Ben Barnes X Reader - Blog Posts

Sirius Black Must Die MASTERLIST

Summary: Sirius Black, Hogwarts’ very own womanizer, gets a taste of his own medicine when a group of 4 girls make a plan to destroy his reputation

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“I desperately need a haircut. Will you try to cut it for me? Please?” w billy

summary: billy’s hair gets a little too long for his liking. you decide to take it into your own hands. literally.

pairing: billy russo x reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: that billy gif does somethin’ to me man...

Billy had been wearing a hat every day for a week. In the house. Not going anywhere.

It was driving you insane.

"Take that stupid thing off, Billy," you’d say to him. His hair had been abnormally soft since he hadn’t been gelling it for work lately, not that you could see it. It was a stupid thing to get mad about, but tensions had been running high in your apartment. After Billy moved in, it had been much easier to spend time with him, and you were grateful for that. But during this quarantine, you both had been a little on edge.

“It looks like shit. I need a haircut,” he’d say, running his fingers through it in front of the mirror in the morning. He still woke up at an ungodly hour for some reason. It’s not like he had to. All of his meetings happened after nine o’clock in the morning, but the smell of a fresh pot of coffee brewing wasn’t the worst thing in the world to wake up to. Either way, the hair thing was stressing him out.

“It’s embarrassing,” he said, grumbling in bed after a long day of zoom calls and meetings on the phone. It was incredibly inconvenient to be running a company during this time. Especially because the people he was in charge of did most of their work in person, manually laboring away on a typical schedule. Billy had been trying to work that out over the phone, face to face with his higher-ups who were also confined to their houses.

“Just cut it yourself, Billy,” you say, sitting at your desk, typing away at an assignment that was due later on in the week. You sigh and sit back in your chair, leaning back to recline your feet on your desk and put your hands behind your head.

“I don’t know how. I’ve never had to before. I’d fuck it up,” he says, running his hands over his face and letting out a loud yawn. 

“There are videos online?” you suggest. Billy’s ears perk up.

“I think I have clippers somewhere…” he muses. He sighs.

“I desperately need a haircut,” he says, pulling a lock of hair down over his face. He goes almost cross-eyed to look at it, and it comes down to about the tip of his nose.

“I know, Billy. You complaining about it isn’t going to make your hair shorter,” you clarify, and he huffs in frustration.

“Have you ever cut hair?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to take a good look at you. It was easy to see you in the soft light of the lamp on your desk. You let out a little laugh.

“No… Actually, yes, once. I think I was like five? My mom was not happy. I gave myself bangs.” You laugh at the story, but that’s only what you had been told. It’s not like you knew the first thing about cutting hair.

“Come on, I’m serious. Will you try to cut it for me? Please?” he asks, and you check your clock.

“Right now?” you ask, and you rub your arms softly.

“I have stuff that’s due,” you say to him. He just looks at you in response.

“You could do it tomorrow if you want,” he finally says, and you close your laptop.

“No, let’s just… let's get it done tonight. I don’t want you complaining if I give you a bad haircut though,” you say, planting your feet on the ground.

“I don’t want a whole cut, just a trim. Let me go find the clippers,” he says, getting out of bed. You resist the urge to slap his ass as he walks past you.

“You don’t get to be picky, Russo,” you mutter after he leaves the door slightly ajar behind him. You take the opportunity to look up some articles and videos about cutting hair.

Billy’s setup includes one chair he got from the dining room, an old towel from the closet, and his face trimmer from under the bathroom sink.

“Okay, do you know how he cuts it? Does he just hold it like this or does he like… run a comb through it?” you stand behind him like his barber would to demonstrate, holding sections of his hair.

“I don’t know, he just, cuts it…” Billy says, adjusting the towel around his shoulder.

“Wow Billy, that’s… such a wealth of information you just gave me.”

“I don’t have eyes on the back of my head! How am I supposed to know—”

“Okay, so you’re gonna get what you’re gonna get and you’re gonna be happy, okay?” you say, and you hear him chuckle and mutter, “Oh god…”

“I can’t blend the hairline with the clippers we have,” you say after he explains the settings. You clip his hair back to see the lines the barber left behind from his last cut. It hasn’t been so long that they’ve faded too much.

“That’s okay. We can do just, high and tight on the sides. No fades.”

“You can’t move.” You clarify, and he plays with the trimmer before handing it to you.

“I know. Thank you for doing this for me by the way,” he says. He can’t see himself in the mirror, so he just has to trust you.

“Mhmm,” you agree absentmindedly as you focus, bringing the trimmer to the back of his head. You go over one spot repeatedly, but the hair doesn’t look like it’s getting any shorter.

“What do you see back there?” Billy asks, obviously scared you’re going to make him bald.

“It’s like, barely even cutting anything,” you say. You pull the clippers away from his head. He shifts in his seat.

“Uh oh. Let me feel it?” He asks and touches the hair there.

“Nope,” he agrees and gets up from his chair. He looks at the attachments and fiddles with the trimmer for a bit before he figures out the attachments were wrong, and the one you were supposed to be using was on the counter, not on the buzzer.

You turn it on and put it back to his head, and it seems to work better.

“Is that any better?” Billy asks, almost reading your mind.

“Yeah, I think so,” you respond, taking slow, precise movements through his hair. You can feel the hair gather in little piles around your feet. You find yourself in a groove and it becomes a lot less scary when you’re not worried about having him end up with some god awful buzz cut. You hold his head steady, one hand cupping the side of his face.

“It looks, chunky,” you complain, and you can feel his face scrunch up a little bit.

“I don’t know if that’s what I want to hear,” he says, tilting his head back more when you press your fingers into his jaw and guide him slowly.

But after a little while, it all starts to come together and looks much more even. You turn off the trimmer and admire your work, which is pretty darn good if you do say so yourself.

Getting up from the chair, Billy admires himself closely in the mirror. He runs his fingers over the newly buzzed sides of his head.

“I mean, up close you can tell it’s not faded, but it looks like I got a fresh cut,” he says, sitting back down. You can’t help but feel a little pride over it.

“I can clean up the sides without the guard on, like the ears and stuff,” you say.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, taking off the blade guard from the clippers.

He puts the trimmer back at your hand and now the metal gleams intimidatingly at you. It’s oddly intimate for the two of you. Something about having the blade so dangerously close to his skin was personal. Just the persistent buzz of the clippers and the stories coming from Billy about bad barbers. You can feel the goosebumps on his skin as you clean up the hair on the back of his neck. Then came the lines around his ears on both sides.

As you finished up, you offered him a mirror to see the back of it.

“If you want, I can round the edges a little more,” you offer.

“No, this is perfect. It looks great back there,” he says, moving the mirror from side to side, examining the back of his head. 

“Okay, I think we’re done!” he says, and you correct him.

“With the clippers.”

“Yes, with the clippers.” he agrees.

You wet his hair with a spray bottle newly filled with water you had retrieved from the closet, and with the smallest scissors you could find you take off little sections of hair from the top of his head. The reaction from Billy is physical, his shoulders standing a little taller, a little more confident in his new look. Some pieces of hair still cling to his t-shirt and shoulders, making him scratch at his neck.

“Hop in the shower quick and then I’ll blow dry it before you get into bed,” you tell him, and he listens, but not before he rudely kisses you, hands cupping the side of your face.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, before stripping off his clothes before he even turned the shower on. You leave the bathroom, face hot as you hear him turn it on. Maybe another day, you’d join him.

He comes out smelling good and looking fresh.

He pokes his head into the bedroom, his hair dripping wet onto the floor, with the need to tell you that he was done, not that you couldn’t hear the shower turn off all by yourself.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he says smiling, and there’s something childishly innocent about him getting excited about you blow-drying his hair.

The loud blow dryer made for little conversation to be had, but you were both fine with that. The heat on Billy’s skin made him tired, especially after the hot shower he had just taken. When his hair was sufficiently dry and you put away all of the tools from the night’s impromptu hair cutting session, Billy came up from behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his head on your shoulder. You watched him in the mirror.

“Thank you for this. It feels so much better,” he says, planting a kiss to your shoulder. The one he plants gently on your neck makes you smile. You wrap your arms around him, holding them there, around your body.

“I didn’t mind,” you clarify, “I like how it came out.”

“Now I don’t feel like I have to wear that fuckin’ hat everywhere,” he says, and pulls away, making his way down the hall to the bedroom.

“Oh thank god,” you whisper under your breath, and follow him.

In bed, you stroke Billy’s newly cut hair. Under your fingers, he pulls you just a little bit closer to him, chest to chest under the warmth of your blankets. The darkness of the night filled the room, the only light streaming in from your window was that of the moon and the stars. You smile, but Billy is already fast asleep.

It really had gotten softer.

Beauty and the Beast ~ Darkling/Aleksander

One, two, three, four

😍

Vengeance & Vanity

Part 4

Pairing: The Darkling x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aleksander have established your place on the throne, and begun your search for the Firebird. Threats still linger on the horizon, and the two of you must plan ahead.

Word Count: 2.5K

My Masterlist

A cloud of dust hits your face, prompting yet another coughing fit.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” You remark through your weezing. Aleksander raises a brow at you, the corner of his lips twisting into a small grin.

“These books contain centuries worth of knowledge, it’s bound to be a little dusty. There’s no need for dramatics.”

“The poor Corporalnik that will have to restart my lungs might disagree.” You grumble, opening the cover of the offending book. Aleksander’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he sits down facing you. It’s rare to see such boyish charm on his face. The last few months have been difficult for you both. You have been slowly regaining your strength after recovering from the wasting sickness. Through your frustration and tears, Aleksander has been nothing but patient. His confidence in your abilities has been unfailing, as he has been teaching you to summon with one hand. He’s certain that you will soon master summoning from pure will alone. You don’t know how he does it all.

The two of you have been ruling Ravka with varying levels of success. The Little Palace has been reestablished, the damage done in the attack was repaired almost immediately. As often as you can, you and Aleksander walk along the path that leads from the Grand Palace to the Little Palace. You can only marvel at the changes made in the last few months. The previous King had always been cautious of the Grisha, and in order to ensure their safety, Aleksander had encouraged the Grisha to work within the Little Palace. There had been limits on what the Grisha had been allowed to work on so that they could not be seen as a threat to the monarchy. Now that the King was gone, the Fabrikators’ workshops had a colossal influx of ongoing projects, and collaboration between the orders. After years of hardship, the Grisha were finally beginning to thrive.

Despite the good you have both managed to implement, there are still several matters that continue to both trouble and vex you. The Apparat has been drawing more followers into joining the leagues of the Sun Cult. You are certain that the Apparat has ensured that Alina remains hidden. He is now reliant on the faith of her followers, with her in his custody, he can gather enough soldiers to pose a threat to you and Aleksander. Unfortunately, your raids have only uncovered crazed fanatics - no Sun Summoner or Apparat.

The other matter is the reason why you and Aleksander are tucked away in the library of the Grand Palace, breathing in dust and decay. When he first became the General of the Second Army, Aleksander safeguarded a number of Morozova’s journals and other books documenting the existence of his amplifiers. Whilst a number of them were stolen after your first attempt at removing the monarchy, Aleksander had the foresight to conceal a number of the books in one of the passages under the Little Palace. The two of you have been reading these books to the point of obsession, in an attempt to locate the Firebird.

Several years after the creation of the amplifiers, a Squaller explorer known only as the Bone Hunter sought to find Morozova’s creatures. The Bone Hunter’s journal documented their search, and is one of Aleksander’s most valued pieces. Not only is it the first documented mention of Morozova’s amplifiers, but the Bone Hunter is the only known person to have ever seen the Firebird. You and Aleksander have been scouring the library for the past few hours, attempting to decipher the words of the journal.

It’s written in Old Ravkan, so Aleksander has no trouble reading it. You had learnt how to read Old Ravkan, but you sometimes took the translations too literally, much to Aleksander’s amusement. The landscape and borders of Ravka have changed over the centuries, and the Bone Hunter was not the best at recounting geography. They often described significant trees, which was of no help to you or Aleksander. Trees lasted centuries, but these journals’ age exceeded the majority of Ravka’s forestry. At any point in which the journals mentioned rock formations or rivers, you and Aleksander would scour map after map, looking for any place in Ravka that the journals could be referring to.

You had both agreed that the two of you would search for the Firebird together. Leaving the capital without either of you to defend it had seemed like a poor decision to you, at first. Aleksander had reasoned that the Grisha and nichevo'ya were more than capable of defending Os Alta, and that it might take both of you to take down the Firebird. The first few entries that describe the Firebird detail its ferocity, how it had torn men apart and seized them with its talons before soaring up into the air, dropping the hunters to their deaths. After reading over these entries, you begin to agree with Aleksander. The thought of facing the Firebird alone is terrifying, but the two of you can do anything together.

»»---------------------►

Evenings are always reserved for you and Aleksander to spend time alone. During the day, neither of you stray too far from the other, after all, you rule side by side. The Tsar and his Tsaritsa. Aleksander nearly always has a hand on your back as you walk through the corridors. Your knees brush while you are sat in council meetings. But once you are in the privacy of your own rooms, the two of you are attached at the hip. You won’t leave Aleksander’s arms all night. You bathe together, taking the time to wash one another, then curl up on the sofa by the fire. Sometimes you both bring whatever books you’ve been reading, on rare occasions you will convince Aleksander to read aloud to you. Other nights you will simply spend in each other’s arms. Aleksander will trail his fingers over your skin, his thumb circling your cheek as he cups your face in his hand.

In these quiet moments you will share your dreams with each other. You both have the same plans for Ravka, but these moments are sacred and not to be tarnished with the stressors of the day. At night, the two of you are free to talk about your life together. Aleksander wants to live somewhere in the South of Ravka, where it’s warmer. You want to become a writer - to document discoveries in the Small Science, or create commentary on the lives of Grisha, or analyse historic texts. Aleksander wants to take you horse riding, just the two of you, travelling across Ravka together. These private dreams are what keep you both going. The thoughts of Ravka at peace, of Grisha living in safety, which allow the two of you to finally live solely for yourselves.

It’s during one of these evenings that Aleksander shares an idea with you.

“Do you remember when we first met?” He asks, tilting his head to look at you. Your legs are draped over his thighs, your body pressed against his side.

“Of course.” He lifts a brow at you, encouraging you to recount it, at which you laugh softly as you remember. “I tried to pick your pocket.” He hums fondly as he casts his mind back, and you add quietly. “You know, you’re the only person who’s ever caught me.”

“Do you want to know why that is?”

“You sensed the presence of your soulmate?” You suggest with a small smirk. A smile tugs at his lips, and he laughs lightly.

“Close, but no.” You glance at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate. “You were bending the shadows.” You frown at his explanation.

“How? I couldn’t summon for weeks after I arrived at the Little Palace.”

“I think you did it subconsciously, bending the shadows slightly, so that you would remain hidden while you rifled through my kefta.” You pause for a moment, thinking his words over.

“So I wasn’t actually a good thief, just a secret Shadow Summoner.” You comment, a small amount of dejection in your tone. Amusement twinkles in his eyes as he regards you.

“I have another theory.” You nod, and he continues, “I think you could bend the shadows further, and completely hide yourself.”

“Become invisible?” He nods,

“I didn’t see you, I sensed your shadows.” He reasons, and your brow creases as you think it over. “I discussed this with the Fabrikators, David thinks it might be possible.”

“Have you ever tried to do it?” Aleksander looks away from you at that question. Staring into the fire, his dark eyes reflecting the flicker in the hearth with startling clarity.

“No, I haven’t.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask him, your voice scarcely a whisper.

“I think that my mother’s affinity for the shadows was a result of Morozova’s experiments, which she then passed onto me.” You watch his face carefully, as you think over his words. It’s likely. Morozova was incredibly eccentric. A lot of his experiments weren’t fully articulated in his journals. Even with Aleksander’s explanations, you still don’t fully understand how Merzost works. “Whilst I have more experience, more power in the sense of using Merzost, I believe that, with the right amplification, the scope of your power will exceed my own.” Your heart hammers in your chest, as you attempt to process all this information.

“That’s why you believe the Firebird should be mine.” He nods,

“The most powerful amplifier in existence.”

“But you can summon the shadows? We’re still both the same?” He looks away from the fire for the first time, eyes searching your face. He recognises the look in your eyes, the fear of being the only one.

“Of course we are, milaya.” He reassures you, tracing his fingers delicately over your cheek. “You and I are two of a kind.” His voice is soft, and warm with the underlying affection he reserves only for you. “Though I suspect you are more of a Shadow Summoner than I am.” He remarks with a small chuckle, which you frown at. “It can’t be a coincidence, you and Alina appearing within a century of each other. You’re closer to her age than you are mine.” He reasons.

“If this is you attempting to play matchmaker, I’m afraid she’s not my type.” You remark with a smirk. “And I’m already quite taken.” Aleksander cups your face as he lifts a brow.

“Really? And who might this lucky suitor be?” You smile as you lean towards his lips, brushing your nose against his as you reply,

“Only the Tsar of Ravka.” Aleksander moves forward, capturing your lips with his own in a kiss filled with adoration. There’s a tender smile on his lips as he pulls away, pressing his forehead against your own.

“Moya Tsaritsa.” He sighs against your lips, as the two of you lean into each other’s embrace. “Moi sol ye tselai.” My sun and stars. Your own smile widens, as you whisper,

“My Aleksander. I love you more than anything.”

»»---------------------►

Over the course of the next week, you attempt to master bending the shadows. Aleksander offers you suggestions and pointers, and you’re soon able to disappear from view. Of course, Aleksander can still sense your presence, he would recognise the tug of your shadows anywhere. Corporalki can still detect your heartbeat, something you found out when you were attempting to sneak up on Fedoyr - much to your disappointment. David was delighted when he heard that you had managed to bend the shadows. You had visited him in his workshop and he had rattled off a number of other theories he had, which you had some trouble following. Luckily Aleksander had appeared to inform you of an emergency meeting before you became too confused.

“Has something happened?” You ask Aleksander as you follow him through the halls towards the War Room. His shoulders are tense, and the shadows around you both are eager to shift as you walk by.

“One of our Tailors has returned from the North with information regarding the whereabouts of the remaining Royals.” Your eyes widen as you look at Aleksander, hardly daring to believe it. That after so long, you might be able to finish this. You had heard from some of your spies that Alina had escaped from the Apparat, if this is true then it’s likely that she will have sought out Prince Nikolai. Meaning that both the Royals and the Sun Summoner could finally be within your grasp.

The assembled Grisha bow as you and Aleksander enter the War Room, and you both take your places at the head of the table. Thankfully, the meeting opens with the report from the Tailor. He’s young, though most Grisha feel young to you now. He explains how he had joined up with a group of rogue Grisha who planned to lend their support to the Sun Summoner. Which led him to the Lanstov’s hideout. The Monastery of Sankt Demyan.

The Tailor shows promise of being a good spy. He answers all questions about the hideout. About the number of supporters gathered there, and the weapons being developed. One of the archivists produces some blueprints of the monastery, created during its renovation into an observatory a few hundred years ago. The Tailor confirms that the layout remains the same, detailing the functions of each room. This is what you’ve been waiting for, the means to coordinate a strike against the resistance and secure yours and Aleksander’s position on the throne. The Tailor also informs you that the Sun Summoner had recently arrived at the hideout. It almost seems too good to be true. Of course, it’s likely that something will go wrong, but now you have a direct course of action, and Aleksander always has a plan.

The meeting goes on for several hours, as your council contemplates a number of different strategies for your strike on the hideout. You organise the necessary resources and debate the most efficient route into the mountains. It’s late into the afternoon when you and Aleksander are finally alone.

“I would have liked you to have the Firebird’s power before facing her again.” Aleksander admits. You take his hands in your own.

“I wasn’t at my strongest the last time.” You remind him. “Our scouts have reported possible signs of the Firebird in the valleys of the Sikurzoi, which aligns with what we’ve gathered from the Bone Hunter.” He nods along with your words. “Once this has been taken care of, we can search for the Firebird ourselves.”

His fingers trace their over each of your knuckles, before his touch slides up your forearms, drawing you into his arms. You lean your head against his chest. Reassured by the familiar feeling of his kefta against your cheek, and the faint beating of his heart under it all. He traces his hand over your cheek, and you look up at him. You can see contemplation in his eyes, and you know he’s trying to make a decision. A small smile flickers across his face.

“I have something I need to ask of you.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing lightly to convey your support.

“Anything.”

»»---------------------►

V & V Tag List: @hummelmi @james-bucky-barnes-bitch @scarlettels @visd3stele