#Cursed lancelot

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 37

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Sins Of The Flesh

Notes: If It's too much, skip to the bottom part past the ~~~~~

!!!Special Warning for this chapter: Smut: Oral F/M recieving. Manual Stimulation F/M recieving. Scent-kink (yup). Some spicy talk.!!!

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  37/47

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Your mind came to a stop and took seconds to even try to find a response to that brave confession. He was so clearly nervous to speak of this, so worried he had blundered and ruined all.

Your response came, albeit delayed, “I was waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to tell me.”

He pushed the question out, “Is it common to think of it often?”

There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Did he truly fear there was something wrong with him for feeling desire?

Your hand caressed his chest. “More common than people might confess to. What has been going through your thoughts?”

Two seconds passed before he leaned in and quietly told what had been filling his daily thoughts. “I want to make you come undone, to see you like that again… Quivering from pleasure, my name rolling off of your tongue when you moan. The scent of your wetness putting me at your mercy.”

“You can smell…” You had forgotten how to breath normally, suddenly feeling far warmer, heart racing. Were your legs trembling or was it your heart beating so hard it shook your bones?

His stubble grazed your cheek while he whispered the confirmation that his heightened sense of smell was that strong. “Yes. I can.”

The scent was enticing and hit a deep instinct within him. He would never forget it, even just the memory of it shot lust into his being.

It had you flustered. “I’m not… not right now.”

He was boldly suggestive. “You could be.”

That bawdy comment left you speechless, almost did a small stunned laugh escape you but you covered your mouth to muffle it. His cheeks tinted a bit at his own bold comment. Still, you could read the mischief from his eyes and quickly tried to get out of his reach. That ended with with him wrapping you into his arms and pulling your back against his chest. The laugh escaped you, no matter how much he tried to hush you before it would wake half the inn.

“Shhh.” he chuckled, just a hint of hidden embarrassment in his tone again. “The walls are thin here.”

“I’m sorry.” you snorted another, quieter, laugh. “I am guessing that means you are not comfortable enough to bed me here, where others could hear it?”

It made him nervous to even think of copulating where others could possibly hear. That bed looked anything but quiet, it had seen a lot of use in it’s lifetime. He would be nervous enough as it is.

“Not here.” He proposed a solution, “Another way? As we were in Gramaire.”

You turned in his arms to face him. “You want me to help you seek your relief tonight?”

He would not deny himself of it tonight. “Let me learn it all, teach me all the ways.”

“Well then…” your hands grazed down over his chest to his abdomen. “Come here and let me make sure you are not aching anymore.”

That touch of innocence still in him made it irresistible not to make him a ruin by tending to his carnal needs. His breathing instantly quickened when you started to kiss him whilst reaching down for his groin. He was letting it happen, trusting that you knew what you were doing. You had never been this forward while touching him, rubbing him lightly through the fabric of his trousers. He held on tight, leaning into your form as he snaked a hand into the back of your hair. A slow deep kiss was gifted upon your lips and they parted when his tongue asked for access. He let you guide him and taste him, a lesson that was done with the utmost attention. He let out pleasant sounds the longer you caressed his groin.

You smirked against his lips. “It seems like I got your attention.”

He gave you a rougher scolding kiss for that jest, but you broke your lips free from his.

It was better to ask openly so it would not startle him. “Would you like my mouth on you?”

He blinked, confused at what that meant considering your mouth was on him just a second ago before you stole it away again.

A brush of your hand over his groin again. “On you.”

It clicked right away then, he didn’t fully know how to respond.

He had heard of this, of course he had. But he did not know the details of it. Yet, the idea that you were proposing to use your mouth on him had piqued his interest.

His thumb touched your lips. “Your mouth…”

You watched his reaction carefully. “Have you heard of it?”

He gave a slight nod. “The paladins made comments of the sort.”

You gently rubbed him a bit more. “May I?”

The more he was stimulated, the more eager he grew for friction. He put a hand over yours and kept it on his groin, a signal to keep going that he wouldn’t have dared to give earlier.

He wanted this, he needed this. His body was heating up, his hips grew restless, that pleasant pressure was building in his lower self. And then there was the view of you in that chemise that had instantly caused a heat to spread into his abdomen. He needed this. He needed you.

You reassured him, “I want to try that for you. I promise I will be careful.”

He could still hardly believe what was being offered. “You will do such an act for me?”

You couldn’t help but sound a little daring. “Do you think you can handle it?”

He loved that coy smile. Loved the spark of mischief in your eyes. He needed to be confident… he wanted to be confident…

He took on that dare without hesitation. “Kneel down.”

Your eyes had widened at the request. The haze of lust in his own as he looked at you made it so easy to oblige. Still, there was a sudden change in his demeanor that you hadn’t really expected, an increase of confidence you thought would take a while for him to get. You knelt down on the ground and looked up at him, putting a hand on his thigh. An array of things had their presence in his eyes, intrigue and desire, firmness and gentleness. It was the darkened gaze he bestowed on you that made you nervous.

He cupped your cheek, making you look up at him, he touched your bottom lip, pushing the tip of his thumb against your mouth a bit. “Show me?”

You could sense that he was trying to be more confident, he was hiding his self-consciousness under the mask of it.

His thumb slid gingerly into your mouth. You realized he wanted to feel an example of what he could expect, gently you sucked on his digit to give him an idea. It didn’t last long, he withdrew his thumb and graced over your lips with it. He knew you had seen how his trousers were restraining him, like this you were at the perfect height to notice. He looked around himself for a moment, making the decision before your very eyes.

“Do you want me to still your ache?” Your question made his attention snap down to your face again.

He cupped the side of your head, thumb caressing your cheek. “Yes.”

That was all you needed to hear to start working at his trousers. His gaze constantly moved from you, to all that was around him.

Any fear of blundering faded to the back of his mind. All that truly mattered was the woman on her knees, willing to grant him this generous act. He was safe in your hands, he trusted you.

Before you freed him from his restraints, you rubbed him through the fabric of his trousers, warming him up further. He closed his eyes, his forehead creased at the carnal frustration it build up in him. It lasted a while, you loved to see how pent up he got. When softly kneading at him he drew in sharp breaths, his mouth opened just a little.

You slowly freed him, placing one light kiss on the tip, teasing by breathing hotly on him. A length and girth that would surely be interesting to get more acquainted with. Your mouth enclosed around him and he let out a very relieved sound.

“So warm…” The comment fell out of him as he shuddered.

Hot. Wet. All around his aching member that needed little encouragement to be at full hardness. The sensation of it was one thing, but to know that the one he loved was tending to him was what send his mind into a daze. An act of worship he did not believe himself to be worthy of, and still you made him feel like he was.

With a hand on his hip, you began to work on stilling his ache. His fingers scratched softly at your scalp, he let you set the pace and how much you took of him.

You could hear him struggle to take air into his lungs properly and spoke soothing words, “Breathe, Lancelot.”

He took the advice, doing his best to take in deep breaths. You tested and searched for what and how he liked it. He would not last long, you could tell. He was careful, holding control over his hips as they instinctively wanted to move forward into the sensation. The sounds he tried to swallow down, the squeezing of his hand on your shoulder, the changing of his breaths, it all came to an end sooner then he might have wanted it too. A warning was given by him, but you were determined to let him experience it fully, swallowing what you could when he spilled. A low shaking moan ran through his lungs into the air. He was trembling, using your shoulder for support to keep himself standing. The stimulation of your mouth had stopped, you held his hips to ensure he was steady. He stretched his neck, tilting his head back, quietly catching his breath. The walls were thin and he was trying his very best to keep any noise down. While letting him come down from his height of pleasure, you admired him for a moment discreetly and then gently stored him back into his trousers. He was caressing your head, pads of his fingers massaging your scalp in gratitude.

You enjoyed the feeling of it. “Good?”

He could only hum, still overwhelmed by what had rushed through his body. You got off of the ground and began to undo the belts that held his jerkin closed. He was quick to tilt his head down again and look at what you were doing.

“You’re staying here, right?” You saw him nod. “Good. Then let’s get you prepared for bed.”

He could barely keep track of his thoughts. “My weapons.”

Oh, that was right. Taking that jerkin of without taking of the belts first would not be simple. But you had thought that loosening up the jerkin would help him with his breathing.

“Sorry.” You started at the belts. “I thought opening your jerkin would help you breathe better after that.”

A small boyish smile. “It is not the leather that caused it.”

You could hear the approval laced in his voice and evaded his gaze. The belts came off and you hanged them on the foot of the bed. He took off his cloak, handing it to you to place it there as well. By the time you turned around he was behind you and your elbow bumped into him.

He gingerly collected your hands and put them back on the belts of the jerkin. “Now then…”

A quiet giggle escaped you at that. Of course you obliged and worked through the belts, taking of the jerkin. He took the leather from your hands and tossed it onto the bed. Determination set in his eyes, his breathing was calm and deep. He took you by the elbow and gently steered you to sit down on the bed right in front of him.

Your curiosity grew instantly. “What now?”

His gaze had fallen right into the neck of your chemise for a second too long, then he knelt down in front of you. “What that woman said to me. You heard it?”

Your mood threatened to turn at the memory. “I heard.”

“It did make me think of it.” he said.

You hoped you had misheard. “Pardon?”

It took him a second to understand his blunder. “I did not mean-” Panic set into his eyes. “Not with her!”

Your eyes were widened, a sigh of relief fell out. “Gods… my heart.”

He sighed at his ill-choice of words. “Let me explain myself to you.”

His fingers grazed your bare ankles, suspicious because they had been covered by the chemise. He trailed up his hand, curving it around your lower leg, moving it so that the hem of your chemise was riding up.

You gripped the edge of the bed in anticipation. “Lancelot?”

He hinted at what was coursing through his thoughts, “There is only one that I wish to kiss the way that woman alluded to.”

“The only one you would kiss like that…?” you processed.

His question fell out so quick, “Will you let me?”

The fact that he did not ask if that was what you wanted, but instead asked permission, told that he had an unspoken interest for it. His sense of smell was more attuned than yours, had he already picked up on the change in your scent? Was that why he was interested?

“Yes.” you answered.

The chemise was lifted higher, to your thighs. He brushed his bottom lip over your knee, kissing it warmly. He got closer and you instinctively opened your legs to make room for him. It was hard not to feel self-conscious and vulnerable with him between your legs. An intimate and fragile moment that displayed trust. Feeling him touch your bare skin was awakening the ache for him. He moved slowly, mouth never truly lifting from your skin as he tended to it. His fingers teased at your thighs not long before his mouth arrived there. An oddly ticklish sensation ran through you, having him so close and intimate made you want to keep the chemise where it was for coverage. He moved your hand out of the way when it went for the chemise and began to kiss your upper leg, squeezing the back of it in his hand. A whimper fled your lips when his mouth touched your inner thigh, the way he trailed his lips had changed. He kneaded at your soft flesh and slid his hand up to stop just before reaching your rear. Gods, you struggled not to feel self-conscious when he explored you with such vigour. You decided to lay back on the bed, he made you scoot your hips closer to the edge.

A content sigh. “Your mouth is warm.”

His caressed the back of your thigh. “I have yet to correct an imbalance.”

You melted into the feeling of him touching you. “And that means?”

His thumbs dared to push the hem of the chemise further up your thighs. “You have put yourself on your knees and gave me pleasure. I will not rest tonight until I hear my wife moan.” His hand traveled up, under the chemise and right where it needed to be to start that task. “We have more time than we had in Gramaire, dawn is not our enemy. I will take my time with you tonight.”

The scent if your arousal was present and warned him long before he got near it. One day he would catch the scent and grow hard in the most inconvenient time, he just knew it. He saw you tilt your head back on the bed when he grazed his thumb through your wetness, searching and finding the right spot you had taught him to focus on. He couldn’t stop kneading at your thigh, but held back from doing the same with your rear. There was time, time to warm you, time to learn what brought pleasure. The scent of you filled his lungs, he withdrew his hand only for a moment, to take in the scent, to taste your arousal off of his fingers. Was it strange to taste it? Perhaps. But that one taste was enough to know that he wanted to taste it right from the source.

He returned to manually stimulating you whilst his mouth traveled up your thighs. Too engulfed in the sensation, you did not fully realize his intent until his hot breath had replaced his fingers. The first touch of his mouth had you jolt in surprise, and him holding you in place by the hip. He kissed you, using his bottom lip to taste your arousal. The warm breath on you mixed with the lack of friction was torment. He did not know, you could not expected him to just know.

You needed to tell him, to ask for what you wanted. “Lancelot?”

A very content sounding, “Hmm?”

It took courage to say it. “It would feel very good if you used your tongue or fingers while you do that.”

It was as if he had been waiting for permission, he did not hesitate. He was tasting you slowly, tongue moving carefully where your ache was building. He had a hand on your lower abdomen, a signal to stay as you were.

“I should have done this in Gramaire…” he mumbled to himself, quietly groaning in contentment.

“Yes…” you agreed. He moved a little, just right, and you couldn’t prevent the request from spilling out of you. “Kiss me there…”

He had not a single objection.

Finally he could taste it, he could fill his lungs with the scent that made desire tighten his abdomen. He had grazed his nose over it, then did as you had requested of him.

You didn’t think he would be so eager, but he was quick to engage in the task. He gave one tug at your hips to get you even closer. On his knees he served you, letting his hands wander over your most intimate places. You laid down on the sheets, grasping at them to get a hold on something until he reached out and laced a hand with yours.

He did enjoy hearing the set of orders that spilled from your lips. ‘Right there’, ‘stay’, ‘keep going’. He loved how you tried not to clench his head between your thighs at the sensation his actions evoked in you. The sound of his name falling from you now was all the encouragement and reward he needed. And his favorite thing to hear was undoubtedly ‘Please, don’t stop’, a request he happily obliged to. His body was powerless against the stimuli his mind received like this. He was hardening again and just enjoyed the warm pleasurable pressure that build in his groin.

You whimpered when unable to moan too loud. “Please.”

He hushed you. “Shh… let it come to you, Sweetheart.”

Manually he continued to urge you to your release. A few circling motions of his thumb and the tightness in your core was reaching it’s peak. He knew you were close and started to slide his index finger through the wetness, grazing over your entrance in a teasing manner. It was what caused your unraveling to hit. You squirmed, trying to muffle your moans in the sheets while he kept stimulating you until the last shock went through your body.

Your eyed were still pressed shut when you felt the bed dip, he crawled onto the bed and hovered above you. You were still dazed when he lowered himself unto you and began to shower your neck and collarbone with the attention of his lips.

He scolded himself for briefly considering this inn a proper place to consummate his marriage. But he could not help thinking about being between those warm thighs, in those loving arms and sinking himself inside the mess he had just made. A selfish fantasy, a bad place and time. It would not aid his performance in the future if he were heard or caught like this in the midst of the act.

His fierce display of affection prolonged the feeling running through you. And then when he moved against you a little, you became aware that his body had recovered from tending to him earlier, his hardness was against your leg. You moved further back onto the bed to be comfortable and he followed that movement.

“You’re hard again.” you commented softly.

His teeth grazed your jaw gently before he sucked at the skin there. “I cannot help it.”

Again his hand disappeared under your chemise, this time not slow but right to where he intended for it. It felt so natural to continue. You were still sensitive and told him to start slow again, he obliged. You loved the intimate embrace, the slow kissing, the weight of him on you. Your lips were pampering his neck and jaw. It all build up to the second chase for pleasure. After only minutes to recover, he was back to the task of pleasing you. You had snaked your hand into his trousers to palm him, slowly stroking him while he did the same to you. But it was the feeling of his fingers grazing at your entrance that forced a gasp out, you could feel him use your wetness for lubrication on them, and your body reacted with anticipation.

He locked eyes with you. “May I feel you?”

You needed no explanation when he grazed at you again. “Yes.”

He watched your reaction. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Only after you nodded did he proceed. His index finger breached what had been forbidden for him for so long, your back arched. He slid his digit inside with care, inch by inch, feeling you writhe in response to it. The angle of it felt good, and it was an overwhelming feeling to finally feel a part of him so connected with you.

He stroked slowly inside, feeling your arousal coat him to the knuckles. Feeling you writhe restlessly under him. He could see you try to keep your moans to a low volume.

He announced his middle finger, the wetness made it easy to join his digits together into your warmth. You had put your free hand over your mouth to keep yourself from letting everything in the vicinity hear how heated he had made you. When he leaned in closer, you grabbed him firmly and pulled him to your lips. With a demanding kiss you let him know what you desired. The more he noticed your lewd responses, the less he held back. He moved his digits in a steady pace, pumping them at the angle you so craved and in return you pumped him in the same rhythm.

He leaned in, breathing into your ear. “Does that feel good?”

“Hm hm.” You were a mess.

“Good.” He smirked against your ear. “You become so wet for me…”

How could he still make you flustered while doing this? Why was it so titillating to hear how heavy and deep his voice had gotten?

“Gods.” A moan fled your lips, you pressed them shut.

His thumb began to circle against you again, his fingers sinking deeper into you. “Not ‘Gods’,” he tsked with a smirk, “You know my name. Use it.”

You grabbed hold on his shoulder when feeling your peak nearing. “Lancelot- I’m…”

He hushed you and you couldn’t believe how that slight arrogance was making you even more heated.

“Are you imagining it is my cock?” His whisper was right into your ear, followed by the admission. “I am.”

You locked eyes with him, watching him let his gaze travel down your body and back up again. The sound of his fingers sinking themselves inside was making your cheeks burn.

But he enjoyed it all, the sound, the feeling and the mess you became as a result. “Stroke me a little faster, Sweetheart.”

You gave a nod and changed the pace of your hand, his previous release was what now made it easier for him to hold back longer.

He could tell that his words had a positive effect on you. Interesting.

“One day I will have you.” he purred into your ear with confidence. “I promise I will have you.”

It was pushing you right to the edge. “Lancelot…”

He continued to arouse you further, “It will be my cock, and not my fingers, coated in your slickness.”

You were whimpering, clenching around his fingers every few seconds already. “Lancelot, please…”

The calmness in his voice was astounding, as if he was truly trying to get an answer out to learn more about it, “Is this what I need to do for you? Sink myself into you, feel your hold on me…” His fingers sank deep then withdrew, only to insert quicker than expected to the knuckles. “Would you fit around me?”

You could only nod, a desperate noise forced it’s way out.

“Yes?” He thumb circled over you a few times, then he pumped his fingers again. He lowered himself, supporting his weight on his elbow, feeling your chests meet in their desperate efforts for air. The closeness took it to another height. Your knees moved to clench his hips. Unbelievable that he was using this moment to draw out answers and information. Ridiculous how well it worked to bring you close to unraveling, just because you loved to hear how intrigued he was growing towards it. Feeling him move against you with each pump of his fingers worked wonders to imagine it was indeed his cock. He was starting to breathe harder, he was close too.

“Moan for me, Little Ember. Let me hear you.” he spoke into your ear.

It was bringing you the verge of despair, the feeling inside had gotten so strong you couldn’t lay still. Moaning came effortlessly.

He hushed again, “Shh… Let it come.”

He lured the height of pleasure out of you with each stroke of his fingers, gaze gliding of your hazy eyes and over your heaving chest.

“Faster…” his eyes fell shut. “Please…”

You tightened your hold on him, pumping him, feeling him swell and throb.

He brushed his lips to your temple and it was the last thing your body needed for the coil to snap inside. Your release hit hard, a cry forced it’s way out, and the feeling did not dissipate quickly because he chose to kiss the moans of relief right off of your lips to silence them. Your fingers had to be digging into his shoulders, he relished in it. You couldn’t help but clench his hips between your thighs as the feeling coursed through your being. He lowered himself, took over from your hold on him and for the first time in his life he was able to break free of the mental barrier he had when it came to handling himself. He moaned into your shoulder and only needed to stroke himself a few times before spilling unto your thighs. Your name fell as a moan from his lips as he stroked every last drop of him out. All was quiet when he laid his head down against your shoulder while both enjoyed the afterglow. You played with his hair, feeling your eyelids getting heavier. There was always tomorrow to wash up, it was far too comfortable to get out of bed again.

“What did you do to me… gods…” your fingers were entangled in his sleeve.

His answer was a forbidden thought spilling from his mind. “Anything you want…”

Everything was entangled, the sheets, you and him. The moon’s light was on his hair, the mark of the Church had long since been overgrown by it, and you noticed that he must have cut it not long ago with how the ends looked. Had he used a dagger to do so? It was fascinating to start noticing things that could be so easily missed.

“You cut your hair?” you spoke softly.

“I have to. It grows quickly.” his voice was as quiet as yours.

Your heart had calmed down. He moved away just long enough to take of his shirt and simply put it on the end of the bed. He laid down, facing you and hooked an arm around your form to keep you close. His breathing was calm and deep, those hooded eyes had grown weary.

It was a whisper. “Your stubble and mustache never seem to grow.”

He struggled to keep his eyes open. “I prefer to keep it this way. Did they bother you when I…?”

“Not at all.” you smiled.

He was glad to hear it. “Old habit, to have it like this. Father Carden wanted all to be presentable. I was one of the few that was.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how ‘presentable’ he looked now. “I believe that. It’s no wonder those women were staring at you, you’re very handsome and look after your appearance.”

“Women?” he frowned a bit.

Had he truly not noticed it? “The table of women where that woman came from that plopped into your lap.”

A light chuckle fell. “You are still upset with her.”

“To put it lightly.” you mumbled.

“I did not notice them staring.” he stated. “I did notice the table in the corner where three men kept looking over at you. I went to find you outside when I thought one of them had followed you, but he was still in the inn when we walked back inside.”

“At least none of them fell into my lap.”

“No. Someone groped your rear.”

You hummed. “And unfortunately it wasn’t the one who I’d wanted it to be.”

His eyes landed on yours, trying to read them. He saw you grin at him, cocking a daring brow.

You feigned innocence then. “But you are too proper and sweet to do that. Aren’t you?”

Not two seconds later he made you take back that statement when he grabbed a hold on your rear, a firm hold that took you so off-guard that a gasp forced it’s way out of you. Your fingers dug into his shoulder. “Lancelot!”

He couldn’t resist not giving it a small squeeze now that he had the chance. “Let us not question my devotion to proof that thought wrong.”

You cupped his jaw and connected your lips with his, a slow deep kiss all whilst he caressed your behind. You hooked your leg over his, intertwining yourself with him.

He was the one to break the kiss, smiling. “Are you trying to climb into my lap again?”

“You already had someone in your lap today.” you jested.

He shook his head at the jest. “I prefer the Ash Woman in the chemise that has slipped down her shoulder.”

It made you look, the neck of the chemise had indeed slipped down and bared your shoulder. You wanted to adjust it but he hooked the tip of his index finger under it to prevent it. His finger traced your shoulder, over your collarbone and down to your cleavage. He laid his head down on the pillow, tips of his fingers lightly dancing over the spot.

“Are you content?” you quietly asked him and hoped he would know what you were referring to.

His eyes locked on yours, searching them for a moment. “‘Content’?”

You swallowed down your nerves. “With… what we just did.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, a characteristic of him when he was nervous to tread on matters that were still new to him. “Can you not feel the answer still on your thighs?”

You smacked his chest light and playful. “That is the answer of your body, I am asking for the answer of your mind.”

That boyish smile settled on his lips. “I could never imagine a dream that could match this. I am content. Are you?”

Your fingertips traced his lips. “Very. No one ever kissed me the way you did earlier, I would have come undone by your mouth if you hadn’t stopped.”

He was genuinely curious, “Would you like that?”

You were quiet for a moment, taken aback by how forward he could be sometimes, then nervously chuckled. “I am processing the knowledge that a man raised as a monk just propositioned me like that.”

Almost did he tell you to just lay down on your back and allow him to taste you again, more and longer, until you trembled in bliss at the mercy of his lips. He had spend a life serving a God who would cast him out, spending the rest of his days serving his lover was much more rewarding.

His confidence was growing. “Say it… Say it, and I will lift your skirt again to tend to you. I will serve your desire.”

A tempting offer, but it was obvious that he was tired, not a surprise after the exertion. “You overexert yourself too often, my love. You have pleased me enough for tonight, the only thing I wish for is that you take some rest for yourself.”

The sweet words had it’s effect on him still, his intention was clear to be read from his eyes when he wanted to grab hold on your waist. You tsk-ed him, reprimanding him with your eyes for trying. He yielded, abandoning the thought to keep the both of you awake a while longer.

“Rest.” you whispered, laying down comfortably beside him.

He was grateful for it, he didn’t stop tracing your skin with his fingertips until sleep pulled him under. Born from the gods of the Fey, he indeed looked divine as he slept. Softened features, steady breathing, that arm around you. You prayed to the Hidden that they would allow you to have a long life with him, that you would have moments like this to experience again. You nested yourself against him, kissing his temple a few times, then let sleep carry you away.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  You woke early, not long past dawn. He still slept. You washed the remainder of the night from your skin and got dressed. While putting on fresh trousers and a shirt, you noticed something laying under the bed, at the foot of it. Kneeling down, you plucked the small shiny thing up from the floor. A ring, gold and engraved with a swirly pattern. You put it on the table next to the washbasin and continued to put your bodice on. Someone had to be missing the piece of jewelry and you debated on leaving it in the room for them to find or hand it to the innkeeper and hope they knew who it could belong to. Lancelot stirred, groaned at the sunlight that showed no mercy on his eyes when he opened them.

You were just putting on your boots. “There’s still more time to sleep. Don’t mind me.”

His eyes fell on you. “You’re dressed?”

You chuckled. “Well, yes. I’m afraid a chemise will not hold up well against the weather.”

“Come back to bed.” He was certain it was nowhere near noon by where the sun was.

“Maybe after I’ve spoken to the innkeeper.” you grabbed the ring from the table.

He sat upright, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Why do you need to speak with him?”

Your satchel was still on the floor by the bed and you threw it on. “I found a ring on the floor while you were asleep. I’m going to ask if someone might be looking for it.”

His eyes snapped to you, alert now. “A ring?”

You pointed to where you had found it. “It was under the bed. I know we could trade it for something, but I’d be upset too if I lost my bracelet and someone decided to keep it instead of trying to give it back. I’m sure the rightful owner will come back to the inn for it.”

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, feet on the ground. “Show me what you have found?”

You obliged and put the ring in his hand, letting him take a look, then noticed how pale he had suddenly gotten. “Are you alright? You don’t look well. Maybe you should rest a bit longer.”

He seemed distracted. “What were you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to hand it over to the innkeeper. Someone might return for it.” you said.

He shook his head. “No.”

It made you frown. “We have coin now. And this ring could be important to someone.”

You took it back and stubbornly headed for the door with it.

He was up on his feet in an instant and caught your lower arm, blurting out, “It is yours.”

That wasn’t true. “No, it’s not.”

He gave you quite a look. “Yes. It is.”

Your voice got ridiculously quiet. “What do you… why do you say it’s mine?”

“Have you forgotten your lesson already?” He plucked the ring from your fingers and made you look inside the band.

Carefully you took the ring from him between your fingers and noticed the engraving on the inside too. It was the first thing he had taught you to read in the language of the Fey, ‘Little Ember’. It was strange to fear wrongly assuming that he got you this ring, you needed him to explain, to tell you that this was indeed what you thought it was. Instead he was silent, you couldn’t really read his eyes now, he was back in the hurricane of his restless thoughts.

It must have fallen out from behind the sheath of his short sword last night. He had been distracted, too eager to be unburdened by the weapon belt. Your response to the ring was not what he had expected. It should have been given by him, not found on the floor of an inn. This was not how he had wanted it to happen, and you weren’t smiling…

“You do not like it…” It was a statement.

It had rendered you speechless.

He composed himself, accepting the situation and thinking of solutions, “We can trade it, or sell it for one you will love.”

You held up the ring a little, struggling to form a sentence. “Why…? Why did you….?”

He quietly explained it upon seeing the confusion in your eyes, “The chance to experience our wedding was stolen from us, I wished to at least do one matter correct. When I went to Ravenwick at night, I searched for a merchant who sold jewels. A gold coin open’s every merchant’s door even in the night. I saw this ring, asked to have it engraved.”

The engraving cost him more. He was fortunate the merchant made not a problem of having a patron who was Fey as long as payment was good.

You swallowed hard. “It’s a wedding ring… you got me a ring…”

He saw a mixture of emotions come down over your features. “I chose it because I believe it has the same sort of gem that sits in your bracelet.”

With shaking hands, you inspected the ring again, having failed to notice the small round gem set in the band. This time you paid more attention to it’s fine delicate details, to the thoughtful engraving and stone that matched your bracelet. It wasn’t until he touched your arm that you realized tears were staining your cheeks. You wanted to tell him it was alright, that you were just feeling a little overwhelmed, but instead a sob came out. He apologized. He apologized. You had grabbed him and pulled him into your arms not a second later.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Not until you cupped his face faster than you had ever done and kissed him so fierce that the air was out of his lungs that very moment. You did not stop, did not hold back, and he relished in that feeling.

You heard him make a sound and worried that your strong hold on him was hurting him. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you back to his lips.

He steered you by the hips to the wall just beside the door, kissing you with the same vigour, stopping only because people were walking past the door outside.

“Do you still wish to be rid of the ring?” He could guess the answer.

You were firm on that. “Over my dead body.”

“See if it fits?” He plucked the ring from your hand and took your hand in his. “I had to guess. We could go and have it altered in the city when visiting the market.” He slid the ring on your finger. “How is it?”

“It fits.” you said.

He tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing. “Does it fit well?”

You had to admit the truth, “It’s a little tight.”

To him it was not a hard problem to solve. “We will have it altered. Store it in your satchel, don’t let it hurt your finger.”

It was a wise idea, you put it in the satchel to keep it safe. “You should get ready for the day too, we can’t stay in this room forever.”

“We have until noon.” He smirked, getting closer and cupping the side of your neck. Obviously he had something on his mind to spend the remaining time on.

Chuckling fell from your lips. “Gods, Lancelot!” You stepped away from him. “Wash up. Get dressed. Try to be done by noon.”

There was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Since when do you command me?”

You fired your risque jest, “Since I know that you take commands well in a bedroom.”

He scoffed, but it turned into a chuckle. Even after last night a pink flush spread near his nose.

It fell from your thoughts, “Gods, I love that.”

He eyed you inquisitively. “Hm?”

You got closer, cupping his cheek, and touched your thumb where his skin had flushed a bit. “When you blush, I love to see it. It’s endearing.”

He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek to try and stop the embarrassed smile. Pointing it out only seemed to make him blush more.

You brushed your lips to the marking that ran across his cheek. “I love you.”

His eyes snapped to yours again, blinking two times rapidly. He slowly took hold of your wrist and pressed his lips to the inside of it, closing his eyes whilst he did. “And I you.”

More people were waking up, you could hear them pass by the room. He let go of your wrist, went to the washbasin and took off his shirt.

You went to the wardrobe to take out fresh linen for him to use. Picking out a large linen cloth to dry himself. “There’s linen in here to wash and dry with.”

You lost all knowledge of language when turning around and seeing that he was undoing the cords of his trousers. A hot flush came up into your face and you swiftly turned around.

He did not even notice your reaction at first, it was the sudden silence that alerted him. The reaction had seemingly amused him. “Are you concerned to see me wash a part of me?”

You did not turn around and ignored how he was clearly going to tease you about this. You heard him wring out the water from the rag.

He took it a step further. “Did you not acquaint yourself well with it last night?”

That smug… “It’s different.”

His wit was strong that morning. “That is because it is at rest now.”

Almost did you throw him a look for that. It was such a bawdy thing to say that it did manage to make you laugh. “You know that is not what I meant!”

“I know.” He finished washing his lower self. “Why do you find it different to see me like this now?” There was no judgment in his tone, just genuine curiosity to understand.

“I did not expect to see you like that now.” A quiet sigh. “My previous experience with matters like this does not make me immune to feeling shy or flustered. I often feel more self-conscious and shy now because I am with someone I love and it’s different. Now my head spins just seeing you clothed, try to imagine what it feels like for me to see you unclothed.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you feared you had said something wrong. Had you made a fool of yourself?

Finally he spoke, “I am trying to imagine how I would react if I would see you without your trousers on unexpectedly after having acquainted myself with you last night.”

“Don’t imagine too hard.” you quipped.

Half a laugh escaped him before he muffled it into his fist. “You can turn around. I am almost done.”

You threw a careful glance over your shoulder, his trousers sat securely on his hips again. “How are your wounds? Do you want me to put some of that salve on them?”

He dried his face with the linen cloth you handed him. “They do not hurt anymore. But I will not decline that offer.”

You took the salve out from the package in your satchel that the healers had given and began to apply it onto the wounds that still looked too red to your liking. In the meantime he borrowed the comb from your satchel to tend to his hair, plucking your straying fingers out of his locks a few times when you couldn’t resist raking them through his hair.

Someone knocked on the door, Lancelot waited to respond and heard Gawain announce his presence.

“Good morning, Gawain.” You opened the door for the knight who entered the room but he came to a sudden stop at the sight of Lancelot.

“Green knight.” Lancelot greeted him.

Both of you knew that the knight had just seen Lancelot’s scars for the first time. Shock was present in Gawain’s eyes before he composed himself.

The knight came to inform him on some matters. “We are heading into the city around noon. Purchase wares we need and food. Percival is awake and eating breakfast down with the others who are awake.”

Lancelot noticed that Gawain was trying not to stare at his scars. “You can ask.”

Gawain frowned, then understood what the Ash Man meant. “Flagellation?”

A nod. “Yes. Scourge.”

“You have stopped?” The knight sounded hopeful.

Even Lancelot was glad that he could answer, “I have.”

Gawain looked around the room until he saw the sword still hanging over the foot of the bed. “You treat the sword of our people like a rusted blade.”

He put his shirt on. “Am I to worship it on my knees all day?”

Gawain gave him a look. “Do not lose the sword, Brother. We are counting on you.”

“I will not fail you, Gawain.” He stepped towards him. “But I will not be at the mercy of any gods again, even if I share their blood.”

“There is another matter,” the knight said, “Percival needs a better jacket and cloak. Those tears in them will not shield him from the rain long.”

You took responsibility for solving that issue. “I’ll find him something at the market.”

“Thank you.” Gawain nodded gratefully. “The weather is colder today and the sky betrays rain. Prepare to sleep in the forest tonight unless we make haste and travel ahead to this fort Merlin is leading us to.”

“What comes after? When we do find this place to be suited as a sanctuary for the Fey, you believe they will trust my presence there?” Lancelot doubted it. “Who is to say that they will not avenge their loved ones that perished at my hands?”

Gawain took no offense to his worries. “Will you let that fear alter your wish to help your people?”

“I will not.” His voice got quieter, “but when it comes to that-”

The knight stopped him there. “Do you believe I will not stand by your side when you would be threatened? I swore to protect the Fey, all Fey. And I have yet to be proven wrong for putting my trust in you. Stand by us, and we will stand by you.” He took a breath. “Not even Arthur and Red Spear have forgotten that you slayed Trinity Guards that would have killed them otherwise. Your efforts are being noticed, Lancelot.” The knight turned and headed for the door. “Get dressed and head to the horses if you prefer to visit the market with us before the rain. I will arrange for something you can eat whilst riding.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement. “Thank you.”

After Gawain left the room, Lancelot was quick to get dressed for the day while you packed up your clothes again.

Taglist:

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[themuselesswriter]

My man is the embodiment of daddy issues

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

WIP LateDay

Idk what day it is anymore but I know it isn't Wednesday whoops.

Danke @holy3cake for the tag

No Pressure tagging @aintgonnatakethis @beginning-writer + OPEN TAG FOR ALL to share a WIP, snippet or idea

Here, have another random snippet for Horizons that I wrote last night at 1:30am. No idea if I'll even include this but for now, enjoy!

Gawain's POV;

Night had long since come when Gawain found himself sat by the fire, watching Lancelot. The man's eyes were open and stairing sightlessly into the boughs above him, sometimes screwing shut whilst he bared his teeth into a snarl. Small movements of his body and the occasional gasp and choked moan betrayed how much he was suffering, clearly utterly unable to rest for the pain.

It had been several hours of this, and Gawain had had enough. He knew Lancelot would never ask for aid, yet he also knew that in this state, the man couldn't stop Gawain helping him either.

Grey eyes dulled from exhaustion followed his movement as Gawain got to his feet and circled round the fire to Lancelot's side.

"I must go and gather some herbs. Theres a willow tree by the river, the bark is good for pain," Gawain explained quickly. "I shan't be long, alright?"

"Are you well?" Lancelot croaked, eying Gawain up and down as if searching for an injury.

"Aye, I--"Gawain began, then chuckled to himself when he saw Lancelot crane his neck towards Squirrel then wince at the movement.

"--the boy is fine, Ashman. You're suffering, let me help you."

Predictably, then came the most unconvincing "I'm fine" Gawain had ever heard in his entire life. Lancelot now looked worse than ever, skin pale against his markings, sweat and blood glinting in the firelight, shaking knuckles clenching around bloodstained fabric.

I've seen dead men that looked healthier than he.

"Uh-huh. Aye, and I'm the King of Mercia" Gawain scoffed, shaking his head at the blatant lie.

"Whatever you say, my Liege…" Lancelot replied immediately, an odd tone to his voice that was only punctuated by the breathy way in which the pain caused him to speak.

Gawain scoffed again, but it was effort to stop himself from laughing. A small part of him he darent give voice to liked the way he'd purred the words a little too much…

"I will be off, now. I told you so you'd know where I had gone." Gawain said. He tried to halt his mind's traitorous musings.

"If you needed… time alone, you only had to… ask"

Gawain was certain he had imagined the wink, that there was no way Lancelot was teasing him like this. Surely not. Gawain managed to hold it together enough to raise an eyebrow in reply, shaking his head, about to come up with what would have been a truly witty retort when Lancelot spoke up again;

"Don't forget to… polish your crown, while you're out there."

And at that Gawain's brain damn near short circuited. There was no mistaking the meaning in his tone, the slight smirk, though ruined only slightly by a pained grimace and half gasp of pain. Did Lancelot truly mean the innuendo in the words, had he really meant to flirt?

"Only if you help." Gawain thought back, eyes widening when he heard a snicker then a groan.

Arawn's cock. Had he… Had he said that aloud?

"Your wish is my command, Sire." Lancelot whispered, almost too quiet to hear. Gawain shook his head, sure now that he must be dreaming. Yes, he must have fallen asleep, or he must be in dire need of it and hearing things.

Or if the Ashman truly was flirting with him, then Lancelot was worse off than he'd imagined and clearly delirious from pain.

Either way. Willow Bark and Feverfew. Yes. They were good things to focus on.

That, and decidedly not the idea of Lancelot…polishing his crown with those too-pale lips of his, made warm and plump by…

Willow-bark and Feverfew, Willow and Feverfew, WillowandFeverfewWillowand--

Gawain repeated the list in his head like a mantra, not once turning to look back as he turned on his heel and swiftly made his way down the hill onto the moors.

[jplupine]

⛓In the Wolf's Den: Chapter 13⛓

Pairing: The Weeping Monk x Devin [Nonbinary Fey OC] Word Count: ~4.2k WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Exophilia, Feral Behavior, Size Difference, Heat, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Marking, Getting Caught, Creampie Note: Terms such as pussy/cock/dick/etc. get used. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this fic.

Summary: Devin makes it to the Fey safe haven only to realize they had lost track of time. Thankfully, Devin now has the help they need.

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 13:

  It hit a day after docking. I had woken up with a fever and locked the door to my room. I sealed the windows the best I could and kept the room dark.

  Even though I knew this was coming from all the tell-tale signs, I had hoped to have a few extra days to prepare. I wasn't ready in the slightest. I had no stored food nor water in here, and going to the market would be too big of a gamble.

  What the fuck was I supposed to do now? Starve? I couldn't.

  Maybe if I wished hard enough, Lancelot would hopefully notice my absence and bring me food. However, I could only imagine what he must be dealing with right now since he was among all of the Fey while being known as the Weeping Monk. I had wanted to help him, but I couldn't do much of anything right now.

  The gods must have wanted to rub my horrible predicament in my face when there was a knock at my door. I groaned while burying my face into the pillow. Maybe if I pretended I wasn't here, they'd leave me alone.

  "I know you're in there. I can hear you." Lancelot's voice came from the other side of the door, and my heart raced. My ears went flat against my skull as I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to muffle how I whimpered. I was torn on what to do.

  Should I unlock the door and let him in, or keep him out?

  "Devin?" He sounded uncertain and concerned. Had he heard my quiet whimper, too? Fuck, I should've known better. If he could hear the howling from the Wolf Folk village all the way in my cave, no wonder he could hear me now even as I was trying to be quiet. "Devin, are you okay?"

  I buried my face deeper in the pillow. Maybe he'd think I was still asleep if I didn't make any other noise.

  My ears twitched when I heard metallic clicking. I quickly looked up when the door was swung open. Lancelot stood there and froze as soon as his eyes landed on me.

  His gaze slowly wandered over my naked body laying across the bed. Lancelot's pupils widened, and he swallowed after breathing in. He closed the door behind himself before clearing his throat and putting his hands on his hips.

  "Sorry. I, uh, thought you were hurt."

  "Did you just pick that lock?"

  "Again, I thought you were hurt." Lancelot shifted on his feet as he glanced at the closed windows. "I-I can leave if you-"

  "No." I cut him off while sitting up. His scent was driving me wild, and since he was already here, I might as well accept the opportunity presented. "Stay. Please."

  Lancelot's eyes fell to my bare chest, seeing how much it had swollen due to my hormones. His brows slowly knit together before realization dawned on his face.

  "Before you ask, the answer is yes. Heats cause Wolf Folk breasts to enlarge. Pregnancy moreso. Did you really never notice?"

  "I, uh, I assumed my memory must've been mistaken when I saw you were....smaller than our first encounter." Lancelot swallowed again. "Are you sure you want me to stay? You're in heat."

  "Either you stay, or I remain locked in this room, miserable and alone. Please, help me." I said while spreading my legs. Lancelot saw how wet I was, and his breath shook.

  He kicked off his shoes and quickly loosened the strings of his jerkin to get it off. Belts for weapons clattered to the floor as he crossed the room. Lancelot was naked by the time he reached the edge of the bed, and he pushed me to lay down.

  His lips were on mine as I pulled his hair free of the leather strip. His rough palms were on my skin, and I leaned into his touch. My body was aching for him as a fire burned beneath my skin.

  It was hard to believe a year had already passed from the first time I had met Lancelot. It was wilder to think about what all had happened in just that time.

  Lancelot kissed along my jaw and down my neck. There was a possessive growl when his tongue curled over my throat, and I leaned my head back for him. I loved the way his mouth felt on my skin as he nipped and left hickeys in his wake.

  He ground his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard he was before his face went lower. He licked from the base of my throat to my jaw, and electricity danced across my skin.

  "I love you." I panted as one of his hands slid down my stomach.

  "I love you, too." His breath was hot against my skin. "Embrace me so that I may feel heavenly bliss once more, my sweet shepherd." Lancelot whispered near my ear. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pulled him closer before moaning from his fingers sliding over my clit.

  My fingers slid into his long hair as he pushed his fingers inside. I moaned when they curled, and Lancelot smirked while looking down at me.

  "Oh, how the angels sing through your lips." His tone was nearly a purr as he praised me in his blasphemous way. "Such sweet music." Lancelot made me moan again as my back arched off the bed.

  "Stop teasing me." I panted, and Lancelot kissed my cheek. He pulled his fingers free before lining up his cock.

  "'I am my beloved's," He groaned from thrusting in, and I moaned. "'and my beloved is mine.'" Lancelot had such a gentle tone as his forehead rested against mine. He took in a slow breath through his nose before rocking his hips back. "Mine." He growled while snapping his hips into me.

  Lancelot placed one of his large hands on my collarbone as his fingers rested around the base of my throat. He looked down at me with such predatorial eyes. His long hair fell over his shoulders as he kept thrusting and had me pinned against the bed.

  My toes curled as I moaned and dug my claws into the blanket.

  "Fuck~! Lance- Oh, fuck! Right there! Right ther- Aaahh~!" My back arched as my head lolled back. My heat had been chipping away at him, and he was finally crumbling and falling into rut as he thrust with such feral need.

  Lancelot bared his teeth while growling, and the state he was in only turned me on more. The rumbling from his chest had me shivering in delight. He grabbed the back of my knees to push my legs toward my chest.

  The new position allowed him to go deeper, and I cried out as my toes splayed. His balls smacked against my ass with each thrust, and I could feel the pressure rising. The old wood of the bed was creaking in protest from his lack of delicacy.

  However, Lancelot's heavy thrusting lost rhythm, and I growled out of frustration.

  He huffed before dropping my legs around his hips. He slid his arms under my back before picking me up with such ease. We were chest to chest while locking eyes.

  "Gods, you are beautiful." I whispered while cupping his face in my hands.

  "Such praise from your lips."

  "You think me beautiful as well?" The corners of my mouth curled upward.

  "Utterly divine." Lancelot panted before dropping me a few inches to have his cock buried to the hilt inside me. I moaned as my eyes closed, and he grabbed my ass in a firm grip to lift me up. "Are you still haunted by me?" His voice was low, and I looked at him.

  "Whenever you are away from me. The ghost of your touch finds me even in my dreams."

  "You still dream of me?"

  "Often, mo chroí." I managed to say before moaning. Lancelot slightly tilted his head to the side.

  "Mo chroí?"

�� "My heart." Hearing what it meant, Lancelot smiled. He kissed me and groaned while holding me closer to his chest. He snapped his hips as his tongue slid into my mouth.

  I could do little more than hold on to him as he fucked me. I could feel the pressure building again, and I moaned into the kiss. Lancelot's blunt nails dug into my skin, making me softly growl.

  He responded in kind without stopping. He was keeping the same wild pace, and it was pushing me closer to the edge. Our breathing was coming so heavily as saliva stretched between our bottom lips.

  There was something so erotically satisfying about seeing Lancelot with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. Listening to him grunt and groan had my thighs squeezing his sides. I swallowed and panted before moaning again.

  Lancelot slipped one of his hands between us, and my claws dug into his skin from his thumb rubbing my clit. Biting my bottom lip, I was turned into a moaning and whimpering mess in his arms. My ears were flat against my skull as I was so fucking close to falling apart.

  He knew I was about to cum if he kept up what he was doing, and he picked up the pace because he himself was nearing the edge. Lancelot held me firmly while slamming his cock into me. I cried out when he bit me, and his low growl was the last straw for me as he rubbed my clit.

  My orgasm left me shaking and moaning that I barely noticed how Lancelot's teeth were drawing blood. He groaned into my skin, and cum was dripping onto the bed.

  There was a moment where only the sound of our heavy breathing could be heard in the room. Calm washed over me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. Lancelot wrapped his arms around me and hummed while burying his face into my neck.

  "I'm so hungry." I mumbled, and he chuckled.

  "How about I fetch you something, then?" Lancelot suggested.

  "That would be lovely." I was smiling while playing with his hair.

  We both jolted when the door suddenly slammed open. The man standing there was tall and looked thoroughly pissed. He had a staff with a sword strapped to his hip, but he didn't attack us with either as he instead balked.

  The anger in his eyes turned into shock as he looked at us. Lancelot slowly grabbed the pillow to cover as much of our naked bodies as possible before clearing his throat.

  "I guess I forgot to lock the door back." He whispered.

  "Oh." The tall man seemed at a loss for words. "Oh." His eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "I.... We need to talk." He looked right at Lancelot.

  "Can it not wait?" I asked, and the awkward tension in the air grew thicker. The man glanced at Lancelot's clothes scattered across the floor before grabbing the doorknob.

  "Get dressed." He ordered, and the door was shut.

  "....I think that was Merlin." Lancelot muttered and swallowed.

  "If it is....good news."

  "How is that good news?" He looked at me with furrowed brows.

  "He just caught you in bed with a Fey. That proves you're not the same as before."

  "That's your takeaway from this?"

  "Lancelot, I'm in heat. All I can really think about right now is fucking you until this bed is but kindling." My tone was low, and his gaze dropped to my mouth. He licked his lips hungrily as he slowly leaned in closer.

  However, he quickly pulled away while shaking his head.

  "Don't look at me like that." He dropped me on the bed before getting up and snatching his trousers from the floor. "He looked angry, and I need to think clearly."

  "Good luck."

  "Devin." He had a firm tone, and I rolled onto my side.

  "I'm serious. You're covered in my scent now." He heavily sighed when he realized it was true. So, even when he left the room, he'd still be able to smell me and my heat on himself.

  Lancelot continued getting dressed before picking up the leather strip for his hair. He pulled it up in a quick bun that looked like a mess as he rushed toward the door to not make Merlin wait any longer.

  I sighed while stretching out my legs. Curling up with the pillow, I laid there until Lancelot's return.

  I woke up to a plate of food being held in front of my face. I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep. Sitting up, I took the plate and began to devour the fruit and poultry.

  "Merlin's anger runs deep." Lancelot stated as he was crouched next to the bed.

  "....Will you be okay?" I paused while looking at him.

  "I will be. His anger is not directed at me, per se. I think Percival talked to him."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "He knew things he should not." Lancelot moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I think he's also grieving."

  "We've lost many to the Red Paladins. That's no surprise." I ate some more of the chicken. "If he is not angry with you as you say, what did he want?"

  "Plans. Tactics." Lancelot rested his elbows on his knees. "With my absence and Father Carden's death, their progress has greatly slowed. I still remember the maps and planned routes, and word will be sent to the Fey villages most at risk."

  "There's something else you're not telling me." I said while tearing apart some bread. He looked at me and rubbed his hand over his jaw.

  "Well, he, uh," Lancelot cleared his throat. "He wanted to address our 'situation'."

  "Situation?" I chuckled, and he averted his gaze while looking embarrassed.

  "You're clearly Fey, Devin. He wouldn't ignore catching us in bed together."

  "And what did you tell him?" I set the plate to the side. "Did you try to save your Christian dignity by claiming I seduced you? I would understand if you had." Crawling closer to him, I saw that he was blushing.

  "I didn't."

  "Then? How did you explain yourself?"

  "I....said that we are lovers." He looked at me, and our faces were only inches apart. "I may struggle with myself and how I feel, but I am learning. I refused to stand by and let you be taken by Odhran. I will not disavow you now to Merlin."

  "That we are lovers...." I muttered while smiling.

  "Should I not have said that?"

  "Does it look as if I am upset with that?"

  "You look happy."

  "I am." My tail swayed, and Lancelot began to smile.

  "You love me that much?"

  "Having you declare to someone else that I am your beloved warms my heart, and if you so much as wish it, I will do the same. I love you deeply, Lancelot." Placing my fingers under his chin, I turned his face more in my direction to kiss him.

  "It's so different." He whispered.

  "What is?"

  "Every time you say you love me, I can feel it."

  "Shall I say it more?"

  "Say it as much as you please."

  "If I do, I may never shut up." Lancelot chuckled at my words, and I climbed onto his lap. "Did you remember to lock the door this time?"

  "I did."

  "Then it's safe to assume you don't plan on leaving soon?"

  "How could I with you in such a needy state?" He settled his hands on my hips as I opened the front of his trousers. "The entire time I was gone, I was eager to return. You plagued my thoughts."

  "Did I now?" My tone sounded nearly like a purr as I reached into his trousers to find his cock. His breath faltered as his grip on me tightened.

  "Devin...."

  "What is it, mo chroí?"

  "I want you to know, I will do everything within my power to hold my promise to you."

  "I would hope so. I've come a far way on your word, Lancelot." I kissed him again, and he suddenly stood. He gently placed my feet on the floor before pulling his clothes off. When he grabbed me to pull me closer, he spun me around to have my back against him.

  "You smell so damn good." Lancelot rested his cheek against my temple, and his scruffy jaw was rough against my skin. His hands ran up my sides before he squeezed my chest. My tail lifted as my ass pressed against him, and a whimper came from the back of my throat. "Memories cannot compare to truly having you in my arms, my love." He whispered while pinching my nipples.

  My breath faltered as my ears flattened.

  "That's right. I still remember every way you told me to touch you. I could never forget what made you cry out in such beautiful ways.... What made you writhe beneath me." His tone dropped as he squeezed again. My thighs pressed together as I was leaning into his touch.

  "Then what are you waiting for?"

  "I like to hear how you whimper for me." He pinched my nipples to make me whine before his rough palms went down my torso. His hands slid between my legs and forced them apart. Lancelot breathed in through his nose and growled.

  His fingers went over my pussy to gather up slick. Raising his hand, he spread his fingers to show the clear fluid stretching between his digits.

  "Hmm.... Shall I stop here?"

  "No! Keep touching me."

  "Why should I?" He was taunting me now while barely holding out himself.

  "I want you." I panted, and Lancelot grabbed me as his lips brushed over my cheek.

  "What was that?"

  "I want you."

  "Have some bloody manners." He pulled my hair to make my head lean back. His teeth scraped over my neck, and he nipped.

  "Please."

  "That's more like it." Lancelot used his hold on my hair to push me toward the bed until I had to kneel on the edge. He grabbed the back of my neck to push me down with my ass in the air. His other hand slid over my hip to move me into position.

  When his hand lowered to grab my ass, my tail lifted out of the way. Lancelot's breath was deeper, and I felt his cock pressing against my core and using my slick to ease his way in. Feeling myself stretching to accommodate his length, I groaned. His grip on the back of my neck tightened while pushing my cheek further into the rumpled blanket.

  When his hips were flush against me, he grabbed my hip again. Lancelot softly sighed with relief before slowly pulling out a few inches only to thrust back in. My heat left me so aroused that there was a wet slap from his balls smacking against me over and over again.

  Lancelot groaned over me, and I dug my claws into the blanket. Feeling his fingers squeezing my hip and scruff as he thrust in deep made my head spin. Listening to his grunts and heavy breaths, I clenched when he moaned, and his hips bucked.

  His rut soon had him pistoning his cock in and out of my pussy, seeking that high as the bed rocked. Lancelot put more weight behind the hand on the back of my neck, ensuring that I would remain in the position he put me in. It gave him perfect access, hitting every spot that made me cry out and my toes to splay.

  My ears were turned back as I moaned and felt drool trickling down my cheek. Each thrust made my body jolt, the flesh of my ass jiggling from every impact of his hips slamming into me. Lancelot was panting and groaning, losing himself to the pleasure.

  He placed one foot on the edge of the bed to lean over me more as if he were mounting. It drove my instincts wild as I cried out and arched my back. My tail swayed while still off to the side.

  Gods, it was so hard to have a coherent thought with how good it felt. Lancelot pushed me further onto the bed to climb on behind me before fully mounting and biting my shoulder.

  His arms wrapped around me, one hand going between my thighs to find my clit. My entire body shuddered when his fingers rubbed against the throbbing bud. Lancelot grunted into my skin while holding me to his chest as he fucked me.

  His rut was no doubt filling his mind with thoughts of breeding. Lancelot's hand not between my thighs ran up my stomach and over my nipples, squeezing one of the swollen mounds as I bared my fangs. His touch sent sparks dancing across my skin, and he pinched my nipple to make me squirm beneath him.

  Lancelot had me at his mercy trapped beneath him, left with no choice but to feel his body surrounding mine. My senses were drowning in him as I whimpered and moaned. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw his eyes dark and full of hunger as he was watching me. His hair swayed from his thrusting, and he opened his mouth with his face so close to mine.

  He licked my cheek, a show of affection before nipping my ear closest to him. I couldn't take it anymore with all of the sensations colliding like a spring storm. My moan was nearly a roar as I was cumming around his cock with my claws tearing through the blanket.

  Lancelot groaned and fucked me through it. My body clenching around him became too much, and his cock was twitching while pumping me full of cum. His hips gradually began to slow as he panted and grunted in my ear.

  I was trying to catch my breath, and he rested his head on my shoulder with his body slowly relaxing. He eventually pulled out, his softening cock covered in a mix of bodily fluids that were also leaking down my thighs. Lancelot nuzzled my cheek and jaw to help ease me back down from the high.

  My legs felt weak, and when I eased them outward to lay down on my stomach, I felt the ache in my lower back. Lancelot began to leave sweet kisses over my shoulders and upper back, including where he'd bitten me.

  "You're so beautiful." Lancelot whispered. Scoffing, I wiped the drool from my face.

  "I'm a mess."

  "You can be both at once." I could hear the smile in his voice as his lips brushed over my skin. "You are entrancing." Lancelot placed a hand on my lower back and slowly moved it upward. "The way you move and your muscles flex.... The way you sound. Your eyes." He kissed my temple. "Beautiful."

  I propped myself up on my elbows as my tail softly wagged, giving away just how much I enjoyed his praise.

  "Even the way your pretty lips part and shape your voice." Lancelot's fingers caressed my lips. "You are a work of art, my love."

  "You certainly have a way with words." I smiled, and he kissed my cheek.

  "I only speak the truth." Lancelot then laid down beside me and brushed his knuckles over my cheek. His eyes were so gentle as he looked at me, far from that cold stare that could bore through me.

  "You truly don't find me scary? Monstrous?"

  "....No. I understand what you meant by your nature." He gently tapped my chin with his knuckle while looking at my mouth. I playfully nipped his finger, and he smirked. "Your fangs and claws are just a part of you, meant to aid in your survival. I have yet to see you turn these on another out of pure malice." His gaze was focused on my fangs gently around his finger. "Sometimes I find myself even thinking they're a bit....adorable. It's a bit strange."

  "It's not strange." I said after letting go. "Admiration, love, understanding; these can all make you see things differently." Holding his hand and opening it, I kissed his palm. "I no longer see you as I did before, either."

  "....How do you see me now, Devin?" Lancelot hesitantly questioned as if he were afraid of the answer.

  "My mate." I softly smiled and tilted my head. "You confessed your love for me in many ways, Lancelot, including under the light of a full moon. I reciprocated."

  "And that makes us mates?"

  "Do you not want us to be? You were calling me your lover not too long ago-"

  "No, I want to be your mate."

  "Good. I would have bit you if you said you didn't." Lancelot chuckled, his smile making me feel so light and for a warmth to bloom in my chest. "I'm going to enjoy having you around for my entire heat instead of just a few days."

  "You are an insatiable wolf."

  "Tell me you don't think you will enjoy it, too." I challenged while resting my chin on his chest. Lancelot's smile turned sultry before he leaned in to kiss me without saying a word.

  Having his rut triggered by my heat made me not doubt that he would be fine. Lancelot wasn't human, and given what happened during my last heat, I would not be left wanting in any way.

[justaz]

arthur and the knights getting cursed so they can’t hold a weapon, fight, and can barely walk. clumsy x1000 blast. the cure is idk somewhere in the woods or with the druids or something idk idk don’t ask me. anyways they get ambushed and arthur and the knights cant fight so merlin is like “damn it” and pushes them all back and looks at arthur and is like

merlin: you can’t fight so i’m going to fight them.

arthur, stumbling over his own two feet even while merlin is pushing him up against a tree: you can’t fight

merlin: i can. i’m going to. what i need you to do is wait, alright? you’re going to be mad, i get that, but that’s going to have to wait until later. can you do that?

arthur: you can’t fight, merlin.

merlin, rolling his eyes: will you just listen to me for once? be mad later. appreciate that i’m saving your life right now.

merlin, leaving arthur to fall flat on his face, muttering under his breath: like always

and then woosh merlin saves their lives and is a bad ass sorcerer yippee gwaine is very turned on and so is arthur but he’s also definitely pissed while lancelot is so proud of his bestie (and a little turned on)

[kissme-withyour-cherrylipstick]

Bonus under the cut

[princess-of-morkva]

i think in a situation where arthur and gwen break up, merlin would be taking it way worse than the actual people breaking up

[adhd-merlin]

Queen Guinevere at the stake

Le Morte d'Arthur, Thomas Malory (x) // The Once and Future King, T. H. White (x) // BBC Merlin, Queen of Hearts (3x10) // Camelot: The Musical, Alan Jay Lerner // Merlin (1998) // Lancelot, Edwin Arlington Robinson (x) // The Rescue of Queen Guenevere by Sir Lancelot, William Hatherell (x)

[cestacruz]

Hairstyle swapp with the tam lin and the round table knights

I apologize for Lancelot. It couldnt get better.

[clangrogu]

[darklinaforever]

These shows that I still hope to have a sequel to one day :

For information, there are currently real discussions about a possible return of Julie and the Phantoms (but on Disney + this time). The creators of the show Dark Crystal are still not giving up the possibility of giving a conclusion in one way or another to their show. Then there's the hope that Willow will one day return since it's more on indefinite hiatus than canceled. As for Cursed, we are supposed to one day have the sequel in book form. Conclusion : I'm waiting. May hope be with me, with you, with all of us.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 36

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Licentious Proposal.

Notes: I just realized how fitting the chapter name is lmao.

Extra Chapter warning: !!!SA (being groped very very briefly.)!!!

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  36/47

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It was early in the evening by the time the group arrived at Onsdell. The moment you were past the city’s walls the reality set in. It reeked of ale, rats ran through the streets. And women tried to get the attention of those in the group, seeking payment for a moment spend together. Red Spear held the reins of her crew well, none dared to abandon the group to take one of the women up on the offer. You kept Percival close, having taken hold of the reins of his horse to not let it stray away.

“What do they want?” the boy asked when seeing the women draw the attention of others.

Lancelot was riding not far beside Percival and shot you a slightly concerned look.

It was a struggle to find a way to explain it without explaining too much. “They offer to embrace people for a while in exchange for coin.”

Arthur who had been riding behind snorted a laugh and earned a glare from you. Percival scrunched his nose, holding back a comment. In time the boy would learn the truth, but not in the middle of the street with so many people around.

Your eyes drank in the city, jolly laughter came from many corners of the place. The city was forsaken by the world outside of it, and perhaps that gave it a kind of charm. Even when the people looked frightening, many bid you a good evening. The politeness was genuine, you could tell. The harsh world outside their walls had roughened their features. The city was unsightly, dark and brooding, and yet beautiful when the lanterns outside the houses illuminated the streets. And somehow, it felt safe. The deeper the group traveled into the city, the closer Lancelot began to ride next to you and Percival. It wasn’t long before the group arrived at the former abbey where the healers of Onsdell practiced their medicine. The old abbey was big, a well-tended to garden surrounded it. It was a grand difference compared to the rest of the city.

One of the healers had seen the group arrive and walked up to Gawain who was in front. “Good evening. You need our aid?”

The knight went straight to the point. “We have wounded with us. We would be grateful if your healers could help them.”

A nod from the healer, a wave of his hand that signaled for all to follow. You were pointed in the direction of the stables, where there was room enough for all the horses. Lancelot wisely stored his longsword on Goliath’s saddle and took the mystical sword along instead to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. Healers gathered outside, assigning themselves to the wounded. Others of the group were directed to the dining hall for supper and were given the chance to wash up at the large pond behind the abbey. Percival turned to follow those who chose to have supper first, but Lancelot caught him by the jacket and guided him towards the pond. You followed them, seeing that most of the others, besides the wounded, had chosen to wash as well.

It wasn’t long before the blood from the battle was beginning to wash off in the water of the pond. It did take some persuasion to convince Percival to at least wash his face and his hair a bit, the boy mumbled stubbornly to himself whilst doing so. Lancelot was rinsing the remainder of the blood off of him, quietly enjoying just touching the water to his hands and face. Some of the healers came and placed buckets of water on the ground, they were allowing some rooms to be used in the abbey for a more thorough bathing chance. Lancelot was among the few who claimed a bucket, handing you one for yourself and one for Percival.

“No. I don’t want to.” The boy balked.

“There are crumbs of leaves in your hair.” Lancelot bluntly pointed out. “Wash. We may not have the opportunity again any time in the near future.”

Percival touched his hair, hearing the crunching sound of a leaf as he did. “Fine.”

The healers were handing out clean cloths and towels to use, assigning rooms that could be used. You asked and received clean cloths to keep and put them into the satchel, it were small things like this that often proved very useful. The healers assigned a room for Lancelot and Percival to use, just beside one another. But when you showed intention to go into the room with Percival to help, the boy blushed a little.

“I can do it alone.” he said.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

Quickly the boy nodded, then headed into the room alone to wash. You heard a healer ask Lancelot if he needed their help, and he declined it.

“Yes, he does.” you gave Lancelot a look.

That stubborn Ash Man was not pleased with the intervention. “May I wash first?”

His question was directed at both you and the healer. He was still so careless about his own health, always letting others get their help first.

You gave the healer an apologetic smile. “I will call upon your help for him once he is done washing up.”

The healer gave a polite tilt of the head and went to help one of Red’s crew first. Lancelot tried to ignore your scolding gaze and went into the room.

You followed him, shutting the door behind you, locking it by his request. “You can be irritated all you want. But must I remind you of what I told you the last time you were under the care of a healer?”

He sighed, knowing you would fiercely remind him if he were to not heed your warning. He began to undress his torso, his back turned to you, eyes on the bucket of water he had placed on a small stool. It used to be a sleeping quarter, but the linen were stripped from the bed and there was dust on the small dresser, showing that the room had not been in use for a while.

“I can look after my own wounds. Most are healed.” he tried.

“I never said you couldn’t. But I know you to be the kind of person to tell others you are ‘fine’ while you’ve lost a limb.” With your arms crossed, you stood against the wall. “At least let a healer inspect that none of your injuries have grown infected, even a small cut can make you sick. Do not let an infection make me a widow.”

His shoulders relaxed, he put aside his weapon belts and clothing. Now that his torso was bare, you could see fresh cuts on his arm, luckily they were small. The bandages on his arms were in need of changing. You approached when he began to wash and went to take the bandages off, he did not protest. You blinked a little too much for him not to notice that his half-unclothed state was affecting you. A gentle smile formed on his lips, he decided not to tease you over it. You struggled to keep your gaze from swerving over him, your hands ached to brush over his warm skin. Your throat ran dry and your eyes forced themselves away so your mouth was able to form a sentence again.

“Do you know if there any women among the healers?” you wondered out loud.

“I saw two when we entered the abbey’s garden.” he recalled.

“Oh? I just thought it was odd that I saw none.” You inspected the healed wound under the first bandage. “This one is healed. No pain?”

He gave a nod. “Nothing.” His eyes followed you when you walked around him to inspect the other arm. “Will you wish to use this room after I am done?”

A mischievous smile curved your mouth. “Hoping I’ll use it when you are still here?”

“Yes?” He made the bold statement that sounded too innocent for what it actually was, “Perhaps if our clothed state was equal, it would feel more comfortable.”

You knew he did not mean that he would put his shirt back on, but instead made the careful suggestion your ‘clothed state’ would come to match his.

Your eyes squinted at him. “Comfortable?

He picked up on the hint of playfulness in you. A smile. “For you.”

It was clear blatant flirtation, every time he did there was always a small speck of hesitation as if he still feared to blunder.

You played along. “Is there a reason you believe I would need to feel more comfortable, and why that includes undressing myself?”

He boldly voiced his reason. “Your eyes betray you. I saw you look and then force your eyes away.”

The statement caused nerves to crash into you. “I can’t help it.”

A lopsided grin, “Oh?”

“Just…” you waved your hand, gesturing to him, “…wash up.”

He tried be persuasive. “We will spare time if we both wash.” A nod to your bucket still standing lonely at the door. “And I hope it will prove that there is no need to cast your eyes away from me only because I am not fully clothed.” His voice got quieter. “I would not cast them away from you, not unless you would ask it of me.”

That bold proposition silenced you. It was true that it would spare time, but for some reason it made you sickly nervous. Never had you been so bare near him, under that gaze of the heavens in his eyes. A sprinkle of fear had nested inside, the voice in your head asking you ‘what if he would not like what he’d see?’.

“No…” Never did you think you would refuse, but the sudden crippling blow of your self-consciousness made it happen.

Of course he had to notice the shaking of your voice in that single word, remorse washed the smile from his lips. “Have I been too forward?”

You could hear the pinch of panic in him that he tried to hide so well. “No. Sorry. It isn’t you, it’s me.”

You waved dismissively and paced around the room a bit. It only seemed to make him more worried.

“Talk to me.” he urged, having halted the task of washing.

Your shoulders shrugged. “It’s foolish.”

It did not dissuade him. “I would still prefer to hear.”

The truth came out of you quietly, “I guess I am just having one of those moments where I don’t feel very confident about myself.”

Patiently he tried to lure the reason out of you, “Do you concern yourself over how I might respond to see you in such a manner?”

You sat down on the dusty bed. “Of course I do.”

He spoke your name, a tilt of his head that told how he did not wish for you to feel that way.

“Just ignore me.” you quickly said before he would feel the need to comfort. “It’ll get better. I think I’m just tired. Continue with your wash before they want us out of here.” You saw him about to protest against your attempt to ignore the situation. “Do you need help?”

“Do I?” he fired back the question with a cheeky smirk.

A tempting suggestion. A smile that matched his. “I think you do.”

He held out the wet rag he was using and you took it from his hands. You touched the rag to his back where it would take an effort for him to reach it himself, gently moving it over the old scars.

“I find you very pleasing.” he dared to confess.

Hearing it was unexpected, and for a moment it felt like you had heard him wrong. “What was that?”

He made eye-contact. “I cannot stand the knowledge that you are concerned with how I perceive you. Nothing about your appearance will make me less drawn to you, as I find you very pleasing.”

You cleared your throat, a timid smile as your eyes evaded his. “Very pleasing…”

He hoped you would let your eyes meet his again. “Yes.”

Quietly you helped him with his task, indulging your eyes with the sight of him, longer than it was necessary, until he slowly stole the rag from your fingers again.

He spoke quieter than needed, “I had hoped to be thorough. Would you grant me a moment?”

It was clear that he wanted to wash completely and you respected that wish for privacy. “You want me to wait outside?”

He blinked a little too fast, then gave the choice to you, “What would you choose?”

The thought that he was even suggesting that you could stay in the room whilst he did so was unexpected.

You struggled to decide on the answer. “Uhm… I uhm…”

The tension broke when he chuckled and cast his gaze to the floor, charmed by your flustered state. He put the rag down and came closer, cupping your cheek. “Turn around?”

You were apologetic. “This doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see-”

“Oh?” Another warm chuckle escaped him when you swatted at his arm lightly for the teasing.

“We are in an abbey.” you reminded him. Once this sort of behavior would have been unthinkable to him, and now he was getting braver and braver about it.

“Former abbey.” he corrected matter-of-factually.

Your brow arched. “The former monk in you is surely weeping over your lost innocence.”

He picked up on that play of words right away, he took hold of the front of your jacket, pulling you close. “The former monk in me would certainly understand that you were the one sin I could not resist.”

A daring look. “Sin?”

A confirming hum from him. “I have wanted you with me ever since I saw you care for Goliath. You had near nothing and still gave up your scarf to bind his wound. I should have known then that I could not resist.”

It felt so long ago, such a small gesture in your eyes that you had nearly forgotten about it. And it was that small grain of a memory that he so warmly recalled.

“It is strange thinking back on it now.” The memories of what led to this moment were catching up with you. “It wasn’t long before I overheard you and Father Carden that I realized that I felt something for you, I just thought it was attraction at first and I felt guilty over it. But it was more, and it broke my heart to think that it was all a lie. Then you found me again, and everything was different.”

He rested his forehead to yours. “You forgave me.”

Your nose brushed against his. “You’ve earned that forgiveness.”

A caress of his hand to your cheek, a press of his lips to your forehead, an unspoken language that said more than words ever truly could.

“I’ll wait outside, and try to find a healer to see to you. Alright?” you asked.

A polite nod. “Thank you.”

You left the room, closing the door behind you and taking place by it, guarding it against those who would try to step inside without offering him a warning. After a few minutes a healer walked past and you inquired if he had time to see Lancelot, luckily he had just finished helping one of Red’s crew. You waited patiently outside the door for a while, hoping to hear good news. Percival stepped out of the other room, hair still half-wet from washing it.

You took the towel from the boy’s hand and tried to dry his hair a little better. “You’ll get cold if it’s this wet.”

Percival grumbled and tried to get away, embarrassed to be pampered where others could see. That escape attempt was prevented by Lancelot who had just walked out of the room with the healer, he received quite a glare from the boy.

“Was there anything concerning?” you asked the healer, ignoring the grumbling of Percival.

“He heals well.” The healer stated. “I have applied salve where it was needed.”

It was a relief to hear. “Thank you for your help. We truly appreciate it.”

The healer acknowledged your gratitude and then went to help the others in need of healing.

Lancelot took the towel from your hands and it gave you the chance to go into the room to wash too.

“Go on.” He took over the task. “I will see to him.”

“Thank you.” you gave a grateful smile to him and an encouraging one to Percival.

Even after you shut the door you could still hear the boy grumble at him, fortunately Percival couldn’t see your smile behind that door.

   ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  It had been a good idea to be quick while washing up, most of the group was already readying their horses by the time you walked out of that room again. Small pouches containing supplies were being handed out to everyone. Salves, needles, thread and vials of medicine, the healers were kind to offer it. You were right to see the kindness under the grim appearance of the city.

Lancelot had gone and fetched both you and Percival’s horse, he didn’t have to lead Goliath by the reins as the stallion simply followed his rider. A pouch of useful materials was given to you as well, and you decided to store some of it in your satchel and the rest in Bear’s saddlebag. And so the group began their journey to the inn just outside the city’s walls, successfully avoiding the more crowded ones. Even though a lot of ale-induced people were on the streets, none caused trouble, perhaps the city did not deserve the reputation it was given.

Outside the city walls, it was much quieter. The sounds of the nightly forest critters moving through the woods, and an owl beginning it’s hunt, were the only notable sounds. Red Spear’s crew were asking for her permission to eat and drink at the inn, she warned them not to drink so much that it would disturb others, they agreed to that command. The ride to the inn was short, and it was incredible to see how big the building was compared to the inn’s you had seen. Of course it was not perfect, a broken window, cracked wood, but it would be better than risking a night outside if it were to rain. The horses were lead into a designated old barn for them, a shelter against the colder weather.

Inside the inn, Gawain and Red Spear spoke to the innkeeper. The crew chose the cellar to sleep in, it was apparently a large space with an amount of beds that no other room could house, for them it was perfect. There were four rooms still available. Pairs were chosen and agreed on. Red Spear and Pym. Arthur and Merlin. Gawain and Lancelot. And the fourth room was for you and Percival. Payment was made for the beds, meals and drinks. Then the group found some seats at the tables to eat and drink. The inn was full, the atmosphere light. It had to be nearing midnight, even the crew was tired after the long day.

It wasn’t long when you sat down at a big table with the others before a group of women caught your eye. They were looking at the table, at Lancelot who was oblivious to it, and clearly talking about him. There were giggles, laughs, stolen looks… Even Arthur was quicker to notice that the Ash Man had caught their interest. Gawain and Merlin saw it too and all looked at Lancelot who was just glad to have some soup to eat. Percival loudly slurped his soup, causing Pym to try and explain to him that it was bad manners. All had a drink and meal to enjoy. Merlin and Red Spear told of their life, mostly Merlin, Red Spear preferred to talk about the victories she had experienced. But it was getting increasingly difficult for you to focus on the stories they told, the group of women were acting more and more obvious, hoping that they’d get some sort of acknowledgment from Lancelot. It ate at your confidence that others were vying for his attention, what if one day someone else came around and managed to conquer his heart? The thought alone was ruining your mood and you drank small sips of water to hide the pout on your lips. Strangers wouldn’t know that he was not available, and you trusted him. You focused on your broth and therefore failed to notice how one of the women was about to walk by the table. It all happened fast, the feigned yelp, the sudden surprised looks as the golden haired girl ‘fell’ with her rear into Lancelot’s lap. Your hold on your spoon was so strong that it bend it a little. This had not been an accident, that much was obvious. Her hands were on his shoulders, a smile from ear to ear. A very uncomfortable look on the Ash Man’s face, his hands nowhere near her as if she was covered in invisible thorns.

“I’m sorry.” she said, not looking sorry at all.

Lancelot felt all eyes on him, nodded. She got up from his lap but stayed too close. His eyes flickered to you, to your reaction, as if he feared to be put at blame for what he could not control. You knew he could see that restrained jealousy in your eyes and doubted your thinly pressed lips didn’t betray it either. The woman did not seem to notice and with the encouraging looks of her friends she got bolder.

Her hand was on the back of the chair he was on. “I’ve not seen you here before. I would have remembered such a handsome face.”

It took effort not to roll your eyes, but you told yourself that she had no idea that his wife was sitting right there to see it happen.

Lancelot kept his eyes on the table. “We are not from here.”

“Oh? A weary traveler seeking some comfort for the night?” She let the offer roll off of her lips, “I have a room here.”

No one at that table, except Percival, was oblivious to the hidden meaning behind her offer. Percival looked at her with suspicion, probably wondering why a stranger would just offer Lancelot a room. Arthur seemed to find it amusing to witness, Gawain on the other hand was trying to figure out if he should interfere or not. And Merlin was looking at you from across the table, as if he tried to read your reaction and figure out what you would do. You were trying not to fold the spoon in half.

“I am wed.” Lancelot was quick to decline the offer.

The woman was not easily dissuaded. “She doesn’t have to know.”

Your tone was cold as ice, it was meant to scrape over that bloated confidence she displayed. “She does.”

Her eyes snapped to you, taking in your appearance, a twist in her lips as if you were the dirt beneath her shoes. For a second it looked like she was going to walk away, back to her friends, only to stop behind his chair again.

She had slipped her hand on his shoulder and bend down to quietly whisper right into his ear. “My room is the farthest west, come find me later. I’d love to have that pretty mouth of yours between my legs. It will be our secret.”

Even with the noise in the inn, you had done your damned best to hear what she had to say to him, it was all you had attention for when seeing her touch him again. He was taken completely off-guard by what she had dared to whisper to him and he failed to respond. You didn’t know what lighted the fury in you most, seeing her pursue him while he was clearly uncomfortable, or the audacity she had to proposition him the way she did.

You were on your feet, your hands slamming down on the table silenced everyone. “Get your damn hands off of him!”

It was loud enough that most of the inn had heard and you were too angry to feel the stares.

She had the nerve to act arrogant, as if she somehow had earned the right to act the way she did towards him. “Jealousy doesn’t suit anyone.”

That condescending snotty tone, you were no stranger to it. “Do you want to find out if the color of your blood suits you?”

The fury added a whole other layer to your voice, your blood was boiling and you could feel the magic in your veins threaten to come out.

She gasped, “Pardon?”

Gawain hid a smile behind his hand, Red Spear gave a nod of approval after seeing you stand up against the blatant disrespect this woman showed. Pym was eating some almonds, intrigued as she watched what would happen. Percival hadn’t expected you to be so threatening and looked at you with wide eyes. Merlin drank his wine, having found something entertaining to put his attention on. And Lancelot? He was looking up at you with the same expression Percival had, it had rendered him speechless.

For the first time he was slow to respond, being thrown from one emotion and situation into another. He could hear the Hidden now, your fury had drawn them near. Fey Fire unleashing in a full inn would be disastrous.

It was Arthur who rose from his chair and tried to defuse the situation.

She tried to gain sympathy from him and those present. “I just fell. It was an accident.”

There was no chance that you were going to let her try to worm her way out of this. “Put your hands on my husband again and the only thing you’ll fall into will be the hands of a healer.”

Lancelot rose to his feet, granting her not a single look, his gaze was glued to you. “Ignore her.”

“Ignore?” you breathed out sharply. “You want me to ignore how she put herself in your lap and…” You were aware of Percival listening and lowered your voice. “I’m going outside for a moment. Let me just be so I can calm down before I set this place on fire by accident.”

He tried to stop you. “Wait-”

You moved past him. “I’m going to the outhouse.”

“Let her go.” Merlin said. “I can sense her power and it is burning to dangerous heights now.”

Lancelot let you go. The woman realized you were armed and finally left to return to her own company.

        You exited the outhouse not much later, still fuming at how that women had so obviously ignored your existence and dared to plop herself into your husband’s lap. Feeling your magic threaten to expose itself to those in the inn was what made you decide to step out for a bit. A few breaths in the fresh cool air helped to calm down, it was much quieter outside and it helped to collect your thoughts. You hoped your warning had made the woman rethink her intent when you began to walk back to the entrance of the inn.

A half-drunk man outside, standing against the wall, noticed you. “Alright there?”

“Just fine.” You politely answered whilst going into his direction to head back into the inn.

“Then why the frown?” he asked. “Show us a smile.”

You nearly rolled your eyes at the request. “My face is too tired.”

He let out a chuckle and hiccuped. It was all fine until you felt him grope your rear, hard, when you walked past him.

You turned in shock and slapped him across the face, hoping it hurt him worse, then shoved him back when he somehow looked like you had caressed his cheek instead of slapped it at full force. “Don’t touch me!”

He held up his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry, lass. I thought you were up for some ruffling between the sheets.”

How drunk did he have to be to get that assumption?!? You saw him look past your shoulder and wave. And when you looked to see who he was waving at, you knew trouble was on the verge of unleashing. Lancelot must have just stepped outside, he was trying to figure out what was going on.

He had only heard you tell the man not to touch you, and the inappropriate remark. Gawain had asked him to stay out of trouble, but he would not stand aside as trouble found you.

You didn’t want this to escalate and cause trouble for the journey, so you walked towards Lancelot.

Not two steps later, that idiotic drunk loudly announced to him. “A pretty lass with a good rump!”

The idiot pointed at your rear. ‘Don’t’ your eyes said to Lancelot.

His had already changed to that look that would sent the bravest souls running. “Did he touch you?”

Lying was no use, he was watching your reaction like a hawk. “He groped my rear.”

His jaw set, eyes focused, body tensed. It did not help that the man was looking at you with an interest that betrayed his thoughts. Lancelot took two steps forward and moved past you when you barely caught a hold on his sleeve and tugged on it to make him turn to you again.

“He’s drunk.” you reasoned.

He plucked your fingers loose from his sleeve, voice quiet but the fury inside of him was loud, “It is not an excuse.”

You blocked him. “Lancelot.”

The desire to stop him vanished when the man spoke again, this time sounding agitated.

The man spoke much louder, his behavior had switched suddenly from all the ale, “Only a tart would ask for so much attention. How much coin are you giving her? I’ll have her after you’re done.”

Your mouth twitched in anger, Lancelot gave you a look and you broke your hold on him.

“I am not going to kill him.” he promised, albeit reluctantly. “I will teach him not to touch what is not his.”

Lancelot approached the man, who did not seem to understand or realize the threat he faced. It was a display of his knowledge in close combat when he managed to not spook the man before he got the drunkard to his knees.

Lancelot twisted the man’s arm and held it up in the air. “Do you know what the punishment is for propositioning the wife of another according to the scriptures?”

The man couldn’t break free from the hold or risked breaking his arm, he winced and squirmed in pain. Lancelot took hold of his hand.

“Death.” He had moved the man’s fingers too far back in a rapid movement, breaking three of them.

The man yelled in pain and tried to twist his body to free himself. Lancelot’s hold was too strong to break free from. “I didn’t know she was yours!”

He put pressure on the broken bones to get the point across. “Keep your hands to yourself, or I will take them from you. Do you understand?”

“Please…” The man writhed in pain. “I understand!”

He let go of the man so sudden that it made the drunkard keel over and stepped back.

“Apologies.” The man said to him, clenching his hand to his chest. Then said it to you, “Apologies, madame.”

You got closer to the man. “Leave.”

Lancelot did nothing as the man scrambled up to his feet, fell over, got up again, then ran in the direction of the city. A silence dropped between you, as if both needed a moment to collect their thoughts.

He was the first to break the silence, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” A sigh.

He was not convinced. “Yes?”

Your shoulders shrugged. “First that with that woman, and then that…”

He took a step closer but stopped. “You are upset.”

“Perhaps a little.” you admitted.

“I should have reacted differently when she-”

“You did nothing wrong, Lancelot.”

Another deep sigh, you never wanted him to think that he was at fault for it. “I’m not blaming you for what happened in there at all, she crossed the line. I just needed to calm down out here for a bit. I felt just like I did in the forest when I fled from you and the paladins. I didn’t want to end up hurting someone if Fey Fire came to the surface.”

His mouth tugged up. “A wise decision. I was not sure if you were going to stay in control of yourself.”

You tried to smile. “I try.”

“When you stood and spoke to that woman, your presence in the inn commanded all to silence.” He never broke his eyes away from you. “You were incredible.”

You had expected a scolding, not praise and certainly not that look he had in his eyes that made your cheeks start to heat up. “Incredible? It’s embarrassing that it got me so angry.”

He kept looking, gaze swerving slowly over you, drinking your appearance in. He had a hand wrapped around the pommel of his sword, often teasing the crossguard with his fingers, the restlessness in him affected yours. Instinct told you that if you were to move in the direction of the inn’s door, it would be pointless. His stance and eyes betrayed that he wouldn’t let you pass him. That knowledge made your limbs tremble.

He looked around for a second, then back to you. “I never saw you that way before. Not like this. Not that furious.”

That change in his tone… those blown pupils… that stance…

Even thinking of it still fed the anger that tried to simmer down in you. “I hated to see how she tried to seduce you, how she put her hands on you whilst you were uncomfortable.”

He came closer, much closer, putting both hands on your waist to grab hold. With one strong tug he pulled you against him.

“I loved seeing what you did.” He leaned in to speak into your ear, “You were so alluring.”

You couldn’t answer before he decide to place a feather light kiss to your neck. “I…”

By the way he was acting, and the change in his tone, you knew your fierce response in the inn had awoken desire in him. His lips were curved into a smirk that betrayed his thoughts. Whatever plan he may have had was interrupted by Gawain walking out of the inn to come and find two of his missing comrades.

The knight did not look surprised in the slightest to see how the Ash Man was keeping you occupied. “Your meals are getting cold, my friends.”

Lancelot showed no signs of letting you slip away from his arms. You squirmed out of his hold, giving him a playful shove to the chest.

Gawain could not keep the stern expression and ended up chuckling. “You may crave something else, but she might want to finish eating her broth.”

“Exactly.” you grinned. “It’s a good broth.”

Those weeping eyes were still transfixed on yours, a small curve in his lips. No, he was not done vying for your attention tonight, that much was clear. But you went and followed Gawain back into the inn, very aware that Lancelot was only a few steps behind.

          Back inside the inn, after all had finished their meals. The mood was amicable, Red Spear and Arthur were speaking quietly to each other. Percival had fallen asleep next to Gawain and was laying down on the wooden bench. Pym was talking about her friend Nimue to Merlin and sharing some childhood memories she had with her. Some of the crew had already headed to bed, others had fallen asleep at the other table, and a few were listening to the bard who was still playing a calm song.

You sat beside Lancelot. The group of women had apparently gone to their sleeping quarters in the time you were outside earlier. You were listening to the bard, sitting close to the Ash Man. He had discreetly put his hand on your knee under the table, keeping it there motionless. It wasn’t until the bard began one of his last songs that he took a small risk. His hand climbed, very slowly, and it kept on climbing when you didn’t swat it away. Your thigh received a light squeeze, his eyes however stayed innocently on the bard’s lute. One could have thought it was absentmindedly, until he gingerly dipped the pads of his fingers in your inner thigh. Surely, he knew that this was not an innocent gesture? His fingers glided further up, stopped, then returned where they had started. You prayed no one would start talking to you, your body was trembling under his touch.

That smug rotten twit leaned in to innocently ask, “Are you alright?” He barely held back a smirk. “You are trembling. Cold?”

You couldn’t manage to glare at him and hated it, what he saw in your eyes was not annoyance. You whispered back. “Your hand is between my thighs.”

He looked so innocent, so perfectly proper, until one would look beneath the table. He dared to correct your statement. “My fingers are.”

“Is it necessary?” you fired back.

A warm hum, a slight softening in his features. “They are cold.”

That was just a blatant false excuse. “And you’re hoping to warm them between my legs?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Yes.”

You barely scraped your thoughts back together. “I need to be taking Percival to the room.”

It was said loud enough for the boy to rouse from his sleep and right away you knew that there would be protest.

The boy mumbled, still drowsy from sleep, “Can I have one more sweetroll to eat?”

Lancelot moved his hand away, not willing to take the risk that the child might notice the improper behavior.

Gawain saw you sigh and offered help. “I shall stay with him and bring him when he is done eating it.” He spoke to Lancelot, “We should all head to our rooms if we hope to be rested.”

“I doubt many of us will be rested by dawn.” Lancelot commented.

The knight looked towards the others. “Noon at the latest is when we all meet by the horses. All in agreement?”

Merlin looked happy to hear it, no wonder with the tankards of ale he had chosen to enjoy. No one protested that idea, all were just glad to have some good sleep and rest.

“I’m heading to bed then. Thank you, Gawain.” you gave a grateful smile that the knight gave you the chance to withdraw from the table. Then you spoke to Percival, “I’ll see you soon.”

The boy nodded, glad that he could get another sweetroll before bed. Without giving Lancelot a warning, your lips pecked his cheek.

You smiled when seeing the pleasantly surprised look in his eyes. “Goodnight, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

‘My love?’ Had he truly heard you say it?

“Goodnight.” He blinked slowly, letting his gaze say the rest.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The room was larger than expected. There was no table, but an ink and quill was placed inside the large wardrobe in the corner of the room. It also held some parchment and bed linen. A small washing table stood in the other corner with a basin filled with fresh water. You had brought in the clothes you had taken from Ravenwick and picked out your old chemise to sleep in, it would spare your other clothes. After changing into the nightly attire you sat down on the bed and read a little in your mother’s journal while waiting on Percival. She wrote of her favorite places, the food she loved and the dreams she had carried up until she met Aldith. You read her soul from the pages, the last memories of her aside from the bracelet around your wrist. A knock on the door pulled your attention away from the journal, quickly you stashed it back in the satchel.

“Come in.” you called out and saw Lancelot walk in instead of Percival. “Is something wrong?”

A few seconds passed before he answered and closed the door. “No.”

After waiting to hear a reason for his presence there now, and not receiving one, you grew aware that he was staring. You realized he had never seen you with so little layers of clothing on. He was breathing quicker, sharper. He blinked just too much to make it seem like nothing was the matter. His hand was squeezing the pommel of his sword, forcing the veins inside his hand to turn visible on the muscles.

An arch to his brow, a stare. His voice a husk, “A chemise?”

There was the sudden odd need to explain yourself for it. “Took it with me from Ravenwick.”

A breath. “Oh.”

You gestured to the stack of clothes you had taken into the inn in the hopes that you could see if they still fitted well. “Those too.”

It took him two seconds, too long, before his gaze slid very briefly to the stack, then back to you.

With a nervous small smile you told him, “You’re staring.”

That chemise sat low on your neck. It was as if by instinct that his gaze wished to drop to the neckline, never had he believed it to be so hard not to look at something, it was an arduous task.

You shoo-ed him away playfully. “Go. Before Percival walks into the room. Remember how he reacted the last time he saw us in a room of an inn together.”

“He knows the truth now.” he said with a small boyish smile. “And he traded rooms with me, with Gawain’s approval.”

Your voice was quiet, “He’s sleeping in the room with Gawain tonight?”

A nod. “Yes. And I am certain he will take this chance to talk the ears from the knight’s head.”

It would be a long night for Gawain if Percival had recharged his energy with that long nap he had taken downstairs. “Very likely. I bet he would love to learn all about what it is like to be a knight. Poor Gawain.”

He hummed, smiling at the thought. A silence dropped between you, one that was oddly making you nervous.

You found the courage break the silence. “That means you are here tonight?”

“Yes.” he said, a sudden falter in his confidence. “Is that alright?”

It was too tempting not to mess with him a little. “If I say ‘no’, will you head to the room of that woman who plopped herself into your lap?”

He knew right away that you were just jesting. “You won’t say ‘no’.”

The return of his confidence made you smirk. He had sounded so certain and bit his lip a little as if to scold himself for it.

You pressed your lips shut but the smile forming on them could not be stopped. “That’s true.”

He wanted to step closer, you could tell, instead you crossed the small distance to where he still stood by the door. You got close to him, your fingers laced into his jerkin. Slowly your lips brushed against his cheek right near his ear, then you nested yourself against his chest and faintly felt the rapid beating of his heart.

“I want you with me.” you whispered to him, meaning every word of it.

He took a sharp breath, as if the admission was unexpected. His hands went to your hips, slightly swaying you with him. Upon locking eyes with him, the desire in them was undeniable, but the admiration in them was what made it hard not to start kissing him until he ran out of air. He was holding back, leaving something unsaid and it hanged in the air like slowly descending snow.

“What is it?” you inquired quietly.

His eyes fell away as the confession fled his fear. “You are beautiful.” A pause. “I cannot stop longing for you.”

The compliment caused your cheeks to heat up, suddenly the chemise felt far too little to wear and you wanted to hide because he had said it with such honest intensity that you didn’t know how to respond to it.

“I…uhm…” A timid smile formed on your lips.

“Carnally.” he clarified quietly.

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Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

[themuselesswriter]

Top, Bottom or Switch - Daniel Sharman

Okay so the other day I was thinking (and you know that's never good) about Daniel Sharman's most famous characters and for some reason I have a theory that lots of his characters are bottoms in bed, so you guys will have to suffer my classification! Lorenzo De Medici This is the only character that I think of as a top. He seems like an expert at what he's doing, he always initiates the sexual interactions and he seems like the type of a guy who would come from a work day and be like "here love, let me take care of you for the rest of the night" and besides, he is kind of a hoe and his vibes are dominant.

Kelly Lord he is the type of guy who would be like "I'm an alpha dog bruh" but he is secretly a bottom, but he is the type of bottom that doesn't like to admit that he is a bottom if that makes sense? Like, he would throw in a fit but he would end up being a bottom, he would enjoy it, then feel ashamed or shy about it and he doesn't show this side of him unless he really trusts their partner cause he would be afraid that it would slip and his family would know and make fun of him.

Lancelot Du Lac (The Weeping Monk) Oh he screams bottom. Like, he wouldn't think about taking a sexual partner until he's out of the paladins' reach and when that happens, he would be too overwhelmed by all the decision making and the changes, so he would have a hard time expressing that he wants to be taken care of in the bedroom and that being a bottom gives him a sense of comfort and familiarity, he would even try to fake being a top to his partner just to please them but his partner would eventually figure it out.

Isaac Lahey In my humble opinion, Isaac is a switch. He initiates sexual interactions, he is confident, egoistic and loves the look of pleasure on his partner's face when he is getting it right so he would be a top leaning. However, there are days where his past hunts him and he feels the most vulnerable, on these days, he would prefer to be a bottom and have tender sexual interactions instead.

Troy Otto My man is a bottom and no one can convince me otherwise. He gives off top vibes in life but bottom vibes in bed, he is kinda oblivious when it comes to sexual interactions, his partner would need to initiate them (I have theory that Troy is a virgin, okay?!) and like, he would experiment a little but settle down to enjoying being taking care of in bed because it is such a precious feeling that he rarely gets to experience, to be looked after, loved, treated well, so yeah, he's a bottom.

Anyhooo, thank you for sticking around for my TedTalk! Next Episode: what type of fruit are you based on your favorite Bridgerton quote:'). Also, do you guys have different theories about these characters or different ones?

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Me when I come up with an awesome scenario for my Cursed Lancewain fic that combines a FUCKING AWESOME foreshadowing for my planned ending and has major plot points from two separate character's arcs and also happens to bring in two other stories from various Arthurian lore, as well as adding extra lore and shiny things to said planned ending too;

Also me when I remember not only do I have to write all that but none of this will even happen for FUCKING AGES UGH FML;

... 'cause uhhhhhhhh it really may be worth mentioning I'm STILL editing Chapter 2 and uh. I don't even know where this all fits in but it ain't gonna be till Part 7 AND. Well. I may have like 15-25 chapters planned for each Part so far. Whoops.

[jplupine]

In the Wolf's Den: Chapter 6

Pairing: The Weeping Monk x Devin [Nonbinary Fey OC] Word Count: ~3.7k WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Exophilia, Feral Behavior, Angst, Religious Trauma, Little Spot of Fluff, Brief Nudity

Summary: A trip to the Wolf Folk village before a hawk brings a letter.

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 6:

  After Squirrel had returned with his new stick, Lancelot went straight to brushing down Goliath. He didn't look at anyone but at least acknowledged the boy and told him they would resume training once Goliath had been seen to. Squirrel didn't seem to pick up on the shift of Lancelot's behavior at all.

  When the man had finally stopped crying, he seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in and couldn't look me in the eye anymore. If I could guess at anything, I would assume Lancelot was embarrassed by his actions.

  Squirrel, on the other hand, was excited to hear I would be taking him to the Wolf village tomorrow. He would have to bathe and put on a clean set of clothes first, of course. If anyone caught my scent on him, it would give me away no matter how I disguised myself.

  Once I'd told him some more about the village, he'd run off back outside since Lancelot had finished brushing Goliath. I listened from inside the cave as the man instructed the boy while my mind wandered.

  All he had ended up confessing to me wasn't something I could easily brush off. He had laid bare his truth and his confliction. I didn't even know how to feel about being told I, in many ways, showed more of his God's grace than his own Father Carden.

  Of course, I wasn't showing his God's grace- I did not believe nor ascribe to that religion. However, Lancelot still did, and that was what he felt to be true. And there was some humor to be found in it all as well. I'd been concerned I was too harsh on him, that my crueler choice words would drive him right back to the church, only to learn the opposite to be true.

  That I was leading him out of the darkness.

  I also now understood his reactions to the story of the first Wolf Folk. The she-wolf of that story had her prayers answered and found a new home while Lancelot's prayers were met with silence and his own fear of damnation.

  Rising from the water, I took a breath while pushing my hair out of my face. Birds flew by overhead as there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Hearing the woods and the running water of the river was rather calming.

  Standing there in the river that came up to my hips, I lazily ran my fingers through the cool water. The sun felt wonderful on my skin since it wasn't too hot out. The chill of winter would be coming around the corner, so it was best to relish in this weather while it still lasted.

  My ears flicked back, catching the sound of foliage rustling. The movement was quiet, so I doubted it was a human with how loud they could be in the woods. Looking over my shoulder to check, I stretched out my claws just in case.

  "I brought the change of clothes you asked for. I cannot fathom how you plan to make them fit...." Lancelot trailed off as he stopped in his tracks. He carried a pile of folded clothes with him that he was now gripping so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

  I rose a brow since he'd gone silent, and Lancelot quickly turned his face toward the sky as his face bloomed bright red.

  "I didn't know you were already in the river, I swear." He said rather quickly before spinning on his heel to turn his back on me.

  "You have seen me naked before, Lancelot. There is no need to be bashful now." I chuckled while seeing how red his ears were getting.

  "As I have told you many times, I was not myself then. I-It is sinful to-"

  "Not a woman, remember?"

  "It doesn't matter. One is not supposed to look upon the nude form of another."

  "Unless they are married."

  "Yes. Wait, how do you know that?" His head slightly turned, but he kept facing the woods.

  "Wisdom of the Ravens, remember?"

  "I remember."

  "So you seriously cannot look at me?" I crossed my arms while tilting my head. "Even though you have been balls deep inside of me many times before?"

  "Y-Yes." Lancelot dropped his gaze to the ground as he shifted his weight on his feet. "That is also....very sinful." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Even more sinful, actually." He added, speaking barely over a whisper.

  With his head tilted down, I could see how the back of his neck flushed. The man's face had to be as red as a ripe tomato by now. This was so different from before, and I couldn't help but find it amusing.

  "Then how do you expect to give me those clothes if you cannot even look at me?"

  "Turn around."

  "Turn around?"

  "With your back to me. I will set them down near yours."

  "All right, then." I said but didn't move an inch. I wanted to see how he was going to do this without looking at me since my clothes were piled on the edge of the river right in front of me.

  "Have you turned?"

  "Yeah, yeah. Just set the clothes down." Lancelot hesitated even after I gave him the go-ahead. When he turned, his eyes landed right on me- my chest specifically.

  "Jesus Christ-!" He hissed as he jerked his head back in the direction of the woods. I burst into laughter, finding his reaction utterly ridiculous. I understood my heat made him throw away chastity and modesty, but I didn't have anything he hadn't already seen. "This is not funny."

  "Oh, but it is. You have seen my body both in bed and in your head, but now you avert your gaze like a blushing maiden?"

  "I was raised devout Christian. Nudity is not....commonplace. I also see you lack modesty whether in heat or not."

  "Oh, you see, huh?" I laughed, watching his shoulders rise.

  "You know what I mean, Devin." My ears twitched as my smile fell. Even after calling him Lancelot for this long, he had never said my name in turn.

  Until now.

  A tingle went up my spine as I found myself quite liking how his voice said my name. Swallowing, I briefly glanced away before regaining my composure.

  "Fine. I won't do it again." I said before lowering myself into the water up to my chin. "Okay, I promise you can turn around now without seeing me naked." Lancelot was even more reluctant to turn now, but he eventually did, and my mouth went under the water.

  He really was as red as a tomato. He was also quick to set the clothes down before rushing off back into the woods. Standing back up once he was no longer in view, I grabbed the soap among my belongings.

  Once I was done bathing in the river, I wrung out as much water as possible from my hair and fur. Picking up Lancelot's shirt first, I sniffed at it to make sure my own scent wasn't on it. However, his strongly was. How was it he could smell like this?

  Bringing the garment closer to my face, I deeply inhaled through my nose. I was picking up so many things on the shirt, most of which were just him. It was such a nice scent, though, and my tail began to wag.

  I didn't care this time- It wasn't as if anyone could see it.

  My ears twitched again before swiveling, hearing incoherent whispers in the woods around me. Lowering the shirt, I quickly looked around as I was on high alert. However, when I saw nothing, I realized the whispers came from the Hidden.

  It wasn't often that I heard them. But when I did, it seemed to be at the most random of times. Now included.

  Sighing through my nose, I pulled the shirt over my head before grabbing the trousers. Lancelot had thankfully brought a belt as well that I used to keep the pants on my hips. The clothes were indeed too big for me, but simply rolling up the pant legs fixed the length issue.

  Draping the cloak over my shoulders, I made sure to tie it on tight. I didn't want it to fall off at the worst possible moment. I left my hair down to air dry as I carefully gathered up my things and carried them at arm's length back to the cave.

  Lancelot wasn't there when I returned, and I didn't pay it much mind given what happened earlier. After dropping my clothes on my bed, Squirrel and I left to have time to get to the village and back before nightfall.

  "Do we really have to leave after we get the sword?" Squirrel asked as we were riding together on Goliath.

  "I do plan to get some supplies and food. There's a vendor here that sells the best roasted elk I have ever had." I replied while seeing the village up ahead.

  "How do you even have money if you don't work?"

  "I work." My brows furrowed as I looked at Squirrel. "I've been working this entire time."

  "How? You go nowhere, and no one comes to your cave."

  "Well, my pelts sell mainly in the fall and winter. I provide my own food most of the year to save money, and in the summer and spring, I sell herbs from the woods. Those bundles you saw me prepping to dry- did you think I was keeping all of them?"

  "You have a lot of bottles with dried plants in them. How was I supposed to know?" Squirrel's response made me chuckle. Dismounting from Goliath, I then held up my hand to help the boy down.

  He took my hand before hopping off of the large horse to the ground. Grabbing Goliath's reins, we then walked into the village together. My hood was low to cover my face, and being covered in Lancelot's scent seemed to be working so far.

  The village was alive with chatter and laughter. Children ran around, chasing each other or their toys. Squirrel was lit up with interest as his eyes took in everything around him.

  The last time he had been anywhere full of people like this was Gramaire. However, Gramaire was very different from a Wolf Folk village.

  "Stay out of trouble, and you can explore." I turned Squirrel around to make him face me as I leaned down. Pulling a few coins from my pocket, I held them out for him to take. "No mischief, you hear?"

  "I hear." He grinned while taking the coins.

  "Either wait here when you are done, or I will find you when I am."

  "Okay." Squirrel nodded, and I ruffled his hair before he ran off. I didn't have to worry about his safety- he was a Sky Folk boy, and this was a village of wolves. He stuck out in the crowd, and children here were raised with the aid of the community, meaning no matter where he went in the village, someone would have an eye or ear out for him.

  Not to mention if he got into trouble, he was scrappy and loud. It would be impossible for no one to notice.

  Leading Goliath further into the village, I noticed there were a handful of other Fey present as well. From where I stood, I could see a few Snake Clan and a couple of Tusks. Had some refugees found their way here?

  Walking on, I soon found myself standing outside a familiar home. Taking in a deep breath, I pondered a little longer on whether or not I should turn back now. I already came this far, though.

  Tying Goliath's reins to a post, I pat the horse's neck.

  "Wish me luck, would ya?" I whispered. As if understanding, he nickered. "Thanks." I chuckled before nervously straightening out the oversized shirt as I walked toward the front door.

  Knocking, I waited for the door to open. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I hadn't seen my family in a few years and wasn't sure how much had changed or if anything had at all.

  "Hello?" My mother's face was the first one I saw. She glanced at the horse from over my shoulder before looking at me with confusion. "Can I help you?"

  "Can I come in first?" I asked in a soft tone while raising my hood to where only she could see my face. She took in a sharp breath before grabbing me by the shirt and yanking me inside. The door slammed shut, and I had to catch my balance to keep from falling on my face. "Wanna yank a little harder next time, Ma?"

  "What in the world are you doing here, Devin? You know you-"

  "Relax. Not even you recognized me."

  "Because you smell like a-" This time she cut herself off as her burnt orange eyes narrowed at me. She stepped closer, sniffing at me while I pushed the hood off of my head. "You smell like a man and definitely not even a wolf." Her tone sharpened. "Who is it this time, huh?"

  "You make it sound like I'm promiscuous. And it is not what you think. This is just a disguise."

  "From?"

  "A friend." I replied while glancing around. There were some new things like a replaced table and blooming herbs hanging from the ceiling. "Oh, you managed to find some of these this late in the season? And this big?" Delicately touching the pale blue flowers surrounded by greenery, I could feel my mother's gaze cutting through me. "What?"

  "Devin, I have missed you so, but you know it is not safe for you to come here."

  "My family is worth the risk. Where's Pa?"

  "He should be back any minute."

  "Okay, I get your concern, but why am I getting such attitude?" I gestured at my mother while looking at her expression and body language.

  "Because you never wrote."

  "I wasn't sure any of you would want me to." I admitted. "After everything happened, I had no clue where I stood."

  "Oh, Devin." Ma heavily sighed before she pulled me into a warm hug. "You are still a part of this family."

  "Even after the shame I brought? I remember how Pa nearly burst a vein."

  "Yes, even after." Ma pulled away and held me at arm's length. "Your sister is pregnant, by the way."

  "Cara? Pregnant? Shit, since when?" I asked as my eyebrows rose high on my forehead.

  "We found out last month. She'll be due next summer." Ma chuckled.

  "Is she joined too?"

  "Two years ago."

  "Two years?" I had to sit down as I rubbed my forehead. "Fuck. What about Darragh? Ciaran?"

  "Darragh is to be joined this winter, and Ciaran is....Ciaran." Ma softly laughed while taking a seat next to me at the table. "That boy may never settle down."

  "It has only been a few years." I mumbled.

  "A lot can happen in that time, Devin. What of you? Joined? Expecting? Planning?"

  "Nothing of the sort." I waved my hand as my brows furrowed.

  "Still courting, then?" Ma quirked up a brow at me as she glanced down at my clothes again.

  "I told you, these are just from a friend for a disguise. I swear I am not with anyone."

  "At least half my children are growing to be fine adults. I would have preferred better odds."

  "Oh, come off it. I fare well for myself."

  "You smell like a man you swear is not your partner, who is clearly Fey, but I cannot even tell what kind, and you even have the scent of a Sky Folk on you."

  "The two are temporarily in my care. The Sky Folk is a boy with the foulest mouth I have encountered a child having."

  "Fouler than you?" Ma joked, and we both laughed. "So what is it you do now? Are you a healer?"

  "Not really. I have had to use your teachings, though. I still deal in pelts and sell herbs."

  "Then why are the two you insist on being vague about in your care?"

  "I agreed to provide them shelter until they can regroup with their people."

  "The paladins?" Ma gave a knowing look, and I nodded. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Horrid, those men are. We have been lucky thus far."

  "Do you not worry how long that will last?"

  "It is ever-present in our minds. Nearly everyone in the village has made plans for a quick escape shall the need ever arise." Ma reached across the table to take my hand in hers. "I know you want to ask."

  "....What of Odhran and Liam?"

  "Odhran is still alone." Ma's tone was somber. "His broken heart has taken some time in healing."

  "I did not intend to hurt him so."

  "I know." Ma nodded while rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "Liam.... Well," She sighed. "he is joined and has a litter." I ran a hand through my hair while sighing.

  "I really was a fool."

  "You cannot blame yourself, child. You do not choose who you love."

  "Yeah, but clearly Odhran would have been the wiser choice. At least he loved me so deeply to still be heartbroken after all this time. And I would still be with my family."

  "The past has happened. You were young and following your heart."

  "Of which I will never do again."

  "Try not to speak too soon." Ma gently squeezed my hand. "The heart can lead to wonderful things."

  "Aileen? Whose horse is that?" Pa's voice called out as the front door opened. He was still looking at Goliath as he stepped inside. When he turned, I saw the confused look on his face before it quickly turned to shock at seeing me.

  "Hi, Pa." And the door slammed shut.

  Storing the bought supplies into Goliath's saddlebags, I made sure nothing was going to fall out. I was glad to have gotten time with my parents even if I missed seeing my siblings. However, Ma and Pa had told me stories well enough about them to help me catch up on what I had missed.

  And now that I had finished getting what I needed, I had to go find Squirrel. Calmly walking with the horse, I didn't want to draw attention to myself nor come off as suspicious. Acting as if I were simply passing through as some others were was enough to keep my identity hidden.

  Lancelot's scent threw other people off so much that they would never guess it was me under the hood. I had known these vendors, grown up with them and around them, but no one could tell who I was. I wasn't too surprised by that since not even my own mother had been able to recognize me.

  I eventually found Squirrel sword fighting with another boy around his age. He looked as if he was having fun and winning while the Wolf Boy was asking where he learned to fight as he did.

  "Squirrel!" I called out to get his attention. "It's time to go." He nodded to me before turning back to the kids he was with to say his goodbyes. They were all waving and bidding him farewell as he ran my way. "Have fun?"

  "Yeah." He had such a bright smile. Storing his wooden sword away in his belt, Squirrel then looked up at me with his hands on his hips. "Now, where is this roasted elk you mentioned before?"

  "Work up an appetite training?" I softly laughed while leading the way to where I remember the vendor being.

  "Wolf kids are a lot faster than I thought they would be."

  "Make any friends?"

  "Maybe."

  "Maybe is not a no."

  "We are getting some for Lancelot, too, right?"

  "Of course. Don't want him to get moody as he does for being left out." I joked.

  "....Either you are really good at hiding how you feel, or you really don't want to stab him anymore." Squirrel's words made me look at him with a twisted expression.

  "What?"

  "Lancelot. You haven't glared at him in a while now. Also, you care about how he feels."

  "I do not-"

  "'Don't want him to get moody as he does'." Squirrel mocked me while waving his hand. Rolling my eyes, I looked ahead of us as I could smell cooking meat.

  "Why do you want me to like him so much?"

  "So that I'm not the only one who does. He could use more people that like him." He answered. "Nimue said that even if you are lost, so long as you have people that care about you, you will find your way home."

  "Those are some wise words."

  "Mm-hm." Squirrel hummed. Reaching the roasted elk vendor, I bought three portions before leaving the village and heading back home.

  Riding in quiet, I contemplated what Squirrel had said. He'd clearly grown more attached to Lancelot. However, I could understand why. Beneath the Weeping Monk was a man worth redeeming. It was a source of my own confliction how Lancelot could be so kind and concerned and yet have the blood of only gods know how many Fey on his hands.

  My ears twitched when I heard the call of a hawk. Looking toward the sky, I had to quickly raise my arm when a bird flew down right at us. The hawk landed on my arm as Squirrel twisted in his seat to look.

  "There's something tied to its leg." He stated before reaching up to untie what was no doubt a letter from the bird's leg. As soon as he had it in his hands, the bird flew off. "It's from Arthur."

  "And?" I rose a brow to encourage him to say more about what he was reading.

  "And I hope you have money for a horse."

  "....What?"

[multifandomsbabe]

Merlin AU: where everything is the same but Merlin (and only Merlin ) curses and every time he does everyone( especially Arthur) looks at him like he’s an alien. And then Gawain shows up and he too can curse and he receives the same reaction every time