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feyreswaterybowels · 5 months

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⭒The Silent One⭒

#4 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Cassandra visits Vale. They get the information they need and Cassandra…gets revenge and we see a glimpse of her powers lurking under the surface.

Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence. mentioned/implied rape. mentioned/implied castration. female rage. protective!azriel. protective!bat boys.

Authors Note: All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! Bold italics are mental communication, regular italics are inner thoughts.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked, looking at Rhysand then Azriel.

“Is everything okay?” Morrigan asks, setting her bags down, Cassandra following suit.

“We tried to question Vale today,” Rhysand responded, straightening out his suit jacket. Glancing at Azriel, who still wore that look of pure death.

“Tried?” Morrigan asks, her own arms folding across her chest.

Rhysand took in a deep breath, looking at Cassandra, a slight frown on his face.

“He said he’ll only answer our questions if you’re in the room—”

“No.” Morrigan cuts him off immediately, straightening her spine.

“Mor,” Rhysand warns.

“You’re actually considering it? You would let her be in a room with that—that monster,” She snarled, stepping closer to her friend’s side.

Cassanda’s eyes met Azriel’s again, less intense as if to comfort her but his shadows still a fury around him.

“He wouldn’t get anywhere near her. It’s not your decision, Morrigan,” Rhysand said, mouth in a tight line.

“It’s not yours either, it’s Cassandra’s,” Azriel said, “He doesn’t have to touch her to cause more trauma. You do not have to see him if you don’t want to.”

“But it would be a great help to easily get the information from him,” Rhysand said, giving his brother a warning look.

Cassandra chewed on her bottom lip. Morrigan was still standing partially in front of her, legs spread apart, arms crossed as if she would fight Rhysand if he tried to step towards her. Rhysand had an expecting look on his face and Cassian looked…awkward? Maybe he didn’t like his friends arguing this way. Cassandra knew she didn’t.

“What would I do, just stand there? Would I—would I have to talk to him?” She asked, and Rhys shook his head.

“No, of course not and yes you would just be there in the room,” Rhysand answers and Azriel hisses.

“That is not the full truth,” He says, siphons surging on the back of his hands, shadows darting in every direction.

“Azriel—”

“Tell me, Rhysand, please. I can handle it. I want to help but I have to know what I’m getting into,” She said, straightening herself out, stepping from behind Morrigan. How could she expect them to believe she could handle things if she stayed cowering behind Morrigan or Azriel? She could do this.

Azriel fixed her with a look, as if he was proud of her actions.

“He initially asked for Neema. She shut that down quickly. He then specifically asked for you because he…wants to look at you,” Rhysand explains and Cassandra felt her stomach flip, nausea overcoming her.

“I can get the answers we need in other ways without traumatizing her further,” Azriel growls at his brother, noticing her distress, “Cassandra, you don’t have to—”

“Look at me,” She repeated breathlessly. Blinking her eyes furiously to fight the images trying to flash before her. “That’s what he used to do. He couldn’t touch me because I would be damaged goods—he’d get less money for me. So he would make me stand there unclothed and look at me while he touched himself or Neema. Just let me look at you is what he would say.”

She heard the harsh breath Rhysand let out, she didn’t look his way.

“Cassandra,” It’s Azriel’s voice in her head but she shakes her head, breathing deeply.

In. Out.

She opens her eyes and looks into those hazel ones, patients and concern swirling there.

“You’ll be there?” She asked, and he nodded instantly.

“Of course, I’ll be there,” He answers. She nods to herself. Thinking.

“What happens to him after he’s questioned?” She ask, would he be let go? Locked away?

“He’ll be killed,” Rhysand answers bluntly.

“Good.” Is her answer. “I’ll do it.”

“You’re sure?” Azriel asks, worry creasing those brows while a relieved look comes over Rhysand’s face.

“Yes,” She answered. “When?”

“The sooner the better,” Rhysand said, and though he still looked relieved that Cassandra agreed she could see the apology in those violet eyes.

“I would like to put my things away first,” She said, Azriel crossing the short distance between them.

“I’ll help you bring your bags up,” He offered, giving her no room to protest before he scooped her bags up easily.

As they entered the house she could hear Mor as she began yelling at Rhysand.

Azriel let her lead the way to her bedroom, she was getting fairly good at navigating the halls. She liked to roam around in the middle of the night when everyone else was sleeping. This house was huge but she was sure she could get to the main areas of the house with little to no help.

When they got to her room she pushed the door open and walked in. She looked over her shoulder to see Azriel standing at the door. She raised an eyebrow in question and the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.

“I can’t come in, remember,” He says, and she was glad to see some of that light amusement return to his eyes.

“Oh, well, come in,” she said, he looked skeptical for a moment before slowly extending his leg through the doorway before stepping fully in.

“Rhys doesn’t mess around with his wards,” He says when he notices the look on her face. “If you hadn’t invited me in and I tried to just walk in I would have ricochet off it straight into the wall back there.”

Cassandra let out a breathy laugh, gesturing to the bed for Azriel to put the bags down.

“Did you have a good day with Mor?” He asked gently and she turned to him with a small smile and nodded. She was grateful he asked. Talking about the day would distract her from what they were going to do after this.

“It was amazing, Azriel! I've never experienced anything like that. It was a bit overwhelming if I’m honest but Morrigan made it easy to enjoy myself,” She smiled again as he perched himself on the end of the bed, his attention focused fully on her. She grabbed one of the bags pulling it over—the one with all of the pastries in it.

“We went to this lovely little bakery,” she started, pulling out various treats. “Morrigan told me to pick out anything I wanted—everything looked and smelled so good, it was hard to choose.”

“It does smell delicious,” Azriel agreed, eyes scanning over the arrangement of food laid out on the bed, wrapped in papers and boxes.

“These two bags are just some clothes Morrigan helped me pick out, that one is a gown, I’m still not sure what I would need it for but it is very pretty,” She told him, grabbing that bag, unzipping it to show him the gown, the one that perfectly matched his siphons. If he noticed he didn’t comment.

“That is very pretty, you could wear it for Starfall coming up,” He said, a small smile on his face when she looked up at him.

“Do you think it would be possible for me to visit my mothers grave that day?” She asked, as Starfall was one of the few good memories she had with her mother.

“Of course, you never have to ask, we can go visit her any time you’d like,” Azriel promises, “What else did you get?”

Cassandra smiled at him, showing him the rest of her haul from the day. He snickered at the books but just as Morrigan had, said he would be more than happy to help her learn to read. It made her happier than he probably realized.

After she finished showing him everything he stepped out of the room so she could freshen up—change her clothes and mentally prepare herself.

She changed into an outfit that was a bit too big for her. Long sleeves and long pants. She didn’t want him to see her skin, she didn’t want him to see her at all. But what he did to Neema? To so many other girls? To her? She couldn’t sit by and not help get answers, justice.

She knew Azriel noted the outfit she was wearing but chose not to say anything.

“We’re going to winnow there, are you okay with that? We haven’t done it since that first night,” Azriel asked and Cassandra simply nodded, stepping closer to him, tucking her wings close to her back as he wrapped an arm around her.

The place they arrive at was beautiful yet terrifying.

“Where are we?” She asked, looking around. He doesn’t answer out loud as he leads her down a dark avenue.

“This is the Hewn City. The rest of Prythian does not know of the existence of Velaris. They believe Rhysand only rules over this part of the Night Court—the Court of Nightmares.”

“Oh.” Is her answer, she tries not to look at anything or anyone as thet move through the streets of this underground city—no, not underground, inside of a mountain. She wondered if it was the same mountain the House of a wind was on—she would ask later.

The walk was mostly silent. They walked across many bridges and flights of stairs. Going through most of the city. Down and around and down some more. Her legs and feet hurt and just when she was ready to tell Azriel she couldn’t go anymore they halted.

Cassandra looked at him in question. He simply nodded towards the wall, she didn’t see anything.

“He’s behind here,” Azriel explains, his eyes scanning her face.

“Okay,” she nodded slowly, not totally understanding since there was no door.

“Rhys will be there the entire time. Cassian will be there the entire time. I will be with you the entire time. Don't be fearful. Don’t let him scare you. If you find yourself feeling uncomfortable tell me immediately and I’ll get you out of there. He’s chained up, he will not lay a finger on you. If he even tried he would die,” Azriel promised. She looked up at him, unease filling her and took in a deep breath as he added , “Would you feel safer if I gave you this?”

She looked down, in his outstretched hand laid a black hilted dagger with a sharp and shiny blade.

She reached out, taking it gently from his hand.

“I’ve never used one before,” she whispered, looking down at the knife in her hand.

“You won’t need to use it, but if you did Truth Teller wouldn’t let you miss,” Azriel spoke confidently. “You ready?”

She looked up at him and nodded her head.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Azriel hated this. Hated it. His shadows hissed in ear not to bring her in. To protect her. To grab her and take her back to the House of Wind.

And though he wanted to, he wouldn’t do that to her. She deserved to make her own decisions but this just felt so wrong.

But after he sheathed Truth Teller and tied it around her waist he felt slightly better.

She didn’t know the weight of the dagger, its power or what it meant to him. All that mattered in this moment is it made her feel safe and it gave him some peace of mind that if somehow this piece of shit got through three warriors she had a weapon that could kill.

“Lets go,” he says, offering his hand to her, she places it there gently and much to her surprise they turn to the wall and he led her straight through.

On the other side was a dark hall, no doors, lit only by a few lights and she grasped Azriel’s hand tighter.

“This is where we keep a majority of prisoners that haven’t been sentenced for crimes or are being questioned,” Azriel explained, voice low and quiet.

“Is Kamari here?”

“No, she’s in a cell under the House of Wind. She’s not dangerous—a terrible person yes, but not dangerous to anyone she could potentially interact with. We don’t want this guy anywhere near the females and too many of them live and work at the house. That’s why he’s here. No one can get in here except Rhys, Cassian, myself and anyone we choose to allow in,” Azriel explained, stopping at another seemingly empty stretch of wall. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she said, fingers twisting at her side. “I’m scared to see him.”

“You don’t need to be scared but do you want to leave?” Azriel asks, taking a step closer to her, ready to scoop her up and take her home.

“No, I want to do this,” she shook her head.

“Okay, he’s right on the other side of this wall,” Azriel explained, trying to prepare her. “When we first walk in, his back will be to us so you don’t have to see his face straight away. You’re welcome to stand but there are chairs if you’d like to sit. Rhysand will be in charge of the interrogation if you believe he’s lying about something or leaving details out don’t hesitate to tell one of us. Rhys says he’ll have communications open so you can talk to him or Cassian easily if you need to. You do not have to speak to this guy but he will try to speak to you. He’s going to want to scare, to tell you all of the things he’s done—he knows what his fate is after we get what we want from him. You have the power here. You say stop then we stop and I take you out of there.”

Azriel watches as she takes a shaky break, closing her eyes to calm herself. When she opens them Azriel is still standing there patiently.

“Okay. Okay, I’m good,” She nods her head in a way that’s reassuring to herself, grazing her hand over Truth Teller before dropping her hands to her side.

She watches as Azriel approaches the wall, stepping through easily as they had done before. Another deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms across her pants before she too walks forward, straight through the wall.

The room is a bit brighter than the hallway and it takes her eyes a moment to adjust before they fix on the figure in the middle of the room. His blue skin and the clothes he’s wearing looks dirty, he’s chained to a chair and his head turns slightly as if sensing she entered the room, but not enough to see her yet. She wanted to cling to the wall and beg Azriel to come back to her side.

But she didn’t.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of cowering.

She knew the three men in this room wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her. She scanned the room, there were two chairs further away from where the male was sitting while Rhysand sat in one directly in front of the male just a few steps away. Cassian stood with his back to a large stone, giving her a small nod when they made eye contact and Azriel stood there behind the man—in a spot she could see him from wherever she chose to stand, a look on his face she hadn’t quite seen before. She could tell only one thing about that look though, he would enjoy killing Vale.

Cassandra made her way to the opposite wall of where she had entered, choosing not to sit but to stand, using the wall as support, keeping her wings tucked as she leaned back against the wall.

“Come on High Lord, give me my sight back now. You said I would be able to see her,” Vale hissed, the sound of his voice like a shot of ice down her spine, she suppressed the reaction easily enough.

Rhysand looked over his shoulder at Cassandra, silently asking her if she was okay, if she was ready. She simply nodded. He waved his hand and those eyes, the ones she still had dreams about suddenly zeroed in on her. It took everything in her to suppress any reaction that time.

A grin spread across his face as his eyes tracked her body. Up and down, taking in every detail.

“Wow. Look at you,” he said, licking his lips, “you look even better than I remember. I…wish I could see more.”

“Yeah, well you can’t,” Cassian is the one to answer.

“What no hello?” Vale grinned again.

“She’s not required to speak to you, that wasn’t part of the deal,” Rhysand’s voice thundered through the room.

“Not that she could anyway” Vale sniggered, nodding his head, eyes still trained on Cassandra. “Alright come on, ask me the questions.”

He sounded bored but Cassandra wasn’t stupid and neither were any of the males in that room. There was fear in those black eyes. He did indeed know his fate.

“How long have you been in the business of purchasing females and selling them to sex houses?” Rhysand asked.

“I don’t know, a year maybe,” Vale groans at the look Rhysand gives home. “Look, man, I drink and smoke myself out every day I lose a good bit of time.”

“I was at the pleasure house with Kamari for 2 years and with him for almost a year.” Cassandra says, and Rhys nods in acknowledgment.

“Wanna think a little harder about that? It’s definitely been more than a year,” Rhysand said, Vale narrowing his eyes into slits.

“How could you possibly know that? Why ask if you’re just gonna say I’m lying?” Vale bares his teeth at Rhysand.

“Why lie in the first place? You know your fate, lying won’t change that. You know I could enter your mind and destroy it in a second while getting the answers I seek. I’m doing you a courtesy by asking this way.”

Vale is silent for a moment before glancing at Cassandra. “Four years.”

“How many women did you buy and sell during that time? How did you find them?” Rhysand asked, Vale took a deep breath, looking up at the roof as if thinking.

“Probably eighty,” He says, Rhys’ face hardens further at that—Cassian’s mouth falling open slightly.

“Eighty women in four years? Or 80 every year for four years?” Rhys asks through clenched teeth.

“Eighty in all four years,” Vale confirms and while it’s a relief, that’s still a lot of women. “Most of them were sold to me by family members who owed me money, but couldn't pay it back so they sold me a daughter, wife, sister instead.”

“How did you learn of these pleasure houses buying females from people like you?” Rhysand asked.

“Word gets around the streets. There’s only three that will buy the females. The Velvet Pearl, Hidden Desires and Lavender house. Kamari recruits men to find the women and sells them for money—usually addicts looking for a fix. She buys her drugs from me, that's how I got started.” Vale explained.

“How many of them did you keep for yourself?” Rhysand asked, and Vale just laughed.

“Not as many as you might think. It never even crossed my mind to have a little fun with the merchandise before selling to the pleasure houses. Neema—she’s the only one I ever kept seeing as she’s my mate and all,” Vale confessed and Cassandra couldn’t stop the gasp she took in.

“That’s right,” Vale grinned. “The bond snapped into place the night her brother sold her to me.”

“And you thought that was the proper way to treat your mate,” Cassian snarls. Vale simply shrugs his shoulders, looking back at Cassandra.

“If she hadn’t been my mate though, I would have kept you,” Vale said, smiling at Cassandra. “Everything I did to her I would have done to you—including removing those horrid wings. Tell me, which one of these bastards got the pleasure of bending you over and fucking you—”

Vale’s rant is cut off when one of Azriel’s shadows wraps around his throat. The blue skinned male chokes, eyes widening.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you,” Azriel hisses, only letting up his shadow’s grip when Cassandra nods her head at him.

“At least any one of these males could get a woman into their bed without having to rape her,” Cassandra retorts, Cassian snorting out an amused laugh, relaying the message when Vale looked his way, turning back and snarling at Cassandra like a rabid wolf.

The interrogation went on for what felt like hours. Vale answered the questions Rhysand asked. Cassandra confirmed if he was being truthful or not for certain things. And they all stood there as he described every awful, vile, disgusting thing he did to the women he bought and sold. How he had brutalized and assaulted them before selling them off to be salves for pleasure houses.

He knew none of their names. None except Neema. He didn’t even know Cassandra’s name and she was standing right there in front of him.

He did however know the names of all the ones who sold the females—they now had a list of where to start, of how to find the females that had been sold off to the three pleasure houses.

It’s was when they were getting ready to leave that things started going sideways. Azriel had check in many times with Cassandra to make sure she was okay. And she had been, despite this feeling in her stomach, this thrumming that made her skin feel like it was vibrating.

“So, I guess it would be out of line to ask for a turn with you before I go out?” Vale laughed, leering at Cassandra. And it was Cassian’s fist that landed the blow to his face.

“Fuck! You know,” Vale continued with a laugh, blood dripping from his mouth, “your father almost sold me your sister instead. Pretty little thing she is.”

He just wants to rile you up.

He wants to scare you.

He wants a reaction.

“Only he wouldn’t have got as much for her cause she’d had sex with some male. She was used—but man, if he had I would have kept her, too, I would have taken both of you and kept you just like that little bitch in my basement—“

Cassandra snarled and something inside of her snapped. Before anyone could blink she was across the room Truth Teller gripped in her hand and pressed against Vale’s throat as she crouched over him. Black eyes widened in shock—fear. Good. He wasn’t expecting it.

“Cassandra?” Azriel’s concerned voice sounded muffled and far away. She didn’t take her eyes away from the man cowering beneath her.

“She can shield?!” is Cassian's alarmed shout.

“Cassandra?!” Rhys calls out, feeling whatever shield was around her vibrate as he sent a blast of magic into it.

“I don’t think she can hear us, Rhys!” Azriel calls out.

Cassandra could hear them but the look on Vale’s face was too satisfying to look away from. She pressed the dagger harder against his neck, digging it into the skin there, scenting his blood.

“Are you afraid?” She asked, faces only inches apart. She wasn’t sure how she was talking to him but she didn’t care either. Not when the smell of blood mixed with urine as he pissed on himself.

“Please, p—please,” he begged, trying to pull away from the blade digging into his throat.

“Cassandra, come on, let the shield down, love!”

“I remember begging you like that before you took my tongue. I shouldn’t let them kill you, everything you did to me, to Neema, to all those other girls you deserve to have done to you,” she snarls, Truth Teller thrumming in her hand as if encouraging her to slit his throat and watch him bleed out.

“What the hell is happening, Rhys?” Cassian’s voice rings outside of that shield.

“Fuck!” Azriel hisses as he tries to touch that shield, his hand bouncing off of it immediately.

“I should take your eyes,” she declared. “So that you can never look at anyone again. I should take your tongue the way you took mine. Chop off your cock so you can never fuck again. I should do all that and let you live with it every day of your miserable life!”

He cries out, struggling under her and she laughs. Right there in his face she laughs.

This is the male she had been afraid of?

This is the male that tortured her everyday in that basement? This pathetic excuse of a male.

“Absolutely pathetic,” she spits, snarling at him.

She drops Truth Teller from her hand, falling somewhere between their bodies as she grips his head on either side. “Look at me!” She bellows, forcing his eyes to meet hers. Panicked terror looked back at her and she smiled.

“Kill me, just kill me, please!” He begged, thrashing under her, her wings spreading to keep herself stead where she was crouched over him—drowning out the voices beyond the shield. He’d had no remorse for anyone else, he deserved no remorse. She leans down, close to his ear, changing her grip on his head.

“No,” she mouths against his ear as it echoes in his head. Then her thumbs are pressing into those black soulless eyes, his screams echoing around them with nowhere to go, pressing and pressing until they pop. Turning into a bloody mess under her hands. His screams don’t stop as she speaks.

“You’ll never see again,” she said, grabbing Truth Teller once again sliding it along his exposed skin. “You're lucky I don’t take your hands and tongue. I won’t take your life either. You’ll suffer the way me and so many other girls did.”

She slides off of him, his screams turning into whimpering cries.

“Cassandra?” The voice sounded normal again and she looked up, green eyes meeting violet. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” She asked, glancing at the man she had just maimed without a second thought.

“I’m not worried about him, are you okay?” Rhysand asks again, taking a step closer to her.

“I’m okay,” she nods, slipping Truth Teller back into its sheath, not hiding the angry tears that welled in her eyes. “I want him to have to live with what he’s done. Death will be too kind for the offenses he’s committed—for the way he’s violated so many.”

“If you no longer wish death on this male so be it, we will lock him away to rot for the rest of his days,” Rhysand promises and I nod my head.

“I only have one request,” I tell him, glancing at the man still moaning and whimpering—whispering to himself about his eyes being gone and begging for mercy.

“What is it?” Rhysand asked.

“Take his cock,” I demand, there’s no question or judgement in those eyes. He nods but Azriel is the one to speak up.

“Done.”

Tag list: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @mariahoedt @railingsofsorrow @fightmedraco @nickishadow139 @a-courtof-azriel

#oh so much happened in this one #there’s a lot to unpack here #Cassian’s ’she can shield?!’ is giving ‘jack jack has powers?!’#Cassandra is quickly becoming one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever written #acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #Azriel x fem!oc

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baldurs-writers-3 · 5 months

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This week, we have fics focusing on Tav! Check under the cut for eight fics that explore custom Tavs as they navigate the challenges of BG3. And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

staeve multiverse by Deerna (30082,Not Rated) Warnings: Check individual fics for rating and content notes Pairings: Astarion/Halsin/Tav

This is a relatively large collection of fics surrounding Staeve, the drow rogue made by Velnna

Reccer says: Staeve is a super fun tav, and there are so many fun fics exploring his dynamic with his partners.

Be Worth Something by Masterangst12 (4445,Not Rated) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Tav (named Axel) gives Astarion a present, a thoughtful gesture and Astarion sucks it up and returns the kindness by learning to comfort someone else for once.

Reccer says: I love how everyone picked up on the signs of Axel's self-worth issues, and I love Astarion's response to them even more

Under the Sussur Tree by spacesunderstairs (73724,Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Halinae (a reclusive drow bard) wakes up on a mindflayer ship and must find her way out.

Reccer says: I really like Halinae as a character, and enjoy seeing her interact with the various companions.

tomorrow (and tomorrow, and tomorrow) by maximumentropy (51352,Mature) Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con (though the non-con is not super explicit, if that helps), Self harm Pairings: Astarion/Halsin/Tav

Astarion is newly freed from Cazador, and Morrow is newly freed from their own abusive master. And Halsin? Halsin is the only one who knows the three of them are soulmates.

Reccer says: I really like Morrow as a character, and the way these three play off each other and grow together. Just very lovely all around

Fidelity by narla_hotep (102674,Mature) Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Body Horror Pairings: The Emperor/Tav

Fidelius was a thrall; a mind flayer's loyal servant who obeyed his master's every whim. But everything changed when the nautiloid descended. Now with his master missing and presumed dead, Del is free for the first time in decades... And he has absolutely no idea what to do with it.

Reccer says: The premise is executed so well, and the descriptions are wonderfully visceral.

Weight of The Crown by Nikolai_237 (2613,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Karlach/Tav

A young Archfey warlock attempts to become familiar with a mysterious power bestowed to him.

Reccer says: I really enjoy the feywild imagery, and Rivera is just a joy to read

And two fics each for:

Oathbreaker by Mellybaggins (186136,Explicit) Warnings: Dead dove content, major character death, rape, torture, religious trauma, gaslighting/emotional manipulation Pairings: Tav/Astarion, Tav/Halsin, Tav/OC

The fic follows Morwen, an oathbreaker paladin Tav through the events of the game, but also during her rich backstory as told through recovered suppressed memories.

Reccer #1 says: It seems to start as just another Tav fic but really takes off after Raphael messes with her and the suppressed traumatic memories start to resurface. Reccer #2 says: Morwen is such an interesting Tav, and I love fics that really dig into the divide between good vs evil, especially in such a dark way.

Until I Met You by onlymine139 (50846,Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Halsin/Tav

A slow burn that focuses on developing the relationship between Tav and Halsin during the events of BG3.

Reccer #1 says: It helps to fill in some of the gaps in the in game romance with Halsin as well as develop some cute friendships with the other companions. Heavy on Tav's (Tav'ahria) backstory as well, who was also present for the unleashing of the shadow curse. Reccer #2 says: I really enjoy the sweet back and forth between Tav and Halsin, and their companions' sometimes disastrous matchmaking attempts.

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be back with Humorous Fics!

#bw3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic rec list #fanfiction #bg3 tav #bw3 rec list

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xjaylyn · 2 months

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PART 4 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: Its been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance

a/n: lmao y'all I just be lying this part is not short.💀 Also some changes have been made to the BB timeline just for one little scenario.

…UNKNOWN LOCATION...

The sound of heels can be heard coming down the hallway, paced with urgency. Opening the doors into the luxury office, the middle-aged woman steps in front of the desk, the office chair facing the city view. Clearing her throat, the woman speaks out.

"Sir, I have news of—"

Turning to face the voice, the long-haired man interrupts the woman. "Good news, I hope," he says, stroking his beard.

"N-no, sir, unfortunately, it's not that good," she says with a sheepish smile.

Taking a deep breath, the man closes his eyes and leans his head back, clenching his fist. Opening his eyes, he stares at the woman, his eyes showing a glint of irritation signaling he may snap depending on the weight of the news.

"She made it."

--------------------------------------------------------

'Well, shit.'

Staring back at the group looking at her with a mixture of confusion and wariness, Rya leans back in her seat.

"You got some explaining to do," Mike says, crossing his arms.

Rya takes notice of their body language: defensive and ready. Rita's hand near her gun, Marcus with his hands on his side ready if need be, Kelly and Dorn standing defensively. Armando leaned forward in his seat.

She can tell they are wary of her and her next move. 'Can't blame them.' Glancing at the monitors for a second, she puts her cuffed hands up visible so they can see them. "Everything you need to know is here," she says, nodding her head towards the monitors.

Rita steps forward, aiming her gun at Rya. "That's not important. What were you sent for? Who do you work for?"

"I sent myself. I don't work for anybody…not anymore."

Mike steps forward, dropping his hands. "Alright, let's calm down for a moment. Rita, drop the gun. And Rya, if that's your real name, you need to get to explaining some shit, and truthfully," he says, getting between Rita and Rya.

Noticing her hesitate to drop her gun, unsure if it would be safe to, Mike walks over to Rita's side. "She's all we got. Give her a chance to speak, and if not, then we handle it. But…let's not lose our only connection," he whispers in her ear. Looking up at him, Rita slowly drops her arms. "If she's playing us, you better have a way to fix it," she says, keeping her gun by her side.

"I wasn't lying to you all. I just didn't tell the whole story. I had to make sure I could trust you all," she starts, keeping her hands up.

"So what's the whole story?" Marcus asks, raising his brow.

Pursing her lips, she never told her whole story out loud before. She has always held in everything she has ever gone through, but this was her only chance, so she explained everything.

"Me and my sister are prisoners to Sergio…and have been since I was 10 and her 6. He killed my parents because my father didn't finish his job and instead ran off with my mother to start a family. He waited until my father was comfortable and thought he was safe, to come and take everything from him. My mother didn't know the type of man my father was and neither did we…until it all happened."

Pausing for a second, she continues, "He made sure my father watched my mother die and me and my sister get taken. He made me and my sister watch him beg for mercy before killing him." They watched as she explained everything with no emotion on her face, almost like she has explained this story a million times and was numb to the trauma.

"He took us to this 'camp,' I guess you can call it. There he locked my sister away and told me that if I was to listen and do everything he says I would be able to free my sister. So…I did. I was put in training every day along with others. We were taught skills in numerous forms of combat, espionage, and weaponry. I was taught to conceal my emotions and endure various forms of torture. I was trained to be able to endure and adapt to any environment I was in, which I perfected sooner rather than later. I was the youngest one to show promise of loyalty and became Sergio's lead agent. Since the age of 13, I have done a lot of things I regret and hurt a lot of people." Pausing for a second, she shakes her head. "…The things I had to do are unforgivable, but I pushed through…for my sister."

"So you're a spy? For what?" Rita asks.

"His secret collective. The camp I told you about is where he 'creates' his agents. We are assigned to kill any powerful being that threatens his family's legacy and power. We're also tasked with jobs to bring in all his supply…that can be drugs, possible business partners,…people to join in the camp…anything he needs to keep his operation going."

"So he's power hungry?" Mike asks.

"Extremely so…we are just like any other animal…we have a primal instinct we can't control whenever we get power and control over someone. That feeling of power…it becomes addicting, and his family has held their reign for decades. The only problem with Sergio is that his father doubted he would be able to keep their legacy, said he would be the downfall of their wealth," she says, looking at everyone.

Watching as Armando leans back to pull out the tube of liquid out of his pocket and inspect it. "Sergio didn't take lightly to that and took extreme measures to make sure he wasn't what his father said he was…I've seen and experienced how he gets his power…he needs to be stopped, and it's not just whoever is involved that gets affected. He plans to release this drug everywhere so he can take over other countries," she continues.

"How does he get his control?" Marcus asks.

"Those drops are how he controls people," Rya says, pointing her hands towards the tube in Armando's hands. "He hires and brings in a bunch of biomedical scientists to create a drug that grants him the ability to control people and their minds. He has doctors to inject those in training to be able to manipulate them to pledge their loyalty. He can also control what they remember and know. Their memories are what he wants them to be, and he takes away the memories of the life before him, so all they know is his operation."

Armando gets up and steps forward, looking down at Rya. "So what brings you here? If you were his lead agent, wouldn't you have been affected by the drops…the most loyal one?" he questions, placing the tube on the desk next to her.

Looking at him, staring into his eyes, "It was 13 years ago I was getting assigned another task when Sergio got news that a big drop had gotten busted by the feds in Miami."

"When that drop got messed up, Sergio's operation got pushed back three years because that was the biggest supply he was getting in. I remember him going off and mentioning how it was the third drop that got taken down because of these two Miami detectives: Mike Lowery and Marcus Burnett." Breaking eye contact, she looks at Mike and Marcus, causing them to look at each other.

"13 years ago…what drop was that?" Marcus asks, looking up at Mike.

Thinking for a second, they look at each other before nodding. "Johnny Tapia—the Cuban."

"Although I was under the influence of the drug, it had one flaw…it couldn't last a long time, so there's a period where you're back to yourself and reality. But before you can completely remember, he sits you back in the chair for injections. I had a habit of writing down any bit of information I could remember, so when my memory is wiped, I can go back to it. Once I heard about you two, I made a plan by getting as close to Sergio so he can trust me and grant me more access to everything to eventually meet you two and work to bring him down. Before I was sent on my mission by Sergio, I sent every document to that drop location to download so you have evidence of everything."

Taking a moment to look at everyone process the information. Rita nods her head and puts her gun back where it was and walks over to the monitors to look at all the tabs covering the screens.

"This is everything?" she says, pointing at the screens.

Nodding her head, Rya drops her hands on her lap. "Everything. Beginning to end. I have been collecting all the information for this very moment."

Sighing, Mike shakes his head and sits down on the bench.

"This is the most information we have gotten out of a 60-year investigation. How do we know so little?"

"Because you have rats in your system," she shrugs simply. "Like I said, Sergio has connections everywhere. Trust the ones in this room only…like the mission two years ago."

"This is some crazy shit," Marcus says, shaking his head.

"How do you expect us to help?" Kelly asks, crossing her arms.

"I have a plan. Seeing that we were attacked here at this location, Sergio knows I'm here working with you all. Knowing who I am, he's going to send his best and try every way to stop us. Luckily for us, I have trained his best and know his ways, so it won't be as effective. Our worst enemy is time and resources since he's connected to all of them."

"What's the plan?" Mike asks.

"First, we need to get access to Sergio's inventory. All of his physical supplies are kept away in inventories in different parts of the world. You can use it as proof of his operation. Sergio was smart and kept that information between him and certain business partners who needed access to them. Then we need the location to the 'camp.' A map of that is locked in his inventory too. That's where he keeps all of his prisoners or 'trainees'…my sister is there too. After that, it's all fair game to whatever happens to Sergio and his operation. But if we can free those people and rack up enough evidence on him, we can surely take him down."

"How do we find his inventory if you don't know where it is?" Armando asks, tilting his head a little.

"Tomorrow night, there's a meeting happening with two of Sergio's best suppliers at a nice restaurant. They know and trust me…I doubt they know I went rogue yet. If we can get at least one of them, they can tell us where Sergio's inventory is."

A beat of silence passes by the group, contemplating everything that was told to them. It's no guarantee if they will succeed given their circumstances, but they can't back out. They have to at least try to take down an operation that has been years in the making, kept hidden from the world and its laws. No one to trust except for those in this very van. Everyone glances at each other before taking a breath.

"Okay, let's do it."

a/n: Whew y'all, there ya have it, an update.🙂‍↕️✋🏽 If you haven't caught on, Rya's character is a little inspired by Marvel's Black Widow-just the whole idea of training to be an assassin since a little girl and being tough, not really knowing how to express herself and letting herself feel certain emotions. She's a little hard-headed, but that's okay. It's going to get more interesting, and our two faves will be interacting more in the next part🙂‍↔️which I'm writing now. Let me know what y'all think! Thanks for reading, loves🫶🏼

Tag list: (lmk if you want to be added)

@blackgirlmagicforever @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sarcasticbitchsblog @maybepersuasivetom @d4rno

#armando aretas #armando imagine #armando x reader #bad boys #armando aretas x black reader #armando aretas x reader #bad boys second chances #jacob scipio #bad boys for life #bad boys ride or die #will smith #martin lawrence #armando aretas x black!oc #marcus burnett #mike lowrey

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thewritingofamadwoman · 10 months

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To Forgive or Not To Forgive, That Is The Question

Part two of “Should I Stay or Should I go”

Pairing: Mark Sloan x Fem!OC

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, Mark being his usual handsome self.

Thank you for reading & Enjoy!

It had been exactly one month since Mark Sloan officially started working at Seattle Grace and honestly it has been the worst few weeks of my entire existence. My head and heart were all over the place, at war with each other whenever I saw, thought of, spoke to, or worked with Mark.

The more logical, realistic side of me was angry and hurt, betrayed that I had no choice but to work side by side on some cases with the man who had left both my daughter and I when we needed him the most. The emotional, more physical side of my brain couldn’t stop from preening whenever Mark complimented me or flirted with me. He once placed a hand on my waist to squeeze by from behind me I could swear that the entire hallway heard the how loud my fucking heart was beating.

I tried my hardest to be the bitch I needed to be to deter him. I would glare and roll my eyes, snap back and avoid Mark at all costs. But of course, somehow the largest hospital in Seattle had become smaller than your average kindergarten classroom. I couldn’t avoid Mark Sloan no matter how hard I tried.

I was currently standing at a nurses station, flipping through a chart while Callie stood next to me, signing a few papers. Cristina Yang was crunching on chips in front of us when she let out a low whistle. Callie and I turned our attention to her when she nodded her head towards the end of the hall. There Mark stood as he chatted with Derek, in scrubs and a lab coat. The men were whispering about something, and Mark let out a laugh, throwing his head back. Callie let out a breathy laugh of her own.

“Damn he’s hot,” she said, and Cristina hummed in response. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t take my eyes from Mark’s silhouette. They weren’t wrong, Mark was hot. So very fucking hot. But…he fucked up. And I couldn’t forgive him. I shouldn’t forgive him. Right?

“He’s alright, I guess. But he’s an ass,” I said nonchalantly and forced my eyes back to the chart in front of me.

Cristina snorted and continued to munch on her chips.

“Sure, but that’s a fine ass he has,” she chuckled and Callie laughed along with her, agreeing. I looked up to shush them but my eyes connected with Mark’s from across the hall and I stuttered. Make gave me his signature smile, eyes gentle, before turning back to Derek. Callie and Cristina turned around to stop themselves from giggling. Controlling my blush I closed my patients folder and slapped Callie’s arm with that same folder.

“You two are horrible. Just horrible,” I mumbled at them before I walked away.

——

The day continued and Mark always seemed to be in my peripheral vision. Everywhere I went, he was there. Whether he was with a patient or chatting with one of our coworkers, Mark Sloan was never more than 40 steps away from me at any given moment.

I reached my breaking point before lunch.

“Oh for fucks sake,” I muttered to myself when I saw Mark chatting with Alex Karev, MY intern for the month. I marched to both men and cleared my throat.

“Mark, can I speak to you for a second?” I bit out, doing my best to remain civil.

“Uh yeah, sure. Of course. Karev, I’ll see you later,” Mark nodded at Alex before turning to me, a friendly smile on his face.

“Mark, what are you doing?” I sighed, tired of all the emotional whiplash. Mark looked at me, seemingly genuinely confused.

“What do you mean? Karev? I was just chatting with him-“

“No,” I cut him off. “What are you doing here, in Seattle? At this hospital? You’re one of the best plastic surgeons in the country and you had to come to the one hospital I work at?”

Mark gave me a small, sheepish smile.

“In my defense, this is the number one trauma center in the west cost and Richard Webber really did give me an offer I couldn’t refuse. But the main reason? You know the main reason, Lise. I came to apologize. What I did was wrong. So fucking wrong,” Mark sighed, and the use of a nickname I hadn’t heard in a long time did not go unnoticed by me. I let him continue.

“I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you and to our baby girl. I was young and dumb and I know that those aren’t excuses, but you have to believe me when I say that I want nothing more in this world right now than to be with you and to finally meet my daughter.” Mark’s eyes pleaded with mine and I could see the sincerity within them.

But I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him right away.

“Mark, you broke me. I was ready to start a family with you. And you just ripped my heart out and stomped on it. I…I’m not sure I can just forgive you like that,” I said, my heart clenching at the thought of us being a family again. I didn’t notice the hot tear sliding down my face until Mark’s hands cupped both of my cheeks, his thumb brushing the stray tear away.

“I’m sorry Lise. I’m so sorry baby. I will spend the rest of my entire fucking existence trying to earn your trust back, if you’ll let me. I want to do right by you and our baby girl. I know what I’m signing up for here. And I’m willing. Please, just let me try to prove myself to you. I want to be the one who makes you happy again,” Mark pleaded, his own eyes watering with desperation. I reached up and grabbed both of his wrists in my hands before staring into those beautiful blue eyes of his.

After what felt like an eternity, I nodded.

“You get ONE chance. This is it, Mark. You fuck this up and we are DONE for good. You don’t get to talk to me or see our daughter. You disappear from the fucking face of the earth and leave us alone. Do you hear me?” I said. Last time, I let logic and reasoning rule my heartbreak. This time I was willing to let emotion take over. I was still raw from the heartbreak but I guess I loved Mark Sloan more than I was willing to admit.

Mark’s eyes widened and he smiled, squeezing my face in his hands just a touch and leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes at the sensation, opening them back up once Mark had pulled away.

“You won’t be disappointed baby, I promise.”

Part Three…? ;)

Tag List (thanks for reading):

@caseyandsloan @xjasam4lifex @spookyboogyuniverse

#mark sloan oneshot #mark sloan x OC #mark sloan fanfic #mark sloan x fem!oc #mark Sloan fanfiction #mark sloan x reader

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maryonaccross · 1 year

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Dear fellow team green fans, I’ve finally managed to make a list of fanfictions on AO3 that every team green fan should read;

(Most of these aren’t aggressively team green but focus on team green characters and explore them in interesting and respectful ways )

Fist we have the holy trilogy:

1. Burning Jasmine by our national treasure @scalyfreaks and literally anything else that she writes (BJ is a beautifully written Aegon centric alteration of the dance of the dragons)

2. See, what happened was by @daylander1000 / Daylander on AO3 (the best Aemond centric fanfic I have ever read. If you dislike the strong boys and how Baela and Rhaena were done dirty in the show and love angsty preteens and “dark fluff” as the author herself describes it this is the jam)

3. All of @dulcewrites fanfictions are an absolute must for any team green fans (she handles the characters with such care and the humor is amazing)

Then we have the category that I like to call JUSTICE FOR ALICENT:

1. Springs end by Navree (long one shot that explores Alicent’s feelings at the beginning of her marriage to Viserys, beautifully written, I cried)

2. Give me back my girlhood it was mine first by JustA_Person (beautiful multi-chaptered fic that dives headfirst into Alicent’s depression at the beginning of her marriage and does not shy away from roasting the fuck out of Viserys and is currently heading towards a rekindling of the relationship between Alicent and Rhaenyra)

3. In your grave by 136108 (short but brilliant one shot on what Alicent should have told Viserys on his death bed)

Then we have Daemon and Viserys haters must read section staring;

1. Sins of the father by SelfProclaimedUnicorn ( ABSOLUTE MUST for any Daemon haters out there, this is the best there is. This fanfiction centers around two children Daemon has with Rhea Royce at the beginning of his marriage and follows them in their childhood and teenage years (the children are the same age as Rhaenyra and Alicent). This is one of the best written team green fanfictions I have ever read and it tells the story in such an intelligent and thought out way with some perfectly seasoned Daemon bashing sprinkled all over it. It also holds up so well considering that its plot is unlike any other team Green fanfiction out there and centers around characters that aren’t really explored enough. Oh and it also addresses the suffering Aemma went through trapped in marriage with Viserys which is always a great touch)

2. Out of the mouth of Babes by UnknownEnigma ( beautiful six chapter fanfiction exploring Aemonds relationships with Viserys that shows Viserys’ neglect and cruelty in all its glory and ends in a very satisfying way)

And then we have a few more brilliant fan fictions that I don’t really know how to sort into a category:

1. Lose your Ego by Fjlh (this series just started and is about Aegon USING HIS BRAIN and fighting for his claim. Very promising so far)

2. The sky is always red above Valyria au by Aifsaath (beautiful series of one shots about Aegon x Baela that explores the trauma of growing up with a father that maritally rapes your mother)

3. Lady Dreamfrye by Ai_Megurine (story about Sansa Stark being reborn as Helaena)

4. I’m never gonna love ( again ) by @crescenthoax (very interesting Aegon x oc fanfic )

5. My hand was the one you reached for by haught_hightower ( explores Alicent’s relationships with Criston and her children )

6. a poison tree by Juliet_Capulet ( very detailed and well written story about the younger brother of Daemon and Viserys returning to the capital with his daughter, after the death of his wife and witnessing Viserys’ brain dead decisions unraveling while forming a bond with his nieces and nephews. Full of Daemon and Viserys Bashing)

I hope you enjoy, it took me a real long while to find some of these gems

#pro team green #anti team black #anti team black stans #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #pro alicent hightower #your skin makes me cry #anti viserys i targaryen #aegon x oc #anti rhaenyra stans #aemond x oc #justice for the velaryons #anti rhaenys targaryen

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saltysultry · 2 months

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Untouched: Part Four

Pastor Lemuel Childs x OC

Synopsis: Pastor Childs has been lost this past year after what his family and the parish went through. But when a young woman comes into town, aimless and without guidance, the Pastor takes it upon himself to be her shepherd, and lead her out of the darkness... And into his arms.

Warnings: older man x young woman, religious exploitation (kinda), religious trauma, smut, masturbation, orgasm denial, religious hypocrisy, angst, OC is a virgin, Pastor Childs is not a great person but he sure is hot as hell, I apologize for any spelling errors

@justme12200 @its-in-the-woods @hiddlebatchedloki @michele131

Word count: 6k

Lemuel drove her home, looking over at Virginia every so often. She seemed content, elated even despite looking exhausted. She was humming along to the radio that was playing Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, her head filled with nothing but the memory of what just transpired inside the cold church.

Once at her house, Virginia was helped out of the truck and swept into Lemuel’s arms again, carried to her front door where she reached out and unlocked it. Lemuel pushed through until he brought her inside.

“Couch, please.” Virginia said, nodding over to the brown, velvet couch in her living room.

Lemuel did as instructed and set her gently on it. Virginia reached over to the side table and switched on the lamp, finally lighting up the dark room. Lemuel sat down next to her, letting out a long exhale. He had underestimated what carrying a full grown woman could do to his back.

“What time is it?” She asked him.

Lemuel took a look at his wristwatch, squinting down at it in the dim lamplight. “About ten o’clock.”

“Do you think the others will think…”

“I’m their pastor, Virginia. Our absence from the celebration wouldn’t be a scandal. You are my woman now.”

Lemuel smiled at her before leaning in and giving her a kiss. Virginia was surprised, humming as Lemuel’s warm lips pressed against hers.

“Sister Slaughter was very clear about it with me.” He said when they parted.

“Oh, so she talked with you too?” Virginia pouted.

“Hope’s never really been shy ‘bout her opinions.” Lemuel said. “She’s got a keen eye for when people like each other.”

“She was asking when we were gonna marry.” Virginia giggled.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Lemuel gave her a look.

Virginia scoffed and cupped his cheek. “No offense, Lemuel, but as much as I like you, I think callin you husband would be a little too fast for me.”

“What would ya like to call me?”

Virginia thought about it. To call Lemuel her “boyfriend” would be so… Immature and unfitting. He wasn’t some boy to go on cutesy dates with, though she was sure that Lemuel was planning on dinners, walks by the river, and more so called “punishments.” He was more than her pastor, his role breaching outside the confines of performing sermons and orchestrating baptisms. Their alone time in the church just proved that. And he was clear about his affection towards her.

So, in the plainest of languages… What were they?

“I guess, I’ll just refer to you as ‘sir’ or ‘Pastor.’” Virginia answered.

“It ain’t a sin to call a pastor by his first name.” Lemuel said. “Especially by the woman he is courting.”

“I’m aware, Lemuel.” Virginia chuckled.

“C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

He sought to ensure she was properly cared for before eventually leaving to return to Hope Slaughter’s house to retrieve Dilly. He didn’t mean to abandon his ward, but his woman was in need of some aftercare. He helped her into her nightshift, tucked her into bed, setting a glass of cool water on her bedside table.

He kissed her one last time, instructing her to say her prayers once she was alone. It felt wrong to leave her after what happened that night, but Lemuel couldn’t stay.

As he turned the ignition in his truck, Lemuel thought over what their days together would be like. He wasn’t one to let himself dream, but Virginia was very much real and very much willing.

So, what was the harm in picturing her in a white dress, saying the traditional vows, then saying the awaited “I do.” Lemuel had carried her over the threshold into her uncle’s old home, how would it feel to carry her over the threshold into his home?

She would look beautiful in the morning, waking up next to him with her strawberry blonde hair tousled from sleep as her chest rose and fell with each breath. She would be a sight in his kitchen during the morning, pouring him his coffee while he read one of his many collected books, the house smelling of bacon and dark roast.

Or Virginia sharing the clawfoot bathtub with him, her body slacked against his as his hands cleaned her-NO! Lemuel chose to ignore those impulses. Despite what happened in the church, the point was not to continue to torture himself with lustful thoughts. He and Virginia had proven themselves capable of resisting temptation.

Right?

“Fuck…” Lemuel squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back.

He was in need of a cold shower when he returned home later that night. He wrapped his calloused hand around his hard cock and pictured it was Virginia’s mouth. In his mind, she was on her knees before him, dressed in nothing but that silver chain with Christ on the cross. As he pumped himself, biting his lip to stifle the moans, he envisioned Virginia’s soft lips around him, her cheeks hollowing out as she took him in effortlessly, very unlike the virgin she was.

“Virginia…” He rasped and swallowed, his head propped up on his arm against the shower wall as the cold water drenched him. “Virginia…”

She had felt it when she was strewn over Lemuel’s lap. His hardness was poking into her while she was receiving her punishment. Virginia decided not to comment on it out of respect for her pastor, but the feeling lingered in her mind when she lay awake in bed.

She was conflicted still, even now with the confirmation of their relationship. Lemuel was a proper Pentecostal man with strict views about sex. He had chosen to refrain from giving himself release when they were together in the church.

Then again, every Christian knows that even the most outwardly chaste believers were perverts in private. Virginia’s own mother, a very prudish woman in theory, was very naughty in practice.

When she was alone in her room, her prayers said and Lemuel gone away, Virginia’s hands found their way between her thighs, desperate to touch the ache that had been burning since she was pulled over his lap. Virginia closed her eyes and breathed steadily through her mouth as she slipped two fingers down her slit, covering them in her wetness.

As she touched herself, circling her fingers around her swollen clit, Virginia pictured Lemuel’s tongue. Using her other hand, she inserted three fingers and imagined it was Lemuel’s cock, filling her up.

She imagined they were consummating their marriage, Virginia’s virginity now belonging to her pastor. His age and wisdom enveloping her in security and adoration as he pounded into her, stretching her so she perfectly fit his size.

“Pastor…” She moaned.

Virginia’s nipples peaked and her toes curled as she felt herself nearing her climax. She shifted around on her back, her ass rubbing against the mattress, reminding her of the bruises he gave her. She missed his hand, strong and calloused with age, marking her and casting out the evil he claimed was inside her.

“Cast it out!”

Virginia’s eyes rolled to the back of her head when she brought herself to climax. It was long, warm, and it took the noise out of her throat as her muscles stiffened. She hadn’t come that hard before.

She breathed heavily as she came down from the euphoria, blinking herself back into reality. As she calmed down, her head no longer spinning, Virginia then felt incredibly sick. She pulled her hands away from her pussy and sat up in bed.

Filthy sinner.

Within seconds, Virginia was in her bathroom, quickly turning the faucet in the bathtub until it ran hot water. She shed her nightshift and panties and lowered herself into the tub as it began to fill up. She couldn’t stand the sight of herself, all sticky with her own arousal. She scrubbed herself repeatedly, harshly exfoliating her skin until it was red and burning.

I deserve this. She thought to herself as she winced from the burning pain.

Virginia felt incredibly defeated as she sat in the hot water, in pain and in tears. She missed Lemuel but was grateful he wasn’t there to see her, already acting on her lustful impulses right after she atoned. She feared she’ll never be cured of this evil that festered within her no matter how hard Lemuel tried to cast it out of her.

…

“This is delicious, Dilly.” Virginia said.

She had been invited to another dinner at Lemuel’s the next day. Dilly had made a roast with greens for them, along with some blueberry cobbler for dessert. If Lemuel hadn’t already set on making Virginia his woman, she would’ve found a way to befriend Dilly so she could enjoy her cooking. That's what she said to the young girl.

“Thank you, Miss Godwin.” Dilly smiled bashfully. “I can teach you some of my recipes if you want.”

“Would you?” Virginia’s eyes widened. “That’d be wonderful, thank you.”

Lemuel looked at the two young women before him. He was pleased they had gotten along so well. While Virginia was closer in age to Dilly than to himself, he noticed a paternal way in which she doted on the girl. She asked after her days in school, if there were any other kids she liked, what she was mostly excited about after graduation.

“Well, I’s only gonna get my diploma then come work here in town.” Dilly said. “Sister Slaughter needs someone to help her at the station and when she’s too old, she’ll be giving it to me.”

Virginia frowned. “You’re not going to college?”

“There’s a boy by the name of Luke who’s got his eye set on Dilly.” Lemuel explained, setting his fork down next to his plate. “And Dilly’s takin to him as well.”

Dilly blushed and looked down at her food. Virginia looked between the two and stifled an amused laugh.

“You’ve got a boy?”

“He’s really nice.” Dilly shrugged, trying to repress the smile that spread across her face. “And Pastor likes him too.”

“He’s hard working and kind. And a Holy Ghost man, more importantly.” Lemuel said. “You might’ve met him at service, Miss Godwin.”

Virginia thought back to all the parishioners she met since attending church. She recalled some young faces, though she couldn’t place this Luke character.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve found someone, Dilly. You should have him over here for dinner sometime.” Virginia immediately regretted her words, feeling like she overstepped in Lemuel’s house.

Lemuel just smiled. “That ain’t a bad idea. We should get to know him better, see what kind of man he’ll be.”

“Yes, Pastor.” Dilly said before returning to her food.

The two women cleared the dinner table and Dilly concerned herself with the dishes while Lemuel brought Virginia to the living room. They sat down next to each other on the couch, at an appropriate distance.

“How’re you feeling?” Lemuel asked.

Virginia glanced over her shoulder towards the kitchen. She hoped the running water and clinking of dishes was enough to cover their voices.

“Fine, thank you Pastor.” She answered quietly.

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout Dilly. She knows we left together during the party.”

“She know ‘bout what you did to me at the church?” Virginia raised her brow.

Lemuel chuckled. “She knows I had to instruct some discipline on a fellow parishioner. The details aren’t important. And, I think it goes without saying that it’d be best if you didn’t go tellin others about what happened.”

Virginia couldn’t help but blush. The idea that anyone would find out about what Lemuel did to her made her stomach cramp with anxiety.

“I didn’t plan on it. I mean, it wasn’t like it was wrong or anything, right?”

“It’s alright, Virginia. What we do is between us and the Lord.” He assured her. Lemuel reached a hand out and lazily played with the end of Virginia’s braid. “Now, I wanted to ask you what you thought about it.”

“What do you mean?” She looked down at his hand, admiring the veins and wrinkles on his knuckles.

“It’s a simple question. What did you think ‘bout your punishment?” He repeated, his expression flat.

Virginia blinked, her brow in a knot. She cleared her throat. “Uh, I…”

She knew it wouldn’t be right to admit she enjoyed it. The point was to discourage her lustful thoughts and encourage chastity and modesty. To want to do it again meant to express no regret about sinning.

Virginia needed to choose her words carefully.

“I only ask for your honesty.” Lemuel added.

She pressed her lips into a thin line as she tried to piece her words together.

“I think… That it was necessary. It was painful, but also…” she winced at her own words. For someone who had been fantasizing dirty things about her pastor, Virginia sure was bashful.

“Confession is good for the soul, Virginia. Allow yourself to be open to the Lord’s guidance by admitting your true feelings.” He said, his hand traveling further up her braid until he reached her ear, tucking some hair behind it. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Virginia smiled weakly. “Thing is, Lemuel, I didn’t want you to stop.”

I didn’t want to stop either, Virginia.

He looked into her eyes, waiting for her to continue. Virginia felt incredibly naked sitting there next to him, feeling his eyes on her body. As if his silver tongue wasn’t skillful enough, his hazel irises were weapons of their own.

“And, if I remember correctly… You seemed to enjoy it as well. At least, from what I felt.” She felt hot at the mere memory of the erection in his pants. “I was wondering, after you left… That maybe it was wrong of me to want you to punish me again.”

“Is it wrong to find pleasure in redemption?” Lemuel said.

This confused Virginia. From the way she saw it, Lemuel had taken her across his knee to beat the devil out of her and cast out wickedness. Now, such wickedness was considered a good thing?

“Virginia, you know that some nuns sew thorns into their habits?” He asked. Virginia shook her head. “They did it to feel closer to Christ. To take pleasure in physical atonement is to take part in a long tradition. In the beginning, it hurts, makes you shudder and invert. But the more you get used to the pain, one can sometimes feel… Elation or satisfaction.”

She remembered the feeling. Her body had transcended and suddenly, she was outside herself, floating in euphoria.

“The lord rewards his believers when they seek redemption.”

Lemuel’s words were beautiful as they were assuring to Virginia. Lemuel, ever the eloquent pastor. He smiled at her then took her hands in his.

“Understand me, my girl, my aim ain’t to make you feel guilty ‘bout your sins. We all carry our own crosses, think impure thoughts, or harm others, whether voluntarily or involuntarily.” Lemuel’s voice fell, his hazel eyes averting Virginia. “I have my own demons to cast out too.”

“That’s very nice of you to say, sir. But… If I want for it to happen again, wouldn’t that mean I would want to indulge myself again? To want to sin?” She asked.

Lemuel sat with that inquiry for a moment, his brow wrinkled and lips almost pursed in thought.

“Do you seek to disobey the Lord?” He asked her earnestly.

Virginia shook her head. “I never mean to.”

He could see the desperation in her sad eyes. Virginia very much wanted to be good. Lemuel wished he could wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight, keep her away from all temptation and evil.

“You said that whenever your mother beat you, it made you feel like nothing you did was right.” Lemuel recalled. Virginia didn’t understand the sudden change in topic. “When I took you across my knee, I didn’t do so with the intent of continuously making you feel inadequate. You’re a good woman, Virginia. A Holy Ghost woman now, too. And if I may be frank, darling, I’m getting a little tired of this discussion.”

“What do you mean?” She blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Goodness, no, Virginia.”

For a while, Lemuel had felt pity for Virginia. She wasn’t raised in love, she had been uncertain in her faith, and she always seemed to believe she was doing something untoward or incorrect. Virginia had her strong moments, it was the facade she put on when meeting Lemuel on the side of the road. A wall of protection she had built up over the years after being abandoned and let down over and over again.

Lemuel saw now that his task was to break it down. Make her his faithful woman and keep her pure.

“Do you trust me, Virginia?”

There was no hesitation. “Yessir.”

“Then trust I know what’s best. ” He concluded. Lemuel looked intently in Virginia’s eyes, his brow wrinkled.

Virginia smiled softly. She very much wanted to surrender herself to him. After years of depending on no one else but herself, she imagined it must have felt so freeing to just… Let someone else lead her. Underneath her closed-off exterior was a lonely woman always worrying about herself, about what God expected of her, and what others thought of her.

Lemuel expected some inner turmoil within Virginia. There would always be that voice in the back of her mind, telling her to rebel and disobey. She was human and to worship the Lord meant to limit oneself. She had been off the path for years now and even with her now converted, she still had a long road ahead to navigate.

She had her share of serpents rattling in her heart. But Lemuel was a snake tamer, and a young woman like Virginia was no challenge compared to a venomous snake.

“Now, tonight, when you say your prayers, I want you to remember how you felt when you allowed yourself to let go.”

Let the Lord fill you with his light.

Virginia longed for that closeness. She wanted Lemuel to pull her onto him, to bring her to that same euphoria that made her weak and willing. If Dilly hadn’t been nearby, she would’ve tried to initiate another punishment.

“I will, Pastor.” She said. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say-”

“I’m heading to bed, sir!” Dilly called from the kitchen. “Dishes are all done!”

“G’night, Dilly! Thanks again for an amazing dinner!” He responded casually before the sound of Dilly ascending the stairs echoed down the hall. “You were saying?”

“What I wanted to say was that I’ll miss you tonight.” Virginia said, averting her eyes bashfully. “Every night I… No, I shouldn’t say it.”

“Speak freely, Virginia.” He ordered gently. “You can tell your pastor anything.”

She swallowed, lowering her head. “It’s a bad, bad thing to do. I know that. But I can’t help it.”

“Do what?” Lemuel pressed. “C’mon, you’re a big girl. Speak in plain language.”

She fidgeted in her seat, wishing she hadn’t even brought it up in the first place.

“After you helped me to bed… I-I touched myself.” Virginia spoke slowly. “I wanted more but you were gone and then I just… I know it’s wrong.”

His expression remained neutral, which instilled further anxiety in her.

“And I prayed for forgiveness afterwards. I won’t do it again, I promise-”

“I’ll drive you home.” Lemuel interrupted, suddenly standing from the couch. He extended his hand to her, helping her up. “C’mon, it’s already late.”

“But, don’t you-”

“Don’t argue. Just come on.”

Virginia closed her mouth and inhaled through her nose sharply. Already, she was struggling with taking orders from her pastor. But, he knew what was best and she would have to get used to it. So, she smiled and nodded.

“Yessir.”

“There’s a good girl.” He kissed her cheek and escorted her to his truck.

…

To say she was frustrated would’ve been an understatement. Virginia very much wanted to be good. She had done well so far in life, keeping herself pure and never throwing herself at any man. But the more time she spent with Lemuel and couldn’t so much as get to kiss him the way she wanted to kiss him made her all the more wanton. She would focus on the lines on his face and neck, the gray in his hair, the veins on his hands, or the warmth of his hazel irises whenever he looked at her and she’d be totally his.

Lemuel, on the other hand, was too busy trying to heed the morals he’d be preaching about. About chastity and restraint. Virginia wasn’t the only one with desires. He too wanted to give into his urges and ruin her. He’d relish in watching her be broken. He pictured her face many times at night, imagining her discomfort giving way to pleasure as he fucked her.

When he brought her home, just the two of them alone together, Lemuel had to keep reminding himself that the point of being her guide was to retain a certain image. He cannot let himself falter and just give into whatever they both wanted. He was supposed to be her strength. And so, he felt it necessary to remind her.

“Is this goodnight, Pastor?” Virginia asked him when she fished for her house key in her coat pockets.

“No, it ain’t.” He said quietly. “I didn’t want to disturb Dilly.”

Virginia paused, stopping herself from unlocking the door. “Why?”

“Let’s get inside first.”

She felt the familiar ache of anticipation from when Lemuel took her to the church. Was this going to be another demonstration? Was he planning on punishing her?

Virginia’s face grew warm as she pushed inside with Lemuel following close after. Once she tossed the keys onto the dish on the nearby hall table, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her back against him, her back flush against his chest.

“What’re you-”

“I’d be quiet if I were you, sweetheart.” He whispered, his voice low and bordering on threatening. Virginia bit her lip and shuddered against him. Lemuel’s lips were hovering just above the shell of her ear, his breath almost tickling the side of her neck. “First let me tell you something. Thank you. Thank you for being honest with me.”

He kissed her hair before brushing it away to kiss at her neck. Virginia whined from the touch, wanting to break free of Lemuel’s hold and pounce him.

“None of that, now.” He said with a thick drawl. “Since you seem to be having trouble keeping your hands where they’re supposed to be, I’ll have to teach you the importance of restraint.”

Another lesson. Virginia smiled excitedly but quickly repressed her obvious eagerness when Lemuel turned her to face him. He could see that daring look in her eyes, practically begging him to give her all he got.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear with you, my girl. Feeling the lord’s light when redeeming yourself of your sins is one thing. But to then immediately seek out the same pleasure you was atoning for afterwards? I’d say that is very sinful.”

Virginia wanted to protest, to explain herself. Lemuel could see it on her face as she tried to hold her tongue.

“What?” He asked, squinting his eyes.

“I knew it was wrong, Pastor. I just thought… I didn’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking, Virginia.” Lemuel said harshly. “You should’ve called me.”

“I was afraid of disappointing you.” She lowered her eyes.

Lemuel tilted his head and caressed her cheek. He could see the guilt in her moistened eyes. She almost recoiled from his touch, though not because she feared him, but because she deemed herself undeserving of his affection.

“Oh sweetheart.” He told her, the pad of his thumb brushing against her warm cheek. “Keepin these things from me will only hurt you. Do you remember what I said ‘bout redemption?”

“Seeking it is what separates us from the damned.” Virginia recited.

“Yes. But holding ourselves accountable by sticking to what we purvey is ‘nother thing. We can’t just ask the Lord to forgive us for our sins if we’s just gon to commit ‘em again and again.” Lemuel said.

He could feel his stomach tightening as he lectured Virginia. Knowing his own hands had done many dirty things while thinking of this young woman… He would surely suffer the snake’s venom. The hypocrisy was burning white-hot within his chest. Perhaps it was the flames of hellfire rising up within him, reminding him where he was destined should he continue this charade.

“What must I do, then?” Virginia looked up at him with the same hopeful, big eyes that begged him to tell her what to do. To make it all okay again.

Lemuel couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and kissed her, his mouth open and hungry as he claimed her. She melted against him, her body weak and mind slowly growing numb. Just as she feared, Lemuel could say anything and make her his slave. A dangerous hypocrite with a silver tongue and a gentle, deceiving smile.

Eventually, he pulled apart from Virginia, their foreheads resting against each other. “Here’s what I’m gonna do to you, young lady.” He breathed. “I’m gonna take you to your bed, you’re gonna show me what you did, and then you’ll atone.”

Virginia didn’t even question the logic of this so-called punishment. She just nodded, whispered “yessir” and led him to her bedroom by the hand.

Lemuel stood at the edge of her bed while Virginia stripped down to her bra and underwear. She did so slowly, keeping her eyes down to the floor while her pastor watched with folded arms and closed lips. His hazel eyes, usually warm and inviting, were now cold and observant.

Virginia clutched at the silver Jesus that hung between her breasts, silently praying as she then climbed into bed.

“Show me what you did.” Lemuel instructed.

Her face flushed, Virginia laid back and spread her legs before him. Lemuel remained still at the foot of her bed, his head slightly tilted to the side as he observed. She bent her knees and adjusted her hips, trying to fight the urge to cover herself and shy away.

First, she sat up for a moment to remove her bra. Once unhooked, she slowly slipped down the straps then let it fall off her shoulders, exposing her mature breasts, which were pale with small blue veins. She then tossed the bra to the side, letting it slip off the bed. Lemuel’s gaze didn’t falter, his violating gaze sending shivers up her spine.

“Keep going.” He said quietly.

From how composed he appeared to be, Virginia couldn’t help but wonder if he had done this sort of instruction before? Surely not, unless other parishioners also came to him when they felt guilty after they masturbated.

She inhaled through her nose then laid back. Raising her hips off the bed, she curled her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and slid them down from her hips to her thighs to her ankles, until they came completely off and fell to the floor, off the edge of the bed at Lemuel’s feet.

Braving it, she then parted her bent legs again, with Lemuel between them in perfect view. For a second, Virginia could’ve sworn she saw his nostrils flare and the corner of his mouth twitch. And from how his pants suddenly looked tight at the crotch, she realized this wasn’t just a lesson about restraint for herself but for him as well.

He said he had his own demons to cast out, didn’t he…

“Beautiful.” Lemuel whispered so quietly, Virginia almost didn’t hear it. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So soft…”

Virginia was beginning to ache as she ran her hands up and down her thighs. Lemuel pressed his lips together but his breaths were deep and short. He was holding back from reaching out and touching her himself, his hands gripping at his crossed arms.

“What do you picture when you’re heated, hm?” Lemuel asked.

With her hooded eyes bashfully looking up at him, Virginia lulled her head and bit back an uncomfortable smile. “Your hands.”

“My hands?”

“When you spanked me.” She added. “How powerless I felt over your lap.”

“You were such a good girl too. A shame you then sullied your own redemption by actin like a slut.” Lemuel said almost sneeringly, though his tone was more humorous. What a tease he could be sometimes.

Virginia found she liked it when her pastor called her that. A slut. Even if it was a mean word and certainly should insult any woman to be referred to as such. But hearing Lemuel’s low, intimidating voice say such a thing only made her ache harder.

“Tell me more.” Lemuel urged.

Virginia’s hand ventured between her thighs, the tips of her fingers just barely caressing her vulva. She very much wanted more, but didn’t want to rush it. Like Lemuel said, this was all about restraint.

“When I touched myself, I thought about your voice.”

“And what would I say?”

“Tell me I was bein’ bad. You’d pray for me. Then, you’d tell me what you’d do to me.”

Lemuel sucked in a breath. Virginia was working him up. Perhaps she had power within her words too.

“So, if I were to say those things…”

Without warning, Lemuel grabbed Virginia’s ankles and yanked her to the edge of the bed until her legs dangled off the edge. She gasped, her eyes widening in surprise as her pastor leaned over her, his hands on either side of her head.

“If I were to tell you that… I’d take you across my knee, use my hand on you until you cried for me to stop then fuck you mercilessly like the whore you are…” He whispered, his lips hovering above her own.

Virginia slipped two of her own fingers into her slit, the tips of her fingers slick with her arousal. She moaned as she then swirled her wet fingers around her aching clit. Lemuel looked down at her hands, admiring how slowly she worked them on herself.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

He leaned back up then sank to his knees at the edge of the bed. He rested his palms atop Virginia’s thighs, keeping them spread as his head leaned in close to her sex. He watched closely as Virginia touched herself. Lemuel licked his lips at the sight of it, how wet she was, how delicately her fingers moved.

“Bet you’re thinking ‘bout how my tongue would feel right now.” He teased.

Virginia could feel his hot breath waff over her. Just the sight of him kneeling between her open legs, his face so close to her sex he could just easily lean in a few inches and taste her. She wanted him to envelop her clit with those lips of his and suck. She wanted his tongue to prod at her entrance. She wanted his fingers to curl inside her and make her squirm.

“Oh Pastor!” She moaned, her hips bucking as she felt herself build inside.

Lemuel’s hands rubbed her thighs while Virginia slowly brought herself closer and closer to release.

“You want me to touch you?”

What kind of question is that? Virginia thought. He was venturing into cruel territory now. She knew he wouldn’t want her to give in. She was supposed to be a good girl. Be obedient to her pastor and to the Lord.

“No.” She answered breathlessly.

“No? Why?”

“Because it’s wrong.”

Lemuel hummed, his brow knit. “That’s right, and yet you do this? You dirty slut.”

“Yes, Pastor. I’m a dirty slut.” Virginia repeated. “I love touching myself to the thought of you.”

“Hmm.” His hands were brushing up against her inner thigh, almost touching her where she wanted him. “But you DON’T want me to touch you?”

“No sir!” Virginia affirmed as she threw her head back, getting closer.

“Ah, then you should understand that when I say stop…” Lemuel then took her wrists and pulled them away from her sex, stopping her completely. “You should stop.”

Virginia looked down at him, her face contorted into a pained expression. “Why’d you-”

“Ah-ah.” Lemuel hushed her. “I said stop.”

Virginia was just about to finish! Her insides were clenching for something to fill her. Her clit was pulsing and hard. Her heartbeat was racing rapidly. How dare Lemuel do this to her!

“It’s hard.” She whined.

“Virginia.” Lemuel pulled her until she was sitting up. “Don’t think it don’t hurt me either. But we can’t always get what we want, can we?”

Virginia wondered if she could get away with coaxing Lemuel into giving her what she wanted by promising to relieve him as well? But that wouldn’t be right. She had done wrong already.

“No sir.” She relented, taking in a deep breath.

It was hard, but Virginia chose to try and ignore her desire for release. She didn’t deserve a release. Not if Lemuel believed she didn’t.

“Good girl. Now, let’s clean you up and then we can talk.”

Lemuel drew a bath for Virginia. He helped wash her, reciting some verses while he scrubbed her arms and back with the sponge. Virginia even let him massage her scalp with shampoo and conditioner. It was nice to be pampered and the hot water of the bath helped calm her body down from the lack of satisfaction. Even Lemuel’s own arousal eventually subsided.

“Have you ever done this before?” She asked as Lemuel tilted her head back and rinsed her lathered hair.

“Do you think I make it a habit of watching pretty girls touch themselves?” He said candidly.

Virginia shook her head. “No, you don’t seem the type.”

“Well, I figured you’s a special situation.” He shrugged. “Being new and without a hand to guide you, you need a specific kind of attention I’m willin’ to provide.”

“Hence the spanking and the restrained gratification?”

“You’re cheeky tonight.” Lemuel remarked playfully. “Well, every pastor’s different. They have their own ways of leading their parishioners.”

“And you specialize in rattlesnakes and gettin’ me naked?”

“Is that a complaint?”

Virginia looked over her shoulder back at Lemuel, who quirked a brow at her. She then chuckled, which made him chuckle too.

“I’d sooner leave the church than complain about your methods, sir. And by the way…” She folded her arms on the edge of the tub. “Thank you. For tonight.”

Lemuel smiled at her, touched by her sincerity. “Of course, darlin’. And I wanna set a new rule. Whenever you feel those urges, I want you to get down on your knees and pray for strength. And if you really feel the need, I want you to call me. I’ll talk you through it.”

Virginia felt a twinge of rebellion within her. She’d want to disregard these new rules, touch herself anyways and tell Lemuel that she just prayed for strength and it went away. But if she really believed in the judgment of the serpent, she’d do as her pastor said.

So, the young woman agreed happily and kissed her shepherd, thanking him again for being so good to her.

Lemuel helped her out of the tub and dried her off, wrapping a soft, baby blue towel around her and holding her close. “My beautiful girl.” He breathed against her wet hair.

Why are you still fighting against this? Virginia thought to herself. There was no better feeling than when Lemuel held her. That voice in her head that kept tugging at her gut, daring her to disobey and fight back. To insult Lemuel’s authority and show him what she was made of. And as tempting as it was to Virginia, the idea of slapping Lemuel’s hand away and rejecting his generosity made her sick.

He took her back to her room, let her dress herself in panties and a white nightshift, and then put her to bed. But, instead of leaving her like the last time, Lemuel stripped himself down to his boxers and climbed in with her.

“You’re staying?” Virginia’s eyes lit up.

“I think there’s no harm in keeping yah company tonight.” He said before snuggling up behind her, spooning her with his warm body. Virginia’s heart swelled as she pressed herself against him. “Especially since you did well.”

Yeah, she thought. This makes it all worth it.

A/N: Sorry for taking forever with this chapter. My computer crapped out on me, I'm in the middle of moving, and life is a little blah atm. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I plan on writing two more, including the finale before the summer's over. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated, my loves <3

#walton goggins #them that follow #lemuel childs #pastor childs #this was supposed to be a one shot then i kept writing #walton goggins was so hot in this #fanfiction #fanfic

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mrs-snape5984 · 4 months

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“Can we always be this close…forever and ever?”

“My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue. All's well that ends well to end up with you.” (“Lover” by Taylor Swift)

Today I want to share something more cheerful with all you lovely people of Snapedom, because - to be honest - considering my last few posts on this blog, they could suggest the idea, that I might not be the most zestful person around here. Well…guilty as charged! 😅So, please, take my apologies for my constant venting and complaining about ME/CFS and the ways, in which this bitch of a disease destroyed the life, I’ve known before. But this particular post will be dedicated to LOVE.

I know, I’m using this blog as my personal journal in order to cope with the hardships of my existence, always relying on my 21 years lasting connection with Severus Snape…who is undeniably the one true love of my life. Some of you might judge or mock me for being so pathetically devoted to a fictional character over such a long period of time, but believe me…my love for Severus is my safe haven!

Sure, I’ve tried to give other relationships a shot, but after some really traumatic experiences with men and women, as well as two failed marriages, I’m coming to the conclusion, that I’m better off alone. I must admit, that being doomed to endure a so called life in my bed, only surrounded by darkness and mostly solitude, definitely has an influence on this conviction. Who knows, if I’d have the same beliefs if I weren’t “un-dateable”…but this doesn’t matter anymore, since there’s still no cure for my disease.

And yet… (enter dramatic sigh here 😂)

And yet, I still believe in love, despite my own failures…despite all the pain, the sorrows, the humiliation and the traumas, I’ve been confronted with. I guess, being intelligent (or at least well educated) and overly realistic didn’t prevent me from being a hopeless romantic human being.

My adolescent twins are currently entering the phase of their first “loves”. I’ve taught my three children from the very beginning, that it doesn’t matter, whom they love, unless they’re feeling safe and happy about it. My daughter is proud to have her first girlfriend, even though she’s already facing some difficulties in her environment, due to her frank nature to enjoy her crush. For me - a woman, who’s living openly bisexual 🏳️‍🌈 since I’ve been 14 years old - it’s absolutely unbelievable, that there are still so many people in our society, who seem to stick to their restrained beliefs about sexuality and gender. I will always try to support my children in their journey of self-acceptance and self-discovery.

So, yes, I still believe in love…no matter how this love might look like. Even though I’m confined to this prison, which is formed by my disease, I was allowed to find some kind of deep love in my friends. I want to share a short poem with you (written by Whitney Hanson for her book “Harmony”) which reminds me of the love, that I feel for these friends of mine:

I have always loved the way

Music could make the world feel

Like it doesn’t exist

As if suddenly all my fears

Are swept away

Who knew

That there are people out there

Who could make me feel the same way

Another love, which makes my heart swell with joy, is my love to all those amazingly talented artists of Snapedom, for whom I’m rolling out the red carpet on my blog, by using their art as my very personal soothing balm for my troubled heart and soul. This time, I’ve commissioned the lovely @kruzbr for the very first time. I’ve been fallen for their Severitus comics, so I asked them to help me out with making my own version of Severitus, together with my undeniably self-inspired OC Jules, come to life.

Anderson, your understanding of my ideas and your kindness made it a pleasure for me to join the process of creating this mesmerising masterpiece of art. I’m beyond grateful for your service and I can assure you, that this won’t be the last time, I will commission you for another adventure of Sevy & Jules. The next idea is already stuck in my mind, so keep an eye on your postbox! Thank you for everything, my dear!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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ficmashup · 10 months

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Out for Drinks

A/N: Hi again, a single person asked me to continue this and I'm an absolute sucker for anyone asking me for anything, so tada. ;) Still have no clue what I'm doing, but it's fun so who cares. I think I'll continue this a little further until the story has closure, even if it's open-ended, so yeah. Thanks to people interacting. Glad you like it. :)

Warnings: Once again, very vague SA or trauma references, some harsh language, nightmares, f!reader, I mean it's almost an OC, she just doesn't have a name really, idk what I'm doing :/ First person again.

Word Count: 3.7k

Feral Masterlist

I have mixed feelings returning to base. On one hand, it’s nice to not be looking around every corner for someone looking to shoot me. Not freezing my ass off is also refreshing. On the other hand, it means being around all the other soldiers and I realize that I’d relaxed a bit around the team. Enough that I feel my defenses going back up as I walk through base, alert and aware of all eyes that trail me. We’ve just gotten back and the others have dispersed. Hopefully to shower, like I plan to. Then I feel the weight of people’s gazes leave me right before a little shiver slides down my back. I turn around to find Price behind me, a little frown on his face as he looks around. But his expression smooths as he looks at me.

“Glad to know it wasn’t a mistake taking you on. Well done.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, sending a shock of pride and pleasure through me.

I straighten up and nod. “It’s a pleasure to be with a team that lets me do my job, sir. Thank you.” There’s a small part of me that also wants to thank him for keeping me from freezing with his body heat, but I’m pretty sure I can’t mention that without blushing.

“Keep doing your job like that and you’ll leave us wondering what we ever did without you.” His hand lingers on my shoulder before dropping, his fingers skimming my arm. We begin walking towards the barracks, our pace leisurely as our boots squelch in the mud. He clears his throat slightly and my eyes snap up to his face in an instant. “Have fun with the boys tonight. If you decide to go.” He says, the corner of his mouth twitching. My brows furrow slightly. Right after we got to base, the others informed me of a post-mission ritual of going out for a drink. I hadn’t decided whether I’d go or not, despite desperately wanting to dissolve in a sweet drink.

“Will you go?” I ask as I tug my bag up my shoulder a bit.

Price nods. “I go for a drink or two. And to keep them out of trouble. Mostly.” His eyes sparkle a bit as he considers me and I get the impression he goes to watch the shit they get themselves into rather than prevent it. “Not sure whether you’d be more or less trouble.”

My lips part in surprise as I blink up at him, then I can’t help but give him a half-smile. “I do have self-control, Captain. I simply also have a low tolerance for idiocy and sometimes the only way to get people to see sense is to knock it into them. Literally.”

He chuckles and the warm sound hits me like a shot of whiskey, warming my stomach and getting me to relax just a touch more. “Well, you won’t hear me agree.” We stop in front of the barracks and it’s a pleasure to see the smile on his face, the ease in his posture. It’s been a while since I’ve just talked with somebody normally like this. Since I’ve let myself. “But you won’t hear me disagree either.” He finishes and my smile widens just a touch.

“I look forward to seeing you try to wrangle cats tonight then, sir.” I give him an easy salute before walking to my room, but my little smile lasts the whole way there.

* * *

The place they take me is an absolute shithole.

The floor is sticky as syrup, the bar chipped and scratched, and nearly every booth or barstool has stuffing coming out of the worn red leather cushions. But there’s top shelf whiskey behind the bar and that’s what they order as we file into the dump. It’s clearly a soldier’s bar and it’s busy tonight. My spine straightens as I see the amount of people shoved into the place and I make sure to pick a spot on the edge of our little group where I can see everything clearly. My gaze doesn’t leave the bartender’s hands as she pours our drinks and I don’t let the boys touch mine as I take it, my hand perched over the rim as I pull it close to me. They don’t comment, but I feel Ghost’s eyes on my hand as I cover my drink and his grip tightens on his own.

“To our Surgeon! Pray to God she doesn’t have to cut one of us open one of these days.” Soap holds up his glass and the others follow suit while I tilt mine towards them with a smile tugging on my lips.

“Don’t get shot, stabbed, or otherwise be idiots, and the likelihood of that goes down.” I remind them, feeling warm as they chuckle and I throw back my drink. My nose wrinkles at the bitter flavor as I slide the glass back to the bartender. “Mojito and a glass of water. Thanks.” She nods, giving an appreciative look to the men beside me while I shake my head slightly. When I look back to them, they’re looking at me judgement on their faces.

“A mojito, G?” Gaz starts, disappointment filling his eyes.

I lean forward in my seat, leveling them with a look. “All of you can choke on your bitter whiskey and beer, I want sugar.” Price reacts first, a barely noticeable smirk on his face as he makes a little noise that’s almost a laugh, then takes a little sip of his drink without saying a word. There’s amusement in his eyes, though.

Soap scoots towards me on his stool, clearly distraught. “It’s not just that. You disrespected a good whiskey throwing it back like that. You’ve got to savor it.”

My eyes roll. “I’m not savoring that piss-flavored swill, thanks. I appreciate the tradition and participated, but that’s all I can give you.” I respond with humor in my voice even as I watch the bartender prepare my mojito and hand me a bottled water. When she gives me my drink, I pointedly drag my lips over the sugar covered rim of my glass before taking a sip while daring the men to say something. The drink is delicious and I take a deep breath of the sweet smell edged with mint.

“Lucky you’re a good shot, G, or we’d have you thrown out on principle.” Gaz teases and I raise a brow at him as if daring him to try.

“Let G have her sweet tooth. We don’t need anyone else wearing down the stock of good whiskey in this place anyway.” Ghost, surprisingly, lets me get away with my preference before taking a sip of his drink. Soap and Gaz grumble a bit and I’m sure I’ll hear more shit about this later, but they let it go for now.

Soap rests his elbow on the bar and faces me, Gaz peeking around him. “Go on, then, lass. Tell us about yourself. Have anyone waiting for you back home?” The question is kind and genuine. Not leading.

I return the position and turn my body towards him, although my eyes are surveying the bar more often than not. “This your plan all along? Give me drinks and interrogate me?” It’s a light tease and Soap grins immediately.

“We want to get to know you.” Gaz offers and the other’s have eyes on me as well. “Despite your bad taste in drinks.” He adds in a quieter tone and I smirk. It’s only fair, I suppose. We’re a team, we’re trusting each other with everything, I can put up with some questions.

“No, nobody’s waiting for me at home. My parents died before I enlisted and I’ve been moving around ever since, so never got attached to anyone else. No partner to speak of. I get restless easily. That’s why I’m good at my job—I like the focus and having a goal to go after.” Soap blinks a little at me being so forthcoming with information, but Ghost nods. Seems he understands a little of what I’m saying. My eyes flick to Price at the other end of the bar, still nursing his drink, and his gaze is light as it rests on me. He’s listening just as much as the others. “What about you lot?” I return the question and happily sip on my drink while they tell me about themselves.

Soap and Gaz are, unsurprisingly, the most forthcoming. Gaz is more than pleased to lament his lack of partner, but proud to say that he leaves a string of broken hearts wherever he goes. It’s not too surprising. The man oozes warmth and dedication. Soap’s Scottish accent seems to get a touch deeper as he talks about his home and how he blames himself for the last loss of his favorite football team because he was on mission and couldn’t go to the game. Ghost says little about his home life. Just that he lives in London right now and there’s a little café nearby that serves a good cup of tea.

“Fuckin’ Brits.” Soap quips instantly and gets cuffed on the ear for his trouble. They descend into an argument full of sharp words and teases about who is more unbearable, Scots or Brits, and I’m so entertained that I nearly don’t register the man coming up behind me. I catch him in the reflection of the bottles behind the bar and turn around too late to send him a death glare telling him what a bad idea this is. His hand wraps around my bicep and my body is immediately stiff and my hands are clenched into fists. He’s not in uniform and he doesn’t strike me as military. Probably just some jack off that wandered in here and decided to go for one of the few women in this place. I’m in civilian clothes, jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt tucked in. Maybe not obviously military to someone who doesn’t think there are women in the military anyway. Idiot.

“What’s a pretty—"

“You have two seconds to get your hand off me before I kick you in the balls so hard that you deepthroat your own cock.” My words are sharp and there’s not an ounce of hesitation or doubt in my voice. His eyes widen and he blinks as if the words have to fight through the wall of ignorance in his head before he can understand them. Yet they must not get all the way through because he doesn’t let go and instead leans closer with a grin blooming on his face. His mouth opens and I’m already pulling my leg back for the kick when I see movement out of the corner of my eye and Price is suddenly there, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Step back.” The words are a command and the anger swirling in my gut calms a touch at the smooth authority in his tone. Of course, when a man says it, the other guy pulls his hand off me but doesn’t move away just yet.

“She yours?” He asks, looking Price over while rage boils my blood at being referenced as an object to be owned.

Price keeps close without touching me, his other arm stretched out behind me while his hand perches on the bar. “Mine to protect. Step back, son, before I let her keep her promise.” He releases the man’s shoulder with a light push to get him moving, then slides into his place and sits on the stool next to me with his back turned towards the man, effectively shutting him out. He seems flabbergasted, but eventually turns and dubiously returns to whatever corner he crawled out from.

“Sorry that I couldn’t let you take care of that yourself, G.” Price apologizes and his calm, smooth voice does wonders to soothe the anger still roiling in my chest. “It’s one thing to let you get into fights with soldiers that deserve it and should be able to handle themselves, but it’s another to let you decimate the civilian population.” His gaze holds mine, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

I take a deep breath to try and calm down. “Understood, Captain.”

“Just Price when we’re out like this.” He corrects and I hesitate a moment before nodding.

“Understood, Price. I wouldn’t want to get everyone kicked out, anyway.” I glance at the others who have busied themselves watching a football game on the tv, trusting their Captain to handle whatever the problem was. But I’m not foolish enough to think that they weren’t aware of every move that was just made and every word that was said. I finish my drink and set it aside in favor of my water. There’s a little satisfaction in hearing the soft click as the seal breaks and I take a small sip. “You didn’t chime in earlier when I asked about everyone’s homelife.” I offer, letting the question that isn’t a question linger so he can decide whether to answer or not.

He heaves a breath and shrugs a shoulder, accepting his glass as the bartender passes by. “Not much to say. I’ve got a flat in London and I’ll meet Ghost for tea every now and then when I’m desperate enough for company.” There’s a snort down the table from the man and Price smirks at the sound. “The job makes it hard to set down real roots, so I’ve no one waiting for me back home other than old friends that’ve survived this shitshow and are waiting for me to join them or kick the bucket.” He chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

I consider him a moment, humming. “I hope both are far off.” It’s as close as I can get right now to admitting that I respect him. That I want him to stay on and to keep working with him. More than that, I actually like him. The others are growing on me, but there’s something a little easier with Price.

He returns my gaze and it feels nice to see his eyes soften a touch. “I can guarantee one is and with you behind the scope and holding the needle, I’m confident the other is as well.” I nod, accepting the compliment and responsibility that comes with it. We talk a little more as the night goes on and it’s clear that he’s usually the designated driver on nights like this. I offer to take over for him since I don’t want any more to drink, but he refuses, telling me he’d rather keep talking than drink more and look like an idiot like the others. He says it affectionately though, clearly not minding being the responsible one as long as he’s looking after the team.

Overall, it’s not a bad evening. The bad part comes later in the form of nightmares and sweat and waking up not remembering where I am for a moment. My hand clutches tight to my shirt over my heart, feeling it thunder in my chest as my mind comes back to me and I try to calm down. “Fucking hell.” I murmur, shaking my head and sliding out of bed. I change out of my sweaty clothes into shorts and a sports bra before wandering out into the hall.

I head to the training room and lose myself in the monotony of going at a punching bag. I passed my psych eval, I’m fit for work, but sometimes things creep up on me. It’s the nature of the things we do. Though these nightmares have nothing to do with missions I’ve been on. The dull sound of my fists hitting the punching bag echoes in the room and I eventually calm down enough to stop. I slowly unwrap my knuckles as I walk back towards my room, letting them flutter into one of the trashcans scattered around base. My steps slow as my mind whirls, then I change my course.

The mess hall won’t be open yet since dawn is still about an hour away, but Price has a coffee pot in his office. He’s offered to let the team use it as long as we only touch the pot and mugs alongside it. Time to see if that offer was genuine.

It feels a bit like an intrusion as I walk into his office without him there, but Price isn’t the kind of man to say something he doesn’t mean. I make an entire pot of coffee, knowing that he’ll be up at the crack of dawn and knowing the pot will keep it warm until then. The little sounds of the machine running and dripping dark ambrosia into the glass pot are soothing with their normalcy, especially as the nutty scent fills the room. It mixes well with the leftover smell from his signature cigars and while I don’t sit down once I have my cup, I do stay as I drink my coffee, breathing in the comforting scents.

I don’t realize how long I’ve been here until I hear boots coming down the hall. My hand freezes halfway to my mouth with my second cup of coffee. The gait is familiar and I have a brief moment of panic at feeling like I’m about to be caught doing something I shouldn’t. Instead, I take a breath and turn around to pour another cup of coffee before waiting by the door and offering it to Price as he steps in. Surprise flits through his eyes, not at finding someone here since he could probably smell the coffee from down the hall, but at finding me here.

“Thought you might’ve been Ghost. He’s the only one usually up at this time, but not usually after a night out.” He greets me and a little tingle slides down my spine at his gruff voice still rough from sleep. He takes the cup with a grateful nod while walking around his desk.

I linger by the door, still clinging to my coffee. “Woke up early today. Thanks for letting me use your coffee pot. I’ll be out in just a minute.” I tell him as he takes a sip of the coffee, shaking his head.

“You’re fine. Take your time.” He says the words easily, genuinely, and my shoulders lax before I realize how stiffly I’d been holding myself. His eyes remain on me and both of us remain standing. I’m not sure if he’s unconsciously copying me or if he’s retaining some idea of a gentleman not sitting before a woman. “How long have you been up?”

I shrug a shoulder, shifting my weight slowly from foot to foot to get rid of a bit of anxious energy. “An hour and a half? Maybe two? Needed to work out a little energy.” He hums, nodding and letting his eyes drop to his desk for a few moments. I hesitate as I think through what I’m about to say and I know he’s waiting, letting me decide without pressure. “The nightmares take me by surprise sometimes. Helps to do something physical until the memories fade.” It’s an olive branch, the words are the most vulnerable I’ve been since arrival. Nightmares aren’t abnormal around here and since Price is the only one who has read my file, I know he’ll understand what I mean.

His eyes raise to mine again and they’re gentle and nonjudgmental. “If you want to talk about it, you have my ear. If you want to sit and stay, my door is open. Sometimes the boys do the same.” It seems like such an easy offer for him to make. My fingers shift as I hold my coffee and I take a few steps closer to him, leaning my hip against one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

“And you, Captain?” I prod just a little, curious as to what he does when he has struggles.

He gives me a crooked grin. “I have good soldiers that come in and sit quietly in my office from time to time. They’re pretty good listeners.” I return his smile. It’s a trade then. Nightmare for nightmare. It’s a refreshing mindset and one that I haven’t often run into. More proof that Price is a good leader—a good man.

“Pretty fair price for a good cup of coffee.” I surprise myself by teasing and I’m rewarded by his smile widening as he takes a sip from his own cup.

“Mm. You’re welcome anytime. You make a better cup than the lot of them, anyway.” My lips press together to hide my smile at the compliment as I finish my coffee and set it aside.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” I begin to drift towards the door, halting when he calls out for me.

“G.” I turn back to find him reaching into his desk and shuffling around a bit, then he walks over to me with a little box in his hands. “Sometimes it helps to remind yourself that you’re not there anymore. Find something to ground yourself afterward. Like this.” He taps the top of the box as I take it and my brows furrow at the sight of one of his cigar boxes. I open it to find it empty, but I understand what he means as the distinct scent drifts up to me. I can’t help thinking of how well I slept wrapped up in his arms, breathing in the scent of his cigars and him. My fingers quickly shut the box to keep more of the smell inside as I look up at Price with a hint of a blush in my cheeks.

“Thank you.” It’s for more than just this. It’s a thank you for being gentle with me, for being thoughtful, for doing more than a usual Captain would. His entire body seems to soften and he reaches up, lightly squeezing my shoulder with a heavy hand.

“Anytime.” He responds and it takes me a minute to pull away, his hand sliding off me as I go.

That night, I sleep holding the cigar box and breathing in the smell that’s just so…Price. I don’t have a single nightmare.

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Text

Bewitched

Assassin!yandere OC x female!Assassin!yandere OC x doctor!yandere OC x King!yandere OC x female!yandere OC x fem!reader

Summary: They find you unconscious, wet and bloody outside the castle’s gate and quickly find out that your village wanted you harm, thinking you're a witch. They decide to give back in the exact same manner.

Warnings: burning, death, drowning, blood, bruises, trauma, yandere, foul language, prostitute shaming, indicating that dressing like a man means ypure a prostitute(its wild), getting stoned (?), let me know if there are more!!

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: Today is my birthday!! So I wanted to do something special and throw all our yanderes together. I've been working on this one shot for a month. I hope you'll like it!!

A cloudy day brings nothing but trouble. The king glances up at the uncertain sky from his balcony in the castle, sighing. The rain will start to pour any minute and by then, all the animals in the castle need to be brought to their houses and the garden furniture needs to have been brought in.

He turns his eyes down to the front gates. They’re always closed to make sure thieves won’t get into the castle. They did once. There were two people — a man and a woman. The man was tall and intimidating and the woman had a masculine name. They were supposed to assassinate king Edmund, but the knights caught them just in time … and now they work for him.

“What are you looking at?” Jerry asks. “There’s no one outside a day like this.”

“Just making sure that everything is fine”, king Edmund answers. “I have to care for the kingdom.”

Silas rolls his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. Edmund ignores him. His eyes stick onto something moving towards the gates in a dragging manner. Like a hurt animal.

“Wait, what’s that?” he asks and leans over the balcony railing.

“What?” Silas asks in confusion.

“There! That … that thing!”

The two assassinators look where he points, nodding.

“That’s a living thing, your majesty”, Silas says slowly. “I think it’s hurt.”

A thunder catches Edmund by surprise. He looks up at the dark sky and clenches his jaw.

“They can’t stay out”, he says determinedly. “There will be a storm at any minute. If they’re hurt, we can’t let it stay outside. Take it to the other animals.”

“Got it”, Jerry nods and grabs Silas’s arm. “Come now.”

The two of them run away.

The ‘animal’ down at the front gates isn’t an animal, they determine when they get close enough. It’s a woman dressed in gray, cheap clothes. She’s drenched in what they assume to be water.

“What the fuck?” Jerry breathes out. “Why is there a woman here?”

“Is she pregnant?” Silas asks.

“I don’t think so. But I think she’s hurt.” Jerry glances up at the sky. “Let’s get her inside.”

The unconscious woman — you — gets carried inside the castle by the man while Jerry walks beside, holding up your head. King Edmund gives you your own room. The two assassins start to push each other back and forth. A well dressed woman comes running.

“I heard that something happened!” she gasps. “I brought the doctor!”

“Hedwig, nice girls shouldn’t run”, Edmund mutters and rolls his eyes.

Jerry’s about to open her mouth and say something, but get interrupted by a manly voice.

“Yeah, yeah, but if she didn’t run to get me, who knows what could have happened?” the royal doctor sighs and enters the room. “If it’s an emergency then let the girl run for once.”

“Oh, Dr Kry, could you take a look at the woman?” King Edmund asks. “I want to know why she fainted on my door step, who she is … and why she’s wet. Do your best. And Hedwig, go tell the maids to prepare a warm bath for our guest. And Silas and Jerry …”

The two of them steps away from each other.

“I want you to find out who this is”, king Edmund says.

“Fine”, Jerry sighs and then freezes. “Wait. Together?”

“Yes, together. Is that wrong?”

“No”, Silas says quickly and grabs Jerry’s arm. “Come here-”

Jerry rips her arm back. “Don’t touch me, you pig.”

Despite their arguing, they walk out the room side by side. King Edmund sighs and turns back to Dr Kry who’s making his way over to your side. Hedwig has already left the room, leaving you alone with the king and the royal doctor.

“Could you leave the room?” the doctor asks. “I’ll need to remove her clothes if I want to search her body for injuries. Patient policy.”

“I’m the literal king? If there’s someone that can stay, it’s me.”

Dr Kry sighs and gives in, knowing that there’s no use arguing with the ruler of the kingdom. He walks over to your bed and gently removes the blankets you’ve gotten. He removes your simple dress and frowns. You have marks and bruises around your wrists and ankles and bloody marks all over your body.

“What’s that?” King Edmund asks.

“She’s gotten hurt”, Dr Kry says — mostly to himself — and lifts your wrist. “Most likely are these marks around her wrists and ankles from ropes.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.” Dr Kry feels your body temperature. “She’s very cold too. I reckon that she might have hypothermia. My guess is that it must have something to do with the fact that she’s completely soaked.” He lifts a strand of your hair and sniffs it. “I’m pretty sure it’s water. It doesn’t smell like anything.”

“So, what you’re saying is that she must have tripped and fell into a body of water?”

“I think so … but it’s not making much sense … not all of it anyway. The marks and signs of struggle … you don’t think she’s one of the prisoners who managed to escape and then perhaps fell into a lake? It would make sense. Those people down there aren’t the … sanest.”

“I don’t recognize her. Do you?”

Dr Kry tilts his head and shakes his head. “No … no, I don’t. Then what could have happened?”

“We’ll just have to ask her when she wakes up. Or when Silas and Jerry are back. I hope they have some information.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been unconscious or what time it is, but you do know that your body hurts a lot. You can feel someone dabbing your forehead with a warm, wet cloth. Carefully, you open your eyes and are met by bright light. Everything is blurry. You can see two people in the room. A man dressed in white and a young woman who very well could be a teenager.

“Oh, doctor!” a female voice says softly. “Her eyes are moving. I think she’s awake.”

“Good, she’s waking up”, a male voice answers. “Hedwig, leave, please. I’ll take care of her from now.”

“I want to help, I can help. Who else knows the female body better than a female?”

The doctor sighs frustratedly and points at the armchair in the corner of the room. Hedwig smiles and runs over to sit down. The doctor moves closer to you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Where am I?” you ask shockingly.

“You’re safe”, the woman named Hedwig answers quickly. “You’re in the king’s castle.”

“K-King’s castle?!” you shoot up from your lying position to look around, to see if it’s really true.

The doctor is quick to stop you and gently lay you back down again.

“What am I doing here?” you almost stutter.

“I’d hope you could answer that”, he sighs. “You were the one coming here in the first place.”

“N-No, I was …” you quiet down, thinking. “I was?”

“Yes, you were”, Hedwig says worriedly and moves closer to the bed. “You fainted by the front gates. You’ve been unconscious for three hours … or more.”

She can tell how scared you are by the look in your eyes. Hedwig smiles comfortingly and takes your hands in hers.

"Don't be scared", she smiles. "We'll take care of you now. You're in good hands. What's your name?"

"Y/N …"

"Y/N, could you tell me why you're wet?" The doctor asks.

You pick up a strand of your hair for inspection and frown. A sudden fear enters your eyes and you avoid any kind of contact with the others.

"Okay, you don't have to answer", Dr Kry says. "But I do think you need to wash yourself. You are full of dirt and blood."

"N-No!" you almost shout, shaking your head frantically.

"I'll be with you", Hedwig says softly.

You hesitate and she's quick to notice that.

"Everything will be okay, we just need to get you cleaned up so we can take care of your hurt areas."

She helps you out of bed and leads you out of the room.

The two assassins have followed a lead, ending up in a small village at the start of the mountain.

"What are we doing here?" Jerry asks with her arms crossed.

"The trail leads us here", Silas says. "Something here has to give us answers."

"We're more like detectives than killers."

"You could say we switched career paths."

"Very funny, Silas. Now do me a favor and shut the fuck up."

Silas snickers and follows the grumpy woman into the village. They quickly notice that the people walking around them seem somewhat irritated. Their eyes dart over to the two people entering their village. Jerry can feel their eyes wander over her judgingly. She scoffs.

"Excuse me ma'am", Silas says, gathering the attention of an older woman carrying a big wooden pole.

She stops and looks at them, disgust forming on her face when she sees Jerry.

"What?" the woman spits out.

"We were wondering if you've seen a woman today."

Silas starts to describe how you looked when he saw you, but the woman seems more interested in sending nasty looks towards Jerry. Jerry rolls her eyes and looks around, her eyes finding a small, black cat hiding in the bushes. She smiles.

"Yes, I saw her", the woman grits and glances at Jerry for the millionth time. "I'm not surprised someone like you wants to find her."

"What's wrong with me?" Jerry questions coldly.

"Do you sell yourself looking like that?"

Jerry scoffs and smiles, tilting her head. "At least I'm not some washed up rag cloth carrying a wooden pole big enough to make my husband insecure."

Silas sighs and moves behind Jerry to cover her mouth with his hand. He holds her tightly against his chest.

"Excuse her", he mutters, feeling Jerry either lick or try to bite his hand from the inside. "Why wouldn't you be surprised that someone like us tries to find the woman?"

"I don't want people like her in my village."

"You can't do anything to us, we're not from this village. King's rules."

"Then I don't have to tell you anything. Now leave."

Silas knows that they won't get further. He drags Jerry with him.

"Did she imply that I was a prostitute?" Jerry scoffs the very second Silas lets her go.

"Can you blame her?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You dress like a man, your hair is short, you use foul language … if they didn't think you're a prostitute, they'd think you're a witch."

"You little-"

Silas grabs her arm. "Come now, let's go."

"Edmund!" Jerry shouts as the two assassins run into the castle.

"It's 'your majesty', you pig", Edmund mutters and meets up with them. "Well? What have you learned?"

"Our guest is from a village in the start of the mountains", Silas begins, "and they refuse to say anything."

"They indicate that they don't want 'people like her' and whatnot", Jerry adds on. "Stuck up people. I swear they all have those wooden poles shoved up their asses …"

"Is she awake?" Silas asks.

"Yes, miss Hedwig is currently cleaning her up in the bathroom", King Edmund replies.

"Lucky bastard", Jerry mumbles and pushes through the two men.

She heads for the bathroom, finding you curled up in the tub with Hedwig sitting on the floor. Your entire body is shaking. Jerry only has time to introduce herself before she notices the marks all over you, especially the ones on your wrists and ankles. Suddenly, it's all clear.

"Holy fuck, it can't be true …", she breathes out.

"What?" Hedwig asks worriedly.

"They thought she was a witch."

You flinch and hide your face down in your knees. Hedwig looks at you with fear in her eyes, not knowing what to say.

"Is it true, Y/N?" she almost whispers.

You don't answer. The two women watch you break out in tears and that's the only answer they need.

"Oh my …", Hedwig whispers, putting her hand on your bare shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

They dry you up and wrap you in a big, fluffy towel. You get to sit down on the floor with the two of them in front of you.

"What happened?" Jerry asks.

You squirm. "I hadn't done anything … only rescued a black cat", you whisper. "It was dying … so I took it in. When the others noticed him, they wanted to burn me at the stake."

"What happened to the cat?" Hedwig asks.

"I-I think they killed him", you mumble.

"No, they didn't", Jerry says firmly. "I think I saw him when me and Silas were there."

You breathe out in relief and finally smile. The two women find your smile to be enchanting — but not in a bad way.

"Why were you wet?" Hedwig asks with furrowed brows.

"Before they burn you at the stake, they have to make sure that you really are a witch", you mumble. "So they tied my hands and feet together and threw me into the lake. The ropes loosened up in the water and I managed to save myself."

"They didn't like that, did they?" Jerry mutters.

"No, they didn't. They were about to burn me, but I managed to run away. So … they threw stones after me. I don't know how long I ran or how far they followed me, but I remember seeing the castle and hoped that I would be saved."

"You are", Hedwig reassures you softly. "We don't think that you are a witch."

"Thank you …"

You've noticed how Jerry looks different by now. Her shoulder length black hair, her name and manly clothes. She wouldn’t survive a day in your village.

The two women help you get into a nightgown and take you back to bed. The sheets have been changed and you slip down into the new, warm, clean sheets. You think back at the bath and squirm at how quickly the people calling themselves your friends suddenly turned their back on you.

The door opens and three men enter, one being the doctor, one being a stranger … and the last one being the king.

“Your majesty …”, you almost stutter, sitting up straight.

“Lay down again”, he says.

You obey.

“I’m happy to see you alive”, he says. “Your bruises and cuts will fade and the evil people who did this to you will pay the price. I promise you.”

Tears fog up your vision. You’re both relieved and embarrassed to know that other people know about the Hell you’ve gone through these last few days.

“Tell us what these cocksuckers did and we’ll slaughter them”, the unfamiliar man says.

“Silas, language”, Dr Kry reminds him.

“I can tell”, Jerry said. “She told us.”

And so, you’re forced to relive it.

Your bruises heal up a few days later. You’re allowed out of bed and out in the garden for some fresh air. At least one of your five new protectors are with you at all times.

"What's wrong, dollface?" Jerry asks. "You look like a lost kitty."

"Nothing", you sigh. "I just miss my family. I can’t believe that they thought …"

"That you were a witch? Shit happens. My parents think I'm mental. What's the big deal?" She shows her pants and shirt. "I can assure you, women will dress like this in the future. I'm just starting the trend."

"I wish I had your confidence."

"It's really not that hard to achieve. You just have to do your own race and then you will find who sticks by your side." She looks around. "Silas doesn't care."

"Are you a couple?"

"Fuck no, he's disgusting. If anything, I see him as that parasite you get under your shoe that you can't get rid off."

You smile slightly, gaining a smile from Jerry. She pinches your cheek softly.

"You should smile more. You have a … bewitching smile."

"Stop that", you laugh. "I don't want to hear the word 'witch' ever again."

Jerry smiles slightly, but her smile drops as she sees Silas coming into the garden.

“Isn’t it my favorite girl?” Silas smiles. “And Jerry of course.”

“Thank you, Silas, much appreciated”, Jerry mutters.

Silas wraps his muscular arms around you and gives your forehead a gentle — but somehow possessive — kiss.

“You’re such a cute little thing”, Silas says and lifts you up in his arms. “Let’s get you inside, things aren’t fully safe outside.”

Jerry gives him a questionable look and he nods noticeably. Silas carries you inside and leaves you in the painting room.

“Why don’t you paint a sweet little painting together with Hedwig?” Silas says. “Me and Jerry have some business to attend to.”

Hedwig enters the room together with the king himself. The heavy, long curtains covers the windows, making you frown.

“Y/N!” Hedwig smiles and runs over to you, wrapping her arms around you.

King Edmund holds his hands together behind his back as he smiles.

“Hello, dearest”, he says. “I’m so happy to see you again. I’ve been quite busy … finding the people who hurt you.”

You shrink.

“Don’t be afraid, they have it all under control”, Hedwig smiles and caresses your cheek.

You nod carefully. Silas and Jerry leave the room and you reach for a paintbrush.

“Hedwig, please, don’t sit like that”, Edmund mutters.

“I’m just sitting”, Hedwig says.

“Not like I want you to sit.”

“And how do you want me to sit?”

“Like your father wants you to sit. Don’t make me write him a letter.”

You look at him, wondering what the connection between Hedwig and Edmund really is. He seems to be able to understand your confused eyes.

“You see, I’m in care for Hedwig at the moment”, King Edmund says. “She’s a relative of mine who should have gone off to finishing school, but instead was sent here for me to deal with.”

“It’s just because we were late in sending the application …”, Hedwig mumbles.

“And now I’m stuck raising you.”

Edmund’s barely older than Hedwig. You sit there, painting for what feels like hours. The door suddenly opens and the doctor enters.

“Your maj- …”, he notices you and stop. “Y/N, nice to see you again. Your majesty, may I speak with you? Now?”

The king nods stiffly and stands up.

“My ladies, I will have to depart from you now”, he says apologetically. “There are things I have to do. Dr Kry will stay here with you.”

You look back at Hedwig once Edmund’s left. Her entire face is pale and her eyes are slightly widened, but she’s trying to hide it. It’s obvious.

“What’s wrong?” you ask cautiously. “Everyone is acting weird today …”

“Nothing is going on!” Hedwig says quickly. “Nothing at all!”

Dr Kry sighs.

“Don’t let her scare you, Y/N”, he says. “Everything is okay, don’t you worry. Continue painting. I think you’re doing it very well.”

You try to shake off the feeling in your stomach and turn back to your painting. They tell you that nothing’s wrong, but you can’t shake off that feeling. It only gets stronger when you hear loud shouting from the outside. Hedwig gasps, but quickly hides her mouth behind her hand. You frown and stand up to go look out the window. Dr Kry mirrors your moves.

“Y/N, don’t”, he warns you, grabbing your arm.

“Why?” you question carefully. “You said that everything was okay.”

You glance at Hedwig who looks even paler than before and then at the strict look on Dr Kry’s face. You rip his arm off of you and hurry over to the window. Roughly, you rip the curtains to the side, exposing the inner yard. A big fire is raging in the middle … with a pole in the pit of the dangerous flame. You freeze when you recognise the people getting tied up, the poor humans crying out for help and forgiveness.

“W-What’s going on?” you stutter.

You flinch heavily when you feel Dr Kry’s large hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, come with me-”, he starts.

“No!” you bursts out. “I don’t want to! I want to know what’s going on!”

“Y/N, dear, please, I’ll take you to bed-”, Hedwig says but you cut her off.

“I don’t want to go to bed, I want to know what you’re hiding from me!”

The doctor and the young girl looks at each other.

“We’re just helping you”, Dr Kry says calmly. “The king insisted on punishing the people who wanted you dead in the same way they wanted to kill you — at the stake.”

In horror, you look back out the window, desperately shaking your head.

“No, wait …”, you hurry to say. “I can’t let them do that! Sure, they’re mental, but they have families too! Please stop this madness!”

You can’t have this on your conscience. You’ll be indirectly responsible for their deaths. Quickly, you loose yourself from Dr Kry’s hold and sprint for the door. He’s right behind you, catching you before you have the chance to flee. His strong arms wrap around you, lifting you up.

“There’s clear orders from the king: you’re not allowed to leave this room until he’s back.”

He places you back down in front of your drawing. Hedwig sits beside you, not saying a word.

“You can’t let this go on, doctor!” you plead. “People are dying!”

“Yes, but … I can’t disobey the king or I’ll find myself strapped to a pole as well. Now continue your painting, it’s wonderful.”

“I agree”, Hedwig says weakly. “I really like it, please continue-”

“How can you pretend that nothing is happening?!” you almost scream.

“They’re traitors who get what they deserve …”, Hedwig mumbles, eyes stuck in her lap.

You stand up again, more forcefully this time. Dr Kry grabs your arms firmly.

"No, I have to-!" you start frantically.

Dr Kry hushes, but your voice grows higher. Realizing silencing you verbally won't work, he brings your face into his chest, locking it in place and hushing louder.

“It's okay, Y/N”, he comforts you. “Everything is for you, everything we do is for your safety and happiness.”

You try to push him away. Hedwig runs over to you and cups your cheeks between her soft hands. You shake your head in pure fear.

“Tell them to stop”, you plead desperately. “Please!”

“We can’t”, Dr Kry says. “King’s orders.”

You can’t shut the screams out. Hedwig hurries over to the music box and turns it on to drown out the horrible noise. Dr Kry brings you back to the painting.

“If you finish it before the king is back he will be pleased with you”, the doctor says.

You sit there, staring in front of you in pure disbelief. This can’t be true. Have the kingdom gone to Hell?

The door opens. King Edmund, Silas and Jerry enter one after another.

“How’s your drawing going?” the king asks.

You ignore him.

“Y/N?” Edmund asks.

“She heard”, Hedwig says quietly. “And saw.”

“I see.” He walks over to you, crouching down beside your chair. “Don’t be mad. You’ll never be hurt again.”

“You can’t do that”, you say. “You can’t kill people like that!”

“They were criminals. They tried to murder you.” He lifts your hand, kissing it gently. “And as your king, I can’t allow those scums to live.”

You rip your hand back and stand up.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you spit.

“I wouldn’t talk to him like that if I were you”, Silas smiles amusedly with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What? You’ll throw me in the fire too?”

“No, but we have the dungeons for a reason”, Edmund says. “Do you want to end up there, sweetheart?”

You glare at him, refusing to answer. Your silence tells him everything he needs to know.

“You’re all barks but no bite, doll”, Jerry says, just as amused as Silas.

“I want to leave”, you say. “I’m well now. You don’t have to keep me here anymore.”

“I don’t think you’re going to leave”, Edmund says. “I order you to stay here. If you disobey, you’ll be punished severely, got it?”

“What’s the punishment?”

“Marrying me. Although, I’d see it as more of a privilege. Don’t you?”

“And even if you left, where would you go?” Dr Kry asks. “Your entire community is gone. There’s nothing left but a ghost village.”

“You’re not leaving, you hear me?” King Edmund says firmly. “You’re staying here now. Where you’re safe. The outside is clearly too harsh for you.”

“You’re insane …”, you whisper.

Hedwig sighs, grabbing your shoulders carefully. “Come, Y/N, I’ll take you to bed.”

You let her drag you with her. Mostly because you want to get away from the other four. Hedwig tucks you into your bed with a soft, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry that we lied to you”, she says. “But we couldn’t tell you what we were doing. We knew you’d get scared.”

“I thought you were nice”, you mumble sadly.

“We are. We’re doing the right thing … we don’t want people like that around you. They had to pay. We really do cherish you. Bringing you in here was the best choice we’ve made. Honestly. We really want to protect you, Y/N. You’re such a precious soul.”

“Leave me alone, Hedwig.”

She nods carefully and fixes your sheets. Before she leaves, she gives your forehead a kiss. You turn on your side and hugs your knees close to your chest, feeling a sickeningly feeling in your stomach. You shouldn’t feel guilty … the others certainly aren’t. Those people wanted you dead, why are you feeling bad?

After a while, the door opens behind you, but you don’t turn around to see who entered.

“Y/N, turn around”, Jerry says.

“No”, you answer.

“You difficult shit.”

She walks over to your bed, putting something down on the covers. You can feel small movements and soon hear a little, familiar sound. WIth a gasp, you sit up straight and look at the black kitty making cookies on your blanket. You lift him up in your arms, hugging him tightly.

“My little baby, oh my god”, you breathe out into the kitty’s black fur. “You’re okay. I’m so happy to see you again.”

“You’ll forgive us now, right?” Jerry asks.

“You can’t buy my agreement, Jerry.”

“Of course we can. Every human has a prize. This is yours. I know it.”

Of course she’s right, but why should you tell her?

“My dearest Y/N”, she says lowly, stroking your hair. “You understand that even if you had a higher price for your freedom, we would find it. You’re never leaving, do you understand me?”

You gulp and nod noticeably. Jerry chuckles and kisses your cheek before leaving the room. You breathe out shakily, hugging the cat closer to your body. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? A tear runs down your cheek. You really did bewitch them all.

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