensation in his underwear.
"Mmpf—mm—" You were moaning beneath Price's hand, arching your body against his.
He grunted deeply at you, probably the loudest sound he'd made of the night. His hand around your mouth tightened, fingers tapping your cheek.
"Shh..." He shushed you gently, cock bullying into you over and over again. "Quiet, love. Don't wanna wake the boys. Can't wake 'em, can we?"
You shook your head deliriously, another moan trapped in your throat. Soap withheld a moan, teeth digging harder into his bottom lip. You looked so fucking good.
Price continued to fuck you quietly, keeping most of his soft grunts at bay as his cock hit that spot inside you that rendered you breathless with whines and whimpers.
Soap knew what you sounded like when you were close, but now he could see it.
Your hands grabbed at Price's back, bunching the fabric of his shirt. You arched further, chest pressing to his as your legs trembled around his hips, your own hips bucking to meet Price's thrusts. You whined behind his hand, your eyes searching his face, glassy with tears.
"That's it, that's it, come on, love," Price muttered in your ear, the words making Soap's stomach flip. "Cum for me. That's it. Fuck, cum for me—"
You did, and Soap felt dizzy at the muffled sounds you were making and the expression on your face. You moaned beneath Price's hand, eyes fluttering shut as you came. Your entire body shook as Price fucked you gently through your high, burying his head into the crook of your neck.
After a few more sloppy ruts into your tight hole, Price groaned quietly into your neck came. Soap couldn't see it, but he could tell, also judging by the way you whimpered captain, pulling him to you by his hair and kissing him.
Fucking hell— Soap came too.
In his fucking pants. Untouched. How— oh my god— how fucking embarrassing.
His cheeks flared red and he screwed his eyes shut, coming in his pants as the throbbing pressure released. More blood flooded his mouth as he held a groan at bay. A small grunt escaped, but it was swallowed by the sounds of the weather outside.
A wave of mortification hit him as he cracked his eyes open, watching as Price helped shimmy your pants back up your legs, kissing your thighs as he did so.
Soap sucked on his bottom lip, watching as Price dressed you and kissed you.
Some kind of sick jealousy built inside Soap, and he frowned. He had no right to feel like this.
But he couldn't help it. It should be him making you feel good. You and him.
He released a breath he didn't realise he was holding.
If he'd hit rock bottom before, he'd surely surpassed it this time.
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#captainfern#captainfernsalutes#call of duty#call of duty mw2#soap cod#soap x reader#soap call of duty#johnny soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#soap smut#john soap mactavish#captain'sKISS
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“Please?” Part 1
Sebastian x F!MC
Explicit content, only intended for mature audiences! All characters are aged up accordingly! 🔞
—
Graduation couldn’t have come sooner for MC, she’d made a promise with Sebastian during their sixth year that she’d stay with him for an entire summer in Feldcroft along with Ominis to celebrate the finality of their time at Hogwarts. Now that the time had come, she found herself standing just outside the moss-covered cobblestone cottage by herself as she waited for the two to return from their impromptu trip from Hogsmeade to get them snacks.
She looked down at her school robes, realizing there was absolutely no need for her to be in them anymore. Letting herself in, she stepped inside of his home and made her way to his wooden dresser to grab an extra shirt of his and some trousers that she could tighten with some string to fit her waist. Making sure they hadn’t made their return, she peered out one of the windows before going to the bathroom to change.
The room was small, only a tub, toilet, and sink with a circular mirror above it. A small window near the ceiling let in the last rays of sunlight, and soon there’d be none left with the night crawling in.
After dressing down, she slipped on the shirt of his and unintentionally took a long whiff of his scent. So.. earthy and gods, so nice. The thin fabric settled on her skin and she considered wearing nothing else, it covered the important parts of her body well enough. Her hands found their way to the front of the shirt and she raised it to her face to take in a deep breath with it pushed up against her nose.
Her head swirled with the imagination of Sebastian in there with her, his hands rested on her hips and his forehead pressed on hers. Such ideas only existed in the far depths of her mind, never spoken aloud nor entertained due to her crippling fear that he’d reject her.
“Gods.” She muttered to herself, unable to help herself as she moved over to the edge of the bathtub to sit down. Since they weren’t back yet, she’d indulge herself just this once with some harmless fantasy. With slow movements, she trailed her hand from her knee to her already aching midsection.
In her thoughts, it wasn’t her hand but Sebastian’s. Her eyes closed shut to make the imaginary scene easier to cultivate. His fingers would tease the folds of her private sanctum, slowly and gently at first. Her head leaned back and she spread her legs just enough like she pictured he’d tell her to.
His movements would become more daring, and his voice would be filling the room with demands that she remind the world of who she belonged to- him, and only him. She wouldn’t be able to take the teasing any longer, begging for him to either show her what that mouth could do or fuck her before she’d lose her mind.
A finger went in- her breath hitching, this would come nowhere near what his would feel like, but damned if she didn’t try to replicate how carelessly rough he’d be with her delicate entrance. Sticky with the proof of her lust-driven actions, his finger would go in and out with a tantalizingly slow approach at the beginning. Until he wouldn’t be able to resist, raising the tempo with every intention of having her come undone right there in his bathroom.
Unable to think clearly she slipped out noises, soft whimpers and sharp intakes of breath as she felt herself nearing a climax within minutes of her sinful fantasy.
MC was blissfully unaware of Sebastian and Ominis finally making their return to the cottage with their spoils from Hogsmeade, setting down their bags on the dining table before they picked up on muffled sounds coming from the bathroom. Ominis caught on first, blushing wildly before making an excuse to step outside for some fresh air.
Sebastian shrugged off his school robe, glad to be rid of the damn thing finally and had plans to change into some comfy pajamas before having a fun-filled night with his two closest friends. The odd noises coming from his bathroom didn’t register for him until he approached the door, pressing the side of his face to it.
First came the heat, his face ablaze with a red tint as he heard MC gasping from within the bathroom. He wasn’t dense, he had an idea of what she was up to in there. The image of her doing anything of the sort sent all the blood he had to his cock, his trousers tightening around his waist from the intense arousal he felt just from the delicious sounds seeping out through the wooden door.
Then he basically glued himself to the door, fighting the urge to kick it open and give her something to really moan about. His hands pressed to the wood, he softly thudded his forehead with a grunt of frustration. Why now? Of all times for MC to act like this, why in his cottage hidden away in the one room he didn’t have a good excuse to waltz into without knocking first?
Every muffled noise was sending him over the edge, the temptations becoming all too much to bear. He gritted his teeth and clenched a fist before landing one good pound on the door.
MC broke from her daze at the sound of a singular knock, and a rather blunt one at that. Her head snapped back up and she took her hand from between her legs.
“Y-yeah?” She managed to ask.
The guilt for interrupting her settled in Sebastian’s chest, but be buried it within as he willed himself to sound as if he hadn’t just been listening to her pleasure herself through the door.
“Open the door.” He ordered.
MC panicked after hearing his command, the tone of his voice sounding strained. Was he mad? She lifted herself from the edge of the bathtub and scrambled to get the trousers she had taken from his wardrobe, trying to slip them on as fast as she could.
Sebastian heard movement from the other side, but she was taking too long. He needed to see her flushed face, he needed to know what prompted the damn woman to touch herself while waiting for him and Ominis to come back from Hogsmeade. He spoke again, this time with more urgency.
“Please?”
#sebastiansallow#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader#smut#hogwartslegacysmut#I need to sleep
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A/N: i can't stop thinking about this big hunk of man, anyways, afab!reader/vesper x keir (no pronouns used), warnings: sexy sex, neck biting, other than that pretty tame, aside from keir being a little shit. (otherwise let me know if there's anything you need tagged!) in this fic reader and keir are still living with each other, no established relationship really.
“Where does he keep all his plates?” you sighed in exasperation, carefully opening each cabinet in search of the circular dish. With furrowed brows, your eyes skimmed from behind your mask through the neatly placed stacks of multicolored dishware. Some old, some new, some obviously stolen. Another sigh fell from your lips, you would figure you’d eventually find a method to his madness. And yet, you’ve spent about five minutes trying to find a single plate, let alone two. After a moment of desperate searching, you found relief, spotting a tall stack of dishes hidden beneath the sink.
It’s been almost a year since you’ve moved into Mouse Hole. Not including the time you’ve spent living with the very thief that essentially trapped you here, Keir. As his very name rings through your thoughts, a click was heard at the front door, his taller blond manifesting its way through. He ducked his head under the doorframe, his masked face turning toward your own in acknowledgment.
“Smells good in here.” He comments, easily shedding his cloak from broad shoulders, tucking the clothing into one of the nearby shelves beside the door. You found yourself staring a little too long at his freckled biceps, abruptly turning your gaze away, worried you’d be caught by his own. “I made us dinner.” Keir smirked underneath his clothed mask, noticing the shyness in your voice. “How sweet.” his teased, meticulously removing his remaining gear. You wish he could have seen you roll your eyes. From afar, he observed your swift chops along the line of vegetables you had spread out on top of the counter. Sounds of heavy footsteps echoed through the room, the thief’s looming presence now standing behind you, “What are you putting on top?”
“Some herbs I bought earlier today as a garnish, how does it look?” you asked, placing your palms flat against the counter in front of you, silently judging your work alongside him. He leaned forward, gazing curiously, you heard the wooden floor creak in protest, the warmth of his chest now laying flat against your back. After a small beat of silence, you felt the vibration of a deep hum rumble against your back. “It looks nice,” he said in appreciation. You simply nodded, unable to verbally thank him for his compliment, your mind still reeling from the intimate contact.
You heard Keir shuffle back toward the small mahogany dining table, settling into one of the two empty chairs as he awaited his plate. You grabbed both dishes, setting the heavier portion in front of him, turning away to take your own portion to eat alone in your room. That was before the deep baritone of Keir’s voice stopped you, “You’re not going to eat with me Vesper?” he called out, his head at a tilt. You turned around, a curious brow hidden by the veil of your mask. “Eat with you?”
“That’s what I said isn’t it?”
“What about our masks?” you reasoned, dismissing his condescending tone. “I think we’ve lived together long enough to know that we could make it work.” you watched as he pulled up the hem of his mask, effortlessly guiding his fork toward his mouth hidden beneath the fabric. “Right.” you acknowledged curtly, taking a seat across from him.
“Not keen on sharing a meal with someone like me?” you tilted your head in question, “Promise I won’t steal your food.” you could see a visible outline of his smirk against his mask, longer fingers holding the hem of the fabric up over his chin, allowing his fork to shovel food in his own mouth. You scoffed, unamused by his comment, taking another quiet bite of food. The room fell comfortably silent, humming to express your satisfaction every so often. You found your thoughts drifting elsewhere, growing distracted by the exposed nape of Keir’s neck as he lifted his mask. Aside from the adorning freckles, Keir’s skin was pale, free from any scars. You wondered what his eyes looked like, his nose, his lips.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” he commented, tearing you away from escalating fantasies. “Sorry, long day.” you responded a bit quicker than you would have liked, clearing your now dry throat. Keir watched as you idly pushed around your remaining food with your fork, immediately sensing there was more to what you were letting on. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, leaving no room for any vague answers. Your head snapped up to meet his, he gave you no mercy as silence followed his question as he patiently awaited your answer. You took a brief pause before finally confessing, “I was wondering what you look like.”
“Hm,” was all he responded, crossing his arms across his chest. “What parts of me?” He asked suggestively, your eyes widened. “Parts of you? Why couldn’t it just be your face!” you chided, obviously offended by his question. He laughed, holding up his hands in playful defense, “Sorry! I forgot you were innocent.” you could hear the clear sarcasm seeping through his teeth. You crossed your arms firmly over your chest, expressing your discomfort. “Let’s make a deal, I’ll show you half of my face, if you show me yours. I mean, we’ve been living together long enough. I think I can trust you.” he leaned forward, visibly intrigued by the thought. You wrung your hands in your lap, contemplating the offer. You grew used to wearing the mask, not only was it a sign of disrespect to not wear one in a place like this, but it was also a form of anonymity that kept you feeling safe.
“Come here.” he requested, pulling himself to a standing position beside his chair. “You can pull mine, and I can open yours. Keep it fair.” Hesitantly, you pushed yourself out of your own chair, making your way to stand in front of his towering stature. “Well, if you can reach me that is.” he smiled, peering down at you. Instead of making a snide comment, your breath hitched, feeling two fingers find the side of your mask, awaiting your consent. “You ready?” You obliged by hooking two fingers underneath the band of his own mask.
Effortlessly, the clasp holding the bottom part of your mask opened with a soft click, Keir gently guiding the panel away to reveal the lower half of your face. In the same moment you pulled the dark fabric of his own veil to rest at the bridge of his nose, admiring the equal half of his own appearance. Your eyes danced around his features, admiring the soft glow of his skin against the candlelight, settling onto the fullness of his lips. You felt your face grow hot, underneath his stare. “You have nice lips.” he praises, but it comes out more as a blunt statement. “Thank you.” you stifled a nervous laugh, the hem of your lips curling into a small smile. You watched as Keir did the same. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone smile.” His grin widened, putting perfect teeth on full display, eventually falling into a more natural smirk as he spoke once more. “Since I’ve seen someone’s lips.” His voice dropping to a whisper.
He leaned forward, lifting a large hand to cradle the side of your face, the pad of his weathered thumb skimming affectionately across the delicate skin of your cheek. Taking the initiative, you pressed yourself closer, placing your smaller hand to rest behind his neck, guiding his face closer toward your own. Keir quickly accepted your invitation, his lips met yours. At first, the kiss felt innocent, similar to a very first kiss. His hands politely rested at your hips, your arms around his shoulders. The motion became more languid as time went on, becoming more in sync. And as it did, desire stirred deep inside of you, desperately wanting to feel more. The innocent kiss was now becoming something more passionate, something more intense.
Keir’s hands wandered your torso, as your own were firmly planted against his face, securing his mouth against yours. A moan slipped from your lips, feeling bold hands press your hips flush against his own from behind. “Keir–” you sighed breathlessly, his mouth finding your neck, gently biting along the sensitive flesh. You found yourself stumbling back against his door, one of his hands fumbling with the knob behind you. A gust of cold air hit your back from the unoccupied room as the door swung open, his larger form ushering you both toward his bed. He hovered above you, removing his shirt in one swift motion. You took this time to remove the ties from your own shirt, letting it fall open beneath him. A warm hand glides across the swell of your chest, his thumbs circling your peaked flesh in appreciation. You reached forward, in an attempt to take off his mask but you were quickly halted by his hand wrapped around your wrist.
“I can’t let you see everything.” He smiled, returning his lips to your own. He held your wrist up above your head as he kissed you, his other hand busy undoing the seam of his pants. Finally freeing himself, he stroked his throbbing arousal a few times, with a hiss before settling between your legs. His muscular thigh nudging your own apart. Your head remained lifted, watching him below you, your lips pressed in a tight line. He took notice of this. “You okay?” he asked, his tone now softer, a lot more caring than you’re used to. You nodded, reassuring him this was something you also wanted, you were just, nervous. Keir was big, bigger than most you’ve seen, and you weren’t sure if you’d feel pleasure or pain. You took a deep breath as he deliberately lined himself up against your core, he slowly pressed the head of his shaft between your folds. Your head fell back against his pillow, your eyelids fluttering to a close.
A growl rumbled from Keir’s chest hearing a sweet sigh of euphoria escape your kiss bitten lips, his head falling at the base of your neck, trying to restrain himself from relentlessly pistoning inside of you. His pace remained gentle and steady, allowing you to further adjust to his size. “God's scars–you feel amazing.” he cursed under his breath, lewd sounds of your arousal filling the cluttered room. You hummed in response, feeling the simmer of feverish pleasure begin to coil in your abdomen. The peaceful ebb and flow of his hips hastily fell into a conquest of fulfillment, hearing your moans grow increasingly erotic. He tried to hush you to no avail, the deep thrusts of his hips eagerly influencing uncontrollable moans from you.
“Everyone in Mouse Hole is going to hear you, hell, everyone under this mountain is going to hear you.” his eyebrows knit together beneath his mask, trying to stifle his own moans from slipping out. He was surprised his neighbors hadn’t complained about the rhythmic thumping of the headboard hitting against their shared wall yet. A choked groan left Keir, his jaw clenched tight, feeling your teeth bite into his neck in either protest or relief. “Fuck you’re going to make me cum.” He sighed, feeling himself edge closer to his peak. Afraid of finishing first, his fingers sought out your own pleasure, rubbing harshly against your clit. The sharp ends of your nails pressed into the planes of his back as you desperately clung onto him, reaching your invitable climax. Keir followed shortly after, the hammering pulse of your fluttering walls around his cock drawing it out of him.
Both of you laid still, your chests heaving in unison as you recovered from the night’s events. You turned to face Keir, who was already sitting at the edge of the bed.
“We should do this again sometime.” He commented, adjusting the open seam of his pants back closed, turning himself back toward you. “Have sex?” you asked with a small laugh, latching your mask closed. “No, have dinner.” he smirked, pulling his mask back over his face.
#keir x reader#keir x you#keir x vesper#keir obscura vn x reader#keir obscura vn x you#obscura vn x reader#obscura vn x you#obscura x reader#obscura x you#jazz.writes#queued#obscura vn
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*ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 .ೃ࿐
[ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟐 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 ]
— summary : [ — ✧ request ] Noticing how hard you always try to spend quality time with Jacaerys — your betrothed — and even get excited at the slightest display of affection, Lucerys decides to surprise you with some fun when Jace prefers to spend time with Baela.
— word count : 8.8k (longest one yet oml)
— pairing : lucerys velaryon x betrothed!reader
— genre : slight angst at the unrequited love, maybe? in general terms, fluff.
ೃ⁀➷ chapter one
ೃ⁀➷ chapter two
The night soon came along with dinner time. Your feet hastily walked through the grey corridors of Dragonstone after leaving your chambers just to change into more proper clothing that, you deeply hoped, would impress Jacaerys, your betrothed.
Soft clicking against the floor resonated against the halls as you walked with gentle steps. Even if the corridors were long and cold, you had rapidly found your way to the dining hall. The nearer you reached the dining room, the louder the chattering upon the table was heard. A quivering sigh rolled off from your lips nervously, wholeheartedly wishing to make a good impression on House Targaryen, and most especially, your future Husband, and King to the Seven Kingdoms.
Timidly, your presence slowly appeared through the door that connected the corridors with the dining hall. It didn't take long until everyone surrounding the table noticed your graceful entrance, leisurely walking towards the large wooden table to assist dinner, with all mesmerised eyes on you. Princess Rhaenyra kindly smiled widely at you, and you couldn't help but notice that at the end of the dining table, Lucerys also sat there with a broad dumbfounded grin.
As you curtsied politely at Rhaenyra, her gaze never left yours, admiring every inch of how graceful you looked with great pride. “You look mesmerising, sweet girl. It is a true honour to make you part of our family.” she greeted, widely grinning. Looking back into her eyes, a faint shade of rosy formed on your cheeks at her compliment. “Thank you, your Grace. As it is an honour for my House to have a special bond with House Targaryen.” a smile shaped on your lips as you retorted back to her.
Her hand swiftly signaled a chair in between your betrothed Jacaerys, and Lady Baela. “Please, my dear, take a seat.” she suggested, making you nod in agreement. You delicately sat in the chair, and adjusted your dress to sit like a proper lady. Without being able to help it, your eyes darted towards Jace, whom seemed to already be staring at you with a loving grin, and you rapidly returned the smile. “You look lovely tonight, Princess.” jace complimented in a kind manner. The previous rosy blush that stained your cheeks increased, turning into a notorious shade of scarlet.
“And you don't look bad yourself, Jacaerys.” with your eyes remaining on his own dreamy coffee ones, your hand took hold of your golden cup of wine as you complimented back in a soft, yet vehement tone; raising the cup to your lips, taking a small sip from your cup. Your heart pounded fastly against your chest, riding the high his compliment instantly gave you.
From the end of the table, Lucerys' hand also remained on his own cup of wine, fidgeting briefly and moving it in a circular motion as he stared at the scene you shared with Jacaerys. Even if a sense of hope filled his chest at the thought of Jace slowly taking a liking for you as much as you already liked him, a scintilla of slight envy grew on his chest as well; provoking him to nibble his lower lip, trying to remain with a straight, serious poker face.
Once the servants placed the food down on the plates in front of you, the rest of the dinner was nicely spent. Loud chattering was heard along all the dining table, accompanied by some occasional laughter. A true vibe of joy was felt across the room, especially at the union of House (L/N) and House Targaryen thanks to your betrothal with Prince Jacaerys. Though, you couldn't help but have mixed bittersweet feelings when Jace spent nearly all evening talking to and laughing with Lady Baela Targaryen, whom sat by your side — feeling as if you were a ghost blocking the middle of them.
What made your heart sunk slightly deeper with a flaming sense of jealousy through the evening after dinner, was the fact that Jacaerys stood from his seat, only to walk towards Baela, and delicately offer his hand to take her dancing. Your eyes wouldn't leave the two of them, provoking a sickening feeling of your stomach twisting at the sight of the two of them going to the centre of the dining hall, and beginning to gracefully dance along the rhythm of the slow music playing in the background.
Your gaze went from staring at them, to looking down to the plate of food in front of you, swallowing the bitter, fiery emotions that drowned you on the inside. Your hands rested on your lap, fidgeting with your fingers as your eyes became slightly watery, and your heart felt overwhelmed with disappointment, hoping Jacaerys would've done that with you.
Lucerys remained observant the entire time. One of his arms was placed against his chair, and the other one tapped slightly against the wooden dining table, biting on his lower lip. The young Velaryon wasn't a fool, he could notice the way the spark in your eyes became dull when his elder brother took Baela dancing instead of you, and how your eyes became notoriously wet from forming tears. Unbeknownst to you, his heart sank at seeing your deception.
Without waiting any further, as the rest of the people talked and laughed amongst the dinner table, Lucerys rapidly stood from his seat, gently walking towards you. As he approached you, he tenderly tapped your arm.
“(y/n)?” luke inquired, as you curiously raised your gaze at him. His hand was extended to you, the same way Jacaerys did with Baela. “May I have the honours of taking you dancing? I'm most certainly not an expert, but I'd be delighted.” a wide smile couldn't help but form on your lips at his playful comment, while some breathless chuckles escaped from both your lips. “You may have the honours, Prince Lucerys. I'd be most delighted as well.” placing your hand on top of his, you rose from your seat slightly taking hold of your dress so you wouldn't stumble upon it, and Lucerys guided you to the centre of the hall.
Taking you to the centre of the hall, his hands were placed on on your waist, and the other one too gentle hold of your own hand. Both of you began swaying delicately to the rhythm of the dulcet melody that played in the background. Noticing you couldn't help but discreetly stare at Jace and Baela both joyfully dancing near you, Luke briefly darted his gaze towards them, and slightly leaned his face closer to your ear, as you danced along his movements. “I can see the way you stare at them.” he whispered, noticing your disappointment.
A sighed rolled off your lips, as your eyes became fixed upon his own green ones. Mimicking his actions, you leaned closer to his ear. “I... I apologise, Luke.” the words stammered as they escaped your lips, feeling ashamed of yourself. “I should not be gazing at them, but... I cannot help but feel slightly jealous.” you admitted, feeling as if you could pour your soul out with Lucerys.
His green eyes were soft and understanding as he attentively listened to every single one of your words. “And there is no shame in that, my Lady.” he retorted, still whispering to one another. “Jace and I have known Baela since childhood. I know, he is simply being kind with her, my dear.” before you could respond to him, a smile graced upon his rosy lips. “But worry not, he'll eventually take you dancing. Just give him time to get used to your grace.” a quiet giggle escaped your lips at his comment, flustering you lightly.
“You are a charmer, Lucerys Velaryon.” you teased, both of you chuckling a bit loudly. His cheeks became slightly pink, as he admired how beauteous your lips were when broadly smiling and giggling. “Thank you, I think I needed to hear that. May the Seven hear your words and bless me.” you kept joking, moving along with Luke at the rhythm of the soothing melody playing.
A smirk was drawn on his lips, his hazel eyes scanning every single one of your features. How badly he wished to tell you, the Seven had already blessed you with beauty, grace, and a marvellous personality that could charm any boy that met you. Lucerys couldn't help but profoundly wish his lucky brother grew feelings for you with the passing of time and demonstrated you the love you deserved; otherwise, he was an utter fool.
A few days had passed after the official wedding ceremony dinner. You had been trying to continously trying to bond with Jace for the past few days by asking him if he'd fancy to do certain activities with you — to no success. Most of the time, Jace seemed to be occupied with lessons; but when you caught him in between class breaks, he always excused himself away from any activity you proposed to do together. Or whenever you managed to catch him free from duties, his interactions with you seemed forced.
Despite your obvious disappointment, you never gave up. With light sounds, your footsteps echoed through the corridors of the castle, making way towards the large path Rhaenyra showed you; taking you to the beachside of Dragonstone, knowing both the eldest Velaryon boys would be swordtraining at such hour.
Slightly taking hold of your large dress with one of your hands to walk all the way down to the large path guiding you to the beachside, the other one held tightly to your chest a small patchwork of the three headed dragon Targaryen sigil you had made especially for Jacaerys — with high hopes he'd like it. The sewing work had been long and hard for you as it was your first time, but the result was better than you had expected as you put all your efforts on it for the very own personal liking of your betrothed.
The sound of the sea waves constantly rising and descending as they hit against the rocks in the sand was becoming even more notorious and louder the closer you got to the beach. Said sound was accompanied by seagull squeaking as they circled around the beachside, and sharp blades clashing against one another under the bright rays of the sun.
Flinching your face as the sun vividly hit upon you, finally arriving to the beach, you noticed both Jacaerys and Lucerys sparring together next to a maester that taught both boys how to swordfight. Jace's movements were more vigorous and effervescent, compared to the moves of the meek Luke, whose grip on his sword was more loose, and a bit timorous. With a single abrupt hit, Jace disarmed Luke tossing his sword to the sand, and making the secondborn Velaryon harshly fall to the ground.
Rapidly hiding the patchwork you had sewed behind your back, you vehemently shouted at them before their maester could scold Jace for being too rough with his brother. “Be more careful with your brother, Jacaerys!” both boys turned their gaze towards you, feeling a bit timid at feeling their eyes paying attention to you as you vastly grinned playfully at them. Jace put his sword aside smiling broadly at you, as Luke stood up a bit weakly from the ground, and swooped away the remains of sand grains on his clothing.
The two Velaryon boys hastily approached you, while your hands remained hidden behind your back, feeling your heart thump against your chest at the thought of showing Jace the sewing work you made for him, and a certain idea you had in mind. “Training hard, I see?” you teased, faintly blushing at the sight of your betrothed, whom finally stood in front of you by his brother's side.
“Indeed, Princess.” jace retorted, proudly smiling at his own sword skills. “It is lovely, and quite unexpected, to meet you here.” he continued. “I preferred to escape from the Septa and watch how you boys trained,” you retorted, not being able to contain a silly grin growing even more vast on your lips. “And... I also came to bring you this.” from behind your back, you swiftly pulled the dedicated patchwork with the Targaryen sigil you had made just for him. His coffee eyes admiringly turned to look at it, his smile remaining. Luke also seemed quite thrilled by how marvellous your sewing was.
The hands of the eldest Velaryon delicately took the patchwork from your hands, taking the time to admire how perfectly sewed it was by sliding his fingerstips through it. “You made this, all by yourself?” jace inquired curiously, as Luke stood by his side gazing down at the sewing work on his hands. Proudly, you nodded. A warm fluster was notoriously expanding through your face at realising how he seemed to have enjoyed the little gift you made for him.
“I did. It took me quite some time to finish it and I was actually concerned on how it would turn out as I had never done patchwork before... But it's not bad, I suppose.” you replied, trying to disguise the enthusiasm of your betrothed being joyful with what you made for him. “All is not bad with those Septa lessons, after all.” a breathless chuckle escaped from the future heir to the Throne, as well as from Lucerys, whom seemed slightly satisfied at the interaction you were having with Jacaerys.
“It's absolutely lovely! I adore it, (y/n); and it's a sweet display for our House's great legacy.” after wholeheartedly complimenting you, the eldest Prince leaned closer to you, and pecked your forehead in a friendly manner. But for you, it made you feel as if your soul was going to detach from your body to make it's way to the Seven.
A vast, dumbfounded grin made your smile grow broader, even giving the Princes a toothy smile. Lucerys own lips were mimicking your contagious smile, but his joy was only there merely because you were brightly contented — and flustered — at the actions of his older brother. “I-I am most delighted to know you have enjoyed my gift, Jace.” stammering, you tried to recompose your own thoughts and feelings overwhelming you at the kind actions of Jace. Now, you had to prepare yourself for your next question, deeply hoping that this time, he'd say yes.
“I was wondering, Jacaerys,” you continued speaking directly to him, as Lucerys stared at the scene before they returned back to training. “If you'd like to stroll with me through the gardens tonight? I have planted some seeds, and it seems some small flowers are blooming already.” your offered seemed most tempting. Luke thought to himself that it was adorable of you to request him such thing, and his hazel eyes darted towards his brother to see how would he react.
Jace smile dropped very faintly, but still remained polite with you. “That would be delightful, (y/n).” he began, holding the patchwork with one hand, and the other one being placed on your shoulder. “But unfortunately I have made plans earlier with Lady Baela, to spend time with her in the library.” upon hearing those words, almost simultaneously, both the grins from your and Luke's lips faded away in a mere blinking of an eye. “Oh.” you mumbled, with a notorious deception, falling hard down to reality.
“I-It's alright, Jace. Do not worry, we can spend time together another day.” even if you tried to sound understanding, your heart still dropping with a hint of fiery jealousy, but you tried to keep calm with yourself. Before Jace could reply anything else, both boys turned their gaze towards the maester, whom was heard shouting to them from behind, letting them know their small break from sparring was over and they would soon have to return to their activities.
“Of course, dear. We have much time to spend together later, on other occasions.” his hand handed you back the patchwork, and leaned to peck your cheek delicately as you took the sewing work from his hands, beginning to walk away from you. “Come on, Luke. We have to continue, or else the maester will scold us.” jace called for his brother in a playful manner, signaling the secondborn Velaryon to follow him so they would continue swordfighting under the sun.
Luke nodded, flinching his face slightly as the sun became brighter. “I will be right there, wait a second!” the future Lord replied back, shouting. As Jacaerys walked back to where he had been previously training with his younger brother, Luke turned his gaze at you with an empathetic, sheepish smile — leaning his face a bit closer to yours. “I know I am not my brother,” he began in a whisper, with some strands of his dark hair swaying along the cool breeze, covering his sight briefly.
“But is there, perhaps, any chance that we meet in the gardens tonight, during sleeping time?” your gaze darted towards him, leisurely recovering the previously lost smile thanks to his gentle actions. A giggle smoothly graced off your lips, as you nodded. “Would you really do that for me, Luke?” you inquired, feeling a certain heartwarm upon his inquire. The brunette haired boy nodded vehemently, secretly wishing for your approval.
“Then, there is a chance, and I would be the most delighted.” a barely noticeable sigh of relief escaped him at hearing your approval, stupidly grinning with a certain pride. “Meet you in the gardens, Lucerys. Thank you.” deep gratitude was heard on your voice tone as you whispered back to him, placing a sweet, tender kiss on his warm cheek before you turned on your heels, and made your way back inside the castle in a rather joyful manner.
Luke's green eyes admired the way your hair and dress smoothly flew along the wind during your return back inside Dragonstone before returning to train with Jace. A broad, yet timid grin gracing on his soft lips.
Even if he wasn't your betrothed, Lucerys was more than grateful to provide for you the joy that Jace hadn't fully given you due to his sole attention being placed on Baela. And Luke had a certain fixed idea for you to have fun with him, when Jace denied you.
The night was fast to arrive. After dinner, shortly after everyone had began to head their way towards their respective chambers, you decided to sneak out of your own quarters you already shared with Jacaerys just to discreetly creep to the gardens, knowing Jace wouldn't notice you had left since he was to stay in the library with Baela.
Shortly after having arrived to the gardens, you sat on a few grand rocks in there as you awaited for Lucerys, gliding your fingertips across the petal of some nearby flowers planted next to the rock you were sitting in. The chirping of the crickets, hooting of the owls, and the rustling leaves of the trees — occasionally falling to the ground — was the only thing to be heard in the stillness of the tranquil night.
Distracting yourself as to not grow bored, you lifted your sight towards the darkened shy. Full of bright, vivid stars that perfectly complemented the own moon. A peaceful view to admire, caressing the not yet fully grown petal of one of the flowers you had planted it's seed, intrigued at what the future heir of Driftmark had to surprise you with.
Gentle footsteps accompanied the sounds of nature in the garden, making you bring back your stare to wherever the stepping came from. “(y/n)?” encontering yourself with Lucerys, his voice muttering your name, smiling to one another. “Luke.” greeting back, you daintly stood from the rock you sat on, timidly pulling him into a hast embrace. Luke didn't doubt a second, being quick in returning the hug, and wrapping his arms around your delicate figure — intoxicating himself with your sweet endearing scent.
“Thank you for offering yourself to spend time with me in replacement of your brother. I do not wish to be a burden, either way.” slowly pulling apart from the embrace, Luke shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows at your statement. “A burden? You could not possibly be such thing.” he retorted. One of his hands was carefully placed on your arm, and the other one raised it's fingers to glide it through one of the flowers. “It is truly endearing to spend my time with you. I was not in the mood to fall asleep, either way.” he jestered, making a chuckle spur from you with a twinkle.
Before you could reply, his green eyes scanned the newly bloomed flowers. “Are these new flowers the ones you planted?” it seemed as if he was attentive to every single word sliding off your lips, even if you weren't especifically chatting with him — to which, you deeply appreciated it. “Yes, they are.” you nodded, as you took one of them by it's stem, offering it to him. “They have always been my favourite flower; and when I visited here for the first time, I asked a maid to buy me seeds to add them to the gardens.”
Lucerys' fingers took hold of the daint little flower you extended towards him, lifting it closer to his sight. “Quite a lovely choice. They are a perfect complement for the gardens.” he spoke, fixing his eyes on your own with a grin. Without thinking his actions, Luke delicately tucked the flower behind your ear; the brief grasp of your skins sending shivers across your entire body, along with a rosy tint of fluster. “I have something planned for our little nightly stroll, (y/n). Something I'm certain it will thrill you.” at his words, you curiously furrowed your eyebrows. The Princeling offered his arm for you to take.
“Would you care to allow me to guide you, my Lady?” his voice was euphoniously soft, and soothing, still offering your arm. Looking down at his arm, you scoffed playfully, and took it with both your hands giggling in a girlish way. “Of course. I'd be delighted for you to guide me to whatever your surprise is.” you responded, making Lucerys vastly grin, mimicking your own smirk.
Without retorting anything else, he soon began to hastily — yet sneakily — walk out of the gardens, getting inside of the Dragonstone corridors, occasionally trying to avoid some guards standing in the halls. Within a few minutes sneaking through the rocky castle, Lucerys approached the passage that guided you to the large downhill path, reaching the beachside you had previously gone to.
As both of you were already walking down through the large path, the nightly wind swayed your clothing, as well as your hairs. It was silent and still, but enjoyable for both of you. “Where will be going, Luke?” breaking the silence, you inquired him as you descended towards the beachside; your feet finally reaching the sand. A proud, wide smirk danced on the corner of his lips, his other free hand placed on top of your own as he guided you. “Just wait and see.” he replied in a simple manner, adding more enigmatism to your strolling.
Walking through the sand, the sound of the grains under your feet was heard faintly, along the continous flow of the sea waves clashing against the ground of the beach and it's rocks. The Lordling took you a bit far away from the castle, and even, reached a whole another extent of the beach that you hadn't yet seen. The walk reached to some large rocks and slight hills, where not a single sound was heard from anywhere. A single dark, cold pit appeared in front of you.
“Strange. I had never seen this pit.” you murmured, furrowing your eyebrows to the point it provoked a crease in between them. “What is this place?” Lucerys gently took your hand away from his arm as you spoke, only to take a tight grip of it with his very own hand. An enthusiastic grin was seen plastered all over his pink lips, and a harshly exhaled huff was heard on the background.
“Well, I pressumed you had never seen a dragon before, have you?” he began speaking. Your eyes grew wide with genuine surprise, not having expected such thing to occur in your nightly stroll together. Had he just taken you to a dragonpit to surprise you, and replace how disappointed your betrothed had made you feel?
“Welcome to Arraxes' dragonpit. And you will not go to sleep without having some fun with me, and show you how it feels to be a Targaryen.”
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#the power of love#lucerys velaryon x reader#lucerys velaryon imagine#lucerys targaryen x reader#lucerys strong x reader#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon imagine#hotd x y/n#hotd fanfic#hotd x you
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Strange Love Pt.2
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Healer! Reader
Summary: Your first day at the little palace goes relatively well. Until the General tells you that if you don’t take his offer to become an Oprichnik, you’ll be tried for treason.
Warnings: None as far as I’m aware
Word count: 2.3k
Part 1 < current > Part 3
The sun is just barely peeking through the window of your bedroom when you wake from a fitful sleep. The room is cold, the crisp chill of the steadily approaching Ravkan winter seeping through the glass panes of your window, forcing you further into your cocoon of blankets. After a nice long shower and some much needed dinner the night before, you'd returned to your room and passed out the moment your head had come into contact with your pillow.
With a sigh, you roll yourself onto your back, an arm thrown over your eyes to block out the annoying sliver of light that just so happens to be angled directly at your face. It can’t be later than six bells in the morning, breakfast won’t be served for at least another hour. You decide you might as well spend some time exploring. Getting to know the layout of the palace should aid you in escaping.
You roam the halls until breakfast, eating quickly before scurrying out of the dining hall. As confident as you are in your abilities, you feel it would be best to avoid Zoya for as long as possible. You’re halfway around a corner when you bump into someone, knocking you off balance.
When you regain your footing and open your mouth to apologise, you see the person you’ve just run into is none other than the heartrender you had rendered unconscious. He’s got a bandage on his forehead that you assume is because of you, “Oh, um… Hi.”
You offer him a nervous smile and he returns it, though his is a lot brighter than yours, “Hi. I’m Fedyor.”
Oh, so this is Fedyor. Great.
“Oh, Saints. Sorry for, uhm,” You point weakly at your own forehead to mirror where the bandage sits on his and he chuckles.
“It’s alright. I would have done the same.” His smile is contagious, but you still can’t help but feel bad.
“I can heal it for you, if you’d like.” He shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about it. I was actually going to head to the infirmary right after I fetched you for the General.”
“General Kirigan wants to see me?” You ask, stomach twisting up in a knot.
“During lunch, yes.” He states, sensing your hesitance, “It’s nothing bad. I think.”
That does nothing to quell your nerves, but you force a smile nonetheless, “Alright. Thank you for letting me know.”
“Of course. Anyway, I’m off to the infirmary. I’ll see you later?” His words fill you with a pleasant warmth, briefly wondering if you’d made a friend.
The feeling is quickly squashed when you remember you don’t plan on staying.
“Yeah.” Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, “Later.”
The hours after your encounter with Fedyor fly by. Practice in the anatomy room goes relatively smoothly. It seems your abilities are almost up to par with the others despite your lack of training, which is a pleasant surprise. Before you know it, lunch has rolled around and you find yourself standing outside of the war room.
You knock on the dark wooden doors, noting the carvings that mimic the ones to the dormitories, though this one bares a moon in eclipse. Your heart is thudding rapidly against your ribs when you hear the sound of his ‘Come in!’. You push them open and step through the doorway.
As you close the door behind you, your gaze roams over the room. There’s a large circular table in the centre of the room with what looks like well thought out plans scattered about the surface. Books and maps line the walls and the desk pressed against the far wall. It’s there that you spot the General sat looking over an important looking piece of parchment.
“General Kirigan.” He turns to you with a tiny smile that has you glancing over his shoulder to avoid eye contact, “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes, I did.” He states, gesturing towards a chair he’d pulled up beside his desk, “Please, sit.”
You make your way over and sit down wordlessly, picking at the grey embroidery on your kefta.
“I want to discuss your place here.”
“I thought you didn’t owe me an explanation?” You smirk and he huffs a soft laugh.
“I don’t, but I didn’t think it would be fair to leave you in the dark.” He states, gaze shifting to be a little more serious, “Do you know how I choose my oprichniki?” You shake your head, “Skill is an important factor. Ivan and Fedyor are two of the most capable heartrenders I know. They’ve trained for years, honing and perfecting their skills. What I want to know is,” He stares at you as if you were a puzzle, trying to put you together while missing half the pieces, “How did you manage to overpower him so easily?”
You’re silent for a moment. Should you tell him? What could he really do with the information if you gave it to him?
“I sped up my heart rate while he was slowing it. It wasn’t exactly easy, but I managed it.” His brows raise ever so slightly. He hums, and you think he almost looks impressed. You feel an odd sense of pride swell in your chest and can’t help the cocky little smile that creeps up on your lips. “That’s why you want to make me an oprichnik, isn’t it? I impressed you.”
He hums again, this one sounding a little more apprehensive as he narrows his eyes at you. There’s still a slight curl to the corners of his mouth that tells you you haven’t crossed a line, “Something like that. Speaking of, that brings me to my next point. The second quality I look for is loyalty, which is arguably more important than the first.” The humour slips from his face, his gaze turning intense, “Before I can place you in this position, I have to make sure you don’t have any intention of leaking any…important information, to outside sources.”
“What makes you so sure I want to be placed in this position?” He looks back down at the papers on his desk and sighs.
“If you don’t accept the position, you’ll likely be tried for treason.”
“Treason?!” You exclaim before clearing your throat in an attempt to compose yourself, “I haven’t done anything to justify being tried for treason.”
“Helping Grisha flee the country means less soldiers in the King’s army, which hurts our chance at winning the war,” When he looks at you, there’s something akin to sympathy swirling in those dark eyes, “No matter how pure your intentions were, they won’t see it that way.”
Anxiety prickles under your skin at the thought, but you furrow your brows stubbornly, “I told you. I run a clinic. Wherever they end up after they leave my home has nothing to do with me.”
He realizes that whether you’re trying to stretch the truth or not, technically, you wouldn’t be lying. You really wouldn’t know where exactly your patients end up after they leave. Still, he doubts you’d win against the king, “Would you like to take your chances?”
There’s a beat of silence, and then you huff frustratedly, “No.”
“Then I suggest you do your best to prove yourself.”
You have to stop yourself from scoffing. You’ve never been one that likes to be given orders, something he picks up on when he sees the way your jaw works and the way you glare over his shoulder for a split second, “What exactly do I need to do to achieve that, sir?”
If he picks up on the passive aggressiveness of your tone, he doesn’t say anything, “Well for one, you’ll continue your training with the other Corporalki.”
Alright, that’s doable.
“You’ll also be helping me with some of my paperwork.”
“What?” You frown, confused, “Didn’t you just say you have to make sure I won’t leak anything?”
“I did, and I will.” He states. It’s infuriatingly vague, but you don’t press him. Instead, you sigh.
“When should I start?” He smiles a little, grateful for your cooperation.
“You’ll report here after dinner every evening starting tonight. As for how long you stay, that’s entirely up to you.”
You nod, “Is that all?”
He thinks for a moment before nodding back, “That’s all.”
You leave without another word.
—
That evening after dinner, you find yourself outside the War Room once more. This time when you enter, the general is not sitting at his desk, nor is he standing at the war table. In fact, you’re unsure of whether or not you’ve got the time right—you swear it’s just after six bells in the evening—seeing as he doesn’t appear to be here at all.
You venture a little further into the room, hovering near his desk to skim some of the papers resting there. There’s a half finished letter sitting in the centre and you take a moment to admire the penmanship. His writing is rushed but admittedly very pretty as far as handwriting goes, the letters slender and slanted ever so slightly to the right.
There’s a distant thud to your right that sounds like a drawer closing and it’s then that you notice another door, one you hadn’t noticed when you’d been here earlier. It’s cracked open enough that when you lean forward over the desk to get a better look, you can see the corner of a bed and the edge of a dark wooden dresser. You lean a little further, placing a hand on the desk to brace yourself, and see someone standing in front of it. Someone who appears to be in the middle of getting dressed.
Your face flushes and you immediately right yourself as you realise that you’ve just seen none other than General Kirigan bare from the waist up. Granted, you only caught a glimpse of his back and shoulders, but it was enough to set your cheeks aflame and let loose a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.
You back away from his desk and glance down at the papers again, finding a couple of the letters smudged a bit. A little panicked now, you look at your hands and find several backwards letters printed on your fingertips.
“Y/n.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, going completely rigid as you clasp your wrist behind your back and attempt to wipe the ink off on your kefta. He’s dressed now, donning a black robe that leaves a sliver of his collarbone visible. When you catch yourself staring, your gaze slides back up to his face and you find an amused smirk hung on his lips.
“Gen-,” Your voice cracks up an octave and you clear your throat, “General Kirigan.”
“I apologise for leaving you waiting. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” He comes closer and you back up to let him pull out his chair and sit down. There’s an awkward pause where you simply stand there rocking back and forth on your heels until he gestures to the armchair, smiling at you, “You can sit down.”
“Oh, right.” You curse yourself for being so flustered as you settle into the chair, “So, what am I helping you with?”
“You’ll be reading over and summarising some documents for me.” He sets a fair sized stack of papers to the side of his desk closest to you and hands you a large notepad and a pen. He clears off a little space next to the papers for you and looks up at you apologetically, “I hope you don’t mind sharing a desk.”
You shrug your shoulders and shake your head, taking the pen and scooting the chair closer to the desk. The documents he has you reading over don’t seem to be incredibly important, and summarising them proves to be a relatively easy task.
As you sit there writing away, the general can’t help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye. Your brows are slanted downward ever so slightly in concentration, pen scratching against the parchment fast as you scrawl letters across the surface. He shakes his head subtly, turning his attention back to his own work.
Maybe two hours later, you sit back in your chair with a subtle huff and attempt to roll the stiffness out of your wrist.
“Perhaps we should take a break.” When you look up, you find the general leaned back in his own chair.
“That might be best.”
You take a few moments to look around the room once more, gaze landing on the nearest bookshelf and as you try to make out the titles from where you sit.
“Did you grow up in Duva?” He asks suddenly and you turn to him a little confused.
“Yes, why?” You answer hesitantly, unsure of his sudden interest in your life.
“Just curious.” He pauses, gaze flitting over your face, “I’d like to get to know you better.”
You pause and he notices the apprehensive look on your face. Still, you shrug, “What do you want to know?”
“What was it like living there?”
“It was just my mother and I and she rarely ever let me accompany her into town, so there really isn’t much to tell.” You state and he frowns.
“Why wouldn’t she let you go?” He asks and you shrug again.
“She said it was something about keeping me safe. Didn’t stop me from sneaking out when I was older, though.” You huff a soft laugh and he smiles at you before his brows furrow in confusion.
“You were alone when Zoya and the others found you.” He watches you tense and immediately regrets his words. A pained look flashes across your face before you will it to remain neutral.
You glance over his shoulder and swallow, “I was.”
There’s a moment of silence before the realisation dawns on him and a pang of sad understanding blooms in his chest, “I see.”
When you nod curtly and wordlessly return to your work, he takes it as a sign to stop talking and return to what he was doing. You only stay another hour before bidding him a rushed goodnight.
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Mount Pleasant House +CC
Floor plan:
From real house to Sims 4... This two-story three-bedroom two-bath modern home is inspired by Robeson Architects' Mount Pleasant House. The lot is situated in the suburbs of Ridgeline Drive, Newcrest perfect for your small sim family. The living, dining and kitchen area are an open-floor concept, creating a spacious yet cozy vibe. It also has a family/entertainment room, small laundry, garage, a spare room for panty and an outdoor area spacious enough to squeeze in a hot tub and grill.
About the lot:
Size: 40x20
Value: 116,463 simoleons
Type: Residential
Location: Sandy Run, Newcrest
The lot uses the packs: Growing Together, High School Years, Eco Lifestyle, Get Famous, Get Together, StrangerVille, Outdoor Retreat, and Greenhouse Haven Kit
List of CCs used:
Chicklet: Magnolia laundry room set
Ineliz: Garage pattern 10
Jomsims: Seilva garden set
Kardofe: Arcadia Youth bedroom set | Flora bedroom set
Mutsk: Banks door sliding short wall 2x1 | New York window tall single 3x1 | Pilton construction set part 1, Pilton construction set part 2 | Pilton window counter 1x1 | Pilton vertical blinds
Nickname: Modern Living Room set | Modern Luxury Dressing room Part 1, Modern Luxury Dressing room Part 2 | Outdoor hot tub set | Simple bathroom set | Quiet bedroom set
NynaeveDesign: Avis kitchen, Avis kitchen appliances, Avis kitchen decor | Faze build set | Lyne House Numbers set, Lyne fence V1, Lyne Build set Medium Door 2x1
Onyxium: Exeter bedroom
Peacemaker: Atwood dining
Pralinesims: Grass tile
Severinka: Yuna bedroom
SIMcredible: Dexter bedroom | Dual channel (cushions, ceiling lamp, floor lamp), decoratives
Syboubou: Automne circular rug | Louane Outdoor BBQ set part 1, double table | Millennial closet short | Oceane bathroom set | Paradis wooden stairs
Ung999: Black White dining | Black White bathroom
Winner9: Aeon office | Tiramisu living, Tiramisu consoles
Wondymoon: Platinum shower | Quercus living room I, living room II
Thank you to all amazing CC creators ♥
Thank you xXSarina_27xX for the gallery paintings ♥
DOWNLOAD
Tray files: [CURSEFORGE]
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The Professor - Joshua Kiszka x Fem!Reader
[authors note: wow. thank you so much to everyone who's taken time to sign up for my taglist. this is my work with the most people signed up i'm sure of it! also, thank you for the little comments sent in with the submissions, those make my day! i hope you guys are excited for the next chapter..... i sure am]
SCREENING #? : THE DINNER PARTY, part one.
“Welcome!” Josh smiled as you walked through his front door. He had a lovely house. It was in a remote area, far away from the city. It took you thirty minutes to drive here from school, you wondered if he takes the same way you did when he drives to class.
“Oh wow! Thank you, very thoughtful, doll.” He chuckled as you handed him the bottle of wine you had brought as a gift.
As you stepped in his home, you turned to Josh and gestured at your shoes, wondering if he wanted you to keep them on inside.
“You can take them off, thank you for asking!” He smiled and you nodded, placing your shoes next to the front door, next to his.
Josh’s house had wooden walls, it reminded you of a family cabin but more.. lived in. He had large windows that exposed the forest surrounding the house. The living room ceiling was really high and he had a modern chandelier lighting up his dark brown furniture. He had a large circular woodsy coloured rug that covered the creaky floor, which made a sound by every step you took.
“Let me show you to the dining area” Josh smiled as his hand made it’s way to your back, leading you to the room to your right.
The dining area had a very long dinner dark wooden table, his chairs matching the aesthetic of the wood. He had everything set up on the table, with placemats and candles. It was beautiful.
“You’re the first one here” He chuckled, pulling out a chair for you to sit on. You sit and he pushes you a bit so you’re sat comfortably at the table. He decides to grab two wine glasses from the table and opens the bottle you brought.
“For while we wait… nothing wrong with that” He said softly as he poured a little in his glass, allowing himself to taste it before giving you some. You watch him with your head resting on your hands, the way he picks up the glass gently and brings it to his lips, taking a small sip and swirling around the contents in his mouth.
“Very good choice.” He states gently, pouring some in your glass then more in his, then sitting back in his chair. He watches you taste the wine like he did, and smiles at the way you reciprocate his movements.
“I asked the girl at the store which she recommended best.” You embarrassingly admit to him, your cheeks burning up.
“Well, the fact that you went through the trouble to even bring something is very kind. Thank you.” He pauses and brings up his glass for a cheer. “To our minds.” he says excitedly and you repeat his action, bringing up your glass and touching his softly. You both take a small sip with a smile.
“You have a lovely home” you complimented him and watch him blush a little, offering you a shy smile with a small thank you.
“The others are supposed to be here by now” he sighed, looking at his watch with his brows furrowed. He pouted a little, so small you could only notice since you were staring at his lips.
“I’m sure they’re on their way… you do live kinda far from town” you chuckled, taking another look around the room. As you did so, you couldn’t help but notice this amazing smell coming from his kitchen.
“Lasagna.” He said softly, getting up quickly to check his oven as he began smelling it too, holding his glass in his hand as he opened the door to check on the meal.
“Smells amazing” you peek out to watch him above his stove. He looked so good, he wore a long sleeve dark brown button down, with some black pants. No shoes and white socks. He had some necklaces on which dangled down to the center of his exposed chest. One of them had a triangle with a symbol inside it, the other one was white and beaded. You watched him close his eyes for a couple seconds as he took a sip from his glass, swallowing it and exhaling a quick breath before shaking his head and opening them once again. You faced the table before he could catch you staring, taking a sip from your wine nervously.
You felt comfortable in his presence, his house felt so sheltered in which there was a soft aura that surrounded the two of you in between these four walls. You listened to his quiet footsteps as he walked back to the table, he wore a disappointed look as he swirled his wine in his glass and rested his back against his chair.
“Is everything okay?” You asked, lowering your head a little to catch his gaze.
“The two other students I had invited just emailed me. They won’t be joining us tonight. I can understand if you want to leave. It must feel weird to you.. Being at your professors house like this.”
He rubbed the back of his neck to ground himself as he feared looking up at you. He didn’t want you to leave, he wished you stayed with him all night. Ever since that first class, he wished to know everything about you. It didn’t have to be about film, or homework; he wanted to know you. And so when you cleared your throat and nervously placed your hand on his, he held his breath.
“No.. I want to stay. You made all that effort to cook and I want to be here.” You smiled and his eyes lit up, his cheeks reddened as he shot you a big smile.
“I was hoping you’d say that, doll.” He chuckled, his thumb rubbing your hand softly without realization. You didn't pull away. You felt his eyes scan you, look down to your shoulders and then your dress. His eyes lingered against your skin as the air began feeling thin. You didn’t want him to pull his gaze away, he made you feel so seen. Intellectually, emotionally and physically of course. No man had ever looked at you, cared for you the way Josh presented himself to you; in the way his eyes searched for you when he walked into a room, when he’d look over your work in his office, when he complimented and left little comments on your assignments. Even though it was small, possibly meaningless actions, they made you feel special. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes quickly before getting up and walking over to the stove once again.
“Bon appetit, as the french say” He chuckled, placing a plate of lasagna in front of you. It looked fucking amazing.
“Merci, mon chère” You smiled and he shot you a nervous smile as he cut his pasta, you did the same. You took a bite nervously and let out a small squeal at the taste. It was amazing, your heart raced at the thought of him cooking this. He can cook. You thought to yourself. Could he get any sexier? It was extremely hard to fight off the thought- no, the fact that you had a massive crush on him. He was perfect. Every time you saw him, you couldn't fight back the want to jump in his arms and kiss him all over. He was so… soft. So sexy.
“Doll?” He said softly and your gaze fell back to him. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.. yes. Sorry. This is amazing, Joshua.” You spoke as you took another bite. You could cum at the taste because it was just that good. He chuckled and thanked you, occasionally taking sips from his glass and you did the same.
“Why are you studying film?” He asked, taking a bite from his plate.
“Uhm-”
“Sorry- I meant, what do you want to do after your degree?” He blushed, fixing his glasses with his middle finger as he bit his bottom lip quickly, smiling at you with a curious stare.
“I… don’t know.” You paused and he nodded, asking you to continue. “I really love the work that goes into a film, like special effects, stuff like that. I love that a director can bring a story to life. I find that so interesting. I think, maybe I’d want to work on the sets or the script writing.”
“You don’t think you could be a director?”
“Well.. I don’t think I have a voice large enough for that.” You paused as he got up and picked up your empty plate, placing it over his as he brought them to the sink.
“You’re very smart.” He breathed out, you turned your head to him as he rinsed the dishes. “I just think that you should think further than being in the background of something, you know? Your voice is large enough to express it to the world. Don’t limit yourself, doll.” He smiled as he dried his hands on the towel next to the sink. He walked over to you and lifted the wine bottle and poured some more into your glass, then his.
“Do you want to watch a movie with me?” He asked. You looked at his living room and saw no television, so out of curiosity you nodded.
“Can I.. use your bathroom first?” You asked and he nodded, instructing you to where it is; upstairs.
Maybe it was the wine, or your terrible sense of direction because you could not find it. Instead, you stumbled into an empty bedroom.
You could only assume it was his bedroom, and as much as your head was telling you to get out of it immediately; your heart took over as your eyes spotted all these intricate details. His bedroom being a vessel to him, his personality. The ceiling was pointed up due to the shape of his house, a large decorative light illuminated the room softly with a tungsten lighting, it wasn’t fully turned on, only enough to notice the color of his sheets. It resembled a chandelier though not as fancy, due to being made out of wood. It made the room feel so warm and welcoming.
Facing the bed was a large wooden window that faced the forest surrounding the house; the moonlight peeking through and grazing his wooden floors, hitting his sheets. They were a dark green satin-like material. At the foot of the bed, a large fluffy blanket covered the edge and fell to the floor; you couldn’t help but run your fingers against the soft material. Your eyes slowly made their way to his bedside table, where there was a small lamp, and a book.
The air got knocked out of your lungs as you noticed the camera on the tripod, placed strategically in the corner of the room.
“Doll?”
You gasped, trying to find the stolen air from your lungs as you spun around quickly to see his figure in the door frame.
“Josh. Sorry, I got lost.” You spoke, your heart beating loudly in your throat as he took a couple steps closer to you.
“Let me show you to the bathroom, yeah? I should’ve closed my door, sorry about that.” He smiled, his hand finding the low of your back.
The two of you sat on his large L-shaped couch. Josh sat in the corner whilst you sat on the right side of it. He had a projector which illuminated the room just right.
You could see the details of his face; the reflection of the screen on his glasses. He looked so pretty, and you couldn’t focus on the film he chose; it was some old film from the 1900s- silent.
“Why is there a camera in your bedroom, Josh?”
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Craving - Vampire Dave Miller/William Afton/Springtrap x Female Urban Explorer Reader
Chapter 1
Rating - Mature
Warnings for blood and violence
Summary - There is something hungry dwelling inside the depths of the pizzeria in the abandoned shopping mall; something that craves your blood to sustain it.
Also available on AO3
Past the withering potted plants and forgotten vending machines, deep in the abandoned shopping mall where the daylight filtering through the skylights can never reach, the pizzeria slumbers.
Unsheltered by security gates, the glass windows offer an unobstructed peak inside the restaurant. The illumination of your flashlight reveals a confetti patterned carpet just beyond cordoned welcome signs with the franchise’s popular animal mascots illustrated in cheerful splashes of primary colors.
You enter Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria cautiously, but the glass front doors ease open silently. There is the faintest scent of pizza from years ago, the greasy odor still impossibly lingering. Assuring yourself there are no trip hazards you continue forward, moving the light over the rows of tables and chairs. There are stained glass windows set into several of the booth’s wooden frames, one for each of the animatronics, each rendering a friendly caricature.
A row of crane machines line one wall filled with various stuffed animals. The prize counter houses bins of cheap metal security badges and plastic trinkets. A dusty roll of tickets perched on the corner has unwound in a long line, the printed bits of paper cascading down into a messy pile. A glint on the opposite side of the booth reveals a small pile of tokens in a shade somewhere between gold and bronze, etched with the image of Freddy Fazbear himself.
At the far end of the dining room are the stages, one larger platform and a smaller circular one nearby. You cautiously lift the heavy fabric of the star patterned curtains and nearly yell when you catch sight of a trio of animatronics. The brown bear is in the center, clutching a microphone in one paw. To his left is a large yellow chicken wearing a confetti printed bib holding a plate with a large pink cupcake. The final member of the group is a blue rabbit clutching a red electric guitar. Regaining your composure, you study them for awhile longer, deciding to leave the other curtain untouched for now.
The arcade machines are silent, the neon guide lights labeling the exits and restrooms long extinguished. The first hallway you reach leads to the kitchen area. The pots and pans and dishes are stacked neatly on the shelves. There are rows of folded pizza boxes and the stainless steel work surfaces are free of clutter. You exit and find yourself reaching areas that are labeled Storage and Maintenance. The janitorial closet unsurprisingly holds nothing of interest, but the maintenance area is far more intriguing.
Here there is the first real signs of chaos, though you quickly realize it’s not from any vandalism but rather the sheer volume of the objects themselves scattered on every surface, from shelves to counters to the floor. Much of it is foreign to you. There are pieces of metal and loops of wire, bits and pieces of things you think must be internal components of the animatronics themselves. You catch sight of steel limbs, sightless eyes, frightening rows of teeth. There is a headless torso housing a rib cage with sharp metal tips and a slumped costume tucked into one corner that sets your heart pounding when you mistake it intially for a corpse. The place feels different, more sinister than the rest of the locations you’ve explored thus far.
The next discovery is the manager’s office. A large steel desk and filing cabinet greets you. The calendar hanging on the wall is many years out of date. There is an old clunky looking rotary phone and a stack of folders. You flip through one briefly and realize it’s an employee’s resume and a performance review.
The final room you investigate is the security office.
The door does not open easily, resisting your initial efforts. It feels like shoving the lid of a coffin aside, the door grating unevenly along the floor, as if it has somehow shifted over time and no longer swings cleanly in its frame. It makes a terrible screeching sound and you pause mid motion, trying not to breathe too loudly.
The darkness of the revealed interior seems to swallow most of your flashlight’s beam. You can just make out stacks of blank monitors. The desk holds a switchboard and a red and white striped paper cup long forgotten by a previous guard. The walls are covered in children’s artwork done in crayons and pencils and watercolors. There are posters and operating instructions and decorations crafted from paper plates and construction paper that resemble the animatronics. It’s a strange combination of adult and child themed decor. You bump into the swivel desk chair when you turn away and the chair rolls back into the shadows until you hear it thud as it collides with something.
You move to retrieve it, having no desire to disturb anything as has always been your code during urban explorations, when you realize what it is the chair has struck.
In the increasingly faltering light you see a yellow rabbit mascot slouched against the wall. The head is dropped forward and you cannot see its features. The purple bow tie is frayed, the black buttons no longer shiny. The tip of one ear has been worn away, exposing the innards of the suit. The entire structure is decaying, fur and fabric vacant in places, revealing steel and wires.
You cannot say what makes you reach out to the slumped figure. It is as if you have no control over your own limbs, fingers seeking to touch the headpiece, catching on something sharp. You wince and jerk back, the flashlight’s ray bouncing unsteadily around the room before you drop it. Blood drips from your injury, the warm wetness sliding down your hand.
Slowly the yellow rabbit’s head lifts, the silver eyes sparking to life.
“More.” Its voice is like rusted cogs grinding together.
Frozen in terror, you make easy prey. Metal digits grab your wounded hand and drag it back towards its face. There is the sensation of cold metal and then something warm and wet inside the suit touches you and strokes across the blood trail. It’s licking you, lapping until it feels your pulse. You feel teeth graze the flesh above your veins and then fangs pierce that tender barrier. A mouth clamps down, sucking, and you finally find yourself able to attempt to escape, tugging against the rabbit figure’s grasp, but your efforts are futile. Its grip is like an iron manacle. You hear it growl warningly and you become subdued once more, passively letting it drink your blood.
You’re lightheaded when it releases you at last, surprised in your final conscious moments when its arms brace your body protectively before you collapse to the floor.
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let it snow | winterwidow
masterlist
summary: bucky and natasha enjoy a cozy christmas evening together when they get snowed in at their cabin.
word count: 1.5k
warnings: none other than over the top fluff
a/n: i wrote this a long time ago. but like i still love it. cuz it's literally just fluffy fluff fluff fluff. bucky is a very whipped little simp btw.
"as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."
𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 and dark brown shingles, a red front door to the little ranch house cracked slightly, the screen door securely locked. Two grey chimneys pumped out smoke, curling in designs that painted the gray sky and the evergreens surrounding the house. A wreath was secured to the mailbox, a sign saying "Mr. and Mrs. Barnes" screwed to the side. A snow shovel leaned against the side of the house, the off white garage door peppered with little notches in the wood, Christmas lights strung lazily around the top of the house. It was a small abode, but love simply emanated from it. You could tell that it was a place of much happiness.
Inside, a small living room was the first room in sight, two obviously well-loved plaid couches with sunken cushions against the front windows. A small tv was perched on a wooden stand, end tables made of the same birch at either end of the couches. Lovely maroon curtains blocked the windows from pesky strangers. A piano sat in the corner of the room.
Right through an arch lay the kitchen, a vintage look which seemed in common with the rest of the house. The yellowed refrigerator had obviously once been white, and it was plastered with pictures, some old enough to be in black and white. It was clear the fridge was a hand-me-down of sorts, passed from generation to generation. The cabinets, cherry wood with tarnished silver handles were all closed except for two to the right of the sink, which was a double, full of sudsy water and dirty dishes. A redhead stood at the sink, scrubbing the plates with her petite yet strong hands. The oven, a small, silvery number, was also on, the hum of its heater filling the small space.
The radio was on the dining table, a circular table made of that same wood which seemed very common in the house. Its buzz filled the little ranch. A brunet sat at the table, his chin in his left hand, which happened to be made of metal. His ears were trained towards the radio, however his eyes were glued to his wife's hips, a smile gracing his lips as he watched her feet tap to the beat of the tune stuck in her head.
"---Roads in Cook County are closed, due to icy conditions and heavy snowfall. Only travel if absolutely necessary, and stay safe---" the male switched the radio off.
"Well, guess we have our answer, Natasha. I better call Steve and tell him we can't go tonight." Natasha sighed, using her shoulder to brush some of her fiery locks to the side.
"That's too bad. I was hoping to spend Christmas with the Rogers."
Her husband smiled, "But this does mean we get to spend Christmas all by ourselves." He got up from the table, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head as she giggled.
"Oh, Bucky." Turning her head to the side, she gave him a quick peck before shutting the faucet off, drying her hands on the towel next to the sink.
"Well," Bucky said, "Since we're snowed-in, what do you want to do?" Natasha looked at the clock above the stove and rolled her eyes.
"I," she bopped her husband's nose, "am going to make dinner. You know, since we won't be eating Peggy's delicious cooking anymore."
He sighed, "Okay, fine. I'll find something to do." With one last plea of puppy dog eyes and that cute pout that Natasha loved so much, he left, knowing that this time, she wasn't going to budge.
"Be grateful," she called after him. "I'm feeding you!" Bucky waved a hand. It was the knowledge that the two of them loved each other so much that they'd gotten married and settled down in the middle of nowhere, away from all their friends so it would just be them, that made it clear that these "ungrateful" moments were just jokes.
Natasha started a simple pot of broccoli cheddar soup, after spending ten minutes trying to find something to make amongst her fancy cookbooks and practically bare cupboards. Still, the seemingly basic soup was a staple in their married life, and it would be perfect for a low-key Christmas dinner. The wooden spoon she held was rough from many years of use.
It had been her late mother's, a gift to the couple along with much of the rest of their kitchen supplies. Melina had known that her daughter would want to live away from the busy city. Natasha's childhood memories were full of strife, gangs, and way too many close calls for her to stay there. However, the cookbooks were from her mother in law. Winnifred was a master in the kitchen, and she'd taught Natasha the other half of what she knew.
Natasha's father, Alexei, well, his family was the line from which this house came from. Melina's family were the city goers. Bucky's father, George, was Melina's childhood friend, and if Alexei hadn't come along with his charming, backwoods ways, Natasha and Bucky could have been siblings instead of lovers. They often laughed about that. They had grown up together, but the minute they were both out of highschool, they forgot the other existed.
That is, until Bucky saved Natasha from a harsh prison sentence based on her many crimes in the gang she'd gotten wrapped up in. She felt indebted to him, and slowly they became best friends, and then lovers. Bucky had helped Natasha wipe the red out of her ledger, and she would be forever grateful. Furthermore, she was so happy that she got to be married to the man for the rest of her life.
With another stir, the soup sizzled some more, the redhead's hips bouncing to the tune of an invisible band. And then she heard it.
The sound of the piano. That's what she'd been subconsciously dancing to. That was another thing she loved about her husband: he was one of the most musically talented men she'd ever met. You wouldn't guess it just looking at him, he looked more like a football quarterback (which he totally could pull off), but Natasha loved the fact that he could just sit down and play music. It was a gift from above, that was for sure. She heard him start to sing, a grin turning up the corners of her mouth.
"Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful. Since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow." The redhead hummed along, the sound of his baritone like honey to her ears. It made her shiver, and at the same time, it made her giggle. He heard her, too. "Come join me, darling!"
Abandoning the soup to finish cooling on the stove, she raced into the living room. Bucky scooted over, patting the bench beside him. The redhead plopped down, smiling wide at him as he started up again. "When we finally kiss goodnight, oh, I'll hate going out in the storm." Natasha doubled on a low harmony, her eyebrows scrunching as she did her best to hit the right notes. "But if you'll really hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm!"
Before starting the next verse, Bucky paused and brushed his wife's hair behind her ear, smiling, "You have the voice of an angel, babe." She blushed, smacking his shoulder.
"I do not!" she objected.
"Yes, you do," he responded, tickling her sides as she buried her face in his neck, laughing.
"Stop! Stop!" With a cocky grin, he complied, her eyes rolling as she turned back to the piano. Bucky wrapped his flesh arm around her waist, pulling her closer as she laid her head on his shoulder."Gosh, I love you, Buck," she whispered, reaching over to lace her fingers through his metal ones.
"I love you, too, Nat," he smiled back. She could feel the smile from where his cheek was pressed up her scalp, his hand moving from her hips to her hair, stroking the red locks as she closed her eyes in silent enjoyment. It was the perfect picture of a happy Christmas evening. The lovely couple, sitting at the piano, arms intertwined as they hummed tunes together.
Some time later, they were curled up on one of those old couches, a blanket around their bodies as they watched It's A Wonderful Life. Natasha was on Bucky's lap, his arms around her as she held the blanket around them. Every time a funny scene popped up in the movie, Bucky would close his eyes as he listened to his wife's joyful laugh. That was the most precious gift she could give him- herself. All of her. The one who'd gotten distracted while cooking their soup and burnt it, and the one with the most beautiful soprano voice, and the one who could kick his ass in a fight any day of the week.
As the credits rolled and Natasha sleepily turned to him with a grin, he smiled and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Nat."
"Merry Christmas, Bucky."
the end
#fanfiction#marvel#one shot#fluff#married fluff#winterwidow#natasha romanoff#bucky barnes#black widow#the winter soldier#marvel au#christmas fluff#marvel christmas
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Discoveries in Pompeii Reveal Lives of Lower and Middle Classes
The latest discoveries in the excavation of Pompeii’s Regio V neighborhood are fully furnished utility spaces, of great archaeological significance for the details they preserve of a common domestic context in the 1st century Roman town.
The room was found in the House of the Enchanted Garden, a beautifully frescoed home with a lararium (a shrine to the household gods) that is one of the largest ever discovered in Pompeii. In 2021, archaeologists undertook an excavation and restoration of rooms on the ground floor in front of the lararium and the stories above it. They uncovered four rooms, two on the ground floor and two above, that were furnished. One was unfinished, with unplastered walls and an earthen floor, a jarring contrast in a house so decorated with such fine frescoes. The unfinished room was used for storage.
Archaeologists were able to make casts of the furnishings in the room which left a cavity in the hardened ash that could be filled with plaster. One room contained a bed frame and a pillow. The texture of the fabric was imprinted in the ash and is visible on the plaster cast. It is a very simple cot with ropes strung across the sides. There isn’t even a mattress, let along any decoration. Next to the bed was a wooden trunk divided into two compartments. The lid was open, but broken when the beams and floorboards of the story above collapsed in the eruption. Inside the trunk, archaeologists found a terra sigillata saucer and a double-spouted oil lamp depicting Zeus in the act of transforming into an eagle. Next to the trunk was a circular three-legged table with a shallow ceramic bowl containing two small glass bottles, a blue glass saucer and a terra sigillata bowl.
In the storage room, archaeologists were able to make two casts: a shelf and a group of wooden planks in different sizes, cuts and finishes, tied together. This was probably a collection of raw materials for assorted home maintenance projects from furniture patching to roof repair. Outside the room in a small hallway another utilitarian treasure was found: a tall wooden cabinet with at least four doors and five internal shelves. The top of the wardrobe and the front doors were damaged when the floor above the room collapsed. The remains of jugs, amphorae, bowls and plates were found on the damaged top shelf.
The excavation of the upper rooms revealed materials that were in the process of collapsing onto the rooms below. Of enormous archaeological value is a unique group of wax writing tablets. The group consists of seven triptychs tied both vertically and horizontally by a cord. A large cupboard, collapsed in the eruption, was also excavated. It contained different types of common use ceramics for kitchen and dining, as well as fine terra sigillata ceramics and glass. There was also a set of small bronze vessels, including a basin with palm leaf-shaped handles and a small jug decorated with a sphinx and lion’s head. Another special treasure is an incense burner shaped like a cradle with a male figure at one end. The polychrome paint coloring the figure and decorating the cradle with geometric designs is perfectly preserved.
The excavation overlapped onto a residential property behind the House of the Enchanted Garden, and there the plaster cast technique revealed the imprint of cane lathing in the mortar of a collapsed false ceiling. The cast shows the guts of Pompeiian construction: bundles of caning tied together by a thin cord and covered by a gauze-like fabric to separate the lathing from the wet mortar. Casts were also obtained of what appears to be wood paneling on the north, east and south walls of the room. Some are carved with coffered decoration; others are inlaid with delicate bone elements.
#Discoveries in Pompeii Reveal Lives of Lower and Middle Classes#House of the Enchanted Garden#archeology#archeolgst#ancient artifacts#history#history news#ancient history#ancient culture#ancient civilizations#roman empire#roman history
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Honey Glazed
Chef Zeff. I love him, and I won't apologize for my adoration.
Warnings: hypothetical discussions regarding cannibalism, drinking.
Word Count: 2,500
(Coming from real life conversations and experiences in both my and chef-husband's hospitality careers; you'd be surprised at how much the thought comes up regularly in conversation. Yes, can confirm: chef's flirt like this)
It had been a particularly difficult shift; balancing your managerial roles like an expert plate spinner in a circus.
On one plate, you had a wait staff member needing consolation in the ‘cool room’ to manage their mental breakdown over a particularly rude patron dining in the circular wooden floor. On another, you had to talk down Patty from storming out onto the floor not only in defence of the aforementioned wait staff member, but due to the fact they sent their food back to the kitchen with the proclamation that their meat was undercooked and “bloody”.
Round and round you balanced the dynamic of pure professionalism with engaging with the variety of patrons, serving the dishes presented by the team of chefs, and managing the rapport with the staff with a cheery disposition under the ever watchful eyes of the braid-bearded, head chef Zeff. He would often gaze longingly at you, admiring how truly blessed he was to have you as his queen of the front of house, his warrior of waitressing and his confidant in comradery. And to think, he nearly didn’t hire you.
-------
From the amount of profiles and resume’s he had received from his request for a front of house manager, your resume stuck out like a gem incrusted tiara amongst a pile of dulled rocks. Ex-convicts, reformed pirates, seasoned managers and members of his own staff putting their names forward for the position; all eclipsed by your resume.
You were young, younger than he would ever consider thrusting into the role but older than his blonde apprentice. Kind, gracious and innocent were the three words that flew into the mind of the braided ex-pirate captain.
“Found someone yet?” the young Sanji asked him with his own frown rising to his face.
“Not yet, little eggplant,” he grouchily informed him, placing your resume back to the side of the table and away from any of the other candidate profiles.
“Well, hello,” Sanji said as he took the sheet within his hands, “this is the one, chef.”
Zeff again shook his head, flittering through the tattooed and scarred front of house manager resumes within his hands, muttering a simple: “no.”
“Why not?” the teen Sanji asked him, his eyes wide as he thrust the paper back into Zeff’s pile, “she’s beautiful.”
“That’s exactly why not, kid,” Zeff said again, pushing the resume away from him and back onto the table; “she’s not meant for here. Too pretty, too young,” Sanji shook his head as Zeff continued; “she’d be chewed up and spat out before she’d be able to manage the guests, let alone the staff.”
Sanji let out a small angry growl and fished your resume back and thrust it once more into Zeff’s arms; “humour me. Wait staff are meant to be pretty, it’s the chefs that are hardened criminals. If she’s applying to work on Baratie, it shows she has the balls to run the front of house looking the way she does.”
Zeff locked his eyes with his young apprentice, finally clasping the paper once more in his fingertips and looking it over in consideration. Sanji did have a keen eye for quality, travelling over from his appreciation of food to his appreciation of other areas of his interests.
You were perfect. From your vast experience to the way your uniform clung to you. He just needed to ensure your personality would match up to your role; and with one den-den-mushi call, he was completely smitten with you and offered you a full-time job immediately.
Flirty, fiery, charismatic and professional; exactly everything he didn’t know he wanted flittered in with the qualities he needed in his front of house counterpart. You were the one he wanted.
-------
You sighed, throwing your head backwards to relieve the tension gathered after waving off your closing floor staff for the evening. You leant your hips against the lit benchtop of the pass; the kitchen island closest to the door where chefs and wait staff would meet their hands in service.
“You gonna hang around for knock offs, sweets?” Zeff asked you from his place leaning against the frame of his office door with his arms crossed over his chest. You lulled your head to rest itself on your shoulder and smiled with your eyes barely parted.
“Yes, Chef,” you offered him an exhausted, two-fingered salute as you drew enough energy and willpower to push yourself forward from the pass. Zeff began his stride over to meet with you, his hand brushing with the small of your back to escort you through the entrance of the kitchen and up towards the fish-mouth lounge. You shot him another half-smile in thanks for his attention, a twinkle forming back within his own gaze in appreciation for your gratuity.
He remained close as he approached the bar with Patty falling his grasp of several bottles and sloppily attempting to pour beer from the taps into the wrong kind of vessels. A groan fell from your lips and your back dropped, defeated at the sight that lay before you.
“Get out of there, Patty,” you ordered him with a smile, making your way behind the bar and away from Zeff’s hold on your body, “stick to the food. I’ll get you lot your knock offs.”
“Don’t forget about yourself, honey,” Zeff ordered you, his uneven step making his way over to the till to begin his inventory duties to complete the close of the night. You nodded at him before beginning to assemble a variety of drinks while overhearing the chefs discussing something amongst one another in hushed tones; brows furrowed, lips passionately fleeing words in whispers.
The three major instigators in conversation were Sanji, his eyes widening and hands gesturing to different points of his torso before trailing them down towards his stomach; Patty who was shaking his head with a frown and gesturing to his shoulder blades while hissing out between his lips; and Carne who was just watching the conversation falling between them standing concerned and confused.
You approached the chefs with their knock offs: a red wine for Sanji, a flagon of ale for Carne and a dry whiskey for Patty while keeping another red wine to the side for your head chef to retrieve once he had done inventory.
“There you are, lads,” you uttered with a sigh as you held the drinks forward, your left hand reaching behind your neck as you relieved it of the tension with circular motions beneath the ministrations of your fingertips, “knock offs: done.”
“What are we drinking tonight, love?” Sanji arched his brow upward and pursed his lips suggestively. You leant forward against the bar in response, your elbows and palms lying flat as you brought your face closer to his.
“You’re drinking a cabernet sauvignon-,” you whispered an inch away from his lips, tilting your chin upwards; a pink blush immediately rising to rest on Sanji’s cheeks, “-and I’m,” you pulled away from his face with a small giggle, “having a black Russian.”
You fished your fingertips within the short glass, pulling out the stem of the bright red maraschino cherry and plopping the syrupy fruit on your tongue; wrapping your lips around it and breaking the stem away with a ‘pop’. The three chefs in front of you held their gaze, completely transfixed by your suggestive movements.
This was your favourite part about working at Baratie. The rapport and flirtatious engagements between the front of house and the back of house was the driving force to keep you motivated as you navigated through the shift. After chewing and swallowing the amoretto-forward fruit, your warm laugh fell contagious amongst the four men; Zeff shaking his head off while continuing jotting down his varied notes.
“And all of you-,” you placed the stem of the cherry into the compost bin located below the wooden surface, “-were talking about cooking with human again, weren’t you?”
An apprehensive blush rose to the three chefs in front of you, ashamed of their unbridled conversation.
“Look,” you began, shaking your head, “there’s too much variety in your body shapes and muscle density. You’ve got to focus on just the one of you or you’re never going to make cohesive progress in this completely hypothetical situation.”
“Oh?” Sanji began, raising his glass away from his lips while taking his bottom lip between his teeth; giddy about your willingness to join in the conversation, “so who should we choose to hyper-fixate our cooking practices on? I’m all ears, love.”
You laughed at him, a shrug adorning your shoulders and mouth down-turning in thought, “what about me?”
The chefs all down-turned their mouths in thought, eyes falling to your body as you adorned a slightly more dressed-down version of your uniform. You laughed, held out your arms and gave a small turn in response to their ponderance.
“Will I suffice?” you arched your brow up as you made your rotation back towards the three chefs once more.
“You’ll do nicely,” Carne nodded, turning his body atop the stool to bring his body to face Sanji next to him and Patty behind him, “thoughts, gentleman?”
“Smoked on an open fire,” Patty nodded, gesturing to your body. You chuckled, raising the cool liquid to your lips and taking a small drink as you rested your back against the wall of the bar.
“Smoked?” Sanji questioned him with an elevated tone, “what, and ruin the natural sweetness of her body and unable to crisp up her beautiful skin? Look at her! Whole-smoked?”
“Oh, and what would you suggest; Sanji?” Carne spoke up, prompting the blonde to first turn to him and frown before bringing his attention back towards your body.
He raked his eyes from your ankles, dragging his gaze slowly up your thighs and settling on your stomach. His tongue flicked out to dampen his lower lip in thought as he drew his sights to your breasts before falling to your arms. You giggled at his attention, almost regretting your decision to open your body up to extreme examination.
“I’d take my time,” Sanji began, gesturing to a variety of points on your body, “cut the different portions and begin reductions at the same time as preparing your body to not only be smoked,” he grimaced at Patty before turning his eyes back towards you, “but also honey glazed.”
The four of you all chuckled at the conversation falling between you. Zeff, finally having completed his inventory, made his way back towards his key staff members and collected the red wine glass from the counter besides you.
“Care to weigh in, chef?” you asked him, eyes half-lidded and your signature smile falling to your lips, “if you had my body to enjoy,” you gestured down to your torso and legs, “how would you prepare me for consumption?”
Having no prior context to the conversation falling between the four of you, Zeff found himself get slightly flustered under your brazen disregard for discussing cannibalising your body. You widened your eyes and shook your hand outwards defensively with a laugh.
“Hypothetically speaking, chef,” you breathily laughed in defence of your prior suggestion, “we were talking about how you chefs would go about preparing human. Thought I’d volunteer my flank, ribs, legs, shank and rump,” you playfully slapped your left ass cheek with a giggle, “for continuity’s purposes.”
Zeff hummed thoughtfully, raising his glass to his lips with another glimmer of adoration behind his eyes at how truly accustomed you were to engaging flirtatiously with himself and his staff. He sampled the vintage over his palate, rolling the bitter liquid over his tongue and whistling it through his lips to oxidise the wine to savour the flavour. In response, you rose your black Russian back up to your lips and take the final gulp of the liquid and lay the glass upturned against the bar sink.
“Go on, chef,” you encouraged him, doing another small twirl in front of him, “lay it on me. I truly don’t mind.”
Sanji smirked as he witnessed the flirtations engaging between you and Zeff. He was well aware of his favouritism of you, potentially harbouring more than simple affection for you as his manager. You were a part of the crew, a major part of running smooth operations; Sanji would think Zeff daft to not harbour a semblance of infatuation with you.
“There’s a lot I could do with your body,” Zeff smirked with his left brow arched upwards, causing a small tingle to rise up in anticipation of your next words. The head chef stepped forward, placing his glass down to the side and reaching with his right hand forward to claim your left.
He moved his bearded jaw towards your arms, slowly raking it upwards while inspecting your flesh; uttering: “braised in red wine, spice and liquid smoke,” his lips travelled up to your shoulder, halting at your arched neck, “roasted with a mirepoix and pesto butter.”
Your jaw hung slack with a small smile falling to your lips as your eyes watched your chef remove himself from your body and twirl you away from him; tracing his fingers down your spine, “I’d either crack these separately,” he trailed his hands over your ribcage and leant in towards your ear, “or I’d keep them as a solid rack and tenderise them with a firm massage with coarse sea-salt to bring out your natural sweetness.”
A blush crept up towards your cheeks as you felt his arm come around your body to bring itself against your thigh and clutch it firmly in his wide hands; “but this,” he steadily shivered your flesh under his strong grasp, “this would be my absolute favourite. I’d stud it with cloves, cross-hatch and cure it,” his breath tingled against your neck as his lips traced the shell of your ear, “and I’d glaze it with a sauce as sweet as you are, honey.”
An unintentional gasp fled from your lips at his words. You admit to yourself, you enjoy the odd flirt from time to time with the staff; but this particular interaction with your boss felt unlike any flirtation you had engaged with him prior. Your whole body tingled in surprise and shock at how Zeff so intimately spoke to you, even though it was words so completely unhinged as how to cook you appropriately.
Zeff chuckled and withdrew his hand from your thigh and made his way back towards the wooden bar; reopening the cabernet sauvignon bottle and filling his crystal glass once more before offering the neck to Sanji’s empty one.
“Anything to add, boys?” Zeff asked his team from his spot behind the bar, you remaining stunned before shaking off your stupefied state and bringing yourself beside Zeff and beginning to make your second black Russian to continue to rid your body from the rise of heat.
“Yeah,” Sanji added, raising his glass to his lips, “you’d probably fuck it all up with oregano.”
#one piece#opla#opla fic#one piece live action#x reader#zeff#chef zeff#zeff x reader#zeff x you#chef zeff x reader#opla zeff#red leg zeff
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You’ve had four fucking months to explain, yet you did not. I’ve been nothing but patient, and what have you given me in return?
He manhandles her, the hand he’d had on her thigh grasping at her hip to force her forward. His footsteps are heavy and loud behind hers, and he doesn’t stop until her pelvis is pushed against the decorative dining room table in the next room, the tall candles strewn along the sideboard shading their flames from the indecency of their position as he bends her over the larger, circular table by pressing his chest against her back, his weight urging her down until her front is pressed against the mahogany.
Words fail her now, the hard length of him rubbing against her ass causing her mind to go blank.
That’s right. Nothing.
Once her front is lain against the cold, hard surface and he’s sure her limp body won’t move, his chest rises off her. His mouth detaches from her shoulder as he does, more of her blood dripping down his chin and over his chest in forbidden droplets of her essence.
Don’t you fucking dare move from there. You want to treat me like I’m just some other male that only fucks that little hole of yours for a good time, I will.
She shakes her head, her lips trembling as her legs give out from beneath her. She throws all her weight onto the table, her position making her wince. Her chest and hips are pressed into the table hard, no doubt bruising her. The splinters that the skin on her breast contain from the tree's unforgiving assault on her now push against her skin all the more, and small little whimpers, whines, and pleas leave her desperately.
"A-alpha! I didn't.." she shakes her head. "I didn't treat you like that.. you know that! I was just.. too shy to come and tell you about the toys." She frantically throws out to him, the words panicked, her eyes blown wide from both the pleasure and pain that courses through her smaller body now.
He simply growls at her attempt to placate him, his hips grinding into hers in a languid, punishing manner with the little friction it provides her. His hands that are splayed on her back now hold her hips in a bruising grip, pushing her against the table all the more when she squirms and tries to get away from the added pain that his grip suddenly provides.
The table is jerked forward in the process, and a shriek leaves her, her hands flying out to grip at the curved edges of the circular table, the loud screech of its legs against the floor mimicking the sound she'd heard when he'd heaved the couch forward, her eyes widening in utter fear and surprise.
A laugh bellows throughout the house, the sound dark and raspy.
He can hear her thoughts.
He can smell her desire..
he can smell her fear.
And oh my fucking god-.. it drives him over the edge.
He leans down once more, except this time, he pushes her further up onto the table. This way, her upper torso is completely on the wooden stage and the arms he'd had splayed out on her hips grip her trembling thigh and calf, spreading her legs open only to wrap her limbs around his torso.
The new shift in position has her squeaking out in surprise, the immobility he'd now thrust upon her making her whimper out anxiously. She can't fucking move. Her hands are now spread out against the table as she grips onto the ridges of the table tight, her legs that are now wrapped around his torso pulling him closer in her fear of losing balance and slipping.
Not like he'd let that happen.
He scoffs at her attempts to make herself comfortable. He wanted her attention back on him.
The thoughts of her playing with herself when he wasn't around.. the thoughts of her trying to pleasure herself with toys that were nothing when compared to him.. they ignite a raging fire of possessiveness and ire in his belly. The heat that rolls of his body and onto hers is enough indication of that.
When he's sure that the grip her legs have on his hips is unfaltering, a hand leaves her calf only to twist itself in her hair, a loud growl leaving him at the images of the toys he'd found that fated night.
He waited for an explanation. He wanted her to come and tell him of the toys at her own will.
But, she didn't.
She didn't fucking tell him.
A loud and angry snarl leaves him as he wrenches her head back up, a string of apologies leaving her poor, trembling body. Air doesn't reach her lungs as easily as it did before with her back now arched impossibly, his lips now graze the warm and red shell of her ear as he utters his next words with a bitter growl.
Trigger Warnings: Minor Character Death and Mentions of Sexual Assault
Word Count: 1649
He notices the little winces she makes as she's pushed into the table.
There is no room for pity in his heart right now. Not when all her misbehavior from the past couple months blends and rolls together in his mind like some kind of fucked up performance on a stage. It is why he's put her onto this one. This table that he's eaten the food she prepares for him on.
This table that he eats her on.
How many times had he done that in the past four months knowing what she'd done, hoping that her lies would spill from her lips if he loosened them in only one of two ways he knew how?
Her responses were not enough. Not even fucking close.
His hand comes down on the other asscheek now. The jolt her body makes sends a pang of satisfaction through him as he rasps into her ear, "Ah, but you did treat me like that. You knew what you were doing," he strikes her other asscheek this time, the smack loud as it echoes through the room, "and you knew you shouldn't have been doing it. I don't fucking like liars, female. Do you recall what I do to liars?"
He watches her knuckles go white in the harsh grasp she has on the edge of the table. Her silence doesn't go unnoticed, however, and she earns another hard blow on her already bruised ass for it. She squeals out when his hand makes contact, her body knocked forward in the impact when he draws his arm back and does it again.
The handprints decorating her flesh make for pleasing swell of triumph in his chest.
To prevent another blow to her ass, she stutters out, "I-I do, alpha."
The grip in her hair tightens, ire flaring in his core once more.
"Not good enough, omega. Explain to me what happens to fucking liars. Describe to me what I did to the last one that tried to cross me." He bites out.
Memories surface in her mind of what he'd done to an alpha who had made the poor choice to take advantage of an unmated omega who had had her first heat.
By their nature, when either an alpha or omega had their rut or heat, they became vulnerable in the loss of their rationale and reason over the impulse of their instincts. Instincts that demanded them to breed.
It had been a full moon that night, and the alphas had been especially restless with the threat of the vampires from the north who had begun to cross into their territory.
She'd been in their den after a long day at the schoolhouse, a book in her hand as she'd sat in front of the roaring fireplace. Their door had swung open to reveal her alpha, his shoulders rising and falling as he panted. Blood clung to his leathers, and while one part of her knew it was bad, the other part (her wolf) wanted to salivate at the way even his cheeks and jaw were stained by it. Golden irises had fallen over her quickly, but they'd been marred by concern as he inspected her for any injuries or wounds before striding to her side with only one explanation before he'd grabbed her wrist and urged her out of the den.
"Come with me. I need to show you something. It's urgent."
She'd followed obediently that night. She knew better than to retort or even to ask questions when his fingers had been wound tight enough around her wrist that all blood drained from her hand to the point that it was numb. By the time they'd reached the Prisoner's Keep, which was a series of metal cells big enough to fit ogres within a large square structure of mud and clay, she could feel nothing of her hand. Not that she minded.
She enjoyed it when he touched her. Even when he made her body sore and numb, she liked it.
There were eight cells, each of which were side by side one another. She remembered the sound of his footsteps on the stairs they'd had to travel down once they'd passed the record room on the upper level.
All of the cells had been empty. All except one on the very end of the row on the far left side.
She did not ask why he'd brought her there. Knowing him, he had his reasons. Knowing him, he would explain eventually. He always did.
She couldn't say the same for herself.
The thwap of their feet only stopped when they stood in front of the cell, and Jungkook's fingers only released hers once he was sure the slumped, slouched figure on the opposite end of the cell who held their head between their hands would not move.
"Remind my mate why you are here, you sick fuck." Jungkook had demanded icily as he produced keys from his belt. "You are here for a reason and have been punished for that reason. Admit your crime again so I know you haven't forgotten why I broke all your fucking teeth in half."
The other male, dressed in rags and shreds of clothing that had no doubt been torn by her mate's claws, coughs blood onto the ground and splutters. "I touched a female."
"If that was all it was, you wouldn't fucking be here, you fucker," the jangle of keys is all she hears before the door to the cell is thrown open, her alpha trudging over to the brown-haired male before the balled up fist at his side connects with the fucker's jaw. It's an uppercut that has his chin jerking up, the male's upper half falling to the ground until he's but a heap of limbs before Jungkook barks out, "You broke into the Omegean Den of unmated omegas and did what, you bastard?"
The downed male had made the mistake to try to wipe at his chin, the steady stream of blood out of either side of his mouth ceaseless.
Jungkook had not been having that.
He'd driven his knee up, and that time, it had been knee that slammed into the male's face right between his fucking eyes. The color red had stained the ground around him after that.
The sound of bones being displaced had not been quiet.
The other male cursed, his broken fingers coming up to cradle his face as he groaned painfully, "I broke into the Omegean Den and fucked a girl."
Jungkook had lifted his knee up again, but this time, fear flashed through the other male's eyes. Just before Jungkook's foot could break the other male's only rib that wasn't fractured, he confessed all in one breath, "Okay! I broke into the Omegean Den and fucked an omega who was on her heat! I knew she wasn't in her right mind, but I did it anyway! I just wanted a quick fuck! That's all!"
Jungkook's teeth had glistened menacingly in the firelight that burned in the hanging braziers along the walls as his hand had grasped the other man's hair and yanked him to his feet as if he were but a rag doll. It was only then that she noticed the man no longer had a feet. His legs just....were missing those.
She didn't need to ask. She knew her alpha had done that.
Why that, compared with the ease in which he could manhandle the other male, did things to her belly, she couldn't explain.
She'd never forget the words he'd spoken before doing the irreversible.
"You forced yourself on a woman who wasn't in her right mind and wasn't able to think clearly." He growled dangerously, his arm winding back, "You bred her even though she wasn't yours to fucking breed. Then, you denied the act even though several females saw you go into her chambers. You are a piece of shit that has no fucking heart, and now? I'm going to take it from you."
It had been too fast. So quick even she had not realized what he had done until it was over.
His hand had been impelled forward to the effect that it disappeared into the man's chest, his fingers closing around the other's heart.
"You have ruined that poor girl's life, and now, she is too traumatized to even speak now that her heat has left her. What have you to say to that, you cocksucker?"
The man's face contorted in pain as Jungkook's nails began to pierce the muscle pumping blood throughout their body. If blood had been streaming from his mouth before, it was a fucking waterfall now.
From outside the cage, she could see this for what it was: Jungkook was punishing him for one of the worst crimes one could commit. And now, he was giving the male one more chance.
"Your answer means your life or death, so I would recommend you fucking obey, bastard," Jungkook threatens.
"S-She wanted it. Bitch kept begging for more. I won't ap-"
Jungkook had watched without mercy the way the light began to leave the other's eyes as he pulled, pulled, and pulled. There's a crunch that sounds as Jungkook displaces more of the male's ribs, and when his hand departs from the confines of the other's chest, it holds an ovular, red thing the size of her own fist.
Jungkook releases the other male's hair, his body limply splaying down on the ground as a pool of blood covers the ground in his essence from the hole in his chest.
When Jungkook had turned around, throwing the male's heart to the side with disgust wrinkling his face, that's when his irises, the color of glaciers ,had found hers. She’d been frozen in place not out of fear, but of submission at the show of power he’d demonstrated.
Despite it all, warmth began to bloom in her belly when he spoke huskily.
"This is what happens to liars, omega. You are my witness. No one will be permitted to be dishonest in this pack. Behold the consequences for those that try."
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tu bshvat 5784
Welcome to the new tradition around here, sharing my family's tu bshvat table! Pictures imperfect because we needed to sit and eat!
Image description. Three photos of a table set with a meal, described below. One from overhead, the other two from just over tableheight at two different angles.
The whole table! This is a secondhand dropleaf table that I fixed up a bit with oilcloth, but I'd love to have one of those old country kitchen wooden tables that serve as prep table, dining table, and ad hoc operating table for La Résistance. The kids keep grabbing onto the edge and trying to swing off this, and you can imagine that will one day soon end very poorly.
Since I live an actually not aesthetically cottagecore life, we have nothing but the finest dollar store plain white dishware for us adults, and metal sets for the kids. I haven't finished making all the colour coded napkins, but eagle eyed individuals will notice each blue gingham napkin has a flower embroidered in the corner in each of our colour coding scheme, from top left clockwise that's red, yellow, green, orange. Each setting has a bowl on a plate, a fork and spoon on a blue napkin, and a haggadah with a pomegranate branch on blue circle. Adult settings also have a butter knife and a stemmed port glass, and the kid settings have two small square sticker sheets and a turkish teaglass.
The table has, from top left clockwise, an adult place setting, a fruit plate on glass, a child setting, a red plate with four servings of melanzane alla parmigiana, an adult place setting, a paper packet of parsley seeds, a small glass jar with cardamom pods, a glass bowl of wash water with three star anise floating in it, a gray towel with white stripes, and a child setting. Down the center of the table from left to right is a bowl of fruit and nut studded barley, a bottle of white and a bottle of red wine, a square container with mixed roasted vegetables, a half gallon mason jar with water, a pecan pie with circular pattern, and a plate of homemade thick matzah. Yes, I made matzah because I thought it would be easier than making bread. Yes, my oven hasn't been cleaned in a while and so started smoking. Yes, the smoke alarms went off multiple times. Yes, I did have to stand there facing the street while it rained pumping the side door while all the windows were open to get all the steam and smoke particles out of the air. Holiday adventures with Sahar!
Image description. Four close up shots of foods, described below. All are birds eye except the barley, which is at an angle to show the careful mounding.
the fruit plate! Our minhag is at least twelve tree fruits so we piled most of them on the tasting plate. From the ramekin going clockwise, that's a ramekin of pomegranate arils, a chunk of pomegranate, segmented tangerine slices, dried apricots, almonds, dried figs, golden raisins (the baby calls them 'ravens'), extra-dark chocolate chunks (cacao is a tree fruit, it's what the ancestors would want), a ramekin of pitted kalamata olives, and some dried medjool dates. Bonus: the kids ate the plate remnants as a serve-yourself breakfast the next morning. Always wonderful when a holiday yields some batch cooking and child autonomy.
a pecan pie. We use the King Arthur Flour Old-Fashioned Pecan Pie recipe because corn syrup tastes off to me. The changes we made this time are making a savory not sweet pie crust (my spouse makes it with iced water and vodka), cream instead of milk, toasting the filling nuts just shy of burnt, and cream instead of milk. It worked really well to reduce the sweetness from 'sickening' to 'very.' It's our traditional dessert and we eat it only once a year because it's so sweet. I like laying the pecans flat side up in rings on the top for full coverage and so it looks a little like tree rings.
The washwater bowl. It's just a glass mixing bowl with water, but I dropped in some orange blossom water and floated some star anise to make it pretty, and I liked it. Will have to repeat the anise for pesach, but skip the orange blossom water - the anise completely overpowered it.
The barley. We cooked it plain and then added walnuts, pine nuts, dried cherries, fresh pomegranate, and a lot of olive oil. We didn't salt it, which was fine, because we let the kids salt the eggplant before we roasted it, which was not fine. Together they taste great. For those keeping count, the barley dish rounds out the tree fruits to thirteen, and with the whole-wheat matzah that makes all seven species! Side note on the matzah, keep your eyes peeled around pesach for my recipe. Once I learned how to make it, I'm never going back to store matzah. Mine is delicious and oil rich, and we eat it as a pleasant flatbread, not just the bread of affliction.
Image description. Two photos of amanita mushrooms from overhead angles.
As a final bit, please enjoy these amanita mushrooms from the JCC. The groundskeeper is in a months-long battle with this patch that just keeps coming back. He keeps knocking over all but one so the preschoolers can safely enjoy looking only, and they keep popping up. I'm delighted - I thought these were mythical and didn't realize they grew where I live now!
If you'd like to support my work, you can buy a copy of my tu bshvat haggadah here, and the two tu bshvat stickers here and here.
#witchcraft#jewish magic#jewitch#tu bshvat#tu b’shvat#tu bishevat#jewish#judaism#haggadah#seder#siddur#jumblr#thefifthacre
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OUTSIDER (4) || Rabastan Lestrange WTM
Series Synopsis: When the truth comes out about the future inside the walls of Hogwarts, on the first night back in 1977, what will happen for those involved with the chaos that ensued?
Secrets outed, Lies revealed and true intentions determined.
Pairing: Rabastan Lestrange x Fem!Regulus Black
Notes: Starting the movies, letters, secrets
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑, Hogwarts magic swirled around the corridors obviously pleased by what would happen that day.
The first years were baffled by their first morning feast at the magical school, a variety of breakfast foods donned the wooden tables waiting to be placed on the golden plates placed in front of every seat. The tables were extended slightly to accommodate to the visiting guests who were seated with their families, tucking into the buffet of food.
Once everyone had finished eating the Great Hall seemed more lively compared to the sluggish movements beforehand, the tables were cleared thanks to the help of Hogwarts' house elves.
Dumbledore set of a small bunch of colourful fireworks from his wand to gain the attention of the hall, "If I could have your attention please-" The headmaster started "Thank you, now why don't we change the seating arrangements to something more comfortable, if the seventh years could help with the Transfiguration process that would be greatly appreciated."
Once the head of the school had finished his announcement the Professors, Visitors and seventh years pointed their wands and the benches, willing them to become separated and more plush, visualising the couches they have in their common rooms, the benches soon became yellow, blue, red and green sofas.
The future generation made their way to the front of the hall, huddling around the shrunken television Hermione had pulled from the pocket of her pink, sip-up hoodie. Draco pulled his wand out, returning the T.V to its original size before charming it to float in the air, using another growing charm so the screen was big enough for the whole hall to see.
Daphne summoned her dragonhide handbag, delicately digging around in it and soon pulling out a single package, that looked about the same size as a first year reading level book.
She opened the case handing a circular disk that was inside to the brunette girl, said girl muttering a small thank you before slotting the blue, swirling disk into a bigger box that was apparently called a DVD Player.
The group returned to their seats between their family members, Atlas slotting between Regulus, who held onto his had, and Rabastan, who slung his arm over the boys shoulder.
The screen soon lit up the dark hall, the date...
December 31st 1979:
The screen panned to a dark oak desk, three sealed envelopes laid out in a line with two neatly written initials inked on the front, a feminine hand with the nails painted black clutched onto an expensive looking quill, it soon moved after finishing the last name.
'Sirius Orion Black'
Heads turned to said boy wandering who was writing to the dramatic boy and why it was so important to be shown.
"Who would be writing to you pads?" James Potter asked his brother in all but blood quietly. Sirius just shrugged intrigue shining in his eyes, everyone turned back to the screen, exited to see what would be shown next.
The sound of a chair scraping on wood slated floor sounded from the screen, the image followed the heel-booted feet of the woman following her down the stairs and to an extravagant but dark dining room.
The screen rose showing the people inside, older versions Walburga and Orion black were seated at ether end of the marble topped table, plated filled with a moderate amount of food. An eighteen year old Regulus Black was shown taking her own seat near her father.
People turned to look at the girl, the woman on screen looked more mature even if it was just two years into the future.
"Look at little Reggie all grown up" The sound of Bellatrix's coo filled the hall.
Regulus sighed "Thanks Trixie." she humoured her slightly unhinged cousin.
"How is my Grandson doing Regulus?" Walburga asked after a sip of water, Regulus turned to look at the woman a small smile gracing her lips at the thought of her six month old son.
"Atlas is doing well mother, he is already showing signs of magic around our home." Regulus replied before steadily asking- "Why did you need me back here so urgently?"
"The Dark Lord has a need to speak with you, you will Floo to Slytherin manor as soon as you have finished your meal." Orion answered sternly.
Gasps were littered throughout the Great hall at the casual mention of the Dark Lord, some people going as far as to voice their opinions.
"She has a son but still follows you-know-who?" someone whispered.
"Does that mean she already follows him, is she going to kill me because my parents are half-blood?" Another muttered.
"I bet all her slimy friends already have the mark." A Gryffindor spoke loudly.
Sirius wasn't surprised but that didn't mean he felt any less bad about leaving her in Grimmuald Place. He knew it was ether himself or his little sister who was going to have to take the mark, he felt like a coward.
Regulus just sat without any expression, Atlas squeezed her hand before moving to the other side of her so she could sit next to Rabastan.
Regulus nodded before the scene changed, the young woman was now dressed in a Black cloak and was wearing a golden mask. She was down on one knee her head bowed, a few others lined up next to her doing the same thing.
"Rise, my friends." A cold voice echoed from the walls. A man with shallowed cheeks and shining ruby eyes was shown seated on a thrown, while the people kneeled down rose from the floor and removed their masks.
First years started to cry or shake at the sight of the dark lord, nightmares already planning to attack as soon as night fell. The older years weren't much better some looked away not wanting to see the man who had caused the deaths of others.
"Now... Regulus, my right hand I have an important mission for you." Voldemort started, Regulus bowed her head in false thanks. "As you know a prophecy was made entailing a child and myself, a child to born at the end of the seventh month is to end my rein. After some research a few my dedicated followers have managed to narrow the children down to two." He continued. "I need you, Black, to rid me of that threat."
Regulus swallowed before calmly asking, "My Lord, may I inquire who these two children belong to?"
"Longbottom is due to give birth on the 30th July 1980 while that is close to the date in the prophecy we found one closer." Voldemort replied, "Potters mudblood wife is to give birth on the 31st July 1980." He said sinisterly.
Alice Fawley and Lily Evans were clung to each other, Harry, Monty and Mia trying to calm James and the rest of the Marauders down.
Everyone was wondering if Regulus would go through with it, they knew her brother had left her for James Potter a few years back. Would she take revenge?
"I will eradicate anyone who poses a threat to you, My Lord" Regulus announced before bowing deeply, leaving the building as soon as she was given permission.
Sirius turned to face his sist- Regulus, "You better not hurt ether of them Regulus." he warned, a protective aura encasing him.
Regulus rolled her eyes, she was harsh with her pettiness but not enough to kill someone for, well, if they don't deserve it.
Regulus was shown walking up the path of Potter manor, a bag in one hand with the letters from earlier, her wand in the other. As she reached the door she knocked, soon the red wood swung open revealing twenty year old Lily Potter.
When the red haired woman saw the youngest Black she tried to close the door but before she could she spoke up,
"Wait!" The door stopped and the Potter woman narrowed her eyes, hand coming to rest on her stomach. "Give this letter to Sirius would you?" Regulus asked handing Lily the envelope with his name on.
"Why? And what are you doing here, Regulus?" The Potter woman questioned.
The Onyx haired girl ignored the first question, "Go into hiding, the Dark Lord is after your child and he wont stop until he gets what he wants." She answered looking over her shoulder every few seconds.
"Why should we trust you, your just a filthy Death Eater." A new voice spoke up, James potter was now standing Protectively in front of his wife his wand clutched tightly in his hand.
"I do not want to see magical children killed. There is a Prophecy, that is all I can say." Regulus explained adding on as an after thought, "The Longbottom's are not safe ether." Before she apparated away leaving a shocked Potter Family still standing at the front door.
Silence was the only thing in the Great Hall, Potter and Sirius staring at her wide eyed. When they had seen her walking up to Potter manor they thought they would loose each other but no, she saved them.
"How dare you disobey your Lord!" Came the screeching voice of Walburga Black, before the dreadful woman could open her mouth again, Atlas was standing.
A wordless Petrificus Totalus shot from his outstretched wand, the woman freezing in her seat as the Lestrange-Black boy calmly sat back down next to his mother.
#watching the movies#wtm#female regulus black#fem regulus black#regulus x rabastan#rabastan lestrange#regulus black#ron weasley#draco malfoy#daphne greengrass#theodore nott#golden trio era#golden trio#marauders era#hp marauders#marauders#james potter#lily potter#lily evans#alice longbottom#sirius black#padfoot#moony wormtail padfoot and prongs#prongs
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