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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 1 month

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Heartbeat of Autumn

As new parents, Eris and Lyra Vanserra navigate the overwhelming challenges of caring for their newborn son. Amidst sleepless nights, overbearing family, and deep-seated fears they discover the unbreakable bond that comes with parenthood and the strength neither of them knew they possessed.

Content warnings: Postpartum struggles, emotional distress, tense familiar relationships.

Eris peered down at the patch of vibrant ginger hair nestled against his chest, the tiny bundle with porcelain skin swaddled tightly in a blanket, only a rosy hand peeking out from underneath. His son was perfection incarnate—every feature flawless and delicate. From the moment he was born, Thorne had been blessed with a full head of fiery red hair, just like all the other Vanserra boys. But as the weeks passed, some of it had fallen away, leaving behind soft tufts that tickled Eris's fingertips.

With a tender touch, Eris traced his fingers up and down the baby's tiny back, feeling the warmth of his body seep into his own. Thorne gurgled contentedly in his slumber, the sound like a symphony to Eris's ears. Plump lips puckered and parted with each gentle breath, and the sight filled Eris with an overwhelming love for his son.

From the moment Thorne was born, Eris had made a promise to himself: he would devote every waking second to his son. Despite his duties under his father's oppressive rule, Eris refused to be an absent father. He was determined to be there for every milestone and precious moment in Thorne's life, even if it meant going against Beron's expectations of him being "soft and weak". So every diaper change, feeding, burp, and bath was met with Eris's undivided attention and love for his son.

Despite enduring his father's constant verbal tirades, all it took was the warmth of Thorne's tiny body against his chest to make every anxiety and worry simply melt away. The soft skin of his baby boy merged seamlessly with his own, their scents mingling into a delightful mixture of cinnamon and apples.

Eris leaned down, breathing in the familiar scent of his son's hair as it tickled his nose. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, feeling the rise and fall of Thorne's chest against his own. Every detail of this new little life filled him with overwhelming love and joy. Though only two months old, Thorne already felt like a part of Eris that he had been missing for a lifetime. From the moment those bright green eyes opened and Thorne let out his first glorious battle cry, Eris had been reduced to a puddle on the floor. In that instant, he knew he would have been content to die right then and there, as nothing more than Thorne's devoted father—high lordship be damned.

Lyra's pregnancy had been anything but smooth sailing - a demanding and unrelenting trial that tested not only her physical strength, but also Eris's. From the very first month, she was plagued by a debilitating morning sickness that refused to abide by any schedule, often striking at any time throughout the day. The mere smell of food would send her sprinting towards the nearest bathroom, doubled over as she retched into the basin with little relief. She soon gave up on trying to eat anything more than a few sips of broth and small bites of dry bread, her once robust appetite now a distant memory. Eris could do nothing but watch in helpless despair as his beloved mate, the female he wanted to share the world with, seemed to waste away before his eyes. She lost an alarming amount of weight, her once radiant complexion replaced with a pale, sickly pallor and her once curvaceous figure reduced to skin and bones.

When the second trimester finally brought some respite from the sickness, Lyra regained some of her strength and color. However, sleep continued to elude her as their unborn child grew restless within her womb. Every night was a battle against exhaustion as she tried desperately to soothe the baby's constant kicking and squirming. Eris did his best to stay awake with her, sitting in their chambers bathed in the soft glow of firelight, singing tender lullabies in hopes of lulling both mother and child to sleep. His deep voice resonated with love and fervent prayers for their little one to finally find rest so that Lyra could have a moment's reprieve.

As they entered into the third trimester, Lyra's struggle only intensified. Each movement became a monumental effort as her body strained under the weight of her growing belly. Her joints constantly throbbed with pain, every step causing her immense discomfort as if her very bones were on fire. Eris's heart broke a little more each time she winced, her body forced to bear the burdens of pregnancy in ways that seemed almost cruel. Despite the overwhelming challenges, Lyra still managed to smile through the pain and tell Eris how excited she was to meet their little one. Her strained voice held a fierce determination and an unbreakable love that seemed to overshadow all the suffering she endured.

"It’s worth it," she would whisper, her voice trembling with both exhaustion and hope. "All of this is worth it, Eris. I’d endure it a thousand times over just to hold our babe in my arms."

In the crisp, autumn air of a new day, Lyra's labor began. The first hints of frost glinted on the windowpanes of their chambers, a silent but beautiful welcome for the newest member of the High Autumn Family. As she stirred awake, Lyra felt a sharp pain shoot through her lower back, but she dismissed it as just another discomfort in her long and difficult pregnancy. Yet as the morning progressed, the pain intensified, spreading like wildfire across her abdomen and pelvis. By midday, with weak rays of sunlight filtering through the orange and brown leaves on the trees, the contractions had hit full force - deep, wrenching waves that stole her breath and left her gripping the edges of her bed in desperation.

Eris stood by her side, his usually composed and reserved demeanor now cracking under the weight of worry and fear. His mate's face contorted in pain as she struggled through each contraction. Eris had thought he was prepared for this moment, but now as he watched her struggle, he felt a helplessness clawing at his insides like a caged animal. He frantically called for a healer, his voice echoing through the halls with a desperate panic that he couldn't contain.

Lyra's labor was a slow, grueling process, each contraction ripping through her body like a fiery inferno. Her fingernails dug into Eris's skin as she clung to him, seeking any bit of comfort and stability in the midst of the relentless pain. Hours passed, dragging on for what felt like an eternity as she labored through the day and well into the night. The healer's brow furrowed with concern as she checked Lyra's progress, her gentle reassurances becoming strained as each minute ticked by. Lyra's breaths came in short gasps, her strength depleting with each passing contraction. Eris remained steadfast by her side, his grip on her hand tight and unwavering, whispering words of encouragement and love. The only time he left her was when his father summoned him to the court room, insisting that it was not appropriate for a male to be present during the birth of his child. But Eris refused to leave his mate's side, determined to support her in whatever way he could. He calmly informed his father that he was not like any other male and that he would be there for Lyra, and he would witness the birth of his first born.

The pain was an all-encompassing force, a relentless attack on her body that felt as though it were tearing her apart. Lyra cried out, her voice hoarse from screaming through each contraction, her body trembling with exhaustion. She had been told that her body would know what to do, that it was designed for this purpose of bearing children, but now she wondered if her body had never been properly trained for this task. The agony seemed never-ending, consuming her every thought and movement. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Lyra's cries turned into desperate pleas, declaring that she couldn't endure any longer and that everything felt wrong. Eris, watching the strain in her eyes and feeling his own heart constrict with fear, knew Lyra was reaching her breaking point.

As the hours ticked by, Lyra's labor seemed to come to a halt. Her body refused to progress, as if frozen in time. The healer's expression grew grim as she quietly explained that the baby was not positioned for an easy delivery, and Lyra's body was struggling to push it down the birth canal. The suggestion of a medical intervention hung in the air like a dark cloud, a decision left to Eris and Lyra as they exchanged desperate glances. But Lyra, with a fierce determination in her eyes, refused to give up. She dug deep within herself and summoned every last ounce of strength she had, gritting her teeth against the pain.

The sun rose and set again, but still, Lyra labored on. The chamber filled with her cries, the calming words of the healer, and Eris's softly whispered prayers to any deity who would listen. His heart broke as he watched his beloved endure each wave of pain, her eyes pleading for relief.

As the sun began to rise on the second day of labor, a sense of urgency and determination filled Lyra's body. Her clothes were drenched in sweat, her hair matted against her forehead as she gasped for breath. The pain was intense, but she could feel her body taking over, pushing her onwards towards the end. Through the haze of agony, the healer's voice rang out like a beacon, guiding her through each contraction. Eris stood by her side, his hand clasping hers tightly as she gave everything she had.

With one final, guttural scream, Lyra pushed with all her might, every muscle in her body straining with a strength she didn't know she possessed. And then, just as the first rays of sunlight broke through the darkness, a cry pierced the air - loud and defiant, filling the room with its power and bringing tears to Eris's eyes.

Thorne had arrived. Their son. Their baby boy, who they had been waiting for with so much love and anticipation.

The healer moved with swift, practiced movements as she swaddled the tiny, squirming, screaming bundle and placed him on Lyra's chest. Her voice was soft with both praise and relief as she spoke to the new mother. Lyra, her body trembling with exhaustion, let out a choked sob as she looked down at her son, who immediately calmed upon feeling the warmth of his mother's skin and hearing the gentle lilt of her voice. The pain, fear, and hours of labor all faded into a distant memory as she gazed into the bright green eyes that met hers with a curious, unwavering stare.

Eris, tears streaming down his face, leaned over the bed to press a kiss to Lyra's sweat-soaked auburn hair. His heart swelled with a fierce love that bordered on painful, his chest tight with a mix of pride, relief, and overwhelming joy. The bond between himself and his son radiated as he felt himself drawn to the small, sweet face just minutes old.

"You did it," he whispered, his voice cracking as he gently brushed her hair from her forehead. "You did it, Lyra." He pressed another kiss to her forehead, savoring the familiar scent of his mate mixed with the new scent of their child.

Lyra smiled through her tears, momentarily forgetting her exhaustion as she cradled their son against her chest. Her fingers traced over the small ginger tufts that marked him unmistakably as a Vanserra. She didn't look at her mate; her focus solely on the newborn baby boy that she had longed to meet for months. "He's here," she murmured in awe, her voice thick with emotion. "He's finally here. We have a son."

The days following Thorne’s birth were a whirlwind of emotions and exhaustion, a blur of sleepless nights and endless moment’s of awe as Eris and Lyra adjusted to life with their newborn. The world outside their chambers seemed to fade into insignificance, their entire universe now centered around the life they had brought into it. Thorne, with his tuft of red hair and bright green eyes, demanded every ounce of their attention, which both mother and father were happy to supply.

But with the joy of Thorne’s arrival came the inevitable challenges. Everyday was a new relentless test of endurance. Thorne seemed to only sleep in short bursts, resting on his mothers chest. He awoke often with hungry cries that echoed through the quiet of night and day. Lyra, still recovering from the grueling labor was exhausted beyond measure, her body aching and sore, her emotions a fragile thing that verged on overwhelming. Eris, despite his best efforts, could do little to alleviate her pain, but he took on as much of the burden as he could, tending to Thorne at every opportunity to give Lyra even a moment to lie down.

He would rise in the middle of the night to the screaming babe, holding his son close as he paced the length of their chamber, humming lullabies, traditional of the Autumn Court that his nursemaids had sung to him. Eris learned quickly how to change a diaper with trembling hands and how to swaddle Thorne just right to ease his fussing. But despite his determination, there were moments when Eris felt the weight of it all—the exhaustion, the fear of being his father, the constant, gnawing worry for Lyra’s wellbeing.

On one particular night, after the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the court, the once-golden leaves outside their chambers were now tinged with deep reds and purples of twilight. Inside, however, the world was far from calm. Thorne’s cried echoed through the room, piercing the silence and fraying Lyra’s already delicate nerves.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Autumn Court, and the once-golden leaves outside their chambers were now tinged with the deep reds and purples of twilight. Inside, however, the world was far from calm. Thorne’s cries echoed through the room, piercing the silence and fraying Lyra’s already delicate nerves.

It had been hours since the last time he had settled, and Lyra was at her wit’s end. She had fed him, changed him, rocked him, and sang to him until her voice was hoarse, but nothing seemed to soothe him. Thorne’s little face was red from crying, his tiny fists clenched as he screamed, the sound grating against her exhausted mind. Every time she tried to pass him to Eris for a moment’s respite, Thorne only screamed louder, his cries reaching a fever pitch until she had no choice but to take him back.

“Lyra, let me take him again,” Eris urged gently, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched her struggle.

But Lyra shook her head, her hands trembling as she clutched Thorne to her chest. “He doesn’t want you,” she whispered, her voice thick with frustration and fatigue. “He just wants me, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything, Eris. I don’t know how to make him stop.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she looked down at their son, whose cries had only grown more desperate. The sound was relentless, a high-pitched wail that seemed to vibrate through her entire body, leaving her feeling raw and frayed at the edges.

Eris moved closer, his hand resting on her back as he tried to comfort her. “Lyra, it’s not your fault. Babies cry—it’s what they do. He doesn’t know what he wants yet, but it’s not because you’re doing something wrong.”

But his words offered little solace. Lyra could feel herself unraveling, the weight of the past few days crushing her as Thorne’s cries grated against her already frazzled nerves. She was exhausted, her body still weak from labor, and she felt like she was failing at the one thing that mattered most—being the mother Thorne needed her to be.

“I can’t do this,” she finally broke, her voice shaking as tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m so tired, Eris. He won’t stop crying, and I don’t know what to do. I just want him to stop. I need him to stop.”

Eris’s heart ached at the sight of her so broken, her usually strong demeanor crumbling under the weight of exhaustion and self-doubt. He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to press too tightly against Thorne, who was still squirming and wailing in her arms. “Lyra, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and I’ll stay with you. We’ll figure it out together.”

But Lyra could barely hear him over the sound of Thorne’s cries, her own breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she tried to calm the baby, her hands shaking as she rocked him back and forth. “Please, Thorne,” she whispered desperately, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions. “Please, just stop. I need you to stop.”

But Thorne only cried harder, his tiny body rigid with distress, his cries escalating to a pitch that seemed to pierce straight through her. It was too much—the constant crying, the overwhelming responsibility, the fear that she wasn’t enough. She felt as though she were drowning, the walls of their chamber closing in on her as Thorne’s cries became all she could hear, all she could think about.

Without another word, Lyra sank down onto the edge of the bed, her body trembling with exhaustion and despair. She clutched Thorne to her chest, her tears falling onto his tiny head as she rocked him back and forth, murmuring broken apologies that were swallowed up by his cries. “I’m sorry, Thorne. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know how to help you.”

Eris knelt beside her, his heart breaking as he watched her unravel, knowing there was little he could do to take away her pain. He reached out, his hand gently covering hers as she held Thorne. “Lyra, you’re doing everything you can. He’s just overwhelmed, just like you. But he’s safe, and he’s loved, and that’s what matters most. You’re enough, Lyra. You’re more than enough.”

But Lyra couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it. All she could hear were Thorne’s cries, all she could feel was the crushing weight of inadequacy. She had thought she could handle this, had thought she was prepared, but nothing had prepared her for the relentless, unending demands of a newborn who needed her every moment of every day.

Her tears came faster now, her sobs mixing with Thorne’s cries as she leaned into Eris’s embrace, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. “I’m so tired, Eris,” she choked out. “I’m so, so tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Eris pulled her closer, his heart breaking as he held both her and Thorne in his arms, wishing he could do more to ease her pain. “I know, my love. I know you’re tired. But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here with you, and we’ll get through this together. I promise you, it will get better.”

But in that moment, Lyra couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. All she could feel was the crushing weight of exhaustion, the overwhelming pressure to be everything Thorne needed her to be, and the fear that she was failing him—failing both of them.

Eris held her through it, his own eyes damp with unshed tears as he whispered words of comfort, his voice steady even as his heart ached with helplessness. He knew this was only a passing storm, that they would find their way through it, but in that moment, all he could do was be there—hold them, love them, and wait for the storm to pass.

And eventually, slowly, it did. Thorne’s cries began to subside, his tiny body finally giving in to exhaustion as he quieted in Lyra’s arms. His little hands unclenched, his breathing evening out as he drifted off into a fitful sleep, his face still wet with tears. Lyra, too, began to calm, her sobs quieting as the tension in her body slowly eased, though the weight of her emotions still lingered.

Eris gently took Thorne from her arms, cradling the sleeping babe against his chest as he brushed a kiss to Lyra’s temple. “Rest now,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with love. “I’ll take care of him. Just close your eyes and rest.”

Lyra nodded weakly, too drained to argue, too exhausted to do anything but lean into him as he carefully guided her to lie back on the bed. She closed her eyes, her body heavy with fatigue, and within moments, she was asleep, her breathing finally deep and even.

Eris stood there for a long time, holding Thorne close as he watched over Lyra, his heart aching with a mixture of love and sorrow.

And then there was his family.

Eris had anticipated his father’s reaction to Thorne’s birth, but nothing could have truly prepared him for Beron’s demands. Upon hearing that Lyra had given birth to a son, the High Lord of the Autumn Court had been insistent on meeting his grandson as soon as he could. Beron had sent word almost immediately, demanding an audience with the babe, his tone cold and authoritative, as though Thorne was just another asset to be inspected.

Eris’s jaw tightened with anger as he read the message, the familiar weight of his father’s expectations pressing down on him like a vice. Beron had never been a male to show warmth or tenderness, and the thought of his father laying eyes on his son filled Eris with a protective fury he had never known before. Thorne was only days old—fragile, innocent, and so very small—and the last thing Eris wanted was for him to be paraded before Beron like a trophy.

But Eris knew his father well enough to understand that defiance would come with a cost. Beron would not tolerate insubordination, even from his eldest son, and especially not when it came to a matter as significant as the birth of his heir’s firstborn. Eris could almost hear the words his father would say—the cutting remarks, the accusations of weakness, the thinly veiled threats that always lurked beneath the surface of their interactions.

Lyra, sensing Eris’s turmoil, placed a gentle hand on his arm as he stared down at the letter, Throne swaddled to her chest, his tiny whimpers and gurgles filling the air. Her touch brought him back to the present, grounding him. “You don’t have to let him in,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion but firm with resolve. “Thorne isn’t ready for that. And neither are we.”

Eris looked at her, at the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin, and the way she clutched Thorne protectively to her chest. She was right, of course. They weren’t ready to face Beron’s scrutiny, not when they were still trying to navigate the fragile early days of parenthood. Eris knew his father had already made a judgement for Lyra not immediately presenting the babe to the court, but tried his best to shield her from direct scrutiny. But refusing Beron wasn’t a decision he could make lightly. It would be seen as a direct challenge to his authority—a challenge that could have far-reaching consequences for both of them.

Eris took a deep breath, steeling himself as he made his decision. “I’ll speak with him,” he said, his voice low and determined. “But he won’t come near Thorne. Not yet.”

The tension between Eris and his father crackled in the air like lightning, each of them radiating a palpable hatred towards the other. Beron's piercing gaze bore into his son, his expression cold and unreadable. "Where is the babe?" he barked, his voice sharp as a blade.

"He's with Lyra," Eris replied coolly, refusing to show any sign of fear or intimidation. "They're resting."

Beron's face twisted into a sneer, his anger boiling just below the surface. "Resting? Or hiding?" His eyes darkened with malice. "I expected more from you, Eris. You are meant to raise your son as a future ruler of this court, not coddle him like a weakling."

Eris felt a surge of rage at his father's words, but he kept his emotions in check, determined not to give Beron the satisfaction. "Thorne is an infant. He knows nothing of our world or our court. He needs time to be with his mother and to grow. When the time is right, I will present him before the court."

Beron's sneer deepened as he drew closer to Eris, his towering figure casting a menacing shadow over him. "You are becoming soft, boy. You were born to rule, not to be ruled by sentiment."

Eris clenched his fist at his side, but remained stoic. "My decision stands. Thorne will stay with Lyra until she is ready to face the courtiers once again. If you wish to see your grandson before then, you will have to make your own arrangements."

Beron stared down at his son with seething anger in his eyes. "You will teach him to be a true Vanserra, Eris. You will not let him become weak and feeble like you have."

Eris's jaw tightened, but he held his tongue as his father stormed out of the room, leaving a bitter trail behind him.

But for now, in this moment, Eris was bathed in the warm glow of the evening light, his newborn, barely two month old babe, slumbering on his chest. As he ran his hand gently up and down the length of Thorne’s back, Eris marveled at how small and delicate his son was. The baby gurgled happily in his sleep, his tiny lips puckered and parted with each soft breath, and the sight made Eris’s heart clench with a fierce, overwhelming love. This little boy, with his shock of red hair and his quiet strength, had captured his heart in a way that nothing else ever had.

Eris knew that these moments were fleeting, that Thorne would grow quickly, and soon enough, he’d be running around the halls of the estate, getting into mischief like any Vanserra boy. But for now, he was content to savor this—this quiet, peaceful bond that belonged to just the two of them.

He leaned down again, pressing a soft kiss to Thorne’s head, breathing in the scent of his son and feeling the weight of his responsibilities slip away. In this moment, there was no Beron, no Autumn Court, no expectations or pressures. There was only the warmth of Thorne’s skin against his own, the gentle rise and fall of his tiny chest, and the deep, abiding love that filled Eris’s heart to the brim.

He closed his eyes, letting the world outside fade away, and for the first time in a long while, Eris felt at peace. Holding Thorne, feeling the steady beat of his heart, Eris knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, no matter the battles he would have to fight, this—this was worth it all. Every sacrifice, every moment of fear, every tear shed—nothing mattered more than this little life he held in his arms.

In that stillness, with Thorne sleeping soundly against him, Eris made a silent vow. He would protect this boy with everything he had, would give him the love and the life that Eris himself had never known. He would be the father Thorne deserved, the one who would always be there—present, loving, and unwavering.

As he held Thorne close, Eris felt a tear slip down his cheek, a tear of joy, of relief, of pure, unadulterated love. And as Thorne stirred slightly in his sleep, his tiny hand curling against Eris’s chest, Eris smiled, knowing that in this moment, he had everything he had ever needed.

#eris vandaddy #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar fanfiction #eris fanfiction

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 1 year

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COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 3 - 3.7K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

_________________

“Are you sure? No shame in staying behind.” Shadowheart said as she adjusted the last strap on the dark justicar armor she lent you. She looked concerned and wary.

“I’m sure, like you said, we are just going to a cemetery to talk to Raphael then come back. Sounds easy enough.” You shrugged. No wonder everyone’s movement in the game was limited, armor is heavy as shit.

Shadowheart paused, “How did you know it’s Raphael? I only said we had a devil to see…” she trailed off.

“Oh, umm…. With what you’ve told me this sounds like a Raphael thing… he has a certain flare for the dramatics that’s hard to miss.” You deflected trying so hard to sound casual.

Shadowheart hummed but you could tell she was… suspicious. Before you could spiral into an anxious heap, Astarion walked swiftly between the two of you. Hitting your shoulder unnecessarily he said “Are we going to stand around all day coddling them or shall we go?”

He always looked so pissed to be in your general vicinity and you noticed it more and more since the night you showed the group your phone. It had been a week since then, you worked with everyone to build your skills up. Everyone was pretty comfortable around you as of late, Karlach even going as far as to say she trusts you. So why was he the exception? You hadn’t done anything negative towards him? Was he upset about his reflection? Maybe you shouldn’t have sprung that on him? Whatever it was, it was making you both anxious and annoyed.

Truth be told, you were still kinda new to playing Baldur's Gate III in your world. The last save you remember was finishing the last trial in The Gauntlet of Shar. You just hope your limited knowledge might be useful somehow. You have to be mindful however. Little slips like the one with Shadowheart, showcasing that you knew more than you let on, could cause unexpected consequences. You had a few similar slip ups throughout the week but were thankfully able to brush them off. And you still had no idea how to tell them about you, the real you. You decided to keep it hidden for now, and when somebody inevitably asks you’ll tell them all.

——————————

You stepped through the portal with Astarion, Karlach, and Shadowheart. It left your body tingling for a moment. You looked around and vaguely recognized where you were. It’s definitely the Shadow Cursed Lands. The building in front of you looked abandoned but everything in the lands looked abandoned. You started walking forwards to the door of the building. You don’t remember anything bad here from your gameplay. The doors opened and you saw the first person outside of your little jolly group of misfits. She looked like a nurse and didn’t appear to be hostile. The others walked behind you as you slowly walked towards her. She was dipping a sponge into a basin of bloody water and cleaning the leg of a corpse. There were two of them actually. Both dead on separate beds, arms outstretched towards each other.

“The doctor is quite busy today… you may wait in line to be seen.” The nurse said.

“Why are you cleaning corpses, surely there must be something better to do.” Astarion said, typical sass in his voice but also confusion.

“Corpse? They’re merely sleeping…” she said softly, continuing to clean.

“Mmmmm no, those are definitely dead.” He responded, tapping the lid of a nearby jar.

The nurse turned to look at Astarion. “Perhaps I should turn my services elsewhere?” She said dropping the sponge back into the bowl. She pulled out a bone saw and started walking towards him. His eyes widened.

“Sister, look…” you said, pointing towards the bodies. Her head instantly snapped away from Astarion.

“Oh sister they’ve been so well tended to. They sleep like angels. They must be so grateful.” You said, eyeing Astarion as if trying to tell him to back up and shut up.

She dropped the bone saw, grabbing your hands. They were cold and shaking. “Truly? These hands… the doctor must be notified of all patient improvements.” She said starting to walk towards the center of the house where a heavy closed door laid.

“Wait!” You said quickly.

She looked at you, head cocked to the side.

“Your patients will wake soon. Who is lovelier to wake up to than their doting nurse? You stay, I’ll notify the doctor.” You smiled at her.

She shook her head vigorously, “Right, they need me. The doctor is in surgery right now… wait for him there.” She pointed at the large door before grabbing the sponge from the bowl. “Take these will you?” She asked, dropping two rings in your hands. Shadowblade rings. They were Arabella’s parents.

You pocketed them quickly and thanked the sister before silently backing up and walking away.

“Is that your talent? Comforting deranged nurses?” Astarion jabbed.

You elected to ignore him, not feeding into his negativity.

You walked into the operating theater. The doctor had just removed a man’s eyes, the sisters cutting him randomly and harshly. Your eyes widened and you fought the urge to throw up. Seeing this in a game and in real life we’re vastly different and this was insanely more disturbing.

Your foot hit some debris on the floor, notifying everyone of your existence.

“Are you here to aid in surgery? I asked for an attending hours ago…” said the doctor, flinging the man’s eyes off into a corner of the room.

“Yes… of course doctor my apologies.” You detach yourself from your group. The man on the operating table whimpered and whined. His throat was all raw from the endless screaming you imagined. You walked closer to the man. The doctor handed you one of the nurses knives.

You took it gently, the man continued to struggle against his confines. You looked at your companions, they looked at you with just as much anxiety as you felt.

“Be ready” you mouthed to Karlach. She nodded, your companions slowly moving into different locations.

You looked to the doctor who was holding a bone saw. You weren’t exactly in the *best* spot for a battle to start. Let alone your first battle. Let’s just hope somebody likes you enough to give Withers a little gold if the worst happens.

You swiftly plunged the knife into the doctors throat, shoving the nurse next to you as you grabbed your sword. Lae’zel gave you The Cruel Sting for your first time outside of camp, bless her angry ass. You swung at the nurse on the opposite side of you, the sword ensnared her. The nurses spread out, your companions taking them on. The doctor turned his focus to you. “Petulant child…” he said before knocking you on your back, he held his bone saw under your chin. “Don’t fret, I’ll be sure to cure you of your…. Affliction.” He laughed while tapping his head.

You held your arm up just in time for the bone saw to clatter against your armor. Karlach shot her bow at him as soon as she saw you on the ground. The air stunk of drow poison and that seemed to be enough to turn the doctors attention. You scurried off the ground, driving your sword through him as he faced away from you. Karlach hit him with a reckless attack and the doctor dropped to the ground, finally dead. The hall was quiet except for everyone’s heavy breaths.

You smiled at Karlach, impressed with yourself. The smile quickly faltered as you looked down and saw one of the nurses blades in between the metal plates of your armor. Karlach immediately turned and struck down the dying nurse. Shadowheart turned you quickly and pulled the knife out. You screamed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the theater. She spoke a healing spell over you, but her brow drew up in confusion.

“It’s not working.” She whispered.

“The fuck do you mean it’s not working? Fix it!” You yelled. You could feel the blood seeping through the different parts of your armor. Down your stomach, over your thighs…

“I’m trying!” She yelled back, rattling off another spell.

Karlach popped open a potion of healing, she grabbed your face and tilted your head back forcing the bottle to your lips. It tasted like wine; you could feel it envelop your body. As if it were coursing through you seeking out pain. You felt it stitch your wound together sloppily. You cried in pain as it felt like fire putting you back together. You lifted your armor, the wound was partially healed but that would have to do until you got back to camp.

Karlach and Shadowheart asked if you were ok, sympathetic as they both know battle is new to you. Battle wounds are common but you never forget your first.

“Your first battle scar! Congrats soldier.” Karlach said, trying to lighten the mood.

You blubbered out a chuckle, readjusting your armor.

“I’m sorry we were here to see Raphael, yes?” Astarion said walking out to the graveyard without the rest of you.

You sighed and began walking, doing your best not to grimace.

———————-

Everyone listened intently to Raphael. He told Astarion everything you already knew. You had zoned out a bit, hand ghosting over your wound every few minutes.

“And you…” Raphael said in a sultry tone, looking you up and down like a meal.

You closed your eyes desperately wanting to disappear. Of course the devil would know you weren’t of their world.

“Different aren’t you?” He said grabbing your hand, a swift prick to one of your fingers had you snatching your hand back. Raphael dipped the nail into his mouth, swirling your blood on his tongue.

“Mmmm, very different. You’re not from here are you? Strange that you ended up with this lot. You’re far more valuable elsewhere. Have you told your new friends about you? What do they really know and what do you hide?” Raphael smiled as he looked at the others.

They all had their eyes on you. Leave it to the devil to make it sound like you were trying to infiltrate their party.

“Stop.” You whispered at him, the tone of your voice begging him.

“No matter. I’ll see you in time, pet.” Raphael gave you a final smile before snapping his fingers and disappearing into a puff of black smoke.

“And you lot thought I was just being mean. If the devil says they can’t be trusted, what more is to be said?” Astarion asked aloud.

You winced again as your wound stung against the armor. Karlach moved towards you. She grabbed your arm gently, looking at the new red spreading through the cloth under your armor.

“We need to get back.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, flat and unwavering.

Everyone silently went through the portal back to camp.

————————

Gale patched up your wound so you could finally walk around comfortably. Happy to have the armor off of you, you walked to the campfire and began prepping dinner. Everyone else had gone to the stream to bathe or had retreated into their respective tents. You could tell that tonight may very well be the night you have to tell them all your secret. Why not soften the blow with some food?

You made them Baldurian mash since it was all you could think of given your limited ingredients. You set up bowls and spoons and different bottles of liquor for everyone. Just in time, you saw them all trudging up the hill in their night clothes. Everyone looked at you with doubt and caution.

Great.

Everyone smelled the food and silently made their way to the bonfire before dishing themselves their food and drinks. Before anyone could get a bite down Astarion yelled.

“Wait!” He jogged over to the fire.

“Are you sure we should be eating the food of someone who Raphael just told us was hiding things that seem to be of great importance?” He eyed the food and then you.

You scoffed thinking he was joking, and yet nobody took a bite.

You looked around, none of your companions meeting your eyes.

“I may have secrets but I don’t mean any of you harm…. You all are the closest thing I have to friends… I’d never hurt any of you.” You said, voice small but strong.

Astarion laughed, “Sounds like something somebody would say who is trying to kill us. Why else would you make all this?”

That’s it, you’ve had enough of fangs and his attitude towards you. You stood and took a large bite of the mash before taking a swig out of every open alcohol bottle.

“Proof enough for ya?” You asked, shoving past him. “I made all this because I wanted to be helpful. I want to be helpful because you all are my friends. I trust all of you even if you don’t trust me. So how about it fangs? Am I ok to stay or do you have anything else you wanna throw at me?”

Astarion could see the anger in your face. “Let’s just hope your culinary skills are better than your battle skills.” He said walking past you, shoving your shoulder with his.

Astarion expected the sniffle he heard from you.

“Astarion?” You asked.

“What?” He tutted, turning to face you.

What he didn’t expect was the punch that landed square in his face.

“Shit!” You immediately recoiled your hand, already feeling the bruising on your knuckles. You shook your hand out before saying your final piece,

“I have secrets it’s true. And I am happy to tell them to you as soon as I figure out how. But I don’t want to hurt any of you…”

“Excuse me?” Astarion said as he held his bleeding nose.

“Zip it! You have been nothing but spiteful towards me since I got here. I don’t know what your damage is with me but we need each other like it or not. We all need each other. I will fight for you all just as you fight for me. Whatever side you’re on, is the side I’m on.” You finished. Everyone looked at you with wide eyes, occasionally glancing at Astarion and his busted face.

Karlach stood and marched herself over to you. If this was the end for you at least it was Karlach taking you out, it’ll be a quick death. She held out her hand and you apprehensively took it.

“Who amongst us doesn’t have a secret or two? I trust them and their intentions after seeing them outside the camp today. Y/N, you have my support and my trust.” Karlach said.

You couldn’t help but tear up and engulf her in a hug. Thank god she had already had her tune up or it would have been a very short, scorching hug. She only faltered for a moment before hugging you back.

“Enough with the doom and gloom Astarion. Please come eat, it smelled heavenly.” Karlach asked, walking back to her bowl and taking a bite. This seemingly put everyone at ease, everyone starting to eat and drink. Everyone sent you soft smiles or nods of approval as if to finally say “welcome, you’re here to stay.”

Astarion picked up his pride and went to hunt. He was so sure he could turn them against you enough to at least abandon you. Why did you have to be so damn sweet and honest with everyone? He knew he deserved that punch but it didn’t make him want you any less.

You grabbed a bottle of Ithbank before heading to your tent for the night.

————————

You awoke hours later. The camp was quiet except for a groan you heard. You sat up, it sounded like it was coming from the stream. Getting up you wore nothing but your large untied shirt and underwear. You crept over to the hillside. You saw Astarion with his shirt off splashing water onto his shoulder. The night was dark but you could see his hand was covered in blood. Punched or not, you wanted to help him. You slunk down the hill, thankful the riverbed rocks were smooth under your feet.

“May I?” You said.

“Gods! Don’t do that!” He winced. “I don’t want your help.”

“But you need it, you stubborn jackass.” You said, grabbing his hand and marching him back to your tent. You sat him on your bedroll before grabbing a cloth and pouring some water from your canteen on it. You gently pressed it to the slash on his shoulder.

“Care to tell me what happened?” You asked.

“No.” He said bluntly.

“Looking to get punched again?” You said, quirking an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes as he tried to stifle the hiss he had to let out from the pain.

“We could be friends ya know. If you weren’t out to get me for some unknown reason.” You said with a tinge of sadness to your voice.

“And why would I want to be your friend?” He asked.

“I’m smart, funny, attractive….” You smiled as you listed.

He let out a chuckle, “Might want to add vain to the list.”

“Seriously though, why don’t you like me?” You asked, setting the cloth aside and going for some bandages you had in your camp pack.

“I don’t trust you there’s a difference.” He said, looking at the ground.

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person and I respect that, but everyone deserves a chance. Have I done anything to make you mistrust me?” You finally looked into his crimson eyes. They were beautiful. Shiny like rubies and a deep crimson like blood.

“You punched me in the face.” He said, meeting your gaze.

“You deserved to be punched in the face.” You said, starting to wrap the gauze around his torso and shoulder.

“Perhaps.” He conceded.

You noticed a small cut to his cheekbone. Raising your hand, you ran your thumb under it. You grabbed the cloth you used to clean his wound and brought it to his cheek, dabbing softly at the dried blood. He caught your wrist in a soft grasp. You looked at each other, neither moving. The air around you felt thick. Thankful for the dim light from the bonfire, you were sure you were blushing unintentionally. Astarion softly pressed a delicate kiss to your wrist.

“Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.” He sounded so sincere. You smiled and thumbed over his cheek one last time before pulling your hand back to yourself.

The more you looked at him the more you noticed his sunken eyes, his slim cheeks, the aches that plagued him.

Hungry

You jumped back a little not expecting to hear voices and feel a wriggle in your head. Astarion’s eyes flitted to yours, “You’re hungry aren’t you?” You asked in a whisper.

“I didn’t drink as much as I would have hoped to… the bear apparently didn’t like fangs in it.” He said, gesturing to the bandaged gash.

You pondered it for a moment. On one hand, he had been a massive cunt to you since you arrived and had punched him a few hours ago. On the other hand, he just let you patch him up and even thanked you for it.

“If you want… you could feed off me? If it would help?” You asked, looking between his eyes and the ground, fingers picking at each other nervously.

“You would do that for me?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“See? I’m not so bad after all.” You smiled as you pulled your laces at the top of your shirt loose revealing your neck, shoulder, and the top of your chest.

He gulped and looked at your beautiful skin. He was hungry but he knew he’d have to repay you. He pulled you to him by your waist, planting you in his lap, straddling his hips. You knew what he was doing, what he was thinking.

“Astarion, stop. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t owe me… I’m doing this because I want to help you.” You said, shifting yourself to sit next to him instead of on him.

He gave you a soft smile, “Apologies. I’m used to giving myself as payment. Old habits die hard I suppose.”

You nodded, knowing his history and not wanting to trudge up bad memories. You leaned against the tree trunk next to your bed roll, exposing your neck to him.

Astarion licked his lips subconsciously. His breath against your neck made you shiver. He kissed the junction between your neck and shoulder before sinking his teeth in. It felt like getting an IV needle shoved into your throat. The pain was quick, the feeling of blood being sucked out of you was what felt odd. Warm fluid being sucked out rapidly. He must have been hungry.

After a minute you gently pushed against his chest. He snapped back to reality, pulling back and resting his head against your shoulder while licking up the little blood that spilled from the punctures. His breath was heavy and so were his eyes.

“That was amazing…” he whispered.

You sat up a bit, pushing Astarion back. “Glad my blood is acceptable.” You joked, pulling your shirt back on properly and tightening the laces.

It was beyond acceptable. It was… heavenly. It was beyond anything he had tasted or smelled before. It tasted sweet. Like the richest chocolate. It coated his tongue and he already wished for more. His gaze was glazed over, perfectly happy. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

You watched him. He was beautiful, truly. The feeling of arousal that shot through you while he drank made you feel awful. You knew his backstory and you knew he was in no position to do anything sexual. You focused on slowing your heartbeat down in hopes he wouldn’t hear it.

He gently took your hand before kissing your wrist again, “Thank you. This was a gift, I won’t forget it.” He nodded before getting up and heading back to his tent. “Goodnight.” You heard him say faintly.

You smiled as you laid down, happy that you two reached a truce. Maybe he needed a bit more care than the others, and you were happy to provide it. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a certain pale elf.

Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I hope to hear from you all in the comments or in my DM's. I really wanna try and write a few drabbles for y'all. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :)

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aimeedaisies · 4 months

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The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in May 2024

01/05 On behalf of The King, held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace. 🎖️

As President of the City and Guilds of London Institute, attended The Princess Royal Training Awards Alumni Skills Summit at Guildhall. 🏆

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Whitley Fund for Nature, attended the Annual Whitley Awards Ceremony at the Royal Geographical Society. 🦋

02/05 With Sir Tim Named a Great Western Railway Intercity Express Train ‘HRH The Princess Royal’ at Paddington Railway Station. 🚉

Unofficial With Sir Tim Attended day two of the Royal Windsor Horse Show. 🐎

03/05 With Sir Tim Departed the UK from Stansted Airport for Canada and arrived at Vancouver International Airport

HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Vancouver;

Attended the Commissioning Ceremony for HMCS MAX BERNAYS at North Vancouver Burrard Drydock, before attending a Reception onboard. ⛴️ 🇨🇦

Attended a Dinner onboard HMCS MAX BERNAYS at sea. 🍽️

04/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Toured HMCS Max Bernays at sea. 🌊

Visited Esquimalt Military Family Resource Centre at the Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt. 👪🪖

As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited God’s Acre Cemetery and laid a wreath at the Memorial. 🌹

Visited the Maritime Museum of British Columbia Archive. 📜⚓️

Her Royal Highness afterwards visited Fed Urban Agriculture Society Urban Farm, 395 Harbour Road. 🌾

Attended a Reception given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia (the Hon Janet Austin) at Government House. 🥂

Attended a Dinner given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia at Government House. 🍽️

05/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Visited Government House Gardens. 🪴⛲️

Attended the Battle of the Atlantic Memorial Parade at the Parliament Building and laid a wreath at the Cenotaph before taking the salute at the march past of Canadian Armed Forces Veterans, Serving Personnel and Cadets. 🫡

Attended a Royal Victoria Yacht Club Youth Dinghy Regatta. 🛥️

As Patron of the Canadian Therapeutic Riding Association, visited Victoria Therapeutic Riding Association. 🐎

Departed Vancouver International Airport for the United Kingdom. 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

06/05 Arrived at Heathrow Airport from Canada 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

08/05 Hosted a garden party at Buckingham Palace alongside The King and Queen, The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh and The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. 🍃☀️🪴

As Patron of the Woolf Institute, attended a Reception, followed by a Dinner, to launch the Randeree End of Life Programme. 🥂🍽️

09/05 As Patron of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines Charity, visited the Headquarters at HMS Excellent in Portsmouth. ⚓️

As Patron of the Women’s Royal Naval Service Benevolent Trust, attended the Annual Presentation and Reception at the National Museum of the Royal Navy. 🏛️

As Patron of the Association of Wrens, opened the new Headquarters Building at Lanyard House, HM Naval Base. 🫡

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, visited the HMS Victory Conservation Project at HM Naval Base ⚓️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, attended the HMS Victory Conservation Project Dinner onboard HMS Victory at HM Naval Base. ⚓️🍽️

10/05 As Patron of Catch22, visited Greater Manchester Victims’ Services at Greater Manchester Police Headquarters. 👮

Visited the East Manchester Community Boat Project at Portland Basin Museum Marina in Ashton-Under-Lyne to mark its 30th Anniversary. 🛥️🎂

11/05 unofficial With Sir Tim Went to Badminton Horse Trials to cheer on Zara Tindall in her Cross Country stage of the three day event. 🏇🏼

13/05 Visited Stonehaven Open Air Swimming Pool to mark its 90th Anniversary. 🏊‍♀️🍾🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

As Admiral of the Sea Cadet Corps and Marine Society and Sea Cadets, opened Stonehaven and District New Headquarters. ⚓️🫡 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

14/05 With Sir Tim As Patron of the United Kingdom Sailing Academy held a Founders’ Club Luncheon at St James’s Palace. ⛵️

As Chancellor of the University of London, attended the King’s Centre for Military Health Research Conference. 👩‍⚕️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Wellington Trust, attended a Dinner onboard HMS WELLINGTON (mto mark the Ship’s Ninetieth Anniversary. ⚓️🥂

15/05 As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, visited Glenarm Organic Salmon Fish Farm, off Glenarm Harbour in Ballymena. 🍣🚤

As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, attended a Luncheon at Glenarm Castle. 🐟🍽️🏰

16/05 As Royal Patron of the National Coastwatch Institution, visited Bembridge Station, followed by a Reception at Brading Haven Yacht Club in Ryde, Isle of Wight. 🔍🌊

As President, Royal Yachting Association, opened the Sea View Yacht Club's Training Centre in Seaview, Isle of Wight. 🛥️

17/05 With Sir Tim Hosted the annual Not Forgotten Association garden party at Buckingham Palace. 🫖🍰☀️

20/05 unofficial Departed from RAF Brize Norton for Norway and landed at Oslo Gardermoen Airport. 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

21/05 As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Industrial Workers Museum in Vemork, Norway. 🔨⚙️🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, received a briefing on the sinking of DF Hydro at Mael Station in Telemark, Norway. 🏭🇳🇴

Attended a Reception given by His Majesty’s Ambassador to the Kingdom of Norway at the Residence in Oslo. 🥂🇳🇴🇬🇧

22/05 As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited Vestre Gravlund Cemetery and laid a wreath on the memorial. 🪦

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Linge Club and attended a Reception at Akershus Fortress, Oslo. 🇳🇴🇬🇧

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Shipowners’ Mutual War Risks Insurance Association. 🪖🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, with The Crown Prince of Norway, visited the Norwegian Resistance Museum, Akershus Fortress. 🏰 🇳🇴

unofficial Departed from Oslo Gardermoen Airport and landed at RAF Brize Norton . 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

23/05 As Patron of the Hornet Services Sailing Club, visited the club for their 60th anniversary. ⛵️🎂

Opened the Army Sailing Association Offshore Centre in Gosport. ⛵️

With Sir Tim & Duke of Kent Held a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Royal National Lifeboat Institution's 200th anniversary. 🛟☕️

With Sir Tim Visited the Royal Horticultural Society Chelsea Flower Show at the Royal Hospital Chelsea. 🌸🌺🌼💐

24/05 Opened the Admiral Lord Cochrane Room at the Royal United Services Institute in Whitehall, London. 🔐

Sometime in May unofficial Sir Tim, as Chair of Trustees, attended the Science Museum Groups annual dinner

Total official engagements for Anne in May: 53

2024 total so far: 224

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in May: 23

2024 total so far: 55

FYI - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.

#a very busy month!!!#i loved her visits to canada and norway!!!#very excited for june!#aimees unofficial engagement count 2024 #may 2024 #princess anne #princess royal #tim laurence #timothy laurence

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mountrainiernps · 4 months

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The season of snowmelt is upon us.

Days are getting warmer. More sunlight shining down. And the snow that has piled up since November is melting.

But it’s not gone yet.

Lower elevation trails like around the Carbon River entrance and Longmire, tend to melt out first. In areas with dense trees, snow banks might linger a little longer.

The higher you go up the mountain, the more snow there was, the cooler the temperatures and the longer snow takes to melt.

Trails in many places are still buried under snow. Many trail signs are still buried under snow. There might be nothing to point you in the right direction except a map and compass or a GPS.

So, if you want to hike in the national park, please come prepared with your 10 Essentials. Stop in at an information center or museum. You can get the latest intel from the park ranger on where the snow is and isn’t. And then go take a hike. Have fun. When you come to a stretch of trail buried under snow, take a look around. Can you see where the trail comes out of the snowbank?

If you’re not 100% sure about the trail or the snow obscures the way, turn around. The trails will still be here in another week or month that it takes for the snow to melt.

For more on hiking safety, please start with this link https://www.nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/hiking-safety.htm For more info on the 10 Essentials, this website can help https://www.nps.gov/articles/10essentials.htm To find links for Mount Rainier specific weather forecasts try this website https://www.nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/weather.htm

These photos are from years past and do not reflect current conditions. NPS Climbing Ranger Photo. Climbing ranger walking onto snow covering the Glacier Basin trial. June 2019. NPS/M. Schmidt Photo. Snow melting along Rampart Ridge trail in dense forest. May 2022. NPS Climbing Ranger Photo. Climbing Ranger on snow near the end of the Glacier Basin trail. Inter Glacier and Mount Rainier in background. July 2018.

#mount rainier national park #mount rainier #national parks #snow #hiking #10 essentials

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er1chartmann · 8 months

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Walter Schellenberg

These are some facts and curiosities about Walter Schellenberg, the deputy head of the Gestapo:

He was born in Saarbrücken on 16 January 1910 but his family moved with his family to Luxembourg when the French occupation of the Saar Basin after the First World War triggered an economic crisis in the Weimar Republic.

He returned to Germany to attend university, first at the University of Marburg and then, in 1929, at the University of Bonn. He initially studied medicine, but soon switched to law.

He joined the SS in 1933.

He was recruited in the SD through 2 professors ( he gave an anti catholic speech which aroused Heydrich's interest )

In November 1939 Schellenberg played a key role in the Venlo Incident, which ended with the capture of two British espionage agents and was awarded the Iron Cross for this.

In 1940 he was responsible for drawing up a list of 2,300 British personalities who were to be arrested as soon as Germany occupied Great Britain; he was also involved in many other espionage activities, among which the Kitty Salon activity was very successful.

In March 1942, Heinz Jost was fired from his position as RSHA Chief of Amt VI, SD-Ausland (SD foreign intelligence). In his place, Schellenberg was appointed chief of SD-Ausland by Heydrich

According to his memoirs, Schellenberg had been a friend of Wilhelm Canaris, the head of the Abwehr (military intelligence).

In the last months of the conflict Schellenberg tried to persuade Himmler to reach a separate peace with the Western Allies by exploiting the mediation of Count Folke Bernadotte, whom he himself met personally in Stockholm in April 1945.

He was captured in Denmark in June 1945 while working on an attempt to make a separate peace with the Americans.

During the postwar Nuremberg Trials, Schellenberg testified against other Nazis. In the 1949 Ministries Trial he was sentenced to six years' imprisonment, during which time he wrote his memoirs, The Labyrinth.

He died of cancer in 1952 in Turin, Italy.

During the German occupation of Paris, Schellenberg was believed to have been a lover of Coco Chanel, who paid for the cost of his funeral when he died penniless.

Sources:

Wikipedia: Walter Schellenberg

Military Wiki: Walter Schellenberg

❗❗I DON'T SUPPORT NAZISM,FASCISM OR ZIONISM IN ANY WAY, THIS IS AN EDUCATIONAL POST❗❗

#reichblr #ww2 germany #ww2 history #heinrich himmler #studyblr #the ss #sd #the sd #walter schellenberg

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fourthwifematerial · 2 months

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garden of forking paths | 四 | part ii. body

yandere lord tengen x fourth wife, eiji. word count: 7,086. explicit content. 18+ MDNI

with the worst of their trials behind them, the wives are the latest to impress.

[ previous ] [ next ]

please be mindful of the ample warnings as we're all responsible for curating our own fandom experience✌️ this chapter contains cockwarming, nonconsensual somnophilia, force feeding, hierarchical bullying, face & breast slapping, exhibitionism, nonconsensual breast fucking & deepthroating, neuro spice, identity porn, nonconsensual oral, degradation, spanking, & anal

Eiji wakes to a trickling sound. Water in a basin, perhaps. She isn’t eager to open her eyes just yet, content enough to live in the mystery a little while longer.

The torrid events behind them seem to have dulled her senses. Her body has never been so spent.

Every inch of her screams out in a unilateral cry for relief. There’s not a silent muscle or limb on her. He put her through the wringer last night, made damn sure she was worthy of her station.

She can’t have been asleep for more than a few hours. The sun had barely breached the horizon when he locked her in his arms and bid her sweet dreams.

What a crock…

Uzui pressed his lips to her temple and crown.

“Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

limbs akimbo in the sheets. sunrise bleeding on the horizon.

Her eyes were heavy on the window. He traced her face with such a fondness, as if he meant to memorize her every feature to the letter. He’s half hard, still fully sheathed inside her tight warmth.

She heaved a breathy sigh. For as much of a bastard Eiji considered him, Lord Tengen was a generous lover. He was considerate, in his way. If she’d been anyone else, she could see the appeal.

“Is that an order or a suggestion?” She’d hardly been able to recognize her voice as she spoke. It came out deep and used… raspy, even. “You plan on making me if I refuse?”

“It’s whatever you need it to be to see it done.”

“Are you going to…”

He rewards her impertinence with a pinch to her waist.

“Shut your eyes. Shut your mouth. Let me take what I need.”

Deflated from the high she’d just found herself riding, she sinks back into the sheets. Eiji did as she was told, as she’d done her whole life.

she shut her eyes. she shut her mouth. she let him take what he needed.

Face buried in her neck, his fingers lazily danced on her clit. When she began to cry softly, he buried her face in the pillow to silence her.

“Just go… - fuck - Go to sleep!”

He went from warming his cock on her side to fucking her for the umpteenth time this night.

The man was relentless. A fiend.

She took back every kindness she’d ever thought about him.

Her vision began to haze. When he thrust, just so… she saw stars. She stilled beneath him as their juices spill out of her, pooling between them.

She let herself be lulled by the push and the pull, just like that night… His pace was impossible to keep up with, even as the man was nearing his end.

His labored breath in her ears brought her right back to the roar of the waters.

It wasn’t long before she found herself on that very beach.

There was nothing for miles, only craggy rocks and shells sharp enough to make her feet bleed.

Step by painful step and this is where it’s led her.

Wrapped in the customary linens, with the zukin preserving her modesty as Sister of faith, she came upon herself in the shallows. She watched the Virgin Eiji fall to her knees.

The waves crashed all around as she raged at the sea. She screamed and screamed until there was nothing left.

Her habit flew off into the wind, just as before.

The waters ran red, too.

But when Sister Eiji turned to face her, she saw herself hauling her own corpse from the bloodied water.

A cold compress lays upon her resting head. Proves her suspicions, at least. Feels nice.

It’s ages before her mind catches up with her vision—she could’ve sworn an angel was tending to the worst of it… wringing a fresh cloth, presumably for the rest.

When the morning light hits her legs, a horrified gasp hits her ears.

“What did he do to you…”

The walls have ears. She knows it’s time to slip away; that razor thin place between herself and her sister.

“Nothing I haven’t already been paid for.” Words ground with mortar and pestle, it’s a desperate plea on her tongue. “Please don’t linger, sister.”

Slow to start, Emiko’s touch ghosts across the most aching of places. The ones that won’t kill them to think about.

her neck… her lips. her cheeks. her eyes.

Just before she can tell her sister off, a pained hiss fills the room. Eiji tracks the source under a now bloodied compress, passing a trail of bites over the scars that coil around her leg. Imprinted canines and incisors drag across her skin.

still tender. still bleeding.

What did he do to you?

Her question lingers between them… unspoken, unacknowledged.

The silence looms, composure falling under the dual scrutiny of her marred flesh.

“The customers would never have marked you up like this,” she snaps.

“Because I had you to keep me safe.”

“I know you’re angry—”

With the roll of her eyes, Eiji snatches the cloth from her forehead and quickly cleans her bruise kissed thighs.

“I’m not angry. I’m tired… I’m sore.”

“You need to eat so you can heal.”

Would that Eiji had want of the marriage, of him… If she were here of her own volition, one might mistake her for pouting.

“Should probably go out there,” she laments.

“Can I help you dress?”

She pushes herself up off the futon, face falling at the question. “Why would you help me dress?”

Eiji is already across the room before Emiko can think to answer. She opens a cabinet armed to the teeth with yukata and the like… Bringing out a fresh juban, she sets upon dressing herself.

The late spring air hits her wounds, fresh and healed, leaving the slip she went to bed in a mere pile on the floor.

Broken from her daze, Emiko joins her in the fray. Once the yukata was on fully, she wrapped the obiage around Eiji before either sibling could kick up a fuss.

The cotton she wears is mint green. The obi, a blush piece with patterns of liquid smoke, golden brushstrokes with notes of amethyst.

With the belt sufficiently manhandled around her protesting sister, Emiko wipes her brow with a wry smile. She combs the wisping hairs atop her head with her fingers, now curly from more fresh growth Eiji’s permitted herself in years.

“Stay still,” she pants. “I’m nearly finished.”

Eiji does as she’s told. She worries at her lips, all teeth and tongue. “Sissy—”

“Hmm.”

“How much did you hear?”

And with no less than five syllables between them, the oppressive silence returns. Emiko can barely stomach looking at her.

She could only sigh, disgust and remorse pooling in her gut.

for what she’s done…

…for what she couldn’t do.

She takes her sister by the arm, gently leading her to that very mirror from the night before. The sole voyeur to their utter destruction.

“The sounds he was making…” Emiko smoothes the last of the finger curls with some beeswax she’d pocketed back at the Butterfly Mansion. “He sounded like he was eating you alive.”

No testimony is given to the contrary. They don’t have to say a word between each other.

“We should go before you’re missed.”

A nod from Eiji, who says nothing in return.

Arm in arm, the twins leave the strange creature comforts of the bedroom for the hall. It’s a long stretch, made all the more so by their mutual reluctance to join the wives for breakfast. Neither sister could have known before leaving the sanctity of the room whether Lord Tengen would be at the head of the table.

too much, too soon.

The bedroom was practically sacred ground with all the noise coming from the others…

“Suma, she hasn’t even been out yet,” scolds an angry voice. “Show some restraint, why don’t you.”

“I can’t help it,” wails a second. “The newlywed spread is too good to pass up. I’m sure Emiko won’t mind! We’re a part of this marriage, aren’t we? We’ve been here longer anyways, it’s only right we get priority serving!”

“That’s enough… Not to pry in the affairs of a fellow wife, but the poor girl deserves to try whatever food suits her tastes. An option impeded by your avarice, dear heart.”

The third, Eiji properly recognizes. Collected and cool, level headed even as the sky falls all around her.

It’s a kiss that ends the infighting between them.

Suma, apparently, sighs in surrender. “If one of us ought to practice restraining himself—”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he cuts her off before she can continue her lascivious train of thought.

So. He is there to join them.

“You kept her up all night,” the first voice notes wryly. “Probably not much in the way of grievances if she’s sleeping right through it. I’d be shocked if she stayed awake for all of that…”

“Quiet,” he demands of them all.

Once they turn the corner, Emiko maintains a featherlight hold on her. She makes quick work of guiding her to the open seat at Lord Tengen’s side before taking her place by the wall. A silent observer. Ornamental. Disregarded and underestimated. Eiji’s fingers twitch in longing. She misses that life desperately, craves it like a drunk to a tokkuri of saké.

Even after such a short time apart, she still feels naked and far too exposed without a zukin.

Now seated, all eyes bear into her with no one speaking a word. Her cheeks flush under the withering attention.

The level headed bride in purple seems to take pity on her as she is the first to break the silence.

“Emiko, it’s wonderful to meet you properly. My name is Hinatsuru.” With a sweeping hand from her heart to the first and second wife, she smiles softly as introductions are made.

“These two could wake the dead with all their banter… Suma, Makio. Let’s show our sister wife we can be civil, yes?”

The others grumble their apologies, still eating and half listening.

Eiji bows her head in reverence. “Thank you, Hinatsuru. That’s very kind of you.”

Hinatsuru brightens, taking initiative to fill an empty plate. She turns away from the table, still loading up on fish and rice.

“Sister Eiji, is there anything you can’t tolerate?”

From her place on the wall, Emiko stiffens at the direct address.

She still isn’t used to it. Not her name. Not her role.

She can’t trust herself with the words just yet. Her eyes flit to the table before they lock on her sister’s, all the while, holding her tongue.

“There’s nothing that makes her sick,” Eiji proper says in reply. “She’s always been the stronger between us. Personally, I can’t handle buckwheat.”

The smallest of the three, with blunt bangs cut straight above her brow, can barely contain herself in the seat parallel to her own. Suma’s cheeks flush from exertion, locked in a silent battle of wills all unto herself; her fists are raised, arms nearly shaking, not unlike a toddler.

“See?” The girl’s voice is shrill as it is smug. She’s already back to seconds on the soba before her, eyes brimming with a shine of righteous indignation. “I told you she’d be fine with it!”

Before Eiji can think to reply, she’s stunned into silence tracking her sister’s plate; Hinatsuru passes it off to Makio who wordlessly hands the food to her sister.

Not quite an olive branch. More so how one might tend to a dog. Cursory. Habitual… It lacks the warmth of human interaction, from the goodness of her heart, almost like she’s looking down on her.

The disdain radiates from her like a child to a chore. There’s a bitter note to it. Hosting not one, but two additional mouths to feed was hardly her call to make, nor was it her place to refute.

Watching her sister eat appeases her some… but it does little to temper the burn of resentment she holds for the woman.

“You’re not eating,” Lord Tengen comments.

It’s the first he’s spoken to her since the sun rose against them.

Eiji’s knuckles go white as she wrings her hands. She flexes her hands in a futile reach for composure..

“Well?” he questions, already impatient with her daze. “Starving yourself isn’t going to do you any favors, you know.”

His words do even less to assure her. If anything, her hackles rise like the damn dog they all make her sister out to be.

“No… My eyes are bigger than my stomach, I’m afraid.”

She couldn’t eat if she wanted to. She feels sick. She is sick.

She wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for a week. The bruises will still be there, yes. Probably darkened and green. But maybe her nerves will finally stop twisting in her gut.

The answer does little to impress Uzui. He watches her, expectant that she’d change her mind with the narrow of his eyes…

She averts his gaze, looking to her sister. A relieved sigh escapes her at the sight of the half consumed fish.

Good, she thinks. At least she’s eating.

Calloused fingers grab at her jaw, forcing her hand. He watches her, thoroughly unamused.

“I don’t like damage inflicted on what’s mine.”

Before she can even cry out in pain, he’s swiping several pickled radishes from the table before popping them in his mouth. He chews them thoughtfully, eyes unyielding as he keeps her in his sights. Just as she believes he’s due to swallow, he pulls their lips flush together—

Her eyes widen in panic. There’s a weak drag of her arm that preludes the palm pushing his chest, still desperately spent from her unwitting consummation.

The food was fed from his mouth into her own. His tongue lapped at the offering, forcing the sour crawl further down her throat to ensure a proper start to the feeding.

She fights against him, the promise of bile burning the back of her throat as she fights off her mounting gag reflex.

He restrains her with his corded muscles. Locks her in place with an arm snug around her middle, fingers of his free hand coaxing the swallow down her throat.

Uzui barely allows her breath to scream. Keeps her like that until there’s nothing left. He only relents to fill his own mouth.

again and again and again until he could call her fed.

the fish. the tamago. the rice. the ginger.

He forces her mouth open to drink. It’s only when the warm broth hits her lips and she’s half choking on tofu that she realizes it’s soup.

spittle runs down her chin as the miso spills from her mouth.

When he’s finally done with her, Uzui takes hold of her scalp. Her finger curls are tainted by his touch.

Garnet. Like the seeds of a pomegranate.

His gaze bears down on her. He’s dragging her by the hair, pulling her in his white knuckle grip.

“Apologize,” he demands.

in for a penny, in for a pound and all that.

The words fall from her lips like the vomit that won’t seem to come, all before she can think better of it. “Drop dead.”

She hears the strike land before registering the pain blossoming across her cheek… and now she’s on the floor, a spread almost comparable to the breakfast laid out for them all.

The other wives are cavalier in his abuse, eating their fill while he pins her to the ground.

Emiko watches the scene in abject horror. Stuck-still, powerless to intervene. She slides down her place on the wall in shame and defeat.

unable to stop herself…

She can’t look away.

…unable to stop him.

He nearly tears the obi off her, leaving her yukata hanging exposed. Her nipples pebble under the thin barrier of the juban, and he takes merciless notice.

Off the slip goes, joining the belt beside them.

Nails rake a path over her bust. He pinches the hardened peaks, twisting and kneading them until she’s crying out beneath him.

He gives them a slap. Then another. And a third for good measure.

Uzui lets his mouth water at the skin darkening under his touch. He gets in close to suckle on them. Bite them. Slobber all over them like a damn animal.

No preamble. No notice. Just the cursed sight of him smearing his beading precome over her abused chest.

He gives himself a cursory pump or two before laying his heavy cock between her breasts. Fucking into her, he pushes her tits closer, manhandling her to suit his needy pace.

The wives make idle conversation as he fucks her like this. No one acknowledges the debauchery and no one comes to her aid.

It’s unclear to Eiji if vindication over this indignity is worth Emiko’s poor eyes bearing witness. They both know she heard him fucking her for hours last night. She didn’t have to see to know.

Lord Tengen’s forceful grunts echo through the room. She’s seen enough of him in action to know he’s close.

With as much speed as the realization that dawned on her, he’s off her just as quickly. Drags her hair, forces her on her knees. His thumb ghosts along the soft pout of her lips, eyes blown with fury and lust as he works her mouth open for him.

“You’re not to spill a drop, do you understand me?” he warns, a light tap to her cheek before tracing the neckline of her yukata with his knuckle.

Fist buried in her hair, he rolls his hips in a shallow snap to start. She sputters and gags as he takes himself deeper, her hands beating against his clothed thighs in wordless protest.

Uzui only meets her violence with violence—he takes the offending touch and holds her splayed hands at either side of her head, fucking her mouth with reckless abandon until the only sound remaining was the merciless score of her choking on his shaft.

“Nothing more to say,” he panted, voice strained in weary concentration. “Interesting how that works with a cock down your throat, isn’t it.”

Eiji watches him with so much vitriol in her gaze. He catches her, holds her in that moment… and then he loses the plot.

His hips stutter in pace as he comes. He groans over her, pulling her flush against him.

She milks his cock, swallowing all he gives her with a grimace. When he pulls out, she whines under his further scrutiny—one hand with an iron grip on her chin, the other forcing her back open to see if she’d followed his order to the letter.

She’s rewarded with sweet degradation and a pat on her head. “That’s a good whore,” he praises roughly.

It takes all her will not to flinch from his touch.

“Anything you care to say?” His eyes are pointed in challenge as he asks, “Emiko. Two little words and we can put this to bed.”

Her eyes burn. Her jaw aches.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she chokes out.

He pulls her close, punctuating his pleasure with a kiss to her temple. Rising to his feet, Lord Tengen towers over her with his cock barely tucked back into his hakama.

As if nothing had even happened, he returns to the head of the table. His eyes survey the remains of the spread.

“Well done, you three. I see you’ve dug in with no shortage of gusto. You ladies do me proud.” Flashing a smile, he kisses each wife on the cheek.

“Lord Tengen,” squawks a voice from the window.

In flies Nijimaru, the lord and master’s kasugai crow. His eyes flit towards the crow, having taken his perch on the sill of the window.

“Lower Moon Five has been defeated! Slain on the Mugen Train by Kyojuro Rengoku! Flame Hashira, Lord Rengoku has defeated Lower Moon Five with no human casualties—neither civilian nor Slayer!”

The wives look amongst themselves, seemingly elated by the news.

“Lord Tengen, Report to Master Ubuyashiki’s Headquarters for further mission instructions.”

The twins lock eyes. With all these names and dynamics floating around, they could only ground themselves in quiet concert. As ever, barricaded inside themselves.

“Understood,” Uzui affirms.

They all watch the kasugai fly back out the window.

He looks at his disheveled wife over his shoulder.

“Sister Eiji,” he calls. “Would you be so kind as to take Emiko to the onsen? It seems she’s made a mess of herself.”

Emiko proper bows, silently ushering Eiji from the room. She wraps an arm around her shoulders to help support her weight.

she’s shaking…

her arms.

they’re shaking.

The twins are all but wordless as they make for the bath.

Neither allow themselves the further indignity of falling apart, not within earshot.

Eiji clutches her yukata closed, holding it like a lifeline until they’re past the door.

The sisters break from each other. Emiko walks on before realizing she’s alone on the path to the onsen.

She turns. “Sister…”

Free from the burdens of decorum, of maintaining her role, Eiji falls to her knees and beats at the earth beneath her fingertips.

She presses her forehead against the dew kissed ground. Buries the incident like everything else.

the consummation. renouncing her vows. scars, old and new.

Even as she cries, she forces herself to swallow the rage and shame. Bitter as his come. But she chokes it down all the same.

Time was a construct among the sweet dirt and moss.

knees tucked into her aching breasts. arms outstretched over the greenery.

Eiji startles when a warm hand descends over her back, smooth and splayed. The touch is gentle and patient, she’s quick to settle.

‘hush, hush, baby rabbit… up on the hill…’

The words thrum in her blood as her mother sang them.

‘why are your eyes so red?’

She curls in closer, dirtied fingers twisting in her lap.

‘when i was small… mother are the fruit of the red tree’

🪞

Emiko hadn’t wanted to do it. But she couldn’t just leave her like that.

She returns through the door where she came and makes quick work of tracking down someone… anyone.

Following the voices gathered in the lounge, Suma sits on Lord Tengen’s lap while the other two drink tea.

As soon as she enters the room, a cold hush descends upon the marriage, rendering them all speechless before her.

Uzui looks at her with those piercing eyes of his.

sizing her up. gauging her intent.

The others simply pout at the disruption.

“That was fast for a bath,” he quips. “Where’s your sister? She drown herself already?”

She still doesn’t trust her words.

Raising a hand, she points to the long stretch of hall leading to the back door.

Lord Tengen follows her wordless dictation, tracking with his eyes, already bored with her play of charades.

“Hinatsuru, my dear.” He waves Sister Eiji off with the swipe of his manicured hands. “See what the little voyeur needs. It’s like drawing pus from a damn wound, I swear.”

His ravenette bride rises from her seat and presses a kiss on her husband’s cheek before following after the good Sister.

By the time they reach her in the yard, she’s on her back with her breasts fully exposed to the elements. One palm weakly raised to the sky to block out the sun while the other remains twisted in the earth.

They carry either side of her into the onsen. Inside, they place Eiji on the stool so as to give her a thorough cleaning before the bath.

“My husband is not a cruel man… but what he did was callous,” she murmurs, all remorse.

She doesn’t dignify her with a response, instead focusing on the task at hand.

“If this is how you prefer it, we don’t have to talk…”

“Prefer it,” she scoffs.

It’s the first words she’s spoken in her new life. She suddenly feels inspired by her sister’s natural indignation.

“So you can speak.”

She ignores her question, filling the bucket with water and soaping the wetted towel.

“You say your husband isn’t cruel… To you , perhaps. Hasn’t my dear sister been through enough?”

They scour her flesh with a sudsy cloth, scrubbing her raw, watching the dirt and debris fall with little difficulty.

her neck. her arms. each individual finger.

A shudder tears through Eiji as they erase all traces of the meadow.

“Mother—”

“That’s enough now.” Emiko lulls her softly, drying her eyes and holding her close, “I’m not leaving you again.”

Hinatsuru kept a steady pace with the regimen. She took her time with her sister wife’s breasts. Her legs. There wasn’t an inch of her she hadn’t cleansed and polished.

Every so often she’d graze a bruise. Most fresh, the most faded were from that night.

It was hardly a wonder why their was no love lost between the nun and their family.

When her face was washed properly along with her hair, Emiko does kakeyu, dousing her sister with water when Hinatsuru prompts her into doing so.

The bucket was hot, flowing over her skin. It would never be enough for her, not to wash away the sin…

Being led to the bath, Eiji fights through the pain. There’s so much she could cry for, if she turned to the well, she’d never be able to stop.

Once she’s in the water, the utter lack of recollection dawns on her.

how long…

…how long…

…how long.

“Oh… I’m in the bath,” she realizes.

Eiji forgets herself having lost everything after breakfast, if one could deign to call that fucking travesty breakfast.

Just thinking of his tongue in her mouth shoveling dish after dish…

She sinks under the water, if only for a moment. Curls her arms around her knees and screams.

🪞

It’s the first time she can feel herself breathe in this place.

Emiko is left totally alone in the receiving room. She rolls her shoulders, eyes falling shut.

When Hinatsuru returns with tea for them both, she straightens, but gives her sincere appreciation.

“Thank you.”

She takes her cup eagerly, beyond grateful for it. Her body even relaxed a touch.

“You know. Lord Tengen bet everyone you’d slap him before the end of the meal.”

“Did he, now…” Emiko asks softly. “Who won the wager?”

Hinatsuru glances over the porcelain rim of her cup.

“A betting woman never tells.”

“So it was you,” she surmises.

A shrug. “Just because I bet on losing dogs doesn’t mean I know why.”

One sip leads to another. Before long, her cup is nearly empty. She can’t ignore the unspoken question any longer.

“I figure things will go better for her if I don’t act on impulse.”

“Look at who you’re living with,” Hinatsuru holds the rim with her slender fingers. “No one else is holding back.”

“Freedom of choice doesn’t equate to freedom from consequence,” she deadpans.

“Such wise words, Sister.”

She shakes her head. “No need for formalities…”

“Eiji, then.”

Slow to start, the chilly reception was beginning to thaw.

“Awfully forward, but so be it.”

She’d find a place here, yet.

The pair finish their tea in due course, slowly making their way back to the onsen. On the other side of the door, they’re greeted by the uncanny sight of her other half.

lying in the water. gaze fixed on the ceiling. breath steady with her countless bruises and scars on full display.

“E…Emiko?” The good Sister corrects herself before she can do something stupid like say her actual name.

“I saw myself in the water. The waves were thrashing against the shore…”

“The shore? From when we were children?”

She doesn’t even nod. “Yes.” Just agrees, voice dull.

No one speaks. Neither sister, nor wife.

“I heard our mother singing to me. Could’ve been you for all I know…”

Emiko scoffs. “In your dreams.”

It’s the first Eiji’s smiled… truly smiled. “Right,” she says softly, her voice tinged with remorse.

Rising from the bath and without any prompting, Emiko turns to gather her towel. She’s quick to shroud her sister and preserve her modesty.

“Let’s get you dried off.”

Watching the scene play out in front of her, Hinatsuru turns with a laugh. Natural moments like this. Intimate and deft… they were a precious thing. Especially in a world so perilous as the one they’d inherited.

They leave the onsen one after the next with Suma and Makio still unaccounted for.

It was a different atmosphere having Hina here in place of their husband. She was softer, kinder.

more patient. more mindful.

There were half a dozen yukata strewn across the floor, waiting for their judgment. Just three obi belts to choose between.

Swatch after swatch with a voice nearly so soft as her touch, Hinatsuru praises Eiji for matters entirely out of her control.

“I quite like the coral,” she offers, still unsure.

Emiko nods in wordless agreement, quick to dress her sister before she could say no.

It was quiet work between them with Hinatsuru’s fingers grazing her scalp. Layer by layer, careful around any lingering trace of injury.

“You really do have the most lovely hair,” she muses thoughtfully. “It’s so soft, I could lose myself like this.”

Eiji’s cheeks heat. She can’t lie… any longer under this deft touch of hers, she’d lose herself just the same.

It’s the sudden slide of the door that spoils their fun.

“What’s she doing in here?”

Suma and Makio enter the marriage bed without ceremony or warning, casting disdainful glances toward the nun in question.

“This isn’t where you should be,” Makio scolds her. The wife in red had a hand on her hip, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you have any decency? Lord Tengen told us you were up half the night listening to them on the veranda.”

She gives chase with a raised fist. Emiko flees the scene.

The last sight before the door’s shut: Eiji’s eyes locking on her own.

Her whole body tenses with the snap of the door. Emiko’s fingers ghost across her face, twin frowns burning in mind and memory.

She takes her leave for the night and brushes off the rebuff.

“Nothing to be done for it,” she shrugs.

Emiko returns to the common area for her tea. With no one home to stop her, she pockets an orange from the picked over dining table. Swipes the saké, too.

She takes the orange to the kitchen and runs it under some water. She peels the skin with a knife in one uninterrupted pile of citrus before halving the fruit. She drains it for all it’s worth, setting the juice aside.

It takes her a minute to finagle a lemon, draining the citron in one fell swoop.

Tiny cuts lap at her skin, hands stinging until she can pat her hands down with the damp kitchen cloth.

She gathers up the lemon juice, the orange juice, and her green tea. Along with some honey, they all join the pot. She turns the heat on, preferring her tea hot.

She eyeballs the saké, giving absolutely no fucks.

She stirs the pot until it’s nearly boiling over. Reducing the heat, she relishes in the steam, eyes shut as she breathes it in.

“Hope you made enough for two.”

Lord Tengen was already inside before she even realized he was back. His silhouette towers over her, even from this far, just standing in the frame of the entrance.

Should Emiko have been on her guard, she’d have taken note of the state of the door, open as it was. Of the fresh air and mild breeze on the setting sun. Pity that observation was never her strong suit.

she doesn’t turn, nor does she face him.

“I mean, it hardly feels like an inappropriate request… it is my booze you’ve absconded with, right?”

He’s locking her in place, caging her with little mercy from his rippling arms.

her body tenses under his scrutinizing eye and touch.

Time stops between them. One palm rests flush against her chest, he pulls her to him. He draws his massive fingers before her, making for the ladle in the pot.

Uzui tests the toddy. She can’t see his face or else he’d have given the game away.

His hand comes down, firmly on her backside. “Two cups. Sit with me.”

She doesn’t dare refuse him.

drinks are poured,

garnish laid to perfection.

When she sees him again, it’s past the dining room table. He sits on the floor of the drawing room, still dressed from his assignment.

Placing a cup in front of him, Emiko keeps the other for herself.

He nods in silent thanks before indulging. The beads on his headdress swish gloriously with the motion.

“It’s a damn good drink,” he commends her.

She says nothing to his praise. She just takes her small, measured sips.

The girls can be heard tittering from the other end of the home. She stiffens at the sound, to which his eyes narrow.

“Tell me true, Sister.” Swirling the drink in his cup, he’s relentless in his teasing. “I bet you want to kill me for defiling your precious Emiko.”

“Lord Uzui… if I took it upon myself to lay to rest every man to spill his seed inside my sister, I’d scarcely have a moment for anything else.”

It’s good. The burn of the saké down her throat. Keeps her grounded. Makes her bold.

He appreciates it all the same, if not more. Slapping his thigh, Tengen lets out a thunderous roar of approval.

“And what would you do? All that time, letting the rest of us live… There must be something you’d rather be doing.”

She downs her drink and his nearly weary eyes lock on the scene before him, incredulous and more than a little turned on.

“Booze and a bed. If you’re telling me to stand down, that she’s safe in your care, I can oblige that… I’ll take up embroidery or something.”

“Do you expect me to trust you around a needle?”

Her gaze narrows, voice nearly so frosty as the cold of her shoulder. “As if I’m meant to trust you at all.”

Lord Uzui swallows the remains of his cup, teeth flashing from the bitterness.

“You’re going to wash me.”

“Oh?”

“Then I’m going to ravage my wives.”

“As you say.”

She almost looks bored by the order. Her voice betrays her true nature. His fingers curl dangerously around her arm…

He tempers his rage. A breath follows.

…wordless dare in the air as he ever craves them both.

“You don’t believe me?” He cocks a silver brow, nearly daring her push him one step more. “I’m hurt. I assumed we reached an understanding.”

His touch snakes around her, boxing her in against the table’s sharp edge. He eyes her as though he’s looking for something.

the suspicion and intrigue of men never bodes well.

“You have a smart mouth. What do you say to making better use of it.”

He leans in closer, near stealing her breath. Drags her frozen fist over his hardening cock. A low groan teases his throat as he rocks into her reluctant touch.

“Better hop to, little rabbit. Else I might be tempted to fuck that virgin asshole instead.”

Emiko’s face blanches as the threat washes over her. Weak and shaking, she palms at the corded outline of his massive length. Her eyes glaze over when muscle memory takes over.

Resigned. Devastated. She sinks to the floor on shaky ground while he wastes no time freeing himself.

She laps at the column of his cock, spreading precome over the furious tip weeping in her face.

He throws his head back with a guttural sigh.

“You really picked up a trick or two from that whore sister of yours,” he praises her roughly. “May have to fuck your ass anyways. Show you what you missed last night.”

Her cheeks burn in shame, desperate to ignore the words that cut her so deep.

The price is modest enough considering she sold her sister to this brute. A cock in her mouth for room and board…

Maybe this was her inevitable penance for selling her own sister, forcing her to wife and bed this beast.

Hollowing her cheeks, she takes him in her mouth but by bit. He’s thick on her tongue. Heavy.

She feels his growing impatience as he grunts over her.

“Never send a nun to do a whore’s job,” he laments.

There’s no time to process his words before he’s fisting her habit and forcing himself down her throat.

She beats against his thighs in protest. He ignores her completely, hands locked on either side of her head as he sets a raging pace.

On her knees like this, she can hear herself dying. She can hear him getting off on it. Feels like an age choking on the indignity of her own glucks and spittle.

There’s no end for her… No end in sight.

Uzui abruptly throws her from him until she’s spilling over the floor. He leaves her clamoring for air as he drags her past the doors.

She follows after him, no real choice in the matter. Her throat is raw… Her arm, now bruising.

He leads her outside and she shudders under the sun’s sudden assault. Uzui ignores her, ushering her inside the onsen.

Emiko nearly trips in the dimly lit space, paying no heed to the Hashira already stripping for his bath.

His eyes dance with mirth and derision. “Wash your face. And take care of that look, I don’t want to hear a word. Not when I told you what would happen.”

She wordlessly makes for the bucket. Fills it up and swipes her cupped hands over her face.

still hot. still listless. still breaking.

She manages to steady her breathing. One after the other, slowly returning to herself.

Only when her face is being pushed into the ground does it dawn on her that he never came.

no time to think–

He knocked the wind out of her. The shove came so fast… so strong. She tastes the blood in her mouth, ears nearly bleeding the same with the tinnitus that rages.

When she tries to stand, she’s met with a firm smack on the thigh and a white knuckle grip on her bad leg.

–no room to breathe.

He draws her to her knees and arches her ass in the air. Her eyes widen in panic and it’s all too simple for the Sound Pillar to block and counter the attack when she thrashes in response.

“You’re really making me work for it, Sister.”

Flush against her back, she feels him. Every ridge. Every vein.

“Hold still,” he warns. “Don’t fight me unless you want this to hurt.”

He makes quick work gathering the fabric pooled at her calves, tossing her skirts over her head so cavalier.

Her breaths start coming in short bursts under the oppressive weight of linen slowly suffocating her.

The bastard’s made a cornered meal of her and there’s not a damn thing to be done for it. There’s nothing. No leg to sever and escape the trap. No Eiji to intervene.

He sounded like he was eating you alive.

Tears burn her eyes as her earlier words come for her throat.

She hears his debasement before feeling his cooling pool of drool run down the curvature of her ass.

“Thinking on that first night we met,” he starts. “Gotta say, you surprised me.”

He spreads her cheeks in appraisal, thumb working his spit in and out of her tight hole.

A less experienced prostitute would relax when Uzui withdrew his fingers. But Emiko was no mere oiran. She knew better.

He strikes her again…

and again…

and again.

She feels the fresh coat of saliva glide in and out of her, another two to join the first.

“Just look at you now…”

She shuts her eyes, biting her lip just to keep herself under lock and key

If she plays possum, she’s as good as dead. If she’s dead, this is over and done with.

Her heart aches with every strained sigh that bleeds from her lips. The hard floor is hell on her tits, his quickening pace beating her further into the ground.

“…reckon I could fry an egg on that fucking face.”

The rapid thrusts of his hips leave her gasping and shuddering beneath the caul of her skirts. She remains blind to his abuse but can feel every stroke… hear every groan…

It’s all she can do to will her body to brace for the storm and pray he finishes quick enough.

anything to quiet her mind. anything to stay still and small.

She steadies her breath to the best of her abilities. His wandering touch takes a bite of the meat of her ass in a callous bid for purchase, dipping his thick head in and out of her waiting hole.

Uzui doubles down on his efforts where her body sees fit to reject him. It’s several tries before he can so much as thread the needle.

Lurching forward with the force of his thrusts, she takes him… inch by tortuous inch until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. Too much, too soon, until Emiko’s left wailing into the floor.

A perpetual echo sounds inside the hollow onsen with the staccato of his balls beating against her exposed cunt. He props her ass higher, cock pistoning at a vicious rate.

“Where’s your God now?”

Only when she felt the breath on her face did she realize it was Lord Uzui himself. He offers no respite pulling out, merely walks back to do kakeyu as she trembles in his wake.

She listens to his feet pad across the floor. She can hear the slow of her own heart. Her whimpers, curling in on herself. The fill of his bucket. The splash across his body. The blood in her ears. His groans as he works his fingers over his points of tension.

Emiko’s blood runs cold when the steady flow of water is shut off. The last remaining drops sound off like heavy artillery in the spanse of the bathhouse. Practically holds her breath as he passes without a word.

He dips into the onsen, arms outstretched as he luxuriates in his soak. His eyes fall shut, head falling back. She’s so sure Uzui had no further use for her.

how wrong could one woman be…

“Sister Eiji.”

#yandere tengen uzui #tengen x oc #tengen x wives x oc #can be read as #yandere tengen x reader #tengen x wives x reader #for my brown eyed girlies #.garden of forking paths #.shi

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crow-winged-wolf · 1 month

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Self-Same Trial

So I'm gonna go out on a limb and finally post my first story on here, please be kind. it's fluffy, has a few innuendos, but nothing mature. Not yet anyway lol. If this turns out well, I might post the spicier stuff. I once promised to write a little something about Astarion seeing himself at the Self-Same Trial. And here it is.

Anyway, pairing is Astarion and F!RangerTav (Serra)

The four walked into the room slowly, looking around at every corner of the room as if it was about to leap out and tackle them. Shadowheart was at the front of the pack, gaze locked on to a statue of Shar holding a basin. She approached confidently, grabbing the dagger on the edge of the bowl and slicing her palm without a second thought. Serra winced once more, not truly used to seeing someone happily open their palm 3 times for various challenges, but there really wasn't any fighting involved, so she guessed a weapon hand weakening wound shouldn't be too much of a bother. Shadowheart looked like she was listening to something, nodding and taking a sharp breath.

“So, this one is called the Self-Same Trial.” Shadowheart announced, turning to them.

“What does that mean?” Serra asked as they continued to the next room, pivoting on her heel mid stride to walk backwards.

“I’m not sure.” Shadowheart shrugged. “I don't know what the trials are, just what the statue holding the basin said. Vanquish your old life to receive my wisdom.”

“Maybe we can ask that rather well armed group up there.” Astarion interjected, pointing up at the raised platform above them. Serra turned around to look up at four figures sneering down at them.

Astarion recognized three of the figures. There was the small blonde Wood Elf Ranger at the front with a crackling bow clutched in her hand who was clearly Serra. The hulking red Barbarian Tiefling to her left with an eternally burning sword was Karlach, and the Half-Elf Cleric to the right with a glowing mace and black, tightly bound hair was Shadowheart. That only left the fourth person, the male High Elf of the group with a pale complexion, silver hair, and daggers clenched in both hands. He was boasting a cocksure smirk that made Astarion want to Misty Step up there and wipe it off his face before he could move, but he held back to watch the girls reactions.

“They look exactly like us!” Serra marveled.

“Oh, I get it, you have to fight only yourself!” Shadowheart called out as the group up top opened fire on them, the Serra clone and the white haired High Elf drawing on their bows while the Karlach and Shadowheart clones went for the steps to get closer.

He exchanged a look with Serra before pulling his hood out from the collar of his armor and over his head, fading into the shadows without another word. “Astar- crap.” She hissed, barely twisting out of the way of yet another arrow from her own clone. “Get down here and do that!” She snarled, drawing her own arrows back and sending them through the clones shoulder.

“Well, hello darling.” He purred as he dropped the invisibility right behind the Elf. “Care to dance?”

The clone turned and regarded him silently, putting the bow away and slowly drawing his daggers again as the two began cautiously circling each other.

“What, nothing to say?” He tutted in disappointment. “I was hoping this would be more than just physical.”

He had to admit, the clone was rather handsome. The drow armor that Serra insisted on dying red and black really made his crimson eyes practically glow against his pallid skin. And it was fitted just the right way to cut a very alluring figure. He had to remember later to look into getting more corset style clothes, those looked especially good on him.

The clone lunged forwards blade first, the sharp edge skating past Astarion's side as he twisted out of the way, parrying the second blade that came down for his chest. It still managed to bite into his arm with a glancing blow, making him hiss in pain, then retaliate with a strike at the clones exposed back. He landed both daggers into its shoulders, knocking the wind out of him as he hit the ground face first.

Below them, Serra had managed to entangle and drag her clone down to her, a resound snap coming from the mirror images arm when she landed on her side hard. Karlach had all but slashed her clone to pieces, and Shadowheart was exchanging blows with her own, both succeeding at missing the other with firebolts.

As Serra dispatched her clone, she looked up at the raised platform, slightly worried. The girls were almost finished with their fights, and Astarion was usually one of the fastest in a fight, ending one or two enemies before she could fire off a single arrow. Him still being missing was unusual. She headed for the stairs to go up and check on him.

Meanwhile, Astarion was looking down at his prone dance partner, his eyes drifting down along his back and stopping at his backside. Astarion quirked an eyebrow at the clone, twisting to look down past his own shoulder, then back at the clone. “Hm, not everyday you get to see your own-”

“Astarion? Are you okay?” Serra called, peering over the floor as she came up to eye level with it. The silver haired Elf waved her off, and heard the rustle of the arrows in her quiver.

“I’m fine, pet!” He snapped before she could nock her arrow, the rustling stopping. He glanced at her, the tip of her bow disappearing from view as she watched him cautiously.

“Okay.” She climbed the rest of the way up, sitting down on the raised floor to watch Karlach and Shadowheart finish their fights.

“Pity,” He sighed as he knelt down and brought his blade to the heavily injured clones neck, cradling his chin in his palm firmly but delicately. “I was just enjoying gazing upon this gorgeous face.” Serra glanced over, watching the reverence with which Astarion regarded the clone. He had a knee in his back to keep him down, his expression saddened by the thought of losing his first chance in a long time at seeing his own face. Her eyes brightened as she thought of something, tucking the idea away for later.

He dispatched the clone quickly and cleanly, wiping the blades on the clones back before standing up and looking around. Karlach and Shadowheart climbed the stairs to join them, Serra picking herself up and stooping over the Astarion clones body to pick something up.

“Where is the orb?” Karlach asked, looking around. Serra came up between them, placing the softly glowing purple orb in Shadowheart’s hands.

“Astarion’s clone had it. Anyone hurt?” She looked around, each of them checking themselves over.

“Just a scrape, darling, nothing to worry about.”

“Excellent, let’s go.” She nodded, leading them back out of the room.

“So, they looked exactly like us?” Astarion asked. The girls nodded. “Well, I don't know about you, but my clone certainly was a handsome devil, wasn't he?” He smiled brightly, Serra cracking a distracted smirk.

That night at camp, when everyone went to sleep, Serra snuck off to Gale’s tent with a request, careful not to let Astarion see her. He was sweet, if not somewhat territorial at times, and she saw his expression when she spoke to Gale. She held a finger to her lips as she approached, Gale smiling at her in confusion. He glanced at Astarion’s tent where she was usually headed, then back at her. “Serra, what brings you to my tent tonight?”

“I want to learn a party trick, do you mind teaching me?”

“Well sure, why not.” He shrugged. “Which one?”

It took her three nights practicing with Gale in secret before she was confident in her ability to cast this very specific spell. Multiple times, Gale asked why this one, but she always dodged the question with a well placed inquiry of her own.

In the morning of the fourth day, Serra looked exhausted, but proud as she came up to Astarion and pulled him aside. “I want to show you something.”

“Does it include a secluded corner of this shrine?” He asked, smirking at the slight blush that tinged her tired face.

“Only if you want.” She retorted, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “Give me a moment, retuto sui!” She waved her hand in front of her face, slowly opening her now crimson red eyes, smiling then wincing as she bit her lip. “Fangth. Fangth are new.” She lisped, giggling in a more masculine voice that didn't belong to her.

Astarion stood rooted to the spot as she changed her appearance to mirror his all the way down to his height, breaking from his stupor when she bit herself. He placed two fingers under her chin, pushing her face up so he could look at it better. “When did you learn this?”

“The patht couple nighths.”

“You can’t possibly have gotten every feature correct, darling. My nose isn’t that big.” He chuckled, turning her head side to side slowly.

“I can get better. I jutht need practiss.” She frowned as she bit her tongue this time in her struggle to stop lisping.

“How far does this illusion go?” Astarion glanced down at her flat chest then back up to her face.

“How far do you want it to go, darling?” She mimicked him playfully, albeit clumsily, rather enjoying the feel of his voice as it reverberated in her throat and upper chest deliciously.

He cupped her face between his palms, running his thumb across the cheekbone that he was slowly coming to understand was his, and smiling impishly. “This could be a new way of exploring myself.” He cooed.

“Careful, sweetheart, that almost sounded like an offer.” She winked at him, unable to hold back her giggles at her imitation. She didn’t have his laugh perfected, so it sounded more like Astarion giggling like a giddy schoolgirl. “Hey, wait a minute.” She said as she managed to reign in her laughter, taking a step back. “I've alwayth wanted to do this!” She reached up, carding her fingers into the soft silver curls on her head and ruffling them before pulling them forward. “Man, your hair’s long!” She laughed. She tried to push it back in place, failing miserably as the locks fell across her eyes again in a feathery light mess that didn't seem to bother her as much as it did him. Astarion reached up and fixed her hair for her, tutting her and slapping her hands away as she tried to help.

“What made you think of learning this spell?” Astarion asked. Serra smiled sweetly, wrapping her hands around his wrists and placing them at her cheeks again.

“I thaw- SAW how you were looking at your clone in the self-same trial. When you said it was a pity to lose that handsome face, I remembered Gale talking about a spell that lets you mirror someone's appearance. I thought I might like to try to give you the chance to have a look at your face up close instead of in the middle of a fight.”

“And what a marvelous face it is.” He said, Serra beaming.

“I don’t smile like that! You’re too giddy to be wearing my face!” He flicked her nose, Serra laughing again.

“Oh, this is why you came to me for those midnight lessons!” Gale said loudly, laughing. Serra shot him a withering look, Astarion somewhat bemused she was sneaking around just to learn to clone his face.

“Thanks, Gale.” She growled, Gale looking at her in surprise.

“Oh! I thought…” He looked at Astarion, then back at Serra.

“Well, I’m definitely not your crafty student!” The silver haired Elf motioned to himself with a flourish, Serra crossing her arms over her chest, momentarily distracted by the firm pecs that greeted her forearms.

“Ah, you certainly mastered this spell, you had me fooled!” Gale announced, the expression on his face a clear indication he was about to launch into a long diatribe about how the weave worked or something like that. Serra was about to cut him off when Astarion interrupted him.

“I don’t want to be a bother, but isn’t your little roast looking a tad dark?” He pointed to the fire where a roast was suspended over it on a spit. Gale looked, suddenly bolting for the food while muttering about the fire being too big. “There, now it’s just us again, darling.” Astarion smirked mischievously, taking a step closer to Serra. “Enjoying what that feels like?” He plucked at her sleeve, Serra looking away in embarrassment as she dropped her arms to her sides.

“I think I’m gonna change back.” She muttered, Astarion stopping her as she raised her hand by tracing her jaw and chin with gentle fingertips.

“Let me enjoy this just a bit longer, pet. I do rather enjoy finally being able to gaze upon my own face.”

#bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion female tav

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theamityelf · 2 months

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(In the Mini THH AU)

Some time after the execution for the fourth trial, Hajime speaks up to say, "So, Nagito. Are you finally going to let Makoto out of your pocket now?" Because usually that's when he'd do it, and give Makoto a chance to talk to the other kouhais about what they've just experienced.

But he looks around and finds that Nagito is long gone.

Back at his cabin, Nagito is running water in his bathroom sink, holding a ruler and thermometer to make sure the water comes to exactly an inch high and isn't too hot or cold. Makoto, standing on the side of the basin, between the faucet and the toothbrush cup, is trying to ask a question, but the running water covers the sound of his tiny voice. He waves for attention, and Nagito turns the water off.

"You still haven't explained why you hid me from the others," Makoto says. "Or what you read in that binder. Or why you've been angry all day."

Nagito scoops him up, mussing his sweat-dampened hair with one fingertip. There's a look in his eyes, and has been at least since Makoto could see his face again, that looks as if he's simultaneously hyperfocused on what he's doing and mentally detached from it. Like he's on autopilot with his eyes firmly on the road.

"I'm sorry it was so uncomfortable in there," he says. "There was no ice in the octagon, and nothing safe to soak a napkin with. I did my best to keep you from my body heat."

"It's fine. Please just tell me what's wrong."

"Maybe...We can read through the binder together later, okay? After your bath." He sets Makoto back down on the basin, turning his back so Makoto can get undressed. He pours a bit of shampoo into the cap of the shampoo bottle for him. "I'm going to hurry and pack our things before the others are back from the execution. Fortunately, they usually linger, and they'll probably want a meal first thing."

"Pack? Where are we going?"

"The beach house on the second island. We're surrounded, here. Even if I blocked off the door and the windows, someone could swim beneath us. There's only one path to the beach house, which makes it a lot easier to protect, and I can grab some diner food on the way so we can hole up until we've decided how to proceed."

"That...I know you said we'll read through what you learned later, but can you just tell me something to explain why you're suddenly so hostile to everyone else?"

"It's just because...they were never what we thought they were. They wasted their potential for hope."

"Wasted their potential...?"

"Hey." Nagito is gripping the edge of the sink tightly. "Once you find out the truth...it's okay if you hate me. I'll still protect you and care for you as best I can, so please don't feel like you have to pretend you aren't revolted."

"...Whatever it is, Monokuma showed it to you for a reason. He wanted to hurt you, and he wanted you to hurt them. We can't let him have that. You understand, right?"

Nagito makes a sound that is very difficult to parse as positive or negative. Almost like a sound Teruteru might make. Almost.

"Earlier, you were talking about all the ways you almost lost me. But, you're not giving yourself credit for the fact that you didn't. You always found me and made sure I was safe and well-taken-care-of. You made sure Hajime would be the one looking after me when you were sick, because you knew that Mikan-"

"Mikan," Nagito echoes. His body, which seemed to be gradually melting as he listened to Makoto's words, suddenly erects itself. "Yes, of course. It also explains why she..." The reminder seems to energize him, in a very unintended way. "I need to pack. I'll be back in just a minute."

When he returns, he has a heavy backpack on his back and a pillowcase filled with various other possessions in one hand. He helps Makoto out of the basin to dry off and get dressed.

"You rushed out before I could finish," Makoto complains.

Nagito kneels so he's at eye-level. "My apologies. But we should really hurry, before we risk running into the others en route. And...it's not fair of me to let you praise me before you know the truth."

Since Makoto has finished getting dressed, he scoops him up.

"Wait, wait! Are you about to put me back in your pocket?"

"I'm afraid so. But do remember that you're more than welcome to hate me for it."

Makoto is nestled gently into Nagito's left breast pocket. There is already a napkin-wrapped ice cube there for him this time, keeping the temperature manageable. He can both hear and feel Nagito's heartbeat. It could very well soothe him to sleep.

"You..." Nagito breathes. Makoto feels Nagito's big hand carefully cupping the pocket he's occupying. "What does it say about me, that the Ultimate Hope makes me desperately want to be selfish?"

Makoto gives an answer, but of course Nagito can't hear it.

He leaves his cabin without another word.

#danganronpa #mini thh au #nagito komaeda #makoto naegi #komaegi

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hannibalzero · 2 months

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Do you know who I am?

Charthur 🦬🦌🦬🦌 dabble!

With Dyani! Beware of cute and just Arthur.

Coming back from fur trapping, Charles Smith had hardly been gone a week but he was already so damn homesick. Turns out when you have a home to miss, it happens so easily. Charles hardly got on the trial before wanting to turn back and run straight into that little ranch house up on the hill with that large flower garden.

Charles missed Arthur, missed Dyani, his bed with that heavy quilt and a warm bath.

Taima being a spoiled and beloved horse now, saw her barn and broke out into a canter. She was sick of being on the road, she wanted to be home.

“Easy girl!” Charles soothed but couldn’t help but to smile. Excited himself to be home with his family. Taima stopped to allow Charles to open the stable door, Charles hurriedly got off before pushing the door open.

He stopped for a moment and counted. There were eight horses, when Charles left there was only three. Peaches, Gin and Brandy. Taima was with Charles of corse. Five random horses where looking at Charles curiously.

Arthur’s horses were still here.

But Charles still worried.

Removing the saddle and blanket, Charles took care of Taima and stabled her, he also cleaned his equipment and hung his fur haul to process later. Worry churned his stomach, did something happen while he was gone?

Charles took a deep, slow breath and settled himself as he approached the ranch house. He carefully pushed open the back door, the sound of Dyani crying made his heart hurt.

“Oh I know, it’s awful ain’t it.” Arthur soothed the crying baby in his hold. The sound of water filled poor Charles in on what was happening. In a washing basin on the kitchen table, Arthur was bathing Dyani much to her dismay. “Gettin’ wash up, I gotcha I ain’t gonna let ya go. Such a pretty girl.”

Beside the table was the actual tub, seems like Arthur was about to have a bath himself. The water was heating over the fire.

Charles relaxed a lot. “Hey.” He called out to his family, entering the room now as he closed the door behind him with a click.

“Hey you!” Arthur called out not hiding the smile on his face. Moving Dyani onto the towel on his shoulder and wrapping her up. “Wasn’t expectin ya till tomorrow!” He stood up and walked over. “God I missed ya.”

“Got done early, headed home as soon as I could.” Charles rubbed noses with Arthur before kissing him. Then moved down a bit to kiss Dyani. “Saw all those horses in the barn. You been busy?”

Arthur moved the baby to Charles shoulder towel and all. “Not by choice, but my hand was forced. Descent horses should fetch a good price after a little training.” Arthur went to pour the warm water into the waiting bath.

“Whatcha mean?” Charles asked his worry coming back to full force.

“Ohhhhhhh, small gang of outlaws broke into our house in the middle of the night. Thinking they could strong arm me for some money and well…pleasurable company.” Arthur said with a hum. “They hit the ground after sayin what they wanted and I got to work.”

“You took out a gang of outlaws?” Charles asked in shock holding Dyani closer now.

“While nursing.” Arthur sounded proud of himself. “I ain’t puttin up with nobody’s foolishness.” He looked back at Charles. “….we’re alright, I took care of everything.”

Charles was stunned for a moment. “You know something Arthur? I sometimes forget who you are and what you’re capable of. You are so sweet and caring, now that where out of the life it’s easy to forget.”

Arthur snickered cheeks turning red. “Imma Arthur goddamned Morgan Smith. I have a bounty of five thousand dollars and pretty red letters underneath saying don’t approach.” He bragged. “Husband of Charles Smith which they can’t find or charge. mama of the prettiest baby in four territories!” He leaned over and kissed Charles.

“Imma complicate feller you know?”

Charles smiled into the kiss. Nodding in agreement. “Yeah yeah you’re complicated. I’m glad you and Dyani are safe when I’m gone.”

“Miss ya awfully fierce when ya are gone. Makes me grumpy.”

“Those poor souls.”

“Ya got that right.”

#rdr2 #charthur #dabble #ficlit #fanfic #arthur morgan #charles smith

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snapeaddict · 11 months

Text

Snapetober Day 19 - Hands

1984

"Albus, who did this to him? Who?"

"Former death-eaters, I suspect. Some who are not pleased to see him free… and under my protection."

Minerva sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her nightgown tighter around herself. She glanced at the younger man's battered face then looked away: she could not stomach it, not yet.

"There cannot be death-eaters outside…"

"Many never stood trial, Minerva. And it is fair to say a good number went undetected. Severus must have encountered some of his old acquaintances tonight."

With considerable gentleness, Albus tucked a loose strand of hair behind the unconscious man's ear, revealing yet another bruise. There was blood all over his face, most notably on its lower part; his nose had bled profusely. Below the skin was marbled, certainly the result of repeated kicking. He must have protected his eyes, though, because they were mostly intact.

His lower lip was badly cut, and for some reason the headmaster could not take his eyes off it.

"Albus", Poppy said at last, putting down her wand and bringing over a bowl of lukewarm water. "Albus, I would like to screen him for internal injuries, but you know the limits of detection spells. If death-eaters did this, there might be curses we cannot catch."

Convulsively, Minerva reached for her colleague's hand. Its sight, however, made her gasp and she jumped to her feet, shaking violently.

"His hands!"

"I know, I know, Minerva, calm down. I will fix them - Minerva, calm down."

Poppy pulled over a seat and gestured towards it authoritatively.

"Sit, Minerva."

The deputy headmistress complied. But this time she could not take her eyes off Severus' hands, no matter the protests of her body and mind; there was something terribly fascinating in them, in each of those fingers so badly torn, and broken.

So much pain - he could withstand so much pain.

"I might need to wake him up", Poppy pursued, damping a white cloth in the basin beside her. She proceeded to wash his face. "Perhaps he could tell me if he recalls any spell, though with the pain in his face, I am unsure he will be able to speak."

The headmaster nodded. For a few seconds, he stroked the younger man's hair; then, as if caught red-handed, he took his hand away.

"I have means to communicate with him that do not require speech, Poppy. Please proceed."

The nurse nodded. She pointed her wand at Severus and whispered the waking spell - enervate.

Severus stirred. Immediately, an expression of intense discomfort, then pain, contracted every muscle on his face; his eyes fluttered open, and fell directly on Dumbledore.

He looked disoriented. His gaze, usually so sharp and penetrating, was glassy.

"Prof-" he started, and then winced in pain.

Albus shook his head.

"No need to speak, my boy. I am sorry we had to wake you up. We merely wish to inquire whether any significant curse was cast on you - you know they do not meddle well with in-depth diagnosing spells."

Severus' eyes went from the headmaster to Minerva, who was sitting beside him, and closed briefly, which disheartened the older man.

"There is no reason to be ashamed, Severus."

The back eyes opened again, brutally. Suddenly a flood of memories took over the headmaster's mind, and he saw four men - no, five - emerge from the shadows, attacking Severus brutally. Though taken by surprise, he fought back; in under a minute two of his adversaries lay on the ground, and a third joined them soon afterwards. It was a well-aimed blow from behind that brought Severus to his knees, and the two remaining men, in a fit of fury, beat him relentlessly while cursing him with a choking spell. He felt Severus' distress, he heard him gasp, there were flashes of light and more blood; he was vaguely aware that this had gone on for a long time, and felt Severus trying to retreat. But he pushed through.

He should not have. He knew he should have respected the man's wishes and let him show him only what he wanted, but the sheer brutality of the attack, the state of his hands; Albus needed to get a proper look at all five of these men. To remember their faces. He felt Severus' exhausted presence attempt to withdraw again and held on for a second longer.

Severus was paralysed, now. Paralysed and choked repeatedly - a most awful combination of curses.

"Not so proud now are you, uh, Snape? Dumbledore's not around to protect you this time? Come on, say it. Say Dumbledore's a cunt."

There was no reply. Then a loud snap. Severus whimpered.

"Say it."

Silence. Another crack.

"Say it."

Another bone snapped like a twig.

Feeling as though he might be sick, Albus withdrew, his face now as pale as Severus'. He was holding the bed frame with disproportionate strength. It took him a few seconds to realise.

He let go.

"Albus?" Minerva said, taking a step forward.

He turned his face away.

"Choking spells, Poppy. You know the counter-curses."

His blue eyes met the black, and he discerned a hint of surprise in them; he wondered why; then, taking a step back, he brought his hand to his face, and realised he was crying.

All ten fingers.

#Early torture session #Or when Dumbledore realised Severus' loyalty extended beyond Lily and his own faults #severus snape #pro snape #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #severus snape fanfiction #snapetober 2023 #snapetober #poppy pomfrey #Also Severus is a proud and stubborn man and this is not only an advantage unlocked

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liam-neesons-best-girl · 5 months

Text

ღ Love Languages

Summary: The love language of Liam Neeson characters ღ

ICYMI: A love language is the way a person prefers to express their love and or receive it from a partner. There is no one right way to love!

Warnings: f!reader, mdni, 18+

Acts of Service - (Rob Roy)

He loves being the head of the house and the provider for you and your family

He never stifles the chance to do some heavy lifting if it means a happier wife is waiting for him

Pride swells in his chest when he watches the burning logs he chopped hours earlier warm you in the dead of night

Seeing him tend to cattle and use his whip to tame horses stirs something within you

He recognizes the labor you perform in the home and feels like it is only right to take some of that burden off of you

One day he sees you washing pottery and comes up behind you at the water basin to "help" but starts kissing up your hairline

"I'm trying to work here" you giggle out as he wrap his has from around your frame to take the pottery out of your hands to place on the ground

He turns you around to face him, your hands covered in suds, and he looks to you with pure adoration

He thought of the best service he could give you: another child

He wouldn't rest until you were waddling around the house with the swell of your belly serving as a reminder of his love for you - being able to wait on you hand and foot as you make him a father

Quality Time - (Carl Wayne Anderson: Suspect)

You met Carl in the county jail when you were assigned to his case as a public defender

from then on he liked being around you, be it in one on one meetings or by your side during trial

A shy smile is buried under his thick beard when you stay an extra two hours with him to prepare for a hearing the next day

He's learning to write more legibly for trial, for you

You have so much patience, he thinks, never giving up on him when he flips a 'b' to a 'd' or gets made at himself for mistakes and lashes out (never on you)

He feels a warmth that radiates off of you, drawing him closer, feeling less on edge regarding his surroundings and judgmental jurors

You are also one of the only people who keep eye contact with him when speaking. So many people are intimidated by him but you meet his gaze with compassion

When he gets an unexpected visitors notice over the weekend he isn't surprised to see you there with a thick binder of exhibits to go over, takeout food, and a new packet of chalk

Time is always fleeting and delicate, but that pressure was amplified knowing Carl was on trial and risking time in prison

You two never had any short encounters either, always an hour or longer, though he wished you could stay forever

Receiving Gifts - (Capt. Mikhail Polenin: K-19 The Widowmaker)

His long deployments at sea made him yearn for you, day in day out

To serve as a reminder of his faith and his love, he showers you with gifts of all kinds

a necklace with his initial, fragrant perfumes, silky soft nighties, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers when he meets you at the pier

Nothing is too extravagant for a man who didn't know if he would ever see you again

You tell him he is in your thoughts every day and that you have no eyes for anyone else but he wants the world to know he is your shadow, he is your man by your side or 3,000 miles away

He also sends you love letters as often as he can

They are full of poetry and prayers to see you again

You saved each and everyone of them, keeping them safe in your jewelry box until you can hear him say them to you in person

His favorite gift you have given him was a collection of photographs of yourself. Some are headshots, or from home-movies, not to mention the nude photograph of you wearing his dog tags

You are his gift from God. You are his motivation to complete his mission. You are his motivation to live

Physical Touch - (Hannibal: The A-Team)

The man is handsy and his pent up emotions from training and deployment has him eager to touch you any way he can

He has some restraint when he is around new recruits, trying to show composure as an upper level officer with just his hand resting on the small of your back

He is a bit more loose around his team members, knowing he has earned their respect and won't lose it if they see him slightly simping over you

He'll pull you into his lap instead of a folding chair, insisting that you'd be more comfortable on his lap this way instead of the flimsy plastic

He will twirl your hair or tap a beat to your thigh absent mindedly while listening to a mate of his talk, relaxed in knowing you are there, you are actually there with him

When you are finally alone he will worship you for hours until you are overstimulated and a whimpering mess under him

He doesn't half ass any mission either, so once he has made you cum all night, he will give you the best after care, cuddling you and massaging your sore legs

He loves it when you make the first move and interlock you fingers with his on the walk from base to a pub

Feeling 10 feet tall he strides around base knowing only he can touch you, only he can get close enough to smell your hair, caress your skin, taste your desperation and love

Leaving you is like tearing off a limb for him, but he'll squeeze you tight to embed in his memory your edges, your fit in his arms

Words of Affirmation - (Qui-Gon Jinn: Star Wars)

He lives by his comm link so you never are too far away

You are concerned that your calls are annoying but he assures you are music to his ears to hear about your day, a funny story, or to lull him to sleep with a song

He reads constantly to find new words to express his love for you. Deeper, sensual praise that you could never forget about and have only heard Qui-Gon use

There is never a day when he doesn't say good morning and good night, letting you know you are the first and last thing he thinks of each day

Pet names are reserved for you, rarely does he give that affection to outsiders (he still has love for Obi and Ani)

Praise kink!!

His cadence in bed, the tempo his words follow to punctuate his movements are delicious

When he hears you whimper and thank him for being so caring he thinks he could cum in his pants right then and there

You are in ecstasy when he talks you through your high and climax together

He says "I love you" more often then he breathes, since you are his life line

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itbmojojoejo · 1 year

Text

A Good Man | Part 6

Pairing: Finan x Ealdorman's Daughter!Reader

Summary: During the aftermath of Eadred's death implications are made, Uhtred orders his group to return to Coccham but y/n doesn't want Finan to go.

Warnings: SLOWBURN. Mentions of blood and violence. References to a dead body, the term brutalised is used. Please let me know if i've missed anything!

Wordcount:3.3k

Part 1 | Part 7 | Other Works

Authors Notes: pfft I don't have anything to say. Other than I may have squealed when writing one part.

Stepping up onto a lip of the lean-to under the cover of darkness Finan silently pulled himself up onto its roof, keeping low he ushered you and Osferth closer. On instinct Osferth dropped to a knee and locked his fingers offering you a boost, you placed a foot into his hands and held your own up to Finan as Osferth stood lifting you into the irishman’s grasp.

Finan helped you climb into your dimly lit room through the window following you in and pushed the shutters closed after whispering for Osferth to stay there.

“We need to burn your clothes, can’t risk anyone finding them stained.” He whispered unfastening the broach ridding you of the cloak, you nodded as your hands shakily came to your sides to work at the laces.

“Let me” Finan offered and he hastily loosened them helping to lift the lilac tunic over your head dropping it to the floor “Uhh..” He quietly grumbled with his hands hovering over your body, this was a precarious enough situation to be caught in with you let alone adding blood covered clothes into the mix.

“It’s fine, just turn around.” You quietly muttered lifting the underdress over your head adding it to the tunic, any other time you’d be nervous to be stood naked in the presence of a man but you were being fuelled by adrenaline. Finan stood with his back to you and gathered up the discarded clothes hearing you rummage in a trunk, he opened the window shutter and looked down to Osferth

“Burn them.” He threw the bundled fabric down and Osferth nodded before jogging off into the darkness.

“You can look at me now.” You whispered shifting on your feet fiddling with the cross at your neck.

The lit candles on the mantle of the cold hearth behind you illuminated the silhouette of your body beneath the thin white linen nightdress you wore, you were beautiful even with dried blood staining your hands and splattered on your face. Finan quietly cleared his throat at the sight glancing around the room, this was not the time to be having thoughts of desire, spotting a small basin and a jug of water he walked over to it.

“Gotta get you cleaned up, do you have a cloth?” He asked

“Uh yes” You retrieved a few cloths from the trunk at the end of the bed and joined him at the basin, you pushed your sleeves up as he poured water into the bowl and wet a square of fabric. The water was cold as you submerged your hands rubbing them clean, Finan’s hand gently came to your chin angling your face towards him. He offered you a small reassuring smile as he dabbed delicately at your cheeks ridding your face of the evidence. He looked to your neck and let out a displeased hum, the skin was darkening showing signs of the attack and he remembered Eadred’s unlaced breeches.

“I’m only asking so I know what happened, did he..” His voice trailed off not sure how to finish his question but you knew what he was asking and responded with a shake of your head, you winced bringing a hand up to the back your head relieved to find no blood when you pulled it back.

“Are you going to be able to cover this?” He queried gently brushing the edge of the growing bruise with the pad of his finger tip

“Oh, um I think so” The thought of wearing a high neck dress in the summer heat was unpleasant but it was a better option than going on trial for the murder of an Ealdorman’s son. Finishing the clean up Finan dashed the dirty water out of the window, putting the bowl back onto its table he avoided his gaze lingering on you too long.

“It’s not going to be easy, but try to get some rest. I’ll talk to Uhtred in the morning alright?”

“You won’t stay?” You quivered looking at him full of worry

“I shouldn’t even know what the inside of this room looks like..” He fretted bringing his hands to his face

“Finan I ca- please don’t lea- what..” You panicked at the thought of being left alone as tears blurred your vision. He gently pulled you into his chest and held you tight as you cried smoothing a hand down your hair.

The adrenaline had started to wear off and you felt a horrible mixture of emotions clogging your brain, filling your stomach and rushing through your veins. The pain in your head turned into an icy cold fear at the repercussions from what you’d done and your breathing quickened, feeling you take a turn for the worse Finan pulled back slightly moving his hands to the sides of your face.

“After me, deep breath in through your nose” You followed his instruction taking a breath until your chest felt like it could burst “Out from your mouth” and you exhaled keeping your eyes on his and repeated the motions with him a couple times more until you had more control over your body again.

“You’re going to be alright, I promise.” He soothed wiping your tears with his thumbs

“But I...” You whispered holding onto his wrists staring at his bronze cross

“Did what you had to survive.” You responded with a small nod tightening your hold on him, he sighed bringing his head down to rest against yours. Closing your eyes at his simple gesture of comfort you resorted to asking once more, the thought of being alone was unbearable.

“Please stay?”

Earlier in the night he had the thought to walk you back in the hopes of being able to finally kiss you, and if you’d asked him to stay then he wondered if there would of been the same hesitation to say yes. Finan felt guilty for not being there to protect you, it wouldn’t of happened if he had just been there.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Stepping away from his hold still grasping his wrists bringing him with you towards the bed behind you, your eyes dropped to his sword belt and you moved to unbuckle it. He silently stopped your hands and removed the belt himself leaning the sword against the bedframe in case he would need it for any reason.

You settled awkwardly laying on your side watching Finan arrange a cushion to sit himself against the headboard still wearing his cuirass. Fighting the trembling that had started in your body you closed your eyes trying to will them away but the image of blood seeping through the gaps in Eadred’s fingers as he held his face flashed on the backs of your eyelids. Finan caught the way you squeezed your eyes tighter together as tears came to you once again.

“Come here, I’ve got you.” He quietly comforted pulling you into his side. With an arm around your back he gently caressed your shoulder and placed a light kiss to the crown of your head and kept his lips resting there, with a small sob you took hold of his other hand and held it against your chest.

You both woke up with a shock and feeling disorientated at the harsh knocking on your door, you jumped up from where you had been warmly nestled against Finan to stand near the door as he hurriedly grabbed his swords and rolled to the other side of your bed barely preventing a loud fall and hid himself there.

You opened the door a crack breathing a sigh of relief at Aethelflaed opening it fully, she glanced around noticing the open shutters letting the first low light of dawn into room and the burnt out candles on the hearth as you closed the door. Turning to face her she took in the marks on your neck and the red bruise across your cheekbone that hadn’t been visible to you or Finan last night.

“Are you alright?” She asked kindly, her eyes full of worry

“As alright as I can be Lady.”

“Osferth and Sihtric told...” She started then frowned in confusion “Where is Finan?”

“Uh, I’m here Lady” He whispered standing from his place behind the bed, taking note of his fully clothed form she gave you both a small smile

“You aren’t to worry y/n, nothing has been discovered as of yet. Make sure you cover this” She gestured to her own neck referencing your bruises “And as for your cheek, we’ll say I accidentally caught you with an elbow when you helped me dress for bed.”

“Thank you”

“Get yourself dressed and downstairs for breakfast, your father will be there most likely. Finan you can escort me out under the guise of bringing me information.” Walking around the bed to leave with Aethelflaed, Finan gave your hand a light squeeze before you were left alone in the silent room.

You found yourself fighting off tears as your fingers worked to lace your high neck dresses and your mind flooded once again with the guilt and fear of the night before. You took a deep breath allowing yourself to think of how Finan had comforted you, you had woken up in the exact same position you had fallen asleep in, he held you close all night and that thought alone was enough to calm you. Making your way through the quiet hallways you hesitated before entering the main hall, you had to be strong and collected if you were to appear innocent in what had happened to Eadred because there would no doubt be questions and accusations once his demise was discovered.

Sitting beside your father at the long table you greeted Lady Aethelflaed and Lord Aethelred who didn’t even acknowledge you.

“My dear you look tired, you must make sure to get an earlier night.” Your father greeted lowly.

“I fear all the travelling has caught up to me.”

“Hmm. As long as that’s all it is.”

“What are you implying?” your voice was hushed as you gave him a side glance

“Nothing that hasn’t already been whispered through the courts.”

You looked to him with furrowed brows eyes full of confusion.

“You are too close to the irishman y/n.” He sighed

“Oh for god’s sake father do no-“ You were growing agitated at the now common accusations of your involvement with Finan

“y/n, all I’m asking is that you be careful. Your brother will not be as deaf to these rumours as I have been.” He cut you off with a neutral tone, the mention of your brother made your stomach flip. He had no tolerance for intimacy outside of a marriage bed and had always talked of his hopes for you to marry a respectable Lord.

You sat through the rest of breakfast in silence picking apart the bread on your plate, your appetite was nowhere to be found and you struggled to swallow water, you didn’t want to risk attempting to swallow food with witnesses. Your eyes found Aethelflaed as a guard came rushing in to whisper at Aethelred’s ear and the sounds of unrest from outside leaked into the hall. You watched him rise and make his way outside, following your father as he did the same.

Standing on the steps next to Aethelflaed under the bright morning sky you saw the townsfolk parting to make way for a cart being pulled by a horse, amongst the people you spotted Finan with Uhtred. The cart came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and your breath quickened spotting the blood sodden clothing you knew belonged to Eadred and you dropped your gaze to the floor not wanting to face the results of your self defence again.

“What happened?” Aethelred asked with no signs of concern or real interest

“He looks to of been killed in a robbery gone wrong, Lord.” The guard offered

“Ah, a shame. Well I suppose we should send a messenger ahead of the body to his father in Gleawecestre so they may bury him on his home soil.”

“Do you not think an investigation should take place Lord?” Your father asked

“Investigate? It’s quite clear to see he was bested by a man, he’s been brutalised and all his valuable belongings gone Lord Aelfric.”

“Yes, but, my dau...” Your father looked to Finan in the crowd “Perhaps someone covered up their true intentions?”

“Oh...Ha! Lady y/n my dear, come here.” Aethelred ushered you towards him with a hand looking amused at the suggestion, you stood still looking to Aethelflaed and the onlooking townsfolk “Oh come now, he’s dead he can’t hurt you.”

Finan watched on with an arm crossed at his chest and his hand to his mouth internally cursing Aethelred for what he was unknowingly putting you through and then praised his god for your strength, you held your head high stepping down closer to the cart and looked over Eadred’s form before dropping your head entirely at the sight. Aethelred had been correct in his statement, he did look to of been brutalised far beyond what you had done to him.

“See, she cannot bare the sight, I do not think this was done by or on the orders of her. But I am curious Lady y/n, how did you get this?” He probed poking the bruise on your cheekbone and you scrunched your face up at the jolt of pain.

“It was an accident, your Lady wife caught me with an elbow when I helped her get ready for bed.”

“Ah, you must be more careful wife.” Aethelred directed to Aethelflaed turning away from you to make his way back inside. “As I said, send him back to Lord Ealford.”

Finan watched you be directed back into the hall and didn’t miss the way your father looked at him with disdain.

“Looks like I’ve upset her old man.” He remarked to Uhtred who stood next to him

“That’s because he believes she gave you her maidenhood.” Uhtred muttered looking around the crowd

“Her what now?” Finan’s brows shot up

“So that’s a no?”

“Obviously.” He confirmed

“A kiss then?” Uhtred asked looking to him

“...No.”

“You want to.”

“Even a blind man could see that” Sihtric chuckled on his approach with Osferth.

“Will they investigate Lord?” Osferth asked glancing at the cart still in front of the steps

“No. He’s declared it a robbery. Get your horses ready, we’ll be returning to Coccham today.” Uhtred announced taking a step towards the palace

“Do you think that’s a good idea Lord?” Finan asked

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Uhtred responded, taking in Finan’s disappointed expression he sighed “I know you care for her, but she is not our concern. She can’t be wed to Eadred anymore he’s dead, and there are no other risks to her safety now.”

“Yes but wh-“ He started to make a suggestion

“No buts Finan, we’re going home.”

“Lord.” He nodded reluctantly and walked his way to the stables to help prepare the horses for their journey home.

He was silent and not his usual talkative self as he brushed down his steed with hay and checked over the hooves to make sure they were all in good condition and no repairs needed to be done. Sihtric had tried to start conversation more than once but they all stopped after a sentence or two. Osferth carried their packs from the inn down to the stables and placed them down dusting off his hands, he stood close to Finan and spoke quietly.

“Lady y/n is in her room with the shutters wide open, I can finish off here for you if you wish to say a farewell.”

He shook his head with a downturned mouth carrying on his duty with a sigh.

“You are going to her. I refuse to travel with you this miserable.” Sihtric implored staring at him from over his own horse.

You were sat on the edge of your bed staring at the wooden floor turning your nose up at the one board that’s wood grain wasn’t matching the direction of the others when a noise from outside your window caught your attention, standing you slowly creeped closer to the sill when a body quickly rolled over the edge and landed with a soft thud.

“Wha-!” You exclaimed

“Shh!” He clambered up pressing a finger to his lips

“Finan you cannot scare me like that.” You whispered with a smile holding your chest

“I know I’m sorry but I had to see you before we leave”

“You’re leaving?” your face fell

“Uhtred’s orders. But I came to return this” He held out the thin leather belt housing the now clean dagger he had taken from you the night before

“I do not think it’s such a good idea for me to have that” You put your hands up not wanting to take it

“I disagree, y/n please. It saved your life and I can’t always be here to protect you.”

“Fine.” You resolved swiping it from his hands and put it on the bed behind you

“Do you know when.. If I’ll see you again any time soon?” You stepped closer to him and ran a finger down the bronze cross at his neck

“I don’t know, Uhtred has a habit of sending me off to all sorts of places” He placed his hand over the top of yours rubbing his thumb over your soft skin

“I never said thank you for all that you did last night” You spoke quietly looking into his dark eyes taking another step into his space, you were so close that every inhale had your chest moving against his

“Don’t mention it” He whispered, eyes flickering to your lips then back to your eyes leaning in ever so slightly that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, you felt his breath fan across your skin and ghosted your lips just over his

“I don’t want you to go” Finan stroked the hair away from your face at your words letting his hand trace its way down your spine coming to rest at the small of your back

“I have to.” He sadly responded barely caressing his lips off yours drowning in your calming lavender scent.

You reached a hand around the back of his neck and softly grazed your fingers on his warm skin closing the miniscule gap between you in a tender kiss, it started slowly with the gentle press of his mouth against yours, with a sigh he held you as close as humanly possible melting you into his embrace and deepened the kiss, the taste of his mouth was intoxicating as you let him explore you fully with his tongue and you both lost yourselves completely as the kiss grew more urgent.

A surge of desire washed over you with the threat to consume you wholly causing you to break away breathlessly and rest your head against his, feeling each others warm breath and beating hearts you got lost in his gaze, with every passing moment you felt more fearful to never be near to him again. Finan closed his eyes and took a step back giving your hand on his chest a final squeeze and turned to leave out the window.

You exhaled slowly looking to the floor and smoothed a hand down your dress. Finan stopped looking at his ringed fingers focusing on the one he wore on his little finger, with a small sigh he pulled it free and turned back to you picking your hand up and placing it in your palm. You looked to him with your brows furrowed together.

“I’ll be finding you to get that back.”

You gave him a small smile and he cupped your cheeks leaning back in for another kiss.

End Notes: I just think they're cute.

Taglist: @arcielee @tssf-imagines @bcon24 @finanmoghra

#finan x reader #finan x you #finan tlk #finan fanfic #finan imagine #tlk fanfic

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