young and posh

Courted [a Sebastian Smythe AU]

Request: ok but like. can i request a prince! sebastian? like maybe he’s a dick but he sees reader (whether she’s royal or or not idc) and tries to use charm or something like that. also, happy valentines day ! xx

a/n: seb is an ass but hes MY ass so its ok. HAPPY SINGLES DAY x

Sebastian is such a prince name; that’s what everyone says. The young prince likes how posh his name sounds. It makes him feel even more powerful. Whenever he goes into town, he makes sure his presence is known. “Prince Sebastian!” one of his royal escorts announces after blowing the horn.

Hopping of his stark white horse, the prince fixes his navy cape around his shoulders. His mossy green eyes scan the small market village, landing on a flower shop. As he struts towards it, he picks up an apple from someone’s basket, smirking and rolling the smooth fruit between his palms. The owner sighs.

His mud color knee high boots stop in the wood doorway, brushing around loose dirt. “Well, well, well, aren’t you a pretty commoner?” he flirts, biting the skin of the apple. You blush, stopping your hands from continuing to arrange the bouquet. “Tell me, what is your name, commoner?” he all but orders, swallowing after he presses the back of his hand to his mouth.

Stepping away from the table, you grab some of the light brown fabric of your skirt, curtsying and bowing your head. “My name is Y/N…my lord.” you whisper, standing up straighter while you run your fingers through your hair.

There’s a twinkle in his eyes and he puts the apple in his mouth, staring directly at you when he takes a bite. You shift on your feet nervously, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Y/N…” he repeats, tossing the fruit to the ground. Sebastian crosses his arms over his fitted red toga. “These flowers are not nearly as beautiful as you.” he tuts, scowling as he passes by the radiant nature.

“My lor-”

“Sebastian.” he interrupts, “You are allowed to call me Sebastian. You and only you.” he smirks, admiring the way he made your face heat up. His grass green eyes travel down your body, lips popping. “Are you courted yet?” You shake your head. “I am going to court you then. If you let me.” he says hopefully, strutting closer.

You gasp quietly, playing with your fingers. This is the prince you are talking to! “Your highn-” The prince shoots you a playful glare. “Sebastian.” you correct yourself, “You wish to court me, but you barely know me…” you trail off, unsure if this is acceptable to say. Probably not.

Sighing dramatically, Sebastian leans against the wood doorframe, crossing his black leather-clad legs. “Then you must tell me things.” he tilts his head slightly, eyes widened. “Because I am courting you, milady.”

Pure as Mud: Chapter 1

Summary : Dan Howell is muggleborn, Phil Lester is a pure blood. Phil dreams of Slytherin, Dan’s just happy to be a wizard. When conflict arises the boys are broken apart, only to come back together as prefects years later. Can they repair the bond their younger selves broke?

Author’s Notes : This is my first phanfic I’ve written, I really hope you guys enjoy it! Updates will come every Saturday.
I just wanted to mention that I don’t actually think Hufflepuff is the “leftover house” it’s there for other reasons and don’t worry the opinions of the characters will change!

AO3 Link

Keep reading

PADSTOW was already a bustling little port of fishermen and boat-builders in the time of Elizabeth 1st. Today, its harbour is also filled with pleasure boats of all descriptions. There is a regular ferry across the river to Rock, a village which has lately been all but taken over by the young and posh from London. When asked what the best thing about Rock is a true Padstow local will oft reply, “The view!”.


With his mother having grown up in West London and Eoin’s mother being Irish, Charlie’s accent is a bit of a muddle. He mostly speaks in his mother’s London accent – with a few twangs of Irish here and there. However, the influence of the West Country is not lost on him – usually on odd words, ones particularly related to things outside of his mothers – things related to friends or school. However, he often drops ‘H’s in his speech, common of the accent. He was relieved upon starting at Hogwarts to have more of a standard accent – and not sound ‘like a farmer’ as his friends say when the West Country shines through. He knows from television that the accent is often mocked or misunderstood, and is glad he hasn’t picked up too much of it. Even when he does slip out of the London accent, he’s probably more likely to sound Irish than West Country anyway.

[+ a youtube video about Cornish/West Country accents]

John/Sherlock - The Liquid Measure of Your Steps

TitleThe Liquid Measure of Your Steps

Author: Mazarin221b (AO3)

Rating: Explicit (NC-17)

Fandom: Sherlock

Word Count: ~8.7k

Warnings: alpha/omega, knotting, omega!bottom!john

Summary: The murder of a young alpha dancer at a posh omega club gives John and Sherlock a peek into the shadier side of the entertainment industry, where young, unsuppressed alphas are left as vulnerable targets to any omega intent on using their own bond compulsion against them.

Comments: This is a wonderful case fic with some great relationship development.  A great read!

The Master

Your twisted fantasy has become a reality.Your dream has come true…finally you  cause pain amongst others! It’s all just so much fun. Screams of pain fill your ears as you dance with the knife in hand. It is music to your ears. A huge symphony complete with a staccato rhythm and hushed ostinato.  Cries of anxiety and pain fill the air and fill you with euphoria. Maniacal laughter fills the room, echoing through the walls. It is a high pitched, sharp sound that resonates in the air and finally dies down into a deep chuckle. You wheeze a little as you try to regain your composure and pick up the blade. The screaming gets louder and rings through your mind. This is too amusing for you to handle. The very feeling of power surges through you and the realisation that you have found your calling in life has hit. 

You were meant to be a killer. 


“Room 60.” 

The lady, whose name tag read Iris, said quietly and then proceeded to hand you a small, silver key. You gave her a smile and she gulped as if on edge. Your smile tended to put people on edge as it was a sharp, insincere and sinister looking thing but you didn’t mind…in fact you loved it. You were beautiful and you knew it with your dazzling Y/E/C eyes which were framed with long,thick lashes. Your beautiful Y/H/C, Y/H/L hair was soft and had a silky texture and framed your pretty face. Before you began to pursue your life of crime you had been the object of many men’s affections but it never worked out. You were not committed and did not care for their feelings… they were all the same in the end! All they wanted was cheap sex to satisfy their raging hormones and it disgusted you.

As you made your way to your room you looked about the place. It was fancy and had a 1920s or 30s sort of style to it. It was incredibly beautiful with it’s red and gold colour scheme complete with glass chandeliers. But that did not take away the blatant aura of creepiness away from it….you knew some very bad things had happened here. Luckily, you were a bad girl and enjoyed the thrill of being in dangerous or strange places. As you walked into the room you heard a few voices behind you. It was a young, snobby looking couple with designer clothing walking through the lobby causing a ruckus. You smiled as you realised who they were. Your next victims….


You howled with laughter as you lay in a pool of blood. It was not your blood but the couple’s who you saw earlier. You felt the cold, crimson on your warm skin and the contrast made you shiver. It was almost a turn on. You glanced to the side and saw their lifeless bodies on the floor. You got up and switched the radio on…it was your favourite song. 


You sang loudly and out of tune as you danced around their dead bodies. This was shaping up to be such a great day! You managed to kill 4 people in one day and now your favourite songs were playing. You were about to finish of the chorus when a deep voice spoke behind you.

“That kind of language is very unbecoming of a young woman.” 

The voice was posh and smooth. Something you wouldn’t normally hear in 2015. You turned around a saw a man crouching down and examining the bodies. He looked up and you realised he was incredibly handsome with dark, mysterious eyes and deep. brown hair. You smiled creepily.

“So is murder. Say, handsome whatcha doin’ here?”

 You breathed out as you sauntered up to him; swaying your hips seductively. He smiled and looked at you intensely. 

“Watching you kill and I must say that you have a lot of talent.” He spoke in a proud, low tone with wide eyes. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and whispered dangerously.

“You also have a lot of beauty.” 

You raised your eyebrows in amusement and thanked him. This was rather strange now that you had thought about it. You murdered a couple, danced in their blood to The Weeknd and met a handsome man who praised you for committing such evil acts yet disliked your use of profanity. 

“Come…we have a lot of work to do.” He said and lead you out of the room all the way downstairs to a bar. It was there that you saw a woman with short blonde hair, a transgender woman, a lady who resembled Aileen Wuornos and a handsome man with a strong jawline all conversing. 

They suddenly stopped as they all saw the man who you were with and looked up at him.

“Master…” The lady who Aileen Wuornos breathed out in what seemed to be awe. This was weird. 

“Not now Aileen. I would like to present the newest member of the Hotel Cortez and my newest prodigy…Y/N!” 

He spoke clearly and everyone clapped happily. They let out a few whoops and beckoned you near them. You sat and talked the night away; occasionally glancing at ‘The Master’ who always looked back. You knew that the Cortez would be your home from now on! 

This was requested by the wonderful mrmarchswife and I hope you liked it! Be sure to check out her blog it is AMAZING! - Mavis

Older dude

Wise and honorable

Northerner accent

Blue-eyed brunette (This is like a severe weakness of mine)

Built like a brick outhouse

Why so perfect, Blackwall?

It’s not even close to finished, but I thought I might plug an in-progress shot for Blackwall Appreciation Day :D