#and i'm in the middle of writing another fic for another fandom

[streetlizard]

i find it so hard to write merlin fanfictions, and i've wrote tons of fics when i was younger, but everytime i start to write a merlin one i just blank

it's like i can never quite grasp the characters eventhough i've seen the show 100 times

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

i wish there was a space for actual adults within this fandom. i guess i will have to create it, even if it's just me and other five people and a shoelace. i wonder how this whole thing is gonna develop!

[chloe-petrichors]

seething, blooming // jace x reader

your father has always been something of an opportunist, but trying to marry you off to the blacks while he courts the greens? this is taking playing the game to a whole new level.

the rose discovers she is an instrument of war. —victor hugo.

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!tyrell!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon au (set after aegon takes the crown but before luke's death bc luke will never die in my eyes), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s), arranged marriage, mention parental death/death in childbed (reader's mother), love at first sight vibes, jace is a flirtatious little shit with his betrothed, tooth rotting fluff, love confessions. word count; 6k+ notes; one day i might write for another man. but that day is not today. jace velaryon u have my heart. i'm not majorly pleased w this fic but it's given me enough trouble and it's as good as it's gonna get! this was longer originally, and was meant to be a bit more political at first hence the blurb/quote choice, but i haaated some of the scenes so ended up scrapping 'em. she's not as long as predicted as a result but still an ok length i think. some of the scenes i scrapped were tragically the smut ones, so have this fairly pg one-shot with the promise of the smut-shot sitting in my drafts coming ur way soon. fair warning that the scrapping of scenes has fudged with the pacing a bit but honestly i can't take this fic sitting in my drafts any longer so here u go!! i have a taglist now, mostly cos eldrith keeps telling me i have to tag her in everything, so lmk if you'd like to be added to it! requests; are open !

the rising sun paints highgarden in shades of pink and gold.

you stand upon your balcony, finger curled loosely over the pale marble as you stare distantly out over the rolling green fields and blooming gardens. the faint bubbling of the river mander in the distance adds to the peaceful morning, the early wash of sunlight coaxing the sleeping world into life. a cool breeze carries the sweet smell of roses and you take a steadying breath, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your face up to the sun.

it's a morning that starts like many others. you’ve always risen from bed early, the slow blooming of morning stirring you from slumber more often than not. birds chirp and bees buzz and the river flows and you rise with it, like part of you calls to the breaking dawn.

if not for the thick sheaf of parchment discarded on your father’s desk, it could be a morning like any other. but the parchment is there, and this day will be like no other before it.

today, a dragon is expected at highgarden.

a targaryen has not stepped foot in the reach since before you were born. you don’t think even the princess rhaenyra – queen, now, according to some – had come this far on her marriage tour years ago. but your father has taken it upon himself to invite a prince to your home.

you love your father deeply, but in this you think he must be a fool. as lord paramount of the reach he is, in theory, the power of this kingdom. but anyone with a lick of sense knows that it’s the hightowers that the people look to; oldtown is home to the starry sept, the citadel and, perhaps more importantly, the dowager queen’s family line.

the tyrells have only been in power for a few generations, and people’s memories are long. too many know the truth of how house tyrell had been only a steward when the gardener kings had ruled before the conquest. and so too many see tyrell as a house grasping for power that should be beyond their fingers, and your father is apparently determined to prove them all right.

he’s been careful about his neutrality as war threatens to break out between the targaryen kin, brother and sister both claiming their right to the throne and the realm splitting down the middle. your father has not officially allied with either side, walking a careful tightrope to appease both. up until now you had assumed he sided more with the greens, but he’d sent your assumptions crumbling with only a few sheets of parchment.

your father has always been too ambitious for his own good.

gods, how you miss your mother. when she’d been alive, she’d tempered the worst of your father’s foolishness. she’d been a stark before she’d married, steadfast and sensible in the face of your father’s folly. she’d been a woman unlike any other you’ve known; ferocious and a little wild, but with a good heart and a warm smile for any she’d met.

she’d taught you how to be a lady, but so much more than that – she’d taught you to know your own mind. to know when to mind your tongue and when to speak, how to grow your roots so deep you will always stand tall, flourishing and growing like the most determined of flowers. she’d taught you a little of that northern ice, too, reminding you oft that for as much as you were a rose of highgarden you were equally a wolf of the north, and the wolf’s blood has always run thick in your veins. 

she’d called you her little winter rose; delicate and steely and a rare bloom, indeed. she had loved you so fiercely you’d flourished with her tender care, just as the patch of winter roses she’d brought from the glass gardens of winterfell had bloomed ‘neath her careful ministrations. a piece of the north she’d brought south with her, a tiny bit of her home that she’d cradled and cared for until the day you’d lost her to the birthing bed.

your little brother is nearing six, now, and many moons have passed since the sudden grief of your mother had overwhelmed you. but, in recent days you have ached with her loss more often, wondering what she would think of your father’s plans, what she would say to soothe your storm of anxiety. with your looming marriage you find yourself missing your mother acutely, the grief a reopened wound in your chest.

because you are a betrothed woman, now, to be married to a stranger, a prince who is sure to be fighting a war against his kin in the moons to come.

the velaryon prince arrives on dragon back as the sun reaches its peak in the sky.

he dismounts his winged steed in an empty stretch of land a distance from the keep itself, and your father greets him there with a host of staff to accompany him back to the entrance courtyard.

your brother leo bounces in place beside you where you stand with the rest of the household in the courtyard, fairly vibrating with energy at the prospect of seeing a real-life dragon. since the news of the prince’s arrival was announced a sennight ago, leo has done little else but babble about dragons and magic and targaryens. you wish you could share his excitement, his sheer uncomplicated joy, but this visit comes with too many conflicting emotions for you to enjoy it at all.

you’ve always known you would not marry for love. you are the eldest child and only daughter of the lord of the reach – love has never been a factor you could afford to consider. you would do your duty and marry for your house, to seal whatever alliance your father deemed important enough. you’d resigned yourself to this fate as a young girl when your mother had told you in slow, halting words the fear she had felt coming south to marry your father.

but you’d not expected to marry a total stranger. you’d thought your father would at least do you the courtesy of allowing you to meet a suitor before betrothing you to them, but in his feverish ambition to sit his blood on the iron throne he’d promised you to a man you’ve never laid eyes upon.

you don’t want to be queen.

frankly, you think yourself a touch unsuited for it. your father has many times bemoaned your wildness, the wolfs blood that drives you to stubborn recklessness. though you’ve mellowed a little with age and experience, you think you’re still a bit too prone to chaos to be queen of the seven kingdoms one day. never mind the complexities added by the fact that queen rhaenyra’s claim is so fiercely contested, and her half-brother is the one currently physically sitting the iron throne.

thinking about the mess you’re marrying into too much makes your head ache, and the blazing noon sun does little to ease it. leo beside you continues to whisper rapidly about everything he knows about dragons, which is actually quite a lot considering his young age. you think absently you might need to have a word with the maester’s again; leo has wrapped most of the household around his finger, and the elderly maester is prone to indulging your brother when he fixates on a new topic of interest instead of sticking to his lessons.

the sound of hooves on cobble stones startles you from your meandering thoughts, and you straighten your spine as your eyes take in the unfamiliar man riding into the courtyard beside your father while your brother finally falls silent.

he’s handsome, at least; a tumble of dark curls brushing his shoulders, a sharp jaw and a strong nose. though you like to think yourself more than superficial, it eases at least some of your worries to know the prince is attractive to you. your mother had done you the courtesy of explaining what was expected of you on your wedding night after your first moons blood, and in secret since you’d perused the library for books detailing more lustful acts in an effort to satiate your unending curiosity.

you’re worried enough about completing your wifely duties without having to worry about finding the man lying with you repulsive, and so you allow yourself a few moments of relief at his pretty face.

your father dismounts first, gesturing for you to step forward as the prince gets down from his own horse. leo moves forward with you, eyes wide and shining with something akin to hero worship as he gazes at jacaerys. you have a wry thought that perhaps he should marry him since he is so clearly already enamoured, but you brush that aside as your father and the prince approach.

“i am most pleased to introduce my daughter, your grace, as well as my son and heir, leo,” your father says as they reach you, his satisfaction in his successful planning clear as he smiles smugly.

you dip into a perfect curtsey as leo bows a touch clumsily at your side. as heir it would traditionally be leo’s job to greet the prince, but when you send him a sidelong glance you see he is too busy making moon eyes at the darkhaired man to say anything, and so you take it upon yourself to speak.

“welcome to highgarden, my prince. we are honoured to host you,” you greet, finally meeting jacaerys’s eyes. they’re a warm amber shade, the noon sun turning them to liquid honey as he looks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush with the appreciation you can see in his gaze as he drinks you in. it seems he does not find you repulsive either, at least.

he sketches a quick bow, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel your heart start to race in your chest at his attention. “it is an honour to be here, my lady, and to finally make your acquaintance.” he smiles at you then, small and a little crooked but there, and your flush deepens. “i look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days.”

you swallow, hoping your budding attraction is not as obvious as you fear it is. your father is looking increasingly smug as he watches the interaction, though it seems to war with some paternal annoyance as jacaerys lightly flirts with you.

“and i you,” you return softly, a smile quirking on your lips.

“—can i meet your dragon?” leo bursts out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, and jacaerys blinks down at him in surprise as you resist the urge to press your palm to your face.

“leo,” you scold immediately as your father chortles at his heir’s enthusiasm for dragons. “the prince has had a long journey. you should give him a chance to settle in before demanding anything of him.”

“right you are, my dear.” your father waves to the household steward before turning to the prince. “alyn will show you to your rooms, your grace, so that you might freshen up, and then we have a feast prepared for this evening to welcome you to highgarden.”

jacaerys nods easily as the greeting crowd begins to disperse, the maester corralling leo to take him for his lessons with fond exasperation even as the boy loudly protests. you mean to go walk the gardens, and so you stay standing in place as the prince trails after your father and steward alyn.

he pauses beside you, though, a slight smile on his face as you look up at him questioningly. your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his face, and it takes a moment for you to process his words. “i look forward to speaking to you further at the feast, my lady.”

you smile back at him, cheeks flushing once again as his eyes linger on your mouth for a breathless moment. “i shall save you a dance, my prince,” you return a touch coyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“only one dance?” he teases, eyebrow arching.

you hum, head tilting to the side in mock consideration as something like satisfaction gleams in jacaerys’s eyes. “i shall have to use the first dance to judge your dancing skills, your grace, before i risk promising you another.”

he laughs then, a little surprised but no doubt pleased as his eyes crinkle with his wide smile. “then i shall do my best to meet your standards, my lady.” he dips into a quick bow of farewell, then, as you finally take note of your father lingering on the steps to the keep with raised eyebrows.

“we shall see,” you return as you curtsey.

you allow yourself a moment to watch his retreating back, eyes dragging over the strong line of his shoulders before you internally shake yourself and head to the gardens, thoughts swimming with honey brown eyes and tanned, freckled skin and a slow dawning certainty that while this betrothal may be unexpected, you doubt it will leave you unsatisfied.

the feast is in full swing by the time the prince arrives at the hall.

the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune as couples twirl on the dance floor. you sit at the head table with leo and your father, watching with a careful eye as your brother cuts up his food. he’s only just mastered the art of eating his food without spilling half if it down his doublet, but as distracted as he is by the festivities and the prospect of seeing a dragon close up, you worry he’s at risk of making a mess of himself regardless.

so absorbed in your task you are, it takes a long moment for you to realise jacaerys has arrived. it’s only when your skin prickles with awareness that you look up from leo and catch sight of the prince winding his way across the floor to the head table, eyes fixed on you. your head tilts to the side slightly as you watch him move, graceful and controlled, through the crowd.

he’s in black and red again, just as he had been when he’d arrived. it seems your father had been right when he’d stated that jacaerys favours his mother’s house colours. you smooth your hand over the skirts of your dress, the deep wine-red of the material feeling less out of place now, before standing with your father to greet the prince.

you all exchange pleasantries quickly as the noise in the hall dims, people realising the prince has arrived. your father ushers jacaerys into the empty seat between you and your father as he raises his goblet to the hall before speaking in his booming voice.

you don’t pay attention to your father’s speech, too aware of the warmth radiating from jacaerys who stands only inches from you to focus. you risk a glance at him from the corner of your eyes only to find his dark honey eyes fixed on you, and you cannot help but smile to yourself even as you flush, turning your eyes back to the crowd.

rousing applause and cheers draw you back to the moment, and you catch yourself in time to raise your wine in toast with your father. you go to sit back down as the crowd returns to its revelries, but the soft brush of a hand on your arm halts your movement. you turn expectingly to the prince, a soft smile on your lips.

“yes, your grace?”

“would you do me the honour of a dance, my lady?”

your lips quirk into a sly smile even as you bob your head in a nod. “i suppose i did promise you one, did i not?”

“that you did, my lady, and i have thought of nothing else since.” dark honey eyes sparkle with mirth as he offers you his hand, and with a quiet giggle you take it and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.

you feel the heat of his hand on your waist like a brand even through the layers of your dress, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. you inhale deeply in an effort to steady yourself as you rest your palm on his strong shoulder, and are immediately overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of him as he claps your hand in his and begins to dance.

you start the dance in comfortable silence, both of you taking a few moments to get a feel for the other and settle into the steps, and when you feel comfortable enough you speak.

“how are you finding highgarden, prince jacaerys?”

“jace, please,” he entreats, and elaborates only when you blink at him in confusion. “my friends and family call me jace, not jacaerys. we are to be married, my lady. it would please me a great deal for my future wife to refer to me as such.”

you nod in acceptance, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his eager expression. “jace it is, then,” you say, and try not to feel the way your heart flutters at his radiant smile in response. “although you have not answered my question. how are you finding highgarden?”

he hums, twirling you as the dance requires and then pulling you closer before responding. “your father has been very hospitable, and it is certainly beautiful here. the grounds especially, though i’m afraid i’ve not had the opportunity to see much of them as yet.”

“a shame we shall have to rectify, i think.” you offer him a small smile as you press just an inch closer, finding yourself wanting to be nearer him. “perhaps i could show you the gardens on the morrow?”

“yes,” he agrees a touch too quickly, and you giggle as his cheeks turn pink. “that is to say— i should like that very much, my lady. very much indeed.”

you lapse into silence once more as the dance reaches its crescendo, and you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of his hands as the music pauses while the minstrels ready their next song.

jace seems to share the sentiment, it seems, as his eyes linger on your entwined hands for a long moment before returning to your face. “have i met your standards enough for another dance, then?”

you take a moment to pretend to consider it, eyes narrowing slightly as you hum. he shuffles on his feet as he waits for your response, and you find the nervous motion far too endearing.

“i suppose so,” you concede after a moment, grinning at his smugly pleased smile as he tugs you closer.

“and what about the dance after that?” he asks lightly, something cheeky in his eyes as the music starts up again and he sweeps you along the floor.

“you should not press your luck, jace,” you say imperiously, although the effect is rather ruined by the silly smile on your face as he laughs with you.

jacaerys smirks. “my lady, since meeting you, i have felt nothing but a lucky man.”

you smother a snort, shaking your head at his unrepentant expression. “you are incorrigible.” it comes out a touch exasperated and yet far too fond.

“yes,” the prince agrees readily, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “but i think you rather enjoy it.”

your startled laugh is loud, though thankfully not so loud as to be heard over the minstrels. “perhaps.”

after that, the night is lost to flirtatious banter and dance after dance in your betrothed’s arms as a seed of affection is planted deep in your heart. and when you wake in the morning after dreaming of nothing but jace’s lips and eyes and words, you can think only one thought;

gods, i am in so much trouble.

time passes in a slow trickle of syrupy summer heat.

as the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in jace’s company. you’re always chaperoned, of course, a household guard following at a respectful distance wherever the two of you choose to roam. you find the whole thing a touch ridiculous; jace is to be your husband. it’s hardly like spending time together alone would be a significant scandal in light of your impending marriage, but your father insists there will be no doubts about your honour before the marriage actually takes place and so ser dickon is assigned as your reluctant shadow.

the date of the wedding itself remains unset as you and jace start to know one another. your father wishes for the marriage to wait until the war is done – a last-ditch chance to keep his options open, perhaps. Or, if you are feeling generous, a way to try and keep you safe from the greens when war inevitably rages. jace’s mother wishes the marriage to happen as soon as can be arranged – a way to try and ensure further heirs with the uncertainty of war looming, you assume.

you find yourself hoping the queen’s will wins the day as time creeps on. jace becomes ever dearer to you the more you learn about him, and soon you think of your impending marriage with nothing but hope and warm desire.

because oh, how you want him. from the first moment you’d laid eyes upon him you’d been attracted to him, but the more you get to know him, the more your heart opens to him – the more you ache for him. for his mouth on yours, his fingertips on your skin, his voice in your ear. if you were a less reckless woman, a little less shameless, you’d be embarrassed of how easily you think of him in your moments apart.

but late at night when the candles burn low and you are alone in your bed, there is no shame to be found, only the wildness of your wolfs blood and liquid heat as your hand drifts between your legs and you find completion with your betrothed’s name on your lips.

beyond the desire, though, is a slow blooming affection. it feels like every time you learn something new about him or share a new experience together, another petal of tenderness unfurls in your chest. when your father had first told you about your betrothal, you’d not dared to hope for more than civility with your husband-to-be, but now you find yourself harbouring deep fondness on top of steadily burning desire, and you look to your future as his wife with little else but excitement.

you’re not sure if jace feels the same. you don’t doubt he desires you; his flirtation and the weight of his gaze on your form is too frequent a thing for you to think otherwise. but desire is not the same as affection, and though you hope desperately that the way he always seeks your presence whenever he steps into a room means what you want it to mean, you can’t be sure.

after a week passes, you both start to chafe at the relentless presence of ser dickon. it feels like every time you so much as think about inching closer to jacaerys, ser dickon is there with his stern glare of disapproval. and so, when one morning jace suggests taking you to meet his dragon, alone, you are quick to agree.

you leave your guard long behind at jace’s instruction; he doesn’t want vermax crowded with strangers, he explains, but you personally think he seems a little too gleeful at the idea of being alone with you for that to be sole reason behind his insistence ser dickon stays far away. you don’t say anything since you’re equally pleased to finally be spending some time with your betrothed without feeling others curious eyes on you.

your excitement starts to waver, however, as you and jace get closer to his dragon. you’ve only seen vermax from a distance before this, and though it perhaps shouldn’t the size of him startles you. he’s just so large and fierce looking, the sharp spines on his back catching your eye. the beast yawns as you slow to a stop, jace sending you a quick smile before he continues on to greet his dragon with fondness, and the glimpse into vermax’s open maw – gods, there as so many teeth – has your palms starting to sweat.

jace stands beside his dragon, murmuring soothing words in high valyrian that you don’t understand as his hand smooths along his snout. your heart races in your chest, nerves making your hands shake when faced with this great beast. you curse your reckless curiosity, your northern stubbornness that makes it impossible for you to refuse a challenge. you have no idea how jace can look so at ease, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the slightest smile on his face as he talks to his winged steed, but there he stands.

“you can come closer now.” he turns to you, brown eyes shining with excitement and, yes, a hint of challenge.

he expects you to back out, you think, and that realisation has you straightening your spine and pressing your lips together. you twist your fingers in your skirts to hide the way they tremble as you step cautiously forward, eyes darting from jace to vermax and back. when you’re within touching distance of the velaryon prince, he reaches for your hand. the shock of his bare skin against yours arrests you for a moment, the slide of calloused fingers around your wrist startling in how easily it sparks desire in you.

you’re so distracted by the feel of him that you don’t realise until it’s too late that jace has tugged you closer, guiding your hand until it’s pressed to vermax’s scales, and then you’re too busy being surprised by how soft they feel to be annoyed that he’s so easily coaxed you into this position.

you still as the dragon rumbles, swallowing thickly as your fingers twitch against green scales. he blinks lazily at you, an alien intellect gleaming there as he seems to consider you for a long moment, and as you blink back at him some of the fear in your chest shakes loose.

because this is not just some beast, you realise. this is fire and blood and magic made flesh. there is life and intelligence in vermax’s eyes, not one you recognise but one you immediately respect. being this close to the dragon is a heady rush of awe and adrenaline; the knowledge that vermax could so easily harm you at any moment but is choosing not to because he trusts his rider. it’s staggering and wonderful and beside you jace is beaming, eyes shining with happiness at seeing you greet his draconic companion, and you are helplessly, hopelessly, wholly overwhelmed by your affection, your desire, by jace.

you kiss him.

it’s barely a kiss, more a breathless press of your mouth against his, and he startles at the sensation even as his arm loops around your waist. you break apart for the barest moment, nose sliding against his as you tilt your head, and jacaerys sighs out your name with heavy relief before he captures your mouth once more.

you’ve been kissed before, so you know the mechanics of it, but it’s never been like this. his lips move smoothly against yours as his hand flexes on your waist, drawing you closer until your chest is pressed against his. your hand tangles in his hair, fingers twisting in the soft curls and he moans with it, hand dragging up your back to cradle the back of your head tenderly as his tongue sweeps over your lips.

the gentle pressure of it has you gasping and he takes the opportunity immediately, tongue sliding against yours as heat pools in your core. your thoughts tumble wildly, incoherent as you can think of nothing but of how desperately you want more. the taste – the smell – the feel of him is drowning everything out that isn’t jace and you cannot resist it, do not even want to.

you want to kiss him forever, want his hand in your hair and his tongue in your mouth for always. you think he might even let you with how relentless he is, barely giving you a moments pause to catch your breath before consuming you in another desperate kiss.

you finally part only when vermax grumbles, cheeks blazing with heat as you step out of jace’s arms. jace murmurs lowly to his dragon in valyrian, and he nudges his great snout against jace’s shoulder in response before stepping away and curling down into the long grass to sleep. you take the moment to properly catch your breath again, hand pressing to your heaving chest in an effort to soothe your racing heart.

when you peek up at jace from beneath your lashes, you flush deeply at the sight of him. his curls are a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks pink beneath his tan. he looks almost debauched, and it sends a rush of desire through you. you suddenly can think of nothing other than him looking like this only flusher and skin glistening with sweat and in your bed.

the thought startles you into dropping your gaze to your feet, and you shuffle uncertainly. you feel – unsettled. you don’t think there’s anything wrong with sharing a kiss with your betrothed, and yet something like guilt curdles in your stomach as you worry at your bottom lip. you had kissed him. for all that he’d kissed you back, you worry that now he will think differently of you. think worse of you.

a knuckle tucks under your chin, then, lifting your face so that you meet jace’s eyes. you feel small and strangely vulnerable in the aftermath of your kiss, like you have somehow shown him something you never intended to, and the urge to shy away remains. but you are not a winter rose for nothing and so you tuck the doubt away as jace runs his thumb soothingly along the line of your jaw.

“i have been thinking of doing that since the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, a hint of shyness in the quirk of his lips even as he stares steadily into your eyes.

“oh.” you blink at him once in surprise, the uneasiness in you finally settling at the fondness in his gaze. “oh. that’s— good.” you curse yourself for your lack of wit in this moment as jace snickers.  “i-i mean, i’m glad that it was not… unwelcome.”

your betrothed looks at you with deep affection, then, cupping your cheek and ducking down to press a fleeting, butterfly-soft kiss to your mouth before reluctantly parting from you. “it was most welcome, my lady. most welcome, indeed.” his eyes sparkle with mirth. “i find myself looking forward to the next time you greet vermax, if this is the kind of response such a thing garners.”

“jace!” you narrow your eyes at him in pretend annoyance, even as you smother a giggle with your fingers. “you should not expect me to indulge in such desires again, then, if you persist in being so smug about it.”

his laugh warms you as the two of you fall into easy banter, leaving vermax to his rest and returning to the ever-watchful ser dickon, and all the while all you can think of is how much you cannot wait to kiss him again.

as the air cools with the dying light of day, you lead jace to the gardens.

in the week since your first kiss, jace has oft tugged you into shadowy corners for more kisses any chance he’s had. his desire for you is matched only by your own for him, and as your confidence in your mutual attraction has grown, you have been equally as likely to pull him into a dark alcove to trade sweet words and sweet kisses in secret.

it’s thrilling and exciting and wonderful, but as the week passes you find a growing doubt whispering in the back of your mind.

while you cannot doubt jace desires you, not when he is so relentless in chasing after your smiling mouth, neither of you breathe a word of any feeling between you beyond attraction. perhaps it is reckless of you, foolhardy to fall for him so quickly – but then you are your parent’s daughter, all wolfs blood and deep roots, and you know no other way of being than this.

so you take him to the gardens as the moon rises in the sky, sneak past the night guards and out into the fresh air. you guide him through the blooming flowers and swaying trees, stopping along the while when the fancy takes one of you to stop and examine an interesting bloom or inhale a sweet scent. at least three times he stops you to slot his mouth against yours, to swallow your breathless giggling with feverish kisses, and each time he does it takes longer and longer for you to disentangle yourselves from each other.

eventually, with swollen lips and mussed hair, the two of you reach the winter roses. your effervescent mood becomes sombre as the moon shines on the blue flowers, turning the petals almost silver, and jace seems to recognise the change in atmosphere, a seriousness overtaking him as he watches you approach the flowers.

“my mother planted the first of these roses,” you tell jace as you kneel at the edge of the flowerbed, uncaring of the risk of dirt on your dress as you brush fingers over the pale blue petals tenderly. “winter roses, they are, from the north. from winterfell. she was born a stark, you see, and when she was betrothed to my father the only thing she asked was to be able to bring a few blooms from the glass gardens. she used to call me her little winter rose when i was a child, and she would bring me here and show me how to tend to them.”

jace kneels beside you, glancing at the side of your face before turning to look curiously at the blue flowers. “they’re beautiful,” he tells you sincerely.

“i’ve always thought so, too,” you agree almost absently, stroking the petals in an effort to calm your racing heart. “everyone told my mother she’d never be able to get them to grow so far south. they’re very rare, you see, and need very particular conditions.” your lips quirk up into a fond smile. “but my mother, for all that she became a tyrell, was always a stark at heart. stubborn, you know. and now look at them, thriving.”

you gesture out at the carefully tended rows of roses. “nobody else comes here, now, other than the gardeners and me. i think… i think my father finds it too hard, being here. it makes him miss her too much. so i come here when i need to be alone. or when i wish to be reminded of her. it's the one place in the world where i feel i can be wholly myself, without any pretence or worry.”

jace’s gaze is fixed on you, now, eyes almost black in the faint moonlight as understanding dawns on him. “thank you for bringing me here.”

you nod once, climbing back to your feet, and jace follows you. he watches you so intently, like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he dares to look away. you feel a little like you might, feel tenuous and vulnerable and a breath away from cracking your chest open.

“i’ve never brought anyone else here,” you confess quietly, flexing your fingers with nerves as jace’s lips part in surprise. “i wished… i wished to share this with you. to share who i am, myself, with you, i suppose.” you laugh a little self-deprecatingly. “however pretentious that sounds.”

“it doesn’t,” jace denies immediately. you sense he wants to say more, but he seems to understand that you’re building to saying something yourself, and so he stays quiet, expression earnest and open and fond as he gazes down at you.

“i know it’s perhaps too soon – we have only known each other a few weeks. but i… when i first found out we were betrothed, i was so scared. i worried you would be some arrogant princeling, and i dared not hope for anything more than civility between us. i’ve always known i would not marry for love, but i did not ever consider i would marry a man i had never met.”

you pause for long enough to suck in a breath, feeling a little like the floodgates have opened and you simply can’t stop speaking, can’t stop the feeling pouring freely from you. “and then i met you, and you were so unlike anything i’d expected. i know we still have so much more to learn about each other, and i know that things are— complicated, with the war, and that our marriage may be a ways off yet, but still— i find myself feeling for you, and i cannot hide it anymore. i don’t wish to hide it from you anymore.”

you let the open affection in his face buoy you as you steel yourself, pressing your shoulders back in a mimicry of confidence. “i wanted to show you this part of me, this place, because i….” you hesitate for a breathless moment, biting your lip, before gathering every scrap of courage you possess and diving in headfirst. “i am falling in love with you, jacaerys.”

you inhale the sweet scent of the pale blue petals deeply, let the familiar scent soothe you as jace stares at you with wide eyes. the winter roses are something that, until now, have been so uniquely yours. as you’d told jace, none other than you and the gardeners comes to this corner of the gardens now. the staff that tend so carefully to the flowers know to leave you well enough alone if they stumble across you, skirts splayed on the ground and fingers diligently caring for the roses. you’ve never even brought your sweet little brother, though you can admit that’s for practicality as much as anything else – his childish energy is a bit too boisterous for these delicate blooms.

bringing jace here, bringing him here to confess the deepening affection you harbour for him, feels raw. feels like you’re tearing your heart out of your chest and offering it up to him for perusal, hands bloody and soul bare. feels like saying ‘this is all that i am and all that i have been and all i will ever be and i hope, i hope, i hope it’s enough.’

jace finally, finally speaks, sighs your name, soft and sweet and tender, and hope blooms in your chest.

“oh, my sweet lady,” he murmurs, crowding into your space as he cups your cheek, and the smell of woodsmoke and dragon and jace floods your senses. “i am falling so unbelievably in love with you. only, it does not feel so much like falling as it is like choosing it, like walking into love with you with my eyes wide open and seeing nothing but you.”

it's almost unbearable, the blazing heat of his gaze as he presses his forehead against yours, and it makes you tremble as your hands clutch as his elbows in an effort to ground yourself to this moment, to him. “our betrothal was decided for us without care or consideration for our own desires,” he says, lips brushing against your own with every whispered word. “i know that as well as you, but i need you to know that if i had the choice i would choose this. i would choose you, your stubborn heart, your fierce spirit, your gracious soul.”

his hand slides from your cheek to your hair, holds you so tenderly like you are something precious, and it steals your breath from your lungs as you revel in his unbridled affection. “i care not when we marry, if we marry, in truth, because in my heart you are already mine just as i am already yours.”

he kisses you, then, a desperate and greedy thing, as if he can no longer restrain himself from devouring you whole. and you are just as needy, hands fisting in his doublet as you press yourself against him and somehow finding yourself wishing to be closer still. the world narrows down to him and him only; his mouth, his hands, his hair. you can think of nothing else, and do not wish to, because in this moment you are wholly yourself and he is wholly himself and it’s enough, it’s wonderful and delicate and it’s enough.

and, there beneath the moonlight and amongst the winter roses, deep and enduring affection, the kind of love the bards sing songs about, takes root.

taglist; @eldrith

[reallyromealone]

Hi! Just sending in this ask before I forget my idea, dont answer this until your asks are open again I just want to write this down before I forget!! Boten x single father! male reader, reader works at a restaurant and Boten comes in one night and Mikey takes a liking to him, his daughter sits in the staff room and draws/plays because she’s too young to be home alone- 🦇 anon

Title: cute waiter

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: bonten

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, single dad reader, fluff, nameless daughter, Mikey has that weird ass rizz as the kids say

Notes:

Summary: bonten goes to a small restaurant while in town for business and Mikey falls for the cute waiter.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

(Name) Could never thank his boss enough for letting (daughters name) stay in the office, the elderly woman finding the toddlers company pleasant while she worked on scheduling and order's.

"(Name), could you cover booth three? I have to talk to (boss name) about the schedule" (name) looked to his co-worker who managed the hardest puppy eyes he could "fine, but you owe me"

"Thank you!"

(Name) Never knew what to expect at the small restaurant, typically it was the locals in the small town but sometimes some rich people came in and even foreigners which was a gamble on how the experience would go.

Usually they were nice though.

"Hello! Could I get you gentlemen started with water or perhaps the chef's choice of wine?" (Name) Said happily to the group who sized him up, the man in the middle just staring him down with cold blackened eyes but (name) just continued smiling and even making eye contact with them.

Blissfully unaware of who they were or what their tattoos meant.

"We will start with the finest wine you have" the white haired man with snake like eyes said simply, his rings shining under the warm lights "of course! I will be back momentarily with your wine, gentlemen" and with that (name) turned and left, bonten not missing Mikey's curious look and the lock on to the waiters ass. They all exchanged glances while their boss just ate his snacks, flipping to the dessert menu to see they had the good stuff.

(Name) Returned moments later and filled their glasses, Mikey freezing when the waiter got close to him and the white haired man could smell the others cologne faintly and nearly shoved his face into the poor man's neck if it wasn't for his self control "so tell us about yourself, Mr waiter ~" ran was going to do his boss a favor, knowing Mikey had the romantic abilities of a snail. "Ah, what would you like to know?" (Name) Was so easy going, care free "you in school?" "You single?" "You know how to bake?"

(Name) Was a bit startled by the questions but didn't see the harm "I'm not, I graduated last year, I am single and I do know how to bake, yes" (name) laughed a bit at the questions "now, what can I get you gentlemen?" Changing the topic to get to business and not have these attractive men ask every detail of his life.

Of course they ordered the nicest things on the menu, it was going to be a pricy bill no doubt but (name) wasted no time getting their order before his coworker took over his table for his break and hang out with his tot. (Name) Brought in dinner for the two, free food from the restaurant and (daughters name) got cute rice balls shaped like hearts and for dessert she got taiyaki shaped like stars and filled with custard.

"Wow you drew this?" (Name) Cheered on his kid who beamed, the owner who became their grandmother of sorts always splurged on the good coloring supplies for the little girl and finding some cute toys for the office so she's never bored.

"Why don't we show the team, yeah?" (Name) Asked the little one who bounced a little, clearly happy at the idea "let's go!" Holding his little girls hand, the restaurant was nearly dead save for the group of eight who were furious that (name) was changed out for another person but Mikeys anger quickly melted when he saw the tiny version of (name) waddle towards the elderly owner who was rolling cutlery.

"My!" She cooed and lifted the little girl up "you're so talented!"

Mikey and (name) locked eyes, the waiter offering a sweet smile and Mikey's face dusted red, (name) didn't miss the stares and the blushes on the pale man, knowing damn well the awkward blond thought he was attractive "you enjoy your meal?" (Name) Asked him casually, the blond composing himself "yeah..." His words simply and short, never the one for small talk "that your kid?"

"Ah, yeah... She's too young to be alone and my boss practically helped raise me as a teen so she just hangs here"

Mikey nodded and looked over (name) who caught his stare "would you like to go out sometime?" (Name) Thought the blond was cute, even if he barely spoke and just stared ominously.

Mikey froze, usually it was him doing that "you don't know who we are, do you?"

"...models...?" (Name) Said confused, unsure of his answer and Mikey just stared back at the man "what? Used to people not recognizing you?"

"Something like that"

"Well I hope to get to know you better, I have to get my rugrat in for her nap but I'll be back soon yeah"

Mikey never felt so complacent, nodding and even letting (name) kiss his cheek gently before going to get his daughter.

[ozzgin]

Heyyy just checked your masterlist and saw that despite you being into obey me! fandom, you don't have a fic. I'm married to Solomon in my mind so how about a situation where the reader (fem or gn your pick) is equally in love with this old man and begs him to recreate that time potion which made him immortal. Oh? Did i mention i want him to be a yandere? Please do that as well ^^

I love me my morally grey wizard ;)

I have 3 unfinished drafts for Diavolo, Barbatos and Satan on my Wattpad, but it was around the time I started getting Baki related requests here so I haven’t had the time to continue them. This goes for everyone reading, if you see a fandom title with no works you can always request something! :) This blog is only a few months old and I wasn’t writing much before (twice or thrice a year if I was generously inspired), so the variety is rather limited still. (I also finish requests at the pace of a snail, sorry about that)

Yandere! Solomon x Reader Headcanons

Featuring your fellow human classmate and now soon-to-be husband who couldn’t be happier about your wish to spend an eternity with him.

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior

It started rather subtle. Just idle curiosity at first, a mere feigned surprise that was quickly swept aside for more important matters. Sure, Diavolo bringing another fellow human to the Devildom, especially one without any powers, was at least mildly intriguing. Your situation was as tempting as a puzzle to fiddle with in between tasks. Beyond polite offers to help you handle the new challenging environment, Solomon was not planning on prying further. Then the surprises begun to queue one after another. To think that you had barely learned your way around and somehow still forged a contract with one of the devilish siblings. Then another. And another. Fascination crept its way in and the greatest sorcerer found himself begging to learn more about the mysterious (Y/N).

Naturally such fascination should’ve had an intellectual grounding and nothing more. What is it about you that has caused such a ruckus across RAD? All he needed was an answer. Yet he discovered much too late how embarrassingly involved he’d become. Childishly clutching his D.D.D. in the middle of the night, wondering if you’ve already fallen asleep, and grinning when the screen lit up with a response from you. Cancelling all plans the instant you’d ask - casually - if he wanted to join you after class to check out a new café. No, of course he had nothing else to do. Yes, it’s definitely a lucky coincidence that he’s always available when you want to hang out with him.

Once he accepted he was madly in love with you, he began fretting over all possible obstacles. The demon brothers, life after RAD. He’d never engaged much with other humans and his charisma only covered superficial pleasantries. How was he to properly convey that he’s - mildly put - obsessed with you to the point where rejection won’t be taken lightly? Uh oh. Closer to a threat than a confession. Thankfully the Heavens were gracious and you immediately returned his affections. No need for potions or hexes (not that he would’ve…he had them prepared just in case). He remembers it to this day, years after, the wide, innocent smile that you so generously bestowed upon him. Almost like a premonition, he knew you’d be the person to marry. Something he never considered in his long, lonely life.

You lazily lift your hand and admire the ring again. Solomon is quite clumsy and forgetful, but he goes all out for the things that matter. The proposal had been planned to a dizzying amount of detail and you couldn’t believe how much thought he put into it, with many aspects you otherwise assumed he’d forget or omit. Yet staring at the intricately carved band adorning your finger now, you can’t help the pang of melancholy blooming in your chest. Solomon lifts his gaze from the book he’s reading, sensing your discomfort. “Something bothering you?” He inquires with a hint of worry in his voice. “What happens after the wedding?” You demand, turning to face him. “Oh my. I personally prefer to focus on the present.” He answers with a chuckle. “Sure, because you don’t have to worry about your future. It’s mine that will end at some point.” His eyes widen and his hands are suddenly cold. He’s been so entranced by your company that he didn’t even entertain the idea of a potential end to it. He almost strokes his cheek to soothe the hard slap of your words, leaving him in a frightened stupor.

Oh no. No, no, no. Within the blink of an eye he finds himself standing before the alchemy shelves, rattling the bottles for the right ingredients. You didn’t even need to mutter a word. He knew exactly what you’re thinking of. How shameful of him to have caused you this distress in the first place. You’re young, and time for him has lost its human meaning, so your mortality hadn’t crossed his mind this entire time. He would’ve found a solution for it later, most certainly, but he didn’t expect this postponement to make you so anxious. His lips are quivering and his slender fingers are visibly trembling. Partly from the fear of almost failing you as your future husband, partly from the excitement of what’s about to come. He always imagined there’d be nothing more beautiful and precious to witness than you in your wedding attire as you tie the knot. But now? Oh, how ravishingly tempting and seducing, the fact that he can listen to the mundanely repeated words of “Til death do us part” and stare down its meaning until there’s nothing left of it. Not quite. Not for you two. The veil will be lifted and your face will radiate eternity.

After all, nothing will stand between him and his fated soulmate. What’s death to a wizard of his caliber?

[thenameswinterfics]

VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying. 

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way. 

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago. 

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky. 

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars. 

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories. 

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.  

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go. 

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach. 

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her." 

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature. 

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened. 

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again. 

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..." 

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past. 

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?” 

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them. 

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd. 

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question. 

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long. 

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over. 

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight. 

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for. 

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust. 

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him. 

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern. 

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you. 

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do. 

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters. 

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead. 

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him. 

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.  

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.  

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.” 

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes. 

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it. 

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile. 

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words. 

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in. 

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks. 

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence. 

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning. 

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands. 

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him. 

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding. 

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness. 

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her." 

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours. 

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..." 

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.” 

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact. 

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before. 

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was. 

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave. 

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers. 

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim. 

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you." 

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors. 

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts. 

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt. 

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch. 

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[littlefingies]

I'm gonna share another

Fandom Pet Peeve

that I'm sure has been written about before (and better) but it's been lodged in my brain for a week so I need to exorcize it here.

You can't watch the show and come away with it thinking "Izzy is the real brains/skill behind Blackbeard" without fully ignoring race. White/straight/cis/able-bodied/masc/Christian/men are allowed to be mediocre (slash downright middling) and successful, and the further removed you are from that standard, the better you have to be to be successful*.

If anything Ed would need to keep Izzy around purely because he's a white man who is (allegedly) loyal to him, and therefore has access to spaces and people that Ed doesn't. I'm thinking about getting the best prices for different goods, and which buyers Izzy would have access to. (My read on canon is that he probably was loyal for a long time, and as Ed grew more depressed, Izzy started to take more liberties with the truth.)

The casting in OFMD is not race blind. They make that abundantly clear in the second episode, where Stede, Pete, and the hostages are caged and Olu is not. It's even in the first episode, in how Stede sets up the little fuckery for Nigel. The characters' race matters to the story.

The idea that somehow Ed, as an indigenous man, would have a reputation that big and not have earned it 10x over is just mind-boggling to me.

Especially when you consider how imminent and commonplace the show treats the threat of mutiny. If Ed wasn't very very good then he wouldn't be captain.

And it's why I tend not to enjoy any fic or meta where Izzy is treated as being correct in his belief that he needs to manage Ed, that he knows better than Ed, that he's a super competent sailor. (Write/enjoy that fanon if you want but I don't like that flavor.) He's good at swords, he's mean, he's white, and he's (or rather was once) loyal. That's what I see in canon.

*As an example I like to think about the qualifications of Bret Kavanaugh vs. Ketanji Brown Jackson. (It's not that she's out of his league, they're not even playing the same game.) Or - sorry Stede (I love him and I know he's nothing like Kavanaugh in actual character) - but Stede vs. Zheng Yi Sao.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITAH for hiding my fanfiction hobby from my husband?

I do not think I'm the asshole here, but a few friends online have told me I am so seeking an outside opinion. I (32F) have been married to my husband (35M) for almost 9 years. We have a good relashinship with the average amount of disagreements over the basic stuff (financies occasinally, planning conflicts, in-laws, you get the idea) never anything big. Overall we have a very happy together.

Along with having common interests, we both have our own hobbies. For me, this is writing fanfiction. I'm what I would consider a semi-serious writer. I have well over 100 fics posted, several of which are pretty long (50k+), and pretty much all of them are very spicy (M or E rating, and all M/M). I write in my down time on my laptop and on my phone, and it's my main form of solo relaxation.

Now, here is where, according to a few online friends, I'm the asshole. My husband knows nothing about this hobby. I never talk to him about writing or fandom stuff. It's just not a hobby/interest we share. We watch some of the same shows and get invested, but he is not part of as I would put it "fandom culture". Shows and movies are something to enjoy, but he doesn't immerse himself in them like I do (he is well aware I get more invested in them than him sometimes). My online friends say that since I hide it from him, and especially since I write spicy things, I am basically cheating emotionally. Which I disagree with. My writing never interferes with us spending time together, I don't put it before him, and it doesn't effect our activities in the bedroom (I don't really think that's relevant but thought I would mention it). I am devoted to him. I just like having this hobby. They say it shows I do not trust him.

The main reason I don't tell him is not that I don't trust him, its that I simply don't trust anyone. I was bullied horribly in middle and high school (verbally and physically) for being interested in fandom things and fanfics. Since then, the idea of talking face to face about it gives me great fear and anxiety. So I just prefer to keep it to myself. He has seen me writing on my phone and asked what I'm doing, my response simply being "I write short stories sometimes," and we move on. For all I know, he has figured it out and just respects my privacy.

This is another reason they say I'm an asshole. I value my privacy and his. I'm not the type that thinks we are married and are basically one person required to share everything. We are allowed to be our own people with part of ourselves that are just for us. My friends say that's selfish and not how marriage works. (To preface, they are in relashinships where their partners' share their interest in fandom culture).

So, AITAH for keeping this hobby to myself?

What are these acronyms?

[captainsophiestark]

Come Here Often?

Cassian x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Everyone in the Inner Circle knows Cassian and Y/N have feelings for each other, except the two idiots in question. Thankfully, the IC's not known for minding their own business, especially in matters like this.

Word Count: 1,772

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Are you sure you don't want to go see a show at the Ampitheater tonight?" I asked, trying to give Mor a guilt trip with no more than a look as we carried bags towards the river house. She just scoffed at my attempt.

"I already told you, I can't. I wish I could, but our lovely High Lord has me doing work all night tonight."

I huffed. "Fine. Let me know if I can do anything to help with the work, since I'm losing my theater buddy."

Mor shot me a grin. "I'm sure you could find somebody to replace me if you really wanted to."

I narrowed my eyes at her. I knew what she wasn't saying: that I should invite Cassian. To do something, if not to go to the amphitheater. I regretted ever telling her I'd caught feelings for the Illyrian general.

"Whatever, Mor," I scoffed, failing to come up with a better comeback. She grinned, clearly sensing her victory, but luckily for me I'd reached my room. "Enjoy all that work you have to do tonight!"

I didn't wait for her response before ducking through the door and shutting it behind me. I could hear her laughing as she continued down the hallway to her own room, but I did my best to block it out as I dropped my bags.

I hovered a little longer in my room, taking my time putting away the things we'd brought back from the market, until I heard Mor leave to go do whatever work Rhys had her doing. I checked both ways in the hallway when I finally emerged before heading down to the kitchen.

All of my friends had been hounding me about Cassian lately, and as much as I loved them, if I heard another word from anyone trying to nudge me into asking him out or whatever, I was going to lose it.

I made my way towards the kitchen, intending to make myself a snack before figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my evening, but I stopped short at the sound of harsh whispers coming from within. It sounded like somebody was having a heated conversation, and I didn't want to interrupt anything. But then my stomach rumbled, and I decided to go in anyway.

I cleared my throat and made as much noise as possible so I wouldn't interrupt any Inner Circle members in the middle of something serious. When I rounded the corner, I found Cassian and Azriel sitting at the table in the middle of the space, leaned back in their chairs and trying way too hard to look casual.

"Hey guys..." I said, eyeing them both suspiciously as I slowly moved further into the room. Az gave me a little nod, and Cassian gave me a smile that looked more than a little forced. "What, uh... what are you both up to?"

"Rhys needs my help with something," Azriel said, standing abruptly. I narrowed my eyes at him, but of course his expression gave away nothing as he headed for the door. "I'll see you both later."

I watched him go, then turned my gaze to Cassian once Az was gone. His back was to me, so I couldn't read his expression, but his shoulders were tensed and he hadn't turned from the doorway Az had disappeared through.

"Okay..." I said, deciding to just move past it as I turned to the counter to start making myself a snack. "What about you, Cass, you got anything going on tonight?"

Cassian cleared his throat. "Me? Nope."

I heard him shifting in his chair behind me, and a moment later he was standing at my side. I prayed he couldn't hear my heart racing faster at his proximity as I tried to keep my focus on the fresh fruit in front of me.

"So, uh, you..." Cassian's wings rustled behind him, usually a sign of nerves. I frowned. "You come here often?"

I paused, setting the knife down and opting to slowly turn to face Cassian, one eyebrow raised. He fidgeted as he stared back at me, and I caught him forcing a grimace off his face in favor of a small smile. I'd never seen him look so nervous before.

"I... Cass, we both live here."

The grimace returned in full force, and I couldn't help smiling as Cassian brought a hand to his forehead.

"That's not what I meant to ask you," he said, shaking his head and meeting my eyes again. "What I meant was, uh... do you have a bandage?"

"A bandage? Did something happen? Did you get hit-"

"Dammit! No, I'm fine. Never mind, I need to go find Az-"

He started to push off the counter, but on a reflex, I stopped him with a hand on his forearm. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me, and my heart almost stopped in my chest at the intensity of his gaze.

I quickly pushed down the butterflies in my stomach to give Cassian a once-over. No matter what he said, he clearly was not fine. I didn't see any obvious physical injury, but a hard hit to the head would definitely explain some things, and when I met his eyes again he had a weird look in them.

"Cassian, are you sure you're okay? What's going on?"

He took a deep breath and then hesitated, his eyes darting over my face and his brow furrowed. Then, he sighed, his face and shoulders relaxing with him.

"I'm sorry, I just... I was trying to ask you out." My eyebrows shot up, but Cassian continued before I could muster a coherent response. "I've been wanting to do it for a while now, but I lost a bet to Az last week and my 'punishment' that I finally had to go through with it. I've been trying to figure out the best way to do it, but... I guess that wasn't it."

Cassian huffed a little laugh at himself, his expression drooping as he stared at the ground. I just blinked at him for a few seconds, trying to process everything he'd just told me.

"Hold on... you're asking me out because you lost a bet to Az?"

"Not just for that," Cassian assured me quickly, looking worried. "Or, I guess, if you're not into it, then maybe yes?"

I just laughed, which didn't seem to make him feel better. I felt guilty, but I also just couldn't help it. My heart leapt as I put a hand on Cassian's shoulder and his eyes snapped to mine again.

"Cass... I barely escaped that exact same bet with Mor last week."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah," I said, laughing a little. I couldn't quite help it. Cassian apparently felt the same way about me as I did about him, as evidenced by our friends' ridiculous tactics. My heart soared, and I stepped a little closer to him. "I cheated a little to get out of losing, but she's been pressuring me to ask you out somewhere anyway for the last week and a half."

"Because... you like me?"

"Yeah. A lot."

The frown finally lifted from his face, replaced with a beaming grin that made my heart race. Slowly, he moved one arm to wrap around my waist, pulling me a little closer to him. I let one hand rest against his chest, and Cassian's lopsided smirk almost made me faint.

"Our friends are going to be rubbing this in for a long time, but I can't make myself care," he said, voice low. I bit my lip and smiled up at him.

"Same. Especially since I think they're all out of the house right now on a fake assignment for Rhys."

"That's definitely a perk of all their bullshit."

"So... what now?"

Cassian's eyes flashed as he leaned forward, pulling me flush against his chest. He dropped his mouth towards mine until they were barely inches apart, then met my eyes. Based on his grin, I knew he could hear my heart beating out of my chest.

"I have a few ideas," he breathed.

A heartbeat later, his lips were on mine, and fireworks exploded in my chest. Being with Cassian like this just felt right, and now that we were finally together, I never wanted to let him go.

I wasn't sure who initiated it, but we deepened the kiss as Cassian's grip tightened on my waist. I let my hands wander over his chest, to his shoulders and arms, but stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a disgusted scoff from behind me.

Cassian and I broke apart, arms still around each other, and turned towards the door to find our friends standing there, staring at us with their hands on their hips.

"Well, I guess this is what we wanted," said Mor with a shrug.

"Pretty sure I told him to ask her out, not make out with her in the kitchen," Az chimed in from beside her. Rhys and Feyre just grinned at us, while Amren stared, clearly unimpressed.

"Do you all mind?" Cassian ground out, his hands tightening a little more around my waist. Mor just grinned and skipped into the kitchen completely undisturbed, heading for my unfinished fruit platter.

"Not at all," she said. Cassian sighed, but I couldn't keep myself from laughing. Our friends were absolutely ridiculous, but I loved them dearly. And Cassian and I had just made out in the kitchen, so I really don't think much in this world could've ruined my mood.

"Why don't the two of you go see a show or something?" Feyre suggested, following Mor into the kitchen, the other batboys following behind her. Cassian narrowed his eyes at his brothers, but I just smiled, at last stepping out of his grasp and taking his hand.

"That's a great idea, Feyre. Cass? What do you think?"

His expression softened the minute his gaze shifted to me. My heart melted.

"Sure. How about we go to Rita's after, too? Do some dancing?"

"Sounds like a plan. Just let me go get changed."

"I'll meet you back down here."

We shared a smile, and I leaned up to give Cassian one last quick kiss before turning on my heel to go get ready. Rhys and Az both smiled at me as I left the room, and I shot them a wink as I left. I would've preferred it if they'd all given Cassian and I our space tonight, but at the end of the day, we wouldn't have admitted our feelings for each other without our nosy, pushy friends. So I couldn't exactly stay mad at them, at least not this time.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[merinsedai]

Thank you, @ficreadingchallenge for this fun little bingo challenge this summer! Some of these, I could have filled multiple times and some I had to have a search for, but all part of the fun!

1. Under the influence: Spoils of War by @seiya-starsniper [E] Aphrodisiacs! Starting strongly with the smut. Kinda feral for this piece, multiple rereads. Hob is not a good man but he is good in bed. Dream has not spoken since he arrived. How long ago that was I don't know, but I'm in awe of the pettiness. Excellent, love it. Very much E (and probably not the only one on this list...)

2. Newest fic in the tag of your choice: listen, I'm very one-track minded. Dreamling has basically been the only tag of my choice for the past two years. So, the newest fic when I decided to do this square was: Dream Ship by @often-adamanta [E] A spicy little tale set on a space ship which Dream controls and Hob's his muscle. They're a new partnership and Dream's not happy about it so he's giving Hob the silent treatment. Queue Hob taking some alone time, Dream accidentally interrupting and Hob having no privacy issues at all. The start of something beautiful, no doubt.

3. Inspired by another fanwork: I'll Go To Sleep and Dream Again by @chaosheadspace [E] which is inspired by Shelter by softestpunk. An accidentally human Dream has need of the help of Hob Gadling to help him navigate life as a human (eg facial hair, food, and morning wood), regain his Endlessness and recover his tools. Whilst falling in love and having some hot sex ofc. Also, a lot of lovely petnames.

4. Mistaken Identity: As a Stranger I Know Myself by @phinofthestorm and @sleepsonfutons [E] Could be no other choice for this square. Gripping drama, mysteries, feeeeelings, smut (obvs), plentiful existential angst, and shit goin' down. Featuring Jessamy the raven knocking her head against the wall; Burgess's cane; name repetitions; everyone having A Time of it; side characters Shipping Them Too; oh, and a main character you don't expect to like as much as you do...

5.Slow Burn: What Dreams May Come, When Living is at an End by Sebena [T] This fandom is slow burn central, but this is the fic I'm currently in the middle of, and I'm quite enamoured with the relationship between Knight Hob and Morpheus, and it's beautifully descriptive. Plus some lovely pieces of art by @teejaystumbles A real treat.

6. Dressing Up: Make it Count by @arialerendeair [E] Dream gets to dress Hob up very nicely for posh dinners aboard the world's most famous ocean liner in this wonderful Titanic AU. Dream gets to dress down, too! A longer fic but absolutely gripping! Could also use Aria and Konstadt's Colour Forecasting [E] for this square. There's lots of fancy tailoring and clothing choices going on here. And lots of smut, relationship navigation and lots and lots of kissing.

7.Author's oldest fic: Metamorphosis by @windsweptinred [M] Delightful fic about-yes- the metamorphosis of Dream and Hob into Something Else. Starts with high drama as Dream is about to take Death's hand as the Kindly Ones are ravaging the Dreaming and takes things in a very different direction. There's stunning artwork on each chapter that really adds to the reading experience!

8. Small Fandom (<1000 fics): In Which Cat/Cow Is Not A Yoga Pose by @temve [E] ok, technically a crossover with The Sandman (although for pure Aldrich Kemp there's A Fishbowl, a Forklift, and a Friend: or, Who Hired Aldrich Kemp? which I read back in April, so doesn't count for the summer challenge) Temve has Aldrich's voice down to a T and her humour is so on point. I laughed out loud many times in both these fics.

9. Gift Giving: For Your Affection by @cuubism [T] short and sweet little fic by cuubism dealing with high larceny as a love language. cuubism's writing is so joyful, the playfulness she often gives to her Dream brings me great happiness and there's no exception here.

10.Enemies to friends/lovers: Tower and Rose by @moorishflower [E] Beauty and the Beast style 'au' with a magic tower, a mysterious lord, a plucky peasant Hob, an 'imprisonment', a terror stalking the grounds and many, many questions. Why are all the servants ravens? Twists and turns a plenty, and some fun eldritch sex sprinkled in.

11.Lyric Title-listen to the song, too!: please wake me/for my love lies patiently by @beatnikfreakiswriting [E] sequel to the also-having-a-song-lyric title, would you let me know...? aka fics that live rent-free in my head after having rewired my brain. Featuring the most relatable Hob ever, copious interesting facts in the author's notes, and a Dream who would have scared the shit out of me if he'd been my lecturer but is hot af and needs lots of love really. Lots of scorching smut too. Is this a theme? Obviously. Bonus that each chapter, and the series title, have song lyric titles too.

12.de-aging/kidfic England and Nowhere (Never and Always) by @dsudis [M] The last fill on my card, and one I had to search for. And I'm glad I did. I'm about 1/2 way through so don't know the resolution but a lot of it is very soft, especially Dream's relationship with the changeling toddler, Finn. Finn feels very much like a real little boy in his actions and his dialogue. I'm very much enjoying this fic.

FREE SPACE: literally anything by @tj-dragonblade fluff and smut and pure delight.

13.character study: Unsent Letters, Nameless Stranger by @rainbowvamp [M] letters from Hob to Dream throughout the centuries detailing the evolution in Hob's thoughts, attitudes and feelings towards his life, his history and mostly, his feelings for Dream (aka a lot of pining). I'm about halfway through the letters so far and am looking forward to getting back to them.

14.happy ending: My Fair Gadling by @zigzag-wanderer [E] a work in progress, so we haven't reached the happy ending yet, but I have faith in the author and this absolutely wonderful fic. Hob has such a strong narrative voice, he is a delight to read and so, so funny. I laugh out loud constantly in all of ziggy's fics, whether that's the dialogue or the hilarious analogies and metaphors. Professor Morpheus is a study in buttoned up sadness to begin with, but just wait until he's unleashed. He's unbearably sexy when he rolls his sleeves up and fixes car engines at the side of the road, and endearingly earnest in bed. I eagerly await every chapter (especially to find out what outfit Hob has shimmied into that day).

15.Secret Relationship: Risk and Reward by @signiorbenedickofpadua [E] absolutely cracking Regency au. Lord Morpheus spends a lot of time early on feeling mildly fevered. It's probably nothing to do with his new house guest, Mr Robert Gadling, right? These guys slowly, so slowly move towards Something Special. There is the ultimate thrill of finger brushing; the admiration of shapely legs and the highly charged Shakespeare reading. Also balls, duels, painting, stargazing, horse riding and misuse of biblical quotes. And I'm only half way through! The relationship is of necessity given the time period, secret. At the point I'm at, it's finally begun in earnest and I'm excited to see where the plot takes them next!

16. Angst: Exit Wounds by @valeriianz [T] There are many angst-ridden fics in this fandom, and I am a sucker for angst. I love it and seek it out. This fic by sanyumi tore my heart out, stomped all over it and then threw it in the river for good measure. Sometimes you just need to feel destroyed and this delivers.

17. Omegaverse AU So Tell Me Where To Put My Love by @seiya-starsniper [E] Another of my favourite au topics! This starts out with an unhappily arranged marriage, secrets and angst and lots of miscommunication and then explores the developing relationship between Hob and Dream; Dream getting to feel empowered; more miscommunication; knitting; Hob getting to be incredibly rude to Dream's mother, and a very happy ending. Could have tagged loads in this square. Special mentions to i have no fear of time / for who knows how my love grows? by @gabessquishytum [E] for pure horny good times most centuries; and also the incomparable Lover, Be Good to Me by @omgcinnamoncakes which I haven't actually read this summer but which hasn't left my brain. The ultimate omegaverse slowburn and healing fic. Wonderful.

18. High School/College au: Dr Hardass and Professor Sweetheart by crimandclove [G] an outsider pov look at Hob and Dream, who are both professors at the same university (and also married, of course, though the protagonist doesn't know it). And by the same author: Coincidence, [T] which is the story of how Dream and Hob met and became friends in high school. Pure nostalgia for me and Hob is such a delightful pov character to follow. Unfinished but with a full synopsis of how the story would have gone.

19. Road Trip: The Blood of Bucephalus by @llflorence [E] no actual roads, but these guys sure go on a journey. Set in ancient times, with shades of Alexander the Great. Except it's king Morpheus and his loyal soldier (and lover) Hob. Featuring Hob being mostly bewildered about what's going on and Morpheus being the most tight lipped monarch in existence. Also featuring a love for horses and Morpheus's unquenchable desire to travel incognito. Written with the same tenderness, intensity and mystery that is Lis's hallmark.

20. New author (<1 year) Coma Dreams by TheTroubleWithTribbles [M] a fic I had to actively search for but very much enjoyed reading. Some domesticity, Dream being caring, Matthew being traumatised, and Hob enjoying an extended trip to the Dreaming. Featuring some laugh out loud moments, Dream with broccoli patterned oven gloves and Hob being free with terms of endearment.

21. Crossover or fusion fic: Half Asleep, Half Waking by @softest-punk [G] again, I could have chosen fics by softestpunk to fill most of the spaces on this grid! Isn't their writing delightful? Such warmth and such range. Something for whatever you're in the mood for. Am in awe. Anyway, this is a crossover between The Sandman and Rivers of London. I didn't know the RoL books, but after reading this I listened to them on audible and came back to the fic. Very enjoyable- thanks, Cecil! Nightingale is my favourite character from RoL and I loved his relationship with Hob. And Hob gently chiding Molly and Nightingale to get their acts together, ha!

22. Superpowers/no powers Au: Here in the Darkness by @cuubism [M] Since we've got one 'super' character, and one 'normal' character in Dreamling, I chose cuubism's reverseverse fic where they've switched around. Good grief, it was good. Hope is a ray of sunshine, eh? He's just going around being lovely and offering hope, and being kind to Morpheus. And then gets captured and treated horrifically for a century. There's plenty of angst, Morpheus being snitty, then depressed, then a vengeful angel and then they get some softness. It's pure cuubism magic: it's fucking brilliant.

23. Only One Bed: The Chase by @imnotcrying-ipromise [M] I followed along with this story as it was being published early last year, and it was a wild ride of emotions and cliffhangers! Not only is there only one bed, there is a hunt across the country, a wonderful yet dangerous connection, and of course, some falling in love. It's such a fun and thrilling tale: a unique concept with a menacing villain. The sense of peril is real: for our canon characters and some lovely ocs we meet, too. And in the quieter moments there is a lot of sweetness and care between Dream and Hob. An excellent re-read this summer.

24: Soulmates: Destined by @arialerendeair [M] I love a good soulmate au, and this is a cracker by Aria. Featuring not one, but two rescues, a number of villains getting their just desserts, and visits to a Greek temple. Hob is, by turns, a bamf and a gentle, considerate man. He's spent 600 years trying to figure out what the letters of his soul mark mean, and when he does... Dream has spent countless years not even knowing he has a soul mark/mate; it takes a severance from the Dreaming to reveal it, and when he finds out...

[according2thelore]

Do you have any spn omegaverse fic recs?

oh boy, do i!

this is a pretty exhaustive list of omegaverse, with varied designations and (less varied) ratings. this is in no particular order (and not a list of every fic i've ever read and enjoyed), either, just some fics i've collected over the years.

please note that some of these are underage (as they are teenchester fics and the like), and some deal with sensitive topics so please be diligent about checking the notes/tags!

samdean:

alpha4alpha Series by HandsAcrossTheSea & trashhearts67

[RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Dean & A!Sam] The most forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, and Dean wants a taste of Sam. Two alphas shouldn't want each other. But when has Dean ever had any use for what should be?

The Bite of Knowledge by theproblematique [rec note: THEE omegaverse fic imo]

[RATING: E, Warnings: None, O!Dean & A!Sam] Omegas can tell when alphas are attracted to them. It's a survival mechanism. After years of buildup, Dean finally realizes that Sam is attracted to him. It's a shitshow.

Only Real When I'm With You by WhiskyBoys

RATING: E, Warnings: None, O!Dean & A!Sam At sixteen Dean was exceptionally pretty. Even for an omega. Fair hair, pale skin, big green eyes and wholesome freckles. And he was a virgin. The training officers, always smirking, said that was a good thing. Told him that was why his pathetic omega life was valuable enough to pay off all his father’s debts.

Gunpowder & Honeysuckle by hereforsammy [private}

RATING: E, Warnings: Underage, A!Dean & O!Sam One would think it would be enough; All of those bits and pieces that made up the large jigsaw puzzle of their lives, smashed in the back of an old black car tearing down highways in backwater towns, and nights spent in stale motel rooms with cigarette holes burned into every surface, to let Dean know the glaringly obvious thing he had been both running to, and avoiding, was staring him in the face all along. Heated neon in the pitch black sky over shabby dives of no name towns, that painted themselves on the backs of your eyelids even when you blinked. His baby boy smelled sweet.

Three Weeks Too Late (the 'Five Weeks' remix) by rei_c

RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Dean & O!Sam Dean swallows at the thought of that: Sam's home, his soon-to-be omega's scent everywhere, on everything. Sam wants to take Dean back to his den. "Okay," he says. "Your place. But not -- it has to be now, Sam. I can't wait much longer." "Yeah," Sam says. "Yeah, it's been five weeks since your birthday." (aka, the one where Dean finally claims his omega.)

The Hottest Days by WevyrDove [rec note: a classic; w this and the bite of knowledge, i think one of my first wincest fics, lol]

RATING: E, Warnings: Underage, A!Dean & O!Sam John is away on a hunting trip when Sam experiences his first heat cycle. Dean panics and makes Sam lock himself up in his room in a desperate attempt to keep temptation at bay.

5th Period by alwaysthrowsscissors [rec note: also a fandom classic]

RATING: E, Warnings: Underage, A!Dean & O!Sam Without hesitation, Dean dropped to his knees, burying his face in the wet seat of Sam’s jeans, teasing out the cutest little whimper. “Am I- God, am I...” He trembled, voice soft. “Yeah,” Dean groaned, muffled, nuzzling against the rough fabric. His fucking greatest dream came true. Precious, beautiful Sammy; an omega. Dean always knew that whatever Sam presents as doesn't matter; he's going to fuck Sam hard and claim him either way. But, Dean never imagined that all eyes at school would be on his little brother, waiting to see what he will become and who will get to claim him as their mate. Sam goes into his first heat in the middle of class.

Sam's Inner Omega by TammyRenH

RATING: Unrated, Warnings: None, A!Dean & O!Sam Another spn_kink meme fill (just trying to un-rust my writing skills - such as they are) For the prompt: There are two sides to every Omega; the side that wants to be cuddled and pampered. And the side that wants to be pinned down and fucked roughly like a bitch in heat. Up to you who tops and who bottoms. I’m good with any kinks as long as all aspects of the fic are consensual. Please and thank you!

Taste Every Fruit by thatsakitkat [rec note: aka the lactation fic, a fandom classic fr]

RATING: E, Warnings: None, O!Dean&A!Sam There's no real words to describe how feeding Sam feels. Dean thinks it might be better than orgasms, but it's a whole different kind of pleasure, one that makes him feel sleepy and proud of himself for being able to take care of his brother this way. Everything feels right in the world, all Dean's problems taken away in the gentle pulls of Sam's mouth.

A Blind Fool's Luck by hellhoundsprey

RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Dean&O!Sam Prompt: sam is an omega. or, he was. before puberty really hits, john puts him on suppressants/has him surgically altered so he doesn’t attract aggressive alphas/is put in less danger/makes their lifestyle easier. sam’s too young to really consent. his feelings of being a “freak” stem from not feeling right in his own body. this is why sam is abnormally large for an omega, this is where a lot of his self loathing stems from. dean didn’t know before and carries guilt for not stopping it. doesn’t know how to make it better, tries anything he can, which in dean’s world is a lot of pretending it didn’t happen out loud. sam gets by until he starts getting closer to 40 and it starts to get to him more than it used to. amara either gives dean THAT gift instead of bringing mary back, or rowena finds out and gives sam the spell to fix what happened to him at his choice. sam doesn’t tell dean about the change, but he can scent it. it’s obvious sam feels more comfortable in his skin again. suddenly sam smells like his dream partner. cue him dealing with that, dunno if he tells him or acts differently or what. basically it comes out that sam has always scented dean that way and then happy parts ensue.

Hymenated - Demon by forlovedones

RATING: E, Warnings: Chose Not to List, O!Dean&A!Sam Demon Dean is loose in the bunker and stalking his Alpha through the halls. Maybe there'd be time to fuck Sam's brains out first, before he bashed them in with the hammer.

Unexpected by fullmoon_nightowl

RATING: M, Warnings: None, A!Dean&O!Sam Sam always wanted children, but he’s been infertile all his life. Two months after Chuck’s defeated, the stick turns blue. Dean’s protective instincts go into overdrive.

It's Yours, My Demon by littlefirefly31

RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Dean & O!Sam Prompt: Could I please for fic where Omega Sam found out a couple a days before the last episode that he is pregnant with Dean's child, but now his alpha is a demon and Sam is doesn't know what to do, but the demon!Dean finds out ... (knotting, bottom!Sam, happy ending)?

To Give You What You Want by littlefirefly31

RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Dean & O!Sam Prompt: Post 9 season AU where alpha Dean isn't a demon and brothers lives together as mates (alpha and omega). They are happy but both really wants to have a baby and during Sam's a few day heat Dean going to finally breed his omega (knotting, mpreg) Summary: Sam and Dean were content, but they really wanted something more. They wanted a child. So Dean knew he was going to try everything to breed his omega and give them what they wanted.

And nothing else matters by waywardelle

RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Dean & O!Sam Dean inexplicably pushes Sam away when their mother returns to their lives. After she leaves, Dean stays away anyway. Sam wants to kill Dean for ignoring the fact that they're fuckin' mated, but the omega in him tells him to be patient. So, he waits. And he misses his Alpha like crazy.

All in the Timing by C_aura

RATING: E, Warnings: Dub-Con, A!Dean & O!Sam Sam hasn’t had a heat in ten years. Dean may not be his mate, but he’s past waiting patiently and decides it’s time to take a more hands-on approach.

Happy Birthday to Me! by WhiskyBoys

RATING: E, Warnings: Underage, O!Dean & A!Sam Dean wants to be an omega, and he wants Sam to be the one to turn him. Sam doesn’t stand a chance.

A new Life by KillerOfHope

RATING: E, Warnings: Underage, O!Dean & A!Sam Prompt Fill for SPN Kinkmeme: AU for S10E12 - "About a boy" The witch wasn't just deaging adults, she had them turned into Omegas as well, since she preferred the taste of fresh young Omegas. The cake she and Hansel fed their victims was spiked with magically enhanced Alpha sperm to ensure a quick turn. So when Dean showed up at their motelroom, Sam wasn't just faced with a teen version of his brother, but with a newly presented Omega.

and it's you that i want by according2thelore [rec note: i'm not above a self rec, lol!]

RATING: E, Warnings: None, O!Dean & A!Sam "You know that’s not what I meant.” Mr. Smith says into the phone, and he sounds exhausted. Sam doesn’t turn around, trying to give him as much privacy as possible, even if it’s imagined. Sam throws his whole body weight into his next pull of the handle, feeling the budding sweat from earlier as a full-body wave, pricking at his neck and armpits and forehead. Nothing. The door doesn’t budge. Sam’s trapped. Or: Sam Wesson gets stuck in a supply closet with his boss, who's hiding out to fight with his girlfriend. Sensing the available omega that Sam's been into for months, Sam goes into an early rut.

since you said "spn" and not specifically wincest, i also have a handful of J2 fics here. i don't even think i really ship J2, but while going through these i realized i have...uh...quite a lot lol...

J2:

for a good cause by hellhoundsprey

RATING: E, Warnings: None, O!Jensen & A!Jared Jensen covers for a teammate in the kissing booth of a local charity event. It’s for a good cause, after all, and only for an hour. What can possibly go wrong?

Neighborhood Love by ashtraythief

RATING: E, Warnings: None, O!Jensen & A!Jared Jensen might be an omega, but that doesn’t mean he’s just going to say yes to any alpha who comes along. His parents think he has impossible standards, his friends think he’s a grumpy bastard. There’s probably some truth to all of that, but there’s also the fact that Jared, a really cute and really tall alpha just moved in next door and Jensen has a crush. Thankfully, as it turns out, so does Jared.

Perfect Disaster by ashtraythief

RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Jensen & O!Jared Jared never banked on the perfect romantic moment of meeting his mate, but having him come into the ER as a patient is ridiculous. Even after Jensen is recovered, life keeps getting in the way of them properly consummating their mating, until Jensen has enough of the interruptions and whisks Jared away for a weekend getaway.

Crazy About You (Two) by ashtraythief

RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Jensen & O!Jared One of the many things that attracted Jared to Jensen when they first met was that Jensen was such a laid-back alpha. He never did any of the dumb alpha posturing, wasn’t possessive or jealous. But recently—recently things had taken a turn. And Jared doesn’t mind the frequent and quite frankly amazing sex they’re having, but when Jensen becomes possessive, quite literally refuses to let him leave the bed, Jared realizes that something’s different. And he does not like it—until he figures out why Jensen’s so possessive all of a sudden.

Better Late Than Never (I Guess) by littlefirefly31

RATING: Not Rated, Warnings: None, A!Jensen & O!Jared Prompt: Could I ask for fic where alpha Jensen taking care of Jared during his heat (knotting, marathon sex), please? Summary: Jensen's lived next to Jared for five years and he has no idea how to tell the omega he loves him.

Patience Is Not a Virtue by fullmoon_nightowl

RATING: E, Warnings: Underage, A!Jensen & O!Jared J1 and J2 recently got mated. J1 is older and wanted to wait for J2's first heat to have sex. J2 doesn't really appreciate it because he's been crushing hard on J2. So while J1 tries to make their first time gentle and sweet, J2 just wants to get his dick already.

Taste Like Sugar by littlefirefly31

RATING: E, Warnings: None, A!Jensen & O!Jared Prompt: Speaking of series, could you do one where omega!jared is a very tiny wolf and alpha!Jensen, who's large for a wolf, if very protective over him?

Mistaken Identity by littlefirefly31

RATING: Not Rated, Warnings: None, A!Jensen & O!Jared Prompt: Jared is an unmated omega because of his size most alphas find him intimidating. Or confuse him for a beta. Of course this makes him have insecurities so he starts hiding his omega status. He meets Jensen and of course Jensen is all over him and wants to mate him but Jared thinks he's playing because he's been hurt in the past before. Sorry if it's too long. True mating welcome go free with it. I'm always interested how you put your twists. Thank you.

World Goes 'Round by Misunderstanding by queerly_it_is [rec note: a fandom classic]

RATING: E, Warning: Underage, O!Jensen & A!Jared Jensen and Jared love each other, but neither of them knows that. Jensen goes into heat and seeks out Jared, who gives in to what’s he’s ashamed of wanting. Jared calls Jensen’s parents who make a deal with Jared that they don’t see fit to inform Jensen of, and matters only get worse when Jensen finds out he’s pregnant and runs away from home to keep his baby.

thanks for this ask, anon! i hope you enjoy reading through these! :)

-lizzy

[honeyhotteoks]

Okay I'm 5'7 too so thank you for your detailed description of the members and I'm not surprised but kinda am at the same time about their appearance??

Low-key love seeing all the live content but also feel left out as an Aussie atiny BUT I'm seeing skz in October so I'm excited for that!!

Speaking of their appearance, the members of skz are a lot more muscular in person than how they look.

I was expecting them to be skinny and boney but they all look incredibly strong and fit-even Han and Felix-

Han actually looks slightly more buff and muscly then Felix which surprised me and Lee Know is just as defined and muscular as Changbin which no one talks about.

Anyway- yunho brain rot.

I was listening to the audiobook of haunting Adeline because I finally caved in from the TikTok influence and my friend telling me how sexy the novel is.

Idk if it's because I'm going to therapy or I'm too old but I thought it was over-hyped-

I did love how the author described the themes of fear and stalking because when I did get tense when she'd leave the room, come back and there would be a 🌹 on the counter.

BUT I did get delulu and I was reading some scenes where zade is just consumed with Adeline and I was gasping 'like omg yunho could be like this' because his natal chart indicates if he was psychotic and unhealed enough- could delve into stalking territory.

And yes okay- this shit is toxic and scary and awful in real life BUT LET ME FANTASISE FOR A SECOND!

What if yunho was that borderline toxic boyfriend that just CANT leave you alone??

Watches you from afar, sends you messages all day-

Somnophilia thought here-

You don't live with yunho but have given him a key and go to bed with no panties on b/c it's a common occurrence he'll drive over in the middle of the night b/c it's been too long since he's felt you under him and he has to ravish you.

You wake up to his tongue on you clit as he moans and breathes your scent in which eventually leads to you making love with him as he virtually suffocates you with his body and words?

You're mine, you're not leaving me, I'm destined to be with you, on top of you, inside you, I can't breathe w/o you.

EMOTIONAL DAMAGE!!

MY FRIEND THE WAY YOU ALWAYS SERVE UP THE GREATEST IMAGERY OF ALL TIME TO RUIN ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

first of all........ love that you're seeing skz!!! i'm hoping if and when they announce tour dates for north america next year there's a chance for me to see them

as far as your yunho brainrot goes................. IM DIZZY. i love your natal chart content, and i've been so obsessed with the idea of yunho being like perfect boyfriend great guy................but................there's that part of him that just can't help being possessive and having this sense of ownership over his partner.

i was just actually reading a fic for another fandom along the lines of what you're describing and i was like YUNHO YUNHO YUNHO the whole time. i might write my own version but......... brainrot under the cut

so i think there's two yunho possibilities that i love within this like possessive/stalker/dubcon realm, and one is straight up like suuuuuper healthy relationship but they play with CNC in intense ways and do full on like roleplay OR my current favorite brainrot which aligns with your idea and the fic i was just reading which is like...... desperately obsessed desperately in love fully fixated on reader not leaving him because he just has to consume her fully at all times.

he and reader have been dating for a while and he's honestly the 10/10 perfect boyfriend (she thinks) only.... she knows he gets a little funny about certain things. when other guys talk to her he just has to have his hands on her, and when he worries about her he really worries, almost too much. he gets jealous about the funniest little things, and he's always nervous about change, he just doesn't want anything to burst their little bubble so much so that he's controlling the situation a little too much. but.... she also loves him, and he hasn't really stepped over the line of toxic.......... until she catches him stealing a pair of her panties and realizes his phone is full of pictures of her.

and it starts off like an argument, until he starts to confess his real fantasies. and he knows it might be too much, but she makes him so insane it's like he can't help himself. and the longer he talks about all of those fantasies, confessing how fucked he knows it is and how she really could do better, she just keeps getting more and more turned on. and it's shocking to her too, but she really fucking likes it. she's never had someone take care of her, really and truly take care of everything and just let her exist without having to make all the decisions or take control, and he's just offering it all to her on a platter she just has to let him take it.

and so while he thinks revealing his desires is about to break them up, and he's losing his fucking mind about it, she's ready to double down hard on the relationship and on what they do behind closed doors. so she shocks him when she not only agrees for more but asks for more.

and so that's when she gives him the key, that's when she tells him that he's allowed to come in whenever he wants. to touch her whenever he wants. she wants it all, but all she asks in exchange is that he stops hiding his desires from her, because that's what was driving the wedge between them. he's patient about using the new found control though, because he doesn't know what that will do for their relationship and she doesn't necessarily know what she's allowing him to do..... he can't smother her ALL at once.

but that changes when she falls asleep one night before texting him goodnight, she's been stressed and worn thin and he's not had the opportunity to see her let alone take care of her..... and he's feeling a little neglected too. and he waits a couple of hours for a response, but finally he decides it's time to use the key. so he drives over, slips in quietly, and finds her sound asleep, phone still clutched in her fingers and a video looping on repeat.

he's hard in a second, desperate in a second, and he has to do something about it. so he starts off slow, peeing off her clothes and gently teasing her nipples, getting a blush in her cheeks and making her perfectly hot and receptive to his tongue teasing her sweet clit.

she’s been so tired lately that she’s well and truly out, and she doesn’t really wake up until he’s teasing her wet cunt with his cock, not quite fucking her yet but everything in between. and when she wakes it’s mid-orgasm and desperate for more, and she's aware that something feels different but she just woke up and she's caught between realizing yunho is actually here and pushing himself inside her and thinking it might be a dream.

but he's whispering to her, clutching her close and begging her to just let him have this.... and of course she will, she agreed, but as she comes more and more into consciousness the feeling of him and his words start to make sense. he’s not wearing a condom for the first time ever, and that's not something they've ever agreed on going without before. she's just trying to figure out what is going on but he's fucking into her harder and deeper than before, with a whimpering need on his lips that makes her body curl up in pleasure and she knows she should stop him but truthfully she doesn't want to.

and while she clings to him, yunho's delirious. the feeling of having her completely, of knowing he's the only person who's ever been inside her fully with nothing between them, of knowing that the risk might be worth it. his mind starts to spin until he's a babbling mess, telling her he's going to leave a piece of himself behind for her, make them whole, make sure she can never ever leave.

and even though she knows it's a terrible idea, a decision only made in the middle of sex because it feels good, she finds herself clutching him closer, goading him on. no one has ever wanted her quite like he does and it makes her want to throw everything she's ever cared about right out the window if it means he'll look at her like this forever.

ANYWAYS now i have to write full lowkey toxic possessive yunho with a reader who is down to be fully consumed by him like AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[sebastianswallows]

hello!! i started reading dangerous and delightful and i am so hooked on it LOL. i love how you write sebastian sm. i saw one of the tags was breeding kink 👀👀 and so i was hoping (if you are taking requests) if you would be able to put a little fic together for that? i don’t think i can wait for it to happen in the story and need something to satiate that thought now LOL

Alright so, this was a hard one 😂 But I finally have it for you, nonny. I'm sorry it took so long!

As I mentioned in that little preview snippet I posted the other day, I had a conflict on whether to write this as con or noncon, and ended up going with noncon cause it just... fits. And you said in another ask that you don't mind, so... I'm hoping it's all satisfactory 👀

Anyway, here goes! Probably the filthiest thing I've written for this fandom yet.

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader (characters are aged up)

— WARNINGS: smut, angst, noncon, vaginal penetration, breeding kink, size kink (Seb is a big boy), creampie, cunnilingus, dirty talk, a bit of bondage, wet & messy, manhandling, fingering

— WORDCOUNT: 12k (yes it's long af)

He kissed her. It was gentle, but his big broad hands held her face still and she couldn’t get away. She muttered into the kiss — in surprise, outrage, shyness — but wouldn’t know what to say even if she were allowed to speak. Sebastian’s soft lips caressed hers until he noticed that she wouldn’t stop struggling, and then he kissed her harder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her body flush against his, and kept pressing himself into her — his chest, his legs, his mouth, even his breath that fanned hot and fast against her cheek. She moaned and mumbled and scratched her little nails against his shoulders, but it did nothing to stop him.

When he got tired of her trying to dislodge him, he parted his mouth from hers, frowned at her for a few frantic heartbeats, then lept down for another kiss while walking the two of them forward until her back was against the wall. The glance he’d caught of her face — shocked and a little tearful — broke his heart, but Sebastian was determined to see this through.

He could hear her try to say his name, all muffled into the kiss, but he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop, until she gave up and submitted. His hands moved down to her hips to hold them in something between a tight grip and a caress — he wanted to caress her, wanted to love her, to show her how much he loved her… And if she wouldn’t have it willingly, he would have to make her take it.

He swallowed her gasp when, with a sudden jolt, he pulled her away from the wall and started walking her backwards to the bed. Finally able to move her head back, she dislodged herself from his kiss and started begging him.

“Please, Sebastian, you don’t ha—”

But then he leaned in to kiss her again, because he didn’t want to hear it.

The bed was narrow and quite old, as good as he could afford while in the middle of his research. The mattress sagged a little and the pillows were thin, the sheets a muddled brown with an ugly leafy pattern. He felt sorry that this was where it would happen… He’d imagined it many times, with her, and it was always somewhere better, something soft and clean and bright, something she deserved.

“Sebastian,” she gasped when he grabbed her by the upper arms and pushed her down.

Holding onto her with one arm in a bruising grip, he summoned his wand from the desk — a trick he’d learned from Ominis — and used it to undress her.

“Divesto!” he cast, and in the blink of an eye, all her clothes fell off her body and pooled around her ankles. Even her shoes were taken off her feet.

She yelped and tried to cover herself quickly. Sebastian used the moment to push her further on the bed and plant a knee between her legs. He kissed and kissed her as he laid her back against the pillows, his hands shakily caressing the body that he had only now just scarcely caught a glimpse of, but had so often dreamed about.

The high bone of a hip tickled a line across his palm as he trailed his hand upward, while the other held her right thigh apart. He felt over the smooth plane of her stomach, so tense, so warm, so soft, still dimpled with traces of her corset… Her hands gripped at his sleeves strongly enough that he thought she might tear them open — but then she grabbed his wrist with both of them when his right hand reached her breast. He cupped her while he sighed into her mouth, his face tense with pleasure, lips never ceasing to press his love into her mouth through gentle, tender, patient kisses. Nervously, he brushed a thumb upwards and caught the round little tip. He flicked it back and forth until it hardened, and then, like a loving peck, took it between three fingers and pulled at it a little. Against his mouth, he could hear her whining, pleading, stealing every breath she could against his frantic kisses in an attempt to say something that, she hoped, might stop him.

Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest — from the fear, the humiliation, the sheer shock of what he was doing — and her breath felt frozen in her throat. And only minutes ago, she had been so happy to see Sebastian…

He’d invited her over at around 8 o’clock, offering to have dinner together and saying that he needed her help with it — and she understood instantly what he referred to. She knew something of the nature of his research from what he’d told her through the past few months.

Sebastian had been searching for something he’d read about in a book recently translated from ancient Greek — a Casket of All, or Casket of Plenty, or something like that. It was said to be a container of modest size, probably a box or an urn, that, once opened, would grant the owner their every desire. But it had to be opened with a key, and when last she spoke with Sebastian, the only clue he had was the cryptic translation of a line that said the key ‘would already be in the owner’s possession’.

It was the sort of research that he needed wealthy sponsors for, people connected to the sort of wizards that could lead him in the right direction. He had considered the Notts and the Malfoys, among other even more nefarious sorts. It didn’t help that Ominis absolutely refused to introduce him to the wealthy pure-bloods he knew. In the end, Sebastian spent months ingratiating himself with the Lestranges by tutoring their eldest son, Cyrille, in the dark arts. It was perhaps as harrowing of an experience for the boy as it was for Sebastian, who had never had a particularly good relationship with teachers and found it even more awful to become one himself.

She, however, was very much amused. And whenever they went out together, be it for a picnic or for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, he complained and complained for hours how impossible it was to get little master Cyrille Lestrange to remember basic wand movements. It was supremely funny, in a way she couldn’t explain, to see Sebastian so frustrated with a child.

And after finally learning from Mr Lestrange where the Casket of All was, he travelled to it. She never quite found out where he went, but judging by the duration of the journey there and back, she estimated it was somewhere in Southern France or Spain.

Back in England, researching how to open the thing seemed to take even longer, and she saw Sebastian less and less often as he immersed himself in interpreting old texts and ancient poems. On the rare occasions that he would let her help, they’d spend all day and night and until morning lost together, going down a rabbit hole of synonyms for “opening” and “cleave” and “pour” — because it was obvious, as soon as Sebastian inspected the item, that the Casket was not opened by any conventional key. It had only a little orifice at the top, just large enough to let… something in.

And the meaning of ‘the owner already having the key’ had still evaded him the last time they saw each other — when she fell asleep over his chest on this very bed, his warm hand cupping her shoulder, his chest pillowing her cheek, her legs thrown over his… She’d woken up a little embarrassed and dazed, but Sebastian just smiled, so warm and tender, and brushed his finger over the indent left on her cheek from the fold in his shirt.

She hadn’t suspected anything untoward when she knocked on his door today. He’d smiled upon seeing her and let her in — looking tired but bright-eyed, as he often did lately — and nothing was different about the room except for a few more melted candles than the week before… He offered to take her out to dinner and asked if they should deal with the Caskey before or after.

“After, of course,” she’d said as she took her coat off. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve learned about it.”

His smile had been stilted and sad… Sebastian rarely had sad smiles. That should have been the first hint that something was wrong.

The second hint came when he told her that the key to opening the Caskset of Plenty was proof of consummate love… in liquid form.

It took a few awkward glances from Sebastian and a few more questions from her to drag it out of him that they had to make love. He’d invited her to his home that evening to make love. And the combined release of their pleasure, as he so delicately put it, once poured into that opening no wider than a child’s pinky, would open the Casket. He’d already prepared a vial for it, she saw it laying, nice and corked, on his bedside table.

She refused, of course. It was absolutely outrageous and insulting. Never mind that she’d been in love with him for years. Never mind that she counted the days until she could see him again. Never mind that her whole body flushed at the briefest idea of his naked body over hers. And now, his clothes were unbearably thick beneath her hands…

“Seb—” she muttered when she got the chance to, once his kiss let her breathe for one moment.

He only took a moment to catch his own heaving breath, and stared down at her with haunted brown eyes while his hands stilled on her body.

His room was cold and she trembled, but his hands were so warm… One on her breast — holding it, cupping it, caressing it with teasing flicks that drove her mad — the other at her thigh. And Sebastian kept looking into her eyes, only her eyes, pleading with her in his own silent way... Accept it. Take it. Take me. He leaned down again, slower this time, and kissed her once again.

He kissed her like he loved her mouth, like he loved her taste, like he wanted to take her breath inside of him and live off of it forever. His kiss spoke silently to her, telling her how dear she was to him, how badly he wanted her, how he had thought about this and dreamed about this for so long… It wasn’t even about the Casket anymore, if it had ever been.

She trembled beneath all that tenderness, overwhelmed by an intensity of emotion that had never been directed at her before — not by Sebastian, not by anyone. It was dizzying to feel so afraid, so exposed and vulnerable, but it was twice as dizzying to feel so deeply desired.

And then a shock went through her body and all her thoughts evaporated from her mind, when the hand at her thigh moved.

He still thumbed at the stiff little pebble of her breast, while his other hand caressed, slowly and almost shyly, the full length of her slit — up and down, up and down, over the surface of those plump folds in search of… something.

Sebastian gasped into her mouth when he found it, that little pearl she had, hidden in her intimate places.

She cried out into his mouth when his finger started rubbing at her nub at the same rhythm with which he teased her breast. Her back arched traitorously into his grip and her legs tensed on the bed, scrambling to get away from him.

But there was nowhere to go.

He held her legs down with his own, kneeling above them in a careful way so as not to hurt her, and he let as much of his weight as he safely could onto her torso.

She could only shake her head away from his kiss, leaving him to press his lips into her neck and down, down, down to her clavicle while she pleaded with him and insulted him in turn.

“Damn it, Sebas— STOP! You’re a m-monster! No, not— not like this!”

He answered by nibbling harder on her collarbone, all the while rubbing those two sensitive points on her body — making her burn from one teased little tip to the other, from beneath her legs all the way to her heart, making her sweat and drip over his sheets and writhe beneath him — until the heat began to spread in every little part of her body as if he’d cast some strange spell on her.

“It will be alright,” he whispered against her chest, his lips trailing messily toward her breast. “It will be good, you’ll see…”

“To hell with you!”

“I love you.”

“Get someone else for your stupid experiment!”

“I don’t love anyone else.”

She took in panicked breaths that shook her, and as long as she had strength she scrambled for some hope of freedom, but eventually, under the pressing weight of him, her legs stopped squirming. His breath fanned over her breast and she felt the heat of his face on her skin, so close…

“You don’t love me either,” she whispered tearfully, staring absently at the desk. The setting sun cast flaming blades over it, and over that terrifying Casket.

Sebastian sighed and took her nub into his mouth, still flicking the other. She trembled and cried out while he pressed her sensitive point between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, his lips opening in wider, wetter kisses as he tried to take as much of her flesh within him as he could.

Her nails left his clothes to dig into his scalp and try to pull him off that way. He moaned when she tugged at his hair — first in pleasure, then in pain.

“Stop thinking!” he growled, finally releasing her from his mouth. “Stop thinking and just let yourself be loved for once!”

He pressed his mouth to hers, as if afraid of what she had to say, kissing her breathless before raising himself to look at her again. His eyes were wild, but there was a certain innocence there that seemed out of place. With a look that was a mix of desire and fear, Sebastian brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and brushed her tears away. If being gentle and loving with her didn’t work, perhaps frightening her would…

“Do you understand what I will do to you?” he whispered. “Do you understand what I will do to you if you won’t be mine?”

She whimpered and bit her lip, too scared to even beg to be let go anymore, too limp to fight.

Seeing that she was quiet and scared, he signed and kissed her once again, slower this time, a languorous drip of love, love, love from dry lips onto a sweet surrendered mouth.

He let go of her cheek for a moment, and she was afraid that he would touch her body again — but it was even worse: he reached for his wand. Her eyes went wide; he was a talented wizard who knew more curses than she knew spells, he could force her to submit to his will in horrifying ways…

But instead of pointing some cruel hex at her, he only pointed it at himself.

“Divesto,” he whispered, and his clothes fell all around them. He brushed them aside with another wave of his wand like a soft gust of wind, and then he laid the wand somewhere out of sight, beneath the bed.

She couldn’t even remember where hers was anymore; probably in her coat pocket.

Her trembling was even stronger now as he looked down at her, and she looked down at him, at what parts of his naked body she could see pressed parallel to her. Sebastian caressed her cheek and smiled down at her fondly while her eyes drank him in — round shoulders, tapered waist, and a sprinkle of brown hair and freckles all across his strong, broad chest. She blushed fiercely just at the sight of his skin against hers, let alone the intoxicating feeling of it, the intense intimacy of the moment. His legs felt warmer as they laid across her own, his hips narrow and straight above her softer ones, and against her stomach, she felt…

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his smile dampening to something even gentler. “Don’t worry, not yet…”

His hands took hold of hers and pressed them down beside her head while he gentled her with kisses — from her lips to her chin and her cheeks, trailing upwards to her forehead and around her hairline, each kiss more patient and innocent than the last.

“You don’t have to worry about anything while I’m with you,” he whispered into her hair, breathing her in deeply. “I’ll protect you from everything.”

“Will you protect me from yourself?” she hissed bitterly against his neck.

Sebastian chuckled and leaned close enough to kiss her lips once more, his mouth just resting against hers. “What do you mean, darling?” And at her tummy, she felt his manhood laying heavier, pressing into her soft flesh. “I’m protecting you from myself right now,” he murmured into her mouth.

She whimpered unhappily into his kiss, her eyes squeezed shut in a stubborn frown, but Sebastian chuckled, and caressed her again, and started kissing from her mouth back down again while his hands both slid down from her wrists, her arms, her shoulders, to her chest. He held the birdcage of her ribs between his hands while his lips declared his affections in little pecks and licks and nibbles that went down, down like waterdrops, until his mouth hovered over her heart. He could nakedly see the thin bones moving up and down with the flutter of the heart beneath.

“Just let yourself be loved,” he whispered against the core of her chest, “let yourself be loved by me.”

Above, he heard her whimpering unhappily again, but she had no words left to say to him. She had surrendered with her mind and body, although not with her heart — not yet.

“If I could only make you see how much I care for you,” he sighed, lips kissing gently down her torso, “how much I want with you… have wanted you… and for how long…”

He kissed her stomach now, hands coming down to hold her hips. Sebastian’s eyes slid up to hers for a moment and saw there a more urgent kind of fear, like an animal in a trap — the same wide look, the same fear and hatred, the need to escape, to escape him.

There was a tension in her stillness now that he had not felt before. He almost warned her not to do something foolish, but thought better of it. While holding her gaze, his hand left her hip to slide beneath the bed, and almost as soon as he held his wand again he pointed it at her arms, binding them with a red length of summoned rope.

“Wh—?!”

She was at once surprised and angry with him, looking from her bound wrists back down to him, his face so close to a place where she was so vulnerable.

“I want everything with you,” he said as he held her gaze — scared, furious, and desolate — in his — resolute and fierce.

He scarcely finished saying it before he kissed her, right on her lower stomach — right where her womb was. His eyes were closed in a serene, dreamy way. He opened them again and looked right up at her, and kissed a little to the left, and then a little to the right, roughly where her ovaries would be. It was such an unassuming part of her body, but he knew how special it really was — as magical as any enchanted Casket, as capable of creating wonders inside of itself, and all the more deserving of his desire and greed and possessiveness. Sebastian worshipped this part of her while he took in deep breaths, filling his lungs with her scent just like he filled his mouth with her taste. He wanted all of her to be in him, just like he wished for all of him to be in her.

She frowned as she looked down at him in fear and somewhat confusion — did she really not understand, or did she just not want to understand? Did it, perhaps, not cross her mind why he liked this part of her so much? Why it meant so much to him? Why he lusted over it?

Sebastian parted from her lower stomach with a teasing lick and moved himself a little lower. Her eyes broadened in shock, but he continued to kiss her, more and more intensely.

“I love you,” he said again, “I love you,” as if he was finally telling her some long-held secret, a secret he could no longer keep to himself.

“Seb—”

He kissed her mound. Her legs twitched and she kicked him in the ribs, but it was dull enough that it didn’t even hurt him.

“STOP!” she cried.

He smirked and opened his mouth for a wider kiss before shifting even lower... He held her legs now with his arms, elbows at her knees, palms holding down her thighs. His lower body was almost completely off the bed, but the discomfort hardly mattered.

With a whimper of desire, Sebastian held her thighs apart with his thumbs and gazed at her, right at her. He felt his eyes go dark, lidded in a satisfied way at this sign of his conquest. He could look at the most shameful parts of her, and she couldn’t stop him. And she was so beautiful, so fragile looking, so maddeningly enticing. It made his stomach twitch and his manhood stiffen and his mouth water.

“Please, stop!” she begged, “d-don’t! Let me go!”

“Stop what?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

He continued to hold her, looking at her directly, making up for all the nights he merely dreamed of having a glimpse of this part of her.

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked.

She wouldn’t answer, her lips stuck in a shocked, revolted, angry gasp, words so jumbled in her throat that they got stuck there. Sebastian frowned at her silence, and instead leaned still closer, looking down at the thing that he wanted so badly. He had never seen something that could make him feel this way, that could drive him so wild in a way that he would do anything to obtain it. He wasn't ashamed of himself in this moment, not anymore — not ashamed of what he wanted, or what he was willing to do to get it.

He held her down more firmly and pressed his lips against her folds. She yelped and pleaded with him more, but Sebastian barely heard it. Her legs struggled in his grip and he could feel the bed jolting slightly as she tried to tug her arms free, but he only kissed her womanhood more passionately, pressing into her, dipping his tongue between them to lap at her little hole. She was wet against her tongue, and only got wetter as he serviced her.

To say he was desperate would be an understatement - he needed, wanted, craved her flesh and he had to have it. So, when she started to beg and plead with him, it did not make him stop, but it did fill him with a deep, all-encompassing anger. He pulled his mouth away from her for a moment, his words a mixture of affection and anger.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Do you want me to tie your legs down as well?”

She breathed frantically as she stared into his eyes.

“Please, Sebastian,” she whispered tearfully. “Don’t do this to me… Don’t do this to us… We had — we were —”

“We were nothing,” he said lowly. “Platonic, touchless, kissless lovers pretending to be friends, while we were neither one. I want us to be something. I want us to be both. I want us to be everything.”

“No, no, you just want to open that damn —”

“That’s not what it is!” he growled, his hands becoming tighter on her thighs.

He took a deep breath, his eyes softening, and then he kissed her lower lips again. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, it calmed him down — as if her taste was all he needed for a bit of happiness to bloom in his heart.

“It’s not about my research. It’s not about the Casket, not really,” he sighed against her delicate entrance. “I want us to be everything together. I want to have everything… with you.”

A plea got stuck in her throat as he dipped his head again and lapped at her greedily, and instead of saying whatever it was she was about to say — denials, rejections, refusals — she moaned. His thumb left her soft inner thigh to rub her pearl while he dipped his tongue inside of her.

“Sebastian!”

He let his groans of pleasure sink into her. She dripped on his tongue as her body welcomed him, opening itself up to him. His thumb flicked her little nub in brutal little motions while he fixed his lips around her core and lapped at her insides. She was so warm and frail there, and tasted so sweet, so raw… Sebastian moaned deep in his throat, his breath coming out in heavy pants that drove the scent of her womanhood up to his head and drowned him.

Slowly, the jerking of the bed stopped as she relented, her wrists laying still in their bindings. Her legs around him also lay now sapless, soft and cold on either side of his chest. Sebastian sighed and finished his tending of her with one last, long, deep kiss the sticky sound of which resounded in the room. He lifted himself from her on his elbows and licked his lips.

“So beautiful,” he sighed, his thumb pleasuring her slowly, coaxing her entrance into rhythmic clenches. “And still so tight…”

Sebastian gazed up at her. She looked ravaged. Her flushed face was damp with tears and her hair had fallen from its elaborate bun into a hazy mane that framed her face, sticking to the sweat on her forehead or streaking across his pillow softly.

“Every time I look at you,” he whispered, “I fall in love again…”

“Don’t say that,” she groaned, shaking her head. “Don’t say you—”

“I love you,” he insisted, swallowing the taste of her. “I love you…” And his thumb started flicking her nub again while the index of the other hand tickled a path up her thigh to poke at her entrance.

“Don’t!”

He looked at her intensely, breathless, watching every frown and tensing of her face while his finger eased itself past her hole.

“I have to, my beloved,” he whispered tenderly.

He pressed in almost shyly, then retreated, then pressed in deeper, making her moan. Her hips twitched beneath him, trying to buck him off. To soothe her, he flicked her nub a little faster.

“Shhh… shhh… there there,” he gentled her. “I just want to feel what you’re like inside…”

His thumb eased off her pearl and Sebastian leaned closer instead, touching it with his tongue for the first time. She yelped and her hips twitched, but he held her down firmly while working his finger deeper, deeper, a little bit deeper inside with each thrust. With a dark look in his eyes as he gazed up at her and a cheeky smirk, Sebastian curled his tongue beneath her nub and just let it rest there, holding that very sensitised part of her on the soft, warm, wet cushion of his flesh. He heard her moan loudly, her back arching — was this her surrender? — and she twitched on his tongue. He closed his lips around her hot little button and suckled on it.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, head thrashing left and right, hands twisting senselessly into the rope. “Sebastian, it’s… too much…”

He chuckled and sucked her deeper into his mouth without mercy. While she was distracted by this, he removed his index finger from inside her and moved it to part one of her plump folds, holding her open as he placed in its stead his thicker middle finger at her hole. Rubbing back and forth he opened her up a little more, a little more each time, making her more pliant, more wet for him. Her juices dripped out of her around his knuckles, dirtying her upper thighs.

She clenched when he reached all the way inside. Her whimpers were drowned out by Sebastian’s hungry moan when he felt the end of her on the tip of his finger.

“Aaah! Stop it!” she hissed through her teeth.

Her legs struggled out of his grasp and kicked until he caught one of them in his hand. He held her by the knee, close to his neck, forcing her open while he ate at her, licking and sucking and teasing her with kisses from her nub to her hole where his finger kept stretching her. He parted from her with a suckling pull at her folds that nearly hurt, then began kissing her inner thigh while he thrust his finger faster and faster, preparing her for what he was about to do.

“Why is it so difficult for you to accept being loved?” asked Sebastian, looking into her eyes. It didn’t even sound like a tease, it sounded as if he was… sad for her, and genuinely curious to know the answer. “You’re not afraid of me,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly, “not really… You’re afraid of being vulnerable. With me...”

She frowned at him angrily, and he could tell she was gritting her teeth from the clench of her jaw, but her eyes were so fearful and tender, spilling over with tears.

“You’re afraid of what will happen, aren’t you? When you allow yourself to be loved…”

She hissed a curse at him and tried to struggle more, turning her head away into her upper arm and hiding her face in it.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, easing a second finger into her.

She ignored his question and gasped at being so stretched, her back arching sharply. His fingers were thick and strong, those two already larger than three of hers together.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asked lowly, his eyes never leaving her face even as she tried to hide it. “I won’t,” he growled. “I’m working right now to make sure I won’t hurt you.”

And he shoved his fingers deeper, working them faster into her channel, making her leak into his palm and filling the air around them with humiliating sounds. Her thighs trembled and she moaned, her voice hoarse and breathless. When Sebastian decided to cruelly curl his fingers and press against the soft spot above her entrance, she cried out.

“Sebastian!”

“I’m right here,” he whispered, kissing her thigh while his fingers worked her faster and faster. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t leave you,” he promised.

“Sebastian, s-stop,” she mumbled, “I can’t… I can’t…”

“Can’t what, hmm?” he teased, letting his tongue dip a little lower and rest against her button. With every canting of her hips, she rubbed herself against him.

“Seb—!”

He smiled and lowered his lips to her nub again and kissed it lovingly, reverently, while he thrust his fingers into her harder, louder, messier — until he felt her start to clench. She screamed and thrashed, begging him to stop. Her leg nearly slid out of his grip, but he kept his mouth on her and pleasured her until it ended. It hadn’t quite been an orgasm, more the beginning of one, a shock of pleasure that had taken her over for a few moments and scared her.

Sebastian moaned against her hot little flesh and carefully pulled his fingers out. Almost immediately, he wrapped his hand over his manhood, slathering it with her juices, squeezing it to temper himself. It had been hard this whole time, tickling his stomach, drooling all over itself with how much he desired her.

She relaxed, her tearful wet face falling away from the crook of her arm to look down at him. Her gaze was so hazy he wasn’t sure she knew what she was looking at. Sebastian slowly made his way up the bed, arms pressing down on the bed on either side of her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he whispered hotly.

She bit her lip and took in deep, shaky breaths.

“Don’t what?” he said again. By this time, he was right above her, his lips hovering over her own. “What, darling?” he sighed, looking at her with nothing but love. His hands caressed her arms, rubbing them up and down. “How about we set you free, hmm?”

With a brush of his arm, the summoned tethers fell away. He caressed the soreness out of her wrists while he balanced himself above her, his knees on either side of her waist. Between them, his shaft twitched anxiously. His sac slotted itself right at the dip of her core. He smiled to himself at how warm and welcoming she felt down there, so wet he could feel her dampening him.

“W-will you let me go now?” she asked in a small voice.

Sebastian chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, that wasn’t enough.”

She groaned and began panting again, her body going from hot to cold with fear. Her arms slipped from Sebastian’s gentle massage and went up to his chest, trying at the same time to push him away and scratch him. His skin was tough, but he still hissed sharply when her little nails left pink welts on his skin.

“That’s it,” he growled, grabbing her wrists and holding them up. “Be good, now,” he said firmly, struggling with her on the bed, “be good for me…”

She grit her teeth at him and fought him all the way, her body weak and cold but more lively now that it was no longer dazed with pleasure. But she was no match for Sebastian, who was so much bigger and stronger, a dangerous man even without his wand. He held her wrists together and pushed her back on the bed, laying on top of her with all his weight.

“Let me go, please!”

“It’s alright,” he hissed, holding her wrists to her chest with one hand and brushing the hair from her forehead with the other. “It won’t be so bad, you’ll see…”

“Let me go, Sebas—!”

He kissed her into silence, swallowing her angry moans while he moved his legs between hers. His knees edged her thighs apart, and then he caressed down her side with his right hand until he reached her knee. He lifted it slightly so that he could fit even closer to her, and wrapped her leg around his waist, holding it there until he finished kissing her.

“I do love you, even when it doesn’t sound like it,” he sighed.

She frowned at him, but then she jumped in a little shock when she felt something hard and smooth against her core. Her lips parted, and she was ready to beg again — for a delay, for him to change his mind, for anything — but he kissed her again.

Sebastian closed his eyes as he drank in the sweet taste of her lips, dry and salty with tears as they were, swallowing her moans and pleas while he tried to find her hole. His hand left her leg to grab hold of himself and steady his twitching shaft.

“S-stop,” she muttered against his lips as she barely managed to twist her head away.

Sebastian’s mouth parted from her with a gasp when he felt her at his tip.

“It will be alright,” he whispered, his eyes aimed between their bodies. He couldn’t see much, but his heart thumped in his chest at the sight of his manhood, thick and throbbing, resting right at her entrance. “You’ll see, everything will be good…”

She didn’t seem to believe him, and instead struggled more and cried, and tried to pull herself away from him.

“Shhh…” he gentled her, frowning in his own kind of suffering as he eased the tip inside.

She cried and struggled in his grasp, screaming to be let go, crying again, thrashing on the bed, but Sebastian’s grip was strong even while he was so deliciously distracted.

“There you go,” he whispered, his head tilted back in pleasure as he felt her, he felt himself entering her. “There you go, that’s my good… good girl,” he moaned, biting his lip.

Sebastian let himself lay more heavily on top of her, curling his large body over hers. His forehead was braced against the pillow a little to the side so he could keep kissing her cheek while he worked to get as much of himself into her body as he could before he had to still himself. She was in pain, and as much as he wanted to take her, he had to wait.

She swallowed in greedy, deep breaths, the skin of her chest meeting Sebastian’s, parting in sweaty pulls after they stuck together. Her core still pulsed, struggling to contain the length that forced it open — and he'd barely shoved the whole head in.

They breathed together for long moments, her wincing occasionally, him moaning, both of their bodies aching for the other in ways that were obvious to the two of them -- she leaked around him, he leaked inside of her, easing the passage, helping her stretch, and their whole bodies were aflame even while so exposed in the cold air of the room. All the while, their hearts beat together, side by side.

Sebastian tried to slip a little more inside of her, pressing forward with his hips. His fist still held his member at her hole, keeping it steady as he pushed inside. He moaned and bit his lip at the warmth that met him.

“Aaah!” she cried, gritting her teeth as he conquered a little more of her. “S-seb—!”

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it, my beautiful girl, my love…”

He was relentless, and didn't stop until the whole head of his manhood slipped inside. Around his waist, he felt her legs tense for a moment, and then give up.

Feeling her so limp around him, Sebastian let go of her wrists and braced himself above her on his arms, his face right above hers pressing gentle kisses that swallowed each wince of pain. His member was securely in her core, fighting against the tight clenches of her channel.

“Open your secret place to me,” he breathed, his brown eyes pleadingly looking into hers. “Let me come inside of you…”

“No,” she hissed. She shook her head weakly, although she didn’t even remove her hands from where they rested above her head, where he had placed them.

Sebastian groaned and leaned down to take a tight little bud in his mouth, and she moaned. He smirked against her skin — he knew she’d like that. He suckled on it while he gently thrust his hips, feeling himself dripping into her, his shaft pulsing, trying everything to ease his taking of her. He switched to the other breast, holding her puckered flesh gently between his teeth to lave at it with his tongue. It made her a bit more wet, but hardly relaxed her core. She winced every time he tried to reach deeper inside.

“Try to relax, my darling,” he sighed, lifting himself off of her.

With a soft look at her, Sebastian eased out — what a shock the cold of the room was after having been inside her — and slid once more down to her waist. She hardly had a chance to glance down at him when he took hold of her thighs and placed his mouth at her core again.

“What are you—!”

He started lapping at her hole again, but so much more passionately this time, tongue slipping from the bottom of her slit to deep inside her hole and flicking upward before going down again, lashing her womanhood with quick, maddening strokes again and again and again until he felt her begin to pulse.

She moaned and wailed in pleasure, confused about what he was doing but too dazed to care.

When he thought he pleasured her enough that she was more relaxed, he raised himself, gripped her hips, and shoved his manhood into her once again. It went in a little deeper this time. Sebastian moaned and shivered when he felt her juices dripping down his shaft all the way to the nest of dark hair at his base, like she was slobbering all over him.

His arms tensed holding him above her, but she felt so good around him, softer and wetter and just as feverishly warm, hotter and hotter the deeper into her body that he reached. He grinned as he looked down at her.

“That’s it, there you go,” he whispered smugly.

He let himself lean down with one elbow bent around her head, cupping her gently, the other holding him at an angle so as not to lay too heavily on her. And as he worked his way inside her, thrust by small thrust, he pecked little kisses on her lips.

“Seb-bastian,” she gasped, looking tearfully into his eyes. “I… I…”

“What is it, my darling?” he whispered, his thumb reaching down to smooth her tense brow. “Hmm? What is happening? Do you like it?”

“It… mmmm…” She bit her lip and frowned, closing herself off to him again.

“What?” he asked again, “What is it? What do you feel? What am I making you feel?” he murmured, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

She winced and turned away, her forehead set in a frown and her lips parted as she breathed out heavily. “H-hurts,” she whimpered.

He couldn’t resist her, couldn’t resist wanting to comfort her. Sebastian groaned and stopped thrusting, letting his manhood just rest inside her. His thumb kept brushing against her hairline, trying to soothe her, and he kissed gently all over her cheek. With a steady sigh, he slid his hand down her body, caressing her soft stomach on its way, and quickly found that erect button above her entrance.

“Ah!” she yelped, her hips canting upward at his touch.

He smirked and kissed the corner of her mouth and began rubbing her pearl in tight circles. With satisfaction, he felt her begin to shiver in the same pleasant way she did when he was licking her. His hot chest rested over hers, rough hair rubbing her already tight and tender buds as they breathed in heavily together. And then he started rubbing her button faster, flicking it messily until she could no longer swallow her moans down and she pulsed and throbbed — and that’s when he tried again to shove himself deeper inside of her.

“—bastian!”

“Yes?” he chuckled teasingly against the corner of her mouth.

“No, t-that’s… aaah, too much,” she said, her back arching.

“What is it, my beauty?” he asked sweetly. “Hmm? What is it?”

“I… I… mmm…”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, her head facing away again. Sebastian quieted his moans by kissing her neck, taking greedy mouthfuls of her flesh, but trying not to bite too hard.

“What are we doing? You and I?” he asked hotly, his closed eyes resting in the dip above her shoulders. “Tell me… Tell me what I’m doing to you…”

“Y-you’re…”

“Yes…”

“You’re… t-taking me,” she whispered with a choked little sob — and maybe it was wishful thinking, but he thought she sounded pleasured by it.

He chuckled and reached up to kiss her lips, his fingers brushing her forehead gently.

“What am I doing, darling?” he asked again with fake innocence.

“You’re taking me,” she said quietly.

“And what are we doing together? What is it called?”

She whimpered, and he could hear her biting her lip. She couldn’t say it.

“Are we making love? Is that it, my darling?” he moaned.

“Sebastian…” she whispered, her voice full of defeat.

“I’m taking you,” he moaned. “And you’re taking me. Right here,” he moaned. “Right inside this little body…”

Sebastian looked down at her warmly and pressed his cheek against hers, rubbing her tears away with his skin while he kept pressing deeper.

“Right inside this naughty little hole that isn't used to being opened like this, is it? It's not used to it, is that right, my girl?”

He felt, more than heard, a moan bubble up her throat, and the movement of her head could have been a shiver, or it could have been a nod… Sebastian was entranced by the sight of her trying to take him, forced to submit to him, accepting — finally accepting — a bit of the pleasure he had to give her. But it wasn't enough for her, he could tell it wasn't nearly enough... It was his fault, he'd forced her, he'd scared her.

His finger had eased at her pearl, allowing her to focus just on the feeling of his length inside her, but she only clenched tighter — either from pain or fear or something else, he couldn’t tell. She was so tight now he could hardly move. Sebastian sighed.

“Let’s try it a little differently, my love,” he said, parting from her with one little kiss on her lips.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled his member out and lifted his sweaty body off hers for a moment. She breathed in deeply in relief, but then he cupped her hips and motioned her over, onto her front.

“W-what is this?” she asked in a tired voice.

“Something that might help you,” he smiled.

Sebastian brushed her hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed her skin while his fingers pet her sides. The bed felt worse this way, its rough springs almost digging through his flimsy mattress, but perhaps if she didn’t see him she might feel less nervous about the whole thing, and her body could accept him.

It was easy to move her, she hardly put up any resistance anymore. Sebastian set her on her knees and eased her down, holding her carefully and shushing her, until her chest lay flush against his pillow — and how delighted he was going to be from now on to rest his face on the pillow that her breasts had rubbed against. With his knees set on either side of her, he held his shaft in his hand and led it to her entrance again.

“Easy there, my love,” he cooed when he heard her wincing.

“Not again,” she whined, her hands clutching at the pillow in angry little fists.

“It will be alright…”

“No,” she complained, “I don’t want it… I don’t…”

It was harder to work his tip inside her this time, her hole opening and closing in such strong clenches that it got Sebastian to grit his teeth in frustration.

“You need to relax,” he said, one hand caressing her ribs, her chest, slipping down to cup her breast and hold it warmly.

She shook her head, forehead pressed into the pillow.

Hurriedly, almost angrily, Sebastian let her go and slid down the bed again, a growl crawling its way up his chest. While holding her hip with one sweaty palm and her ankle with the other, so that she wouldn’t kick him, he brought his face to her womanhood from behind. He stared at her clenching little hole, all red and sore and a little puffy, all his frustrations melting away at the sight. He brought his mouth down onto her again.

She yelped, she screamed, she twisted to look back at him in outrage, but he held her tightly and kept her there, to lick her pain again. It was quite different from his angle, but she felt that much more at his mercy this way, and Sebastian closed his eyes in delight. His tongue first came across her hard little nub then pet its way up it, as it were, from its plush hood to the erect tip and quickly falling into her throbbing hole. He curled his tongue until it met the edge of her entrance and he held it there, pushed in a little, easing it with loving and gentle licks, showing it how much he adored this part of her. He licked and licked and filled the air around them with messy, sticky sounds that scandalised her, but made her drip shamefully much on his tongue… Sebastian smirked and kept lapping and sucking, moaning right against her folds.

“You're so much sweeter when you're sore down here, did you know that?” he teased, speaking right against her most vulnerable place as he held her down, forced her still for him to pleasure. “You're dripping down my tongue... down my throat,” he moaned. “Like you're drooling from this little mouth,” Sebastian chuckled.

Vaguely, he could see that she had covered her head with both her arms while she moaned, hiding herself away from what he made her feel. He groaned as he laved at her.

When he felt satisfied that her womanhood was wet enough and pliant and sufficiently convinced of how much he cared for it, he got up on his knees again and settled firmly behind her. His member rested right between her folds, tapping against them — tensing up with every lustful twitch, then pulled back down by how heavy it was.

“Is it better now?” he whispered in her ear, penetrating her slowly.

She gasped and wailed into the pillow when the tip entered her again. She felt so exposed in this humiliating position, so vulnerable… It made her throb.

“Is it?” Sebastian asked again, his hot breath right against her neck. “Is it good for you like this?”

Steadily, holding himself to her hole, he pushed and pushed and groaned and pressed deeper until he was halfway in again, and then he rested his sweaty forehead on her back. His trembling hands gripped her around her waist as he steadied himself. Then, slowly, he moved one palm upwards to cup her breast before he began to pump his length inside of her.

“Mmm… that’s it,” he moaned, “you do feel better like this, don’t you?”

She said nothing, burying her tears in his pillow, together with her moans and whimpers and every embarrassing sound — both of pleasure and of shame. Sebastian was so hot against her back, his body broad and heavy and so firm, his skin tough but smooth, chest rough with hair, stomach flexing with each thrust, and the base of his manhood — so rugged it rubbed against her rear a little sore in a… not altogether unpleasant way, she blushed to admit.

Her traitorous womanhood opened for him, clenching hard then parting like a greedy mouth, and all it wanted was him — his shaft, thick and hot, leaking a sticky trail inside her with each shove. She felt him so deep she could almost taste him on her tongue.

When she started panting, rendered breathless from what he was doing to her, she tilted her head to the side — and now there was nothing left to hold back her moans.

“S—e—bas… aaah…”

“That’s it, my sweetheart,” he groaned.

His hand at her breast plucked her erect little bud, teasingly, moving sometimes to the other to not let it get too lonely, while around her waist his arm held her firmly against his front — as if he was constantly afraid that she could escape him.

“My darling, my lovely girl, my heart,” he rambled, pressing hisses against her shoulders and her neck and wherever on her back that he could reach, “my love, my one, my only…”

He groaned from the bottom of his chest when, with one long and stubborn thrust, he reached all the way inside her. She cried out and nearly burst into tears at the sensation.

“Sebastian!”

“Oh f— that’s…”

“Seb— it’s too deep!”

“Shhh, shhh,” he whispered against her hair, “easy… easy, that’s… oh, that’s… damn, that almost hurts me too, it’s so tight,” he laughed madly.

He stilled inside her, giving them both time to adjust, and slowly, she relaxed. It was as if the pain had pierced her and through her and left her behind with nothing but a feeling of... overwhelming fullness. She lay quite sapless on the bed, her hips held up only by his grasp around her middle. As Sebastian eased himself out a bit, she felt her core cling so tightly to his shaft that she nearly panicked for a moment, but then he shoved back in, and she sighed in relief and pleasure. It now almost felt like home to have him there… and she hated that she felt that way.

“Sebastian,” she groaned, pleading for… for something, she didn’t know what.

He cooed in a deep and breathless way, his lips against her ruffled hair, and he started to thrust slowly in and out. The hand around her waist relaxed enough for him to slip his finger lower, back on her abused nub, rubbing it again. Her hips jerked and she whined, but that didn’t stop him — just like nothing else did.

“You’re getting wetter for me,” he whispered hotly, “I can feel it… can feel it against… against my skin…”

With each thrust inwards, his heavy sac pressed against her folds. They throbbed right against it, kissing it in greeting. And then, he pressed himself even deeper, pushing her down, shoving her almost completely prone.

“My lovely girl,” he sighed, finally giving up on holding her upwards and letting her lay on her front while he pounded her into the bed. “My girl, all wet for me… taking me…”

Her blushing, tearful face was buried in the pillow again.

“Taking me while I’m taking you, isn’t that right?” he chuckled, resting his forehead on the nape of her neck.

Both his hands slid up her chest, each cupping a breast and holding it, letting her flesh rest in his hands while he shoved himself inside of her, pushing the breath out of her, harder and harder the more his manhood loosened her up. Every clenching of her was battered away, her channel opened up forcefully and held that way by his sheer girth. The heft and curve of his shaft aimed always his thrusts always slightly lower, against the soft spot above her entrance that made her way to cry.

“Seb—!” she gasped suddenly, raising her head from the pillow when the head of his member brushed against it.

“Yes? Is that good?” he moaned, hissing his way down her neck. “Is that good, my heart? Right there?” he teased, starting to deliberately beat away at that tender spot.

“Aaah! S-stop!”

“I don’t think so,” he groaned, “I’ll keep doing this to you until you give me what I want.”

“Please, Seb…”

“Until you give me what I want... and what you want to... Admit it... Admit it...”

“You’re mad,” she spat, sounding angry but being genuinely more afraid than anything.

She had never felt such an intensity of feeling aimed at her before, and it drove her to distraction that it would be kind and playful and bookish Sebastian who would give this to her.

But he didn’t seem to take kindly to the insult. With a growl through clenched teeth, he took his hands away from her breasts, one threading through her hair — gently, but threateningly — the other going to her stomach. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to do there, but then she felt it — he pressed slightly on her lower tummy, and right against her flesh, he felt himself.

“Do you realise how deep I am inside you?” he whispered angrily in her ear. “Do you understand… how much I love you? How much I… I want to be inside of you… With you…”

She tried to hide her face into her shoulders, her hands coming up to cover her head.

“And this is how you speak to me?” he continued. “Do you feel nothing for me?”

She didn’t wish to tell him yes — partly because she was afraid of how he would react, and partly because it wasn’t true. She did love him, had loved him for years, but this was not the sort of way she’d wished to be joined with him.

“Seb, you’re scaring me,” she whimpered.

He sighed and forced himself to ease his grip, softened as he usually was whenever she showed even a bit of vulnerability. But his thrusts only got harder, and his grip against her lower stomach stayed. He felt his tip press against her and into the cup of his hand with each pumping of his hips.

Beneath Sebastian’s lustful moans and the creaking of the bed, she could hear the humiliating sound of his flesh slapping into hers — his sac, churning with cum and dripping with her juices and his sweat, his hips, his thighs... She could smell his body too, salty and sweet and very distinctly sultry, devastatingly virile and male.

“I… I’m so…” he groaned nonsensically into her hair, “I could finish in you right now,” he threatened. She clenched at the promise. “Won’t you do it too, darling?” he murmured. “Please, I… I need it…”

“Never,” she bit back, and all around his shaft, he could feel her tightening rebelliously. She didn’t wish to be part of his experiment at all.

“I need it,” he said again, “more than you know… Come on, my love, my heart… I know you need it too. Tell me,” he panted, “how do you want to be pleasured?”

She kept quiet. Only little whimpers were pushed out of her by his heavy, deep thrusts.

“What do you need to make this little hole flutter for me?” he whispered.

Her legs tensed and her womb clenched. At her stomach, she felt his fingers begin to stroke a little up and down — stroking the head of his manhood with every inward thrust.

“What do you need? You need my love?” he said, kissing behind her ear. “My hatred?” he added, kissing her neck this time. “Anything… anything…”

“I want nothing from you,” she whimpered.

“You want my seed?” he asked — and that was it.

He felt her body clench, her little hole bubbling with cream in the areas where there was enough space for it to leak around him.

“Oh is that it?” he chuckled breathlessly, teasing her with a lick at the nape of her neck. “You want it? Hm? You want my seed inside this” — and he shoved especially hard — “little hole?”

“Sebas—!”

“You want me to make you pregnant?”

“Sebastian!”

“Want someone to breed you, is that it?”

She began struggling in his grasp, a last attempt to get away, because she knew what was coming. Sebastian wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against his thrusts that wouldn’t, wouldn’t stop. If anything, he started battering at her womanhood even harder now, sliding wetly in and out in spite of how much tighter she got.

“Oh, but my girl is naughty, isn’t she?” he growled with a wide grin.

When she kicked a little higher with her left leg, he grabbed that too and hugged it to her chest, opening her up helplessly as he claimed her.

Her hands held onto the pillow now no longer as a distraction, but out of need to hold onto something. She wailed and buried her high, frail cries into it.

“Let me love you,” he begged roughly as he shoved himself into her, his thick manhood scraping against her tender, clenching walls in a way that made her scream. “Come on, let me love you… Let me feed this little hole,” he hissed. “It’s been so lonely, hasn’t it? Nobody’s loved you before, have they?”

“Bastard!” came her muffled, angry cry.

“No, darling,” he sighed, pressing deep, deep into her and holding there, pushing her higher on the bed with the force of it, making her legs shake. His tip had reached her cervix. “No, darling, you love me,” he whispered right in her ear. “Like I love you. Do you feel that?” he asked, his hips holding his manhood deep and then thrusting a little more. “You feel your thick little lips down there kissing my balls?”

“Seb—!”

“I certainly feel it,” he moaned, grinding into her while he let his forehead rest against her back.

His arms tightened around her waist with her leg still trapped there, her hole stretched more vulnerably open than it had ever been.

“Feel it warm and wet, dripping all over it, drooling over me… You’ve been as desperate as I, haven’t you? So lonely… so unloved… You’ll never be unloved again,” he promised hotly, and then resumed his thrusts, but this time slow, tempered, hard, deep, battering against her cervix every time.

“Your womb will be full of my seed,” he breathed against her skin. “I’ll force it into you, you’ll have no choice, I promise that,” he whispered. “Hold you opened up, make your beautiful body swallow it…”

She whimpered and tried to crawl away before she realised there was nowhere to go. And behind her, Sebastian kept thrusting that shaft into her swollen channel, her muscles too weak to clench against his penetration anymore. She felt conquered and completely helpless.

“I’ll do it as often as you need it,” he said with a sweet, warm sigh, “I’ll make you all warm inside… Keep you safe. Keep you full of me…”

His thrusts started getting faster, less deep now but almost angry, almost desperate, and she wailed at the sensation because he rubbed against her spot with every thrust and it felt good, she hated how good it felt.

“And then it will take, won’t it? It will have to… I’ll breed you, I’ll get you pregnant… And everyone will see what I did to you,” he growled.

“Sebastian, please,” she moaned weakly, no longer having the strength to pretend he didn’t make her feel good. “Please, I… I need…” Her tearful eyes looked into his, dark brown and hazy, over her sweaty shoulder.

“Shhh, I know, I know, darling… ” he cooed. “Release for me, my love,” he whispered, his full lips coming to rest near hers. “Release for me, and I’ll release for you, alright?”

“Aaah…”

“It’s alright,” he said gently, kissing her. “It’s alright… stop thinking… Stop being afraid…” he coaxed. “Just let me love you, let me love you, take it… take it from me…”

She whimpered, and burst into tears. Her body shook in his grip, trembling not only from his powerful thrusts but from the pleasure that licked its way from her womanhood all through her chest and her limbs and her heart and her head… Sebastian’s hands around her tightened, and her hip almost hurt from how sharply her leg was held against her chest, but her core had never felt more satisfied, more perfectly content, more cared for and loved and wanted. He fed his manhood to it, and she was forced to take it, and she wanted — she realised with shame — she wanted his seed.

“Seb-bastian,” she sighed, sounding genuinely pleasured for the first time, completely surrendered to the pleasure both her body and his were giving her.

“That’s it,” he whispered encouragingly. Around her waist, she could feel his thumbs brush against whatever skin of hers he could reach to pet her, even as he held her flush against his chest and he thrust rough and hard down into her. “That’s it, my heart, there you are… I’ll give it to you, but you have to take it, alright?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, not knowing really what he was saying anymore, “yes, I… I…”

“You’ll have to take it, sweetheart, right in this tight, hot, secret little place of yours…”

“Sebastian!”

“I’m here,” he smiled, kissing her again on the lips — briefly, as each of his thrusts jolted her away from the reach of his mouth. “I’m here with you. I love you. I love you more than any—”

“Aaaah!”

“Oh, is that it, darling?”

“Aah! —bastian!”

“Is that it? Is your womb opening up for me?”

“Seb—! I feel… aaah…”

“Too much, my darling?” he grinned.

She nodded, eyes closed, mouth open in one long moan.

“I feel the little throat you have inside opening up for me?” he groaned, the head of his shaft pounding at her cervix. “Think I can get it inside?”

“No!” she cried.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, not wanting to hurt her, and knowing how small she was compared to him, but he teased her anyway but pressing deeper, aiming for that flexing opening. He bit his lip when he felt the tip of his member get lightly pinched by it.

She scrambled uselessly beneath him, her back arching into his sweaty chest, hips canting, and Sebastian kept thrusting into her. The little pearl that he’d teased earlier so much peeked out with interest, and his sac now met its tiny kiss each time it swung forward.

“Too much!” she wailed, her body tensing and relaxing and tensing again in the grip of some unfathomable wave of pleasure. “No more… no more, please!”

“Take it,” he groaned, “good girl, take it…”

And then that wave of pleasure crashed into her, and she screamed. Sebastian cried out too, a low and pained sound. He stilled his thrusts when he felt her core tighten around him. It gripped him as if she was going to swallow him whole, as if she wanted to drink everything he had to give — and he gave it to her, because at that very moment, his orgasm hit too, and his sac churned painfully and pushed his seed out of him in wave after thick, thick wave.

“Aaah! Oh f— my darling,” he moaned, hips twitching into her reflexively now, “my dearest… my love, my… ohh…”

He pressed grateful kisses into her neck and moaned out every endearment he could think of, and her name, and his promises to take care of her, to give her everything she deserved, to love her until the day he died…

She mewled weakly, too tired to cry out, too tired even to open her eyes. Her body had never gone through anything like that before, and as her pulses quieted and her core relaxed, Sebastian eased himself as deeply into her as he could. She could feel his seed pooling at the end of her, warm and heavy. Finally, he released her leg and let her relax fully on the bed, his own body laying for a moment on hers before he slid to the side, sapless.

She could feel and hear his heaving breath against her back, and beneath it, the frantic beating of her heart.

Sebastian kissed her shoulder one last time before he moved away, seemingly to get up. She then realised he had only retrieved that vial.

With great gentleness and care, he bent down to her core and stroked her lower back. She barely had the chance to look down at him, frowning, when she was struck by the humiliating feeling of his release and hers dripping out of her in big, pearly gushes.

“Oh,” she groaned, hiding her face away.

She didn’t see, but she could hear Sebastian chuckle.

“I know this part is a little awkward,” he said. “It… it isn’t how I wanted to end this, but…”

He stopped there, saying nothing else while he collected what he needed.

She sighed and pushed her sweaty face away from the pillow when she felt him part from her, his caressing hand stroking her leg gently one more time before he got up. She had new cause to blush when she peeked at his naked behind, firm and shining with sweat, and the length that could be seen swinging between his legs — still a little hard, still wet, tip blushing a raw, delicious colour. She felt sure a similar colour was blooming at her ravaged core, and she hid her face into the pillow again.

Sebastian’s hands were shaking. His sweaty skin felt the chill of the room more keenly now, especially after his chest had been so wonderfully warm from rubbing against her. He still had so much excitement and pleasure coursing through his veins that made him almost unsteady on his feet… But he had to see if this would work, he had to try to open the Casket.

He put one hand on its side and held the vial aloft with the other, its mouth poised just above the little orifice that would take the ‘key’.

He bit his lip to try and steady himself, and tilted the vial… The content was white and syrupy, and he blushed at seeing it. He had to wait for it to drip out… Once it reached the edge of the glass, it fell quickly, pulled down by its own heaviness right into the hole.

Sebastian held his breath as he waited, fearful for a moment that it had all gone wrong, that he’d been misled, that this had all been a terrible mistake… But not even a few seconds later, something happened. He felt a little tremor against his hand, as if something moved inside the Casket, and he pushed against the lid. Where many times before it had stood as firm as if the whole thing were one solid piece, this time, the lid slide away without resistance.

His eyes widened, and he started in quiet wonder at the open relic.

“Did it work?” she asked from the bed, her voice sleepy but still slightly interested.

Sebastian laughed, not able to take his eyes away from the inside of the Casket. It was supposed to provide its owner with whatever they needed at the time, and it certainly did that… Inside of it were two silver bands, one slightly smaller than the other, plain and unadorned, of exquisite purity: two engagement rings.

“It… it did,” said Sebastian with a bright smile.

Still, he wasn’t sure now was the right time to ask her… He felt a bit monstrous after what he'd done, and worse still for not regretting it. He was lucky that he got her to feel pleasure, to accept what he was doing, that he found the key to her lust — but it could just as easily have been the end of everything between the two of them, and he didn't know what he would have done if he'd lost her. How close he had come to that, due to his own mad desire for her, scared some sense into him now after everything was done. So he took the rings out of the Casket, quickly opened a little drawer on the side of his desk, and placed them inside.

He then walked back to the bed and joined her, squeezing himself beside her on the narrow mattress. She was hiding her face again, leaving him only her neck and shoulders to kiss.

“I apologise,” he sighed.

She mumbled.

“Do you hate me an awful lot?” he whispered with his lips against her nape. “You can tell me honestly…”

She said nothing.

“I did apologise, but I’m not sorry, just so you know,” he continued, his hand brushing the hair away from her shoulder in slow, long caresses. “I’m sorry it happened like this, but… I honestly can’t find it in me to regret it. I’ve wanted you for… a long, long time. I hope you know that. And it pained me how… how you always held yourself away.”

“Stop,” she whimpered, still facing away from him.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, the little of it that he could reach.

“I meant it, you know,” he whispered at the corner of her mouth. “I’d want nothing more than for us to have children together…”

“Sebastian, that’s—”

“I know you might not want it with me, or not at all, but… but I want it, I want it because it would be with you. But only with you.”

He sunk his face into her neck, hiding away from her rejection, hiding away from himself, but wanting all the while nothing other than to sink inside of her in every way — with his body, with his mind, with his heart. The sheets were a mess around them, half-fallen to the floor, and both she and Sebastian were sweaty and cold and messy with each other, and it was uncomfortable for both of them to lay that way together on a hard and narrow bed… But there was no safer, sweeter, better place in the world for Sebastian — nor for her, she quietly realised.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and curled his body around her from behind, seeking comfort in her. He had thought, those past few months, that he would get everything he wanted once he opened the Casket, but now he knew he could only find what he wanted in her.

She breathed deeply, accepting his embrace, and not knowing… what to say, how to confess to him what she, too, felt, even though she burned deeply with the need for him to know her, really know her, and how profound her love for him was. She lay quietly in his arms, her chest moving steadily up and down. And then, before he knew it, her hand came to rest on top of his own. Against the back of her neck, she felt Sebastian smile brightly, and she couldn’t help but smile too.

[mykingdomforapen]

LC's Link Click fic shout-outs

I worry I'm going to come off as nagging but I do feel strongly about it. Link Click has some INCREDIBLE fic, written by people who put a lot of time and energy and effort into writing, but they don't always get a ton of reader interaction. I feel like I often find a fic I enjoy, scroll down to comment, and find I'm maybe one of 2 or 3 people to comment on it.

Link Click is technically not a small fandom--on the contrary, it's so incredibly active! But it seems that unless a fic was published in the s1 era or happens to get lucky, this is the norm. Which strikes me as sad, because the fandom is popping and active on other platforms.

So here are a handful of fics (by no means exhaustive) of fics that I've thoroughly enjoyed that I had scrolled down and went, They deserve so much love! (again, not exhaustive!)

liminal by Anonymous

Qiao Ling and Lu Guang talk. Much is left unsaid.

It's such a subtle fic, but so effective in showing Lu Guang's emotions, Qiao Ling's worry, and the nature of their relationship in conjunction to Cheng Xiaoshi. It's truly just so soft and nice.

stain by HeavenlyDusk

The only way for Cheng Xiaoshi to be dead is for Qiao Ling to have died first.

I just love a Qiao Ling confronts Lu Guang about Cheng Xiaoshi's death fic, and this one really captures big sister Qiao Ling and how much she cares about both of her boys. I love it!

resolve and reverberations by macrauchenia

Lu Guang rarely fumbles, rarely cracks, and rarely steps up to the sparring mat first. Nevertheless, on a random day in the middle of September, he does all three. Alternatively, Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi can't figure out why their best friend seems so *wrong* for no explicable reason.

A slice of life fic that adds such a delicious sprinkle of angst at Lu Guang's expense hehe. But it makes me feel so sad for Lu Guang, who just is so traumatized of losing Cheng Xiaoshi, and then it gives him a soft encouragement at the end. It's so sweet.

Instinct (Part One) by JordannaMorgan

Hired to solve a wealthy client’s personal mystery, Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang discover there are even darker powers in the world than they realized… and the damage left in the fallout will not be easily fixed for anyone.

Man, this fic is so CREATIVE. It is great at suspense, kept me on the edge of my seat from chapter to chapter, and the Cheng Xiaoshi angst is so delicious. And then the ENDING. gahhh, I cannot wait for Part Two and really hope that it will come!! I think about this fic so often

A Day Like Any Other by rane_ne

After three long years, for the very first time ever, Lu Guang finally gets to turn 20.

It's just ... gahhhh. Cheng Xiaoshi is my blorbo, yes, but Lu Guang being so relieved and emotional at the end because he's finally done it, and is turning another year older because he no longer has to dive back because his friend is alive??? GAHHHHH

Memoriam by JordannaMorgan

Even for those who have no powers, photographs are powerful things.

This is a lovely case fic that is so thoughtfully, emotionally, and tenderly told. I love the compassion that the story has for the characters, and it gives me the feelings that the Earthquake arc concluded with--finding joy and kindness even within the tragedy. I really love it.

sept, oct by Toothpaste_Fresh

The first time around, there are no rules, and Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi must learn all of their lessons the hard way. The first time around, Cheng Xiaoshi is the seventh of Liu Min’s victims. The second time around, there will be no seventh victim.

Gosh, this fic is so goooood. I love the speculation of what the first time round was like, and GOSH it's just such a gut punch of dramatic irony, of both CXS and LG being bold and idealistic and naive, and then how it tragically leads to CXS' death. It's EXCELLENT.

Golden Hour by StuckIn_aTimeLoop

The salty breeze feels nice. Cheng Xiaoshi smiles as he kneels down in the sand, happy they managed to make it in time for golden hour. Cheng Xiaoshi holds up the camera to capture his shot.

I LOVE ME SOME PARALLEL SCENES THAT ARE CONNECTED AND INTERTWINED BY AN EMOTIONAL MOTIF!! The juxtaposition of two types of golden hours is done so well, and both are so full of energy of opposite kinds in such a well balanced way. I was so excited when I heard this fic was being written and I was so happy reading it.

the shine in your eyes reminded me of the moon by StuckIn_aTimeloop

Cheng Xiaoshi was barely a child when his parents died. The king took him in, raised him as his own. Now he's older, it is time for him to choose his own knight.

Prince Cheng Xiaoshi and Knight Lu Guang. Need I say more??? It's so indulgent and I love it.

[the-one-who-lambs]

9 people you would like to get to know better tag meme

except I'm starting a new post because the one I got tagged in was long as shit. I was tagged by @tacofuus, thanks so much!

Last song: Batter Up by Babymonster. It's a solid 6.5/10 check out

Favorite color: violet/lavender. Really any shade of purple

Last tv show/currently watching: I honestly don't really watch TV. I genuinely cannot remember. The last series I actually watched was Death Note with my best friend and that was last year/beginning of this year. I used to be into anime when I was in middle school and this felt like a return to my roots lmao

Sweet/spicy/savoury: I go with savory most of the time, but my favorite is sweet for sure.

Relationship status: narilamb

Current obsession: Writing fanfic for cult of the lamb. It's been just about a year and a half now and I don't see this dying down anytime soon, cotl has squarely entered full special interest status for me so I'll be here for at least another 3 years. I have a bad habit of making a new fandom blog every time I get a shorter-term hyperfixation, writing for it, getting kindasorta recognized in the fandom, then abandoning my works and deleting the blog when I'm not interested in it anymore. Maybe some of y'all followed me in my previous fandoms and y'all would probably never know bc of orphaned works that I can't find anymore. ...anyway. I've made too many close friends in this fandom to pull that stunt again. the-one-who-lambs and my cotl fics are here to stay. I'm rambling

Last thing you googled: 600 cc in cups (I was making soup but all the good noodle packets from China+Korea give units in cubic centimeters. It's about 2.5 cups btw)

Uhhhhh I don't know who to tag so I'll just pick the most recent 9 mutuals in my notes who haven't been tagged already by taco or the people they tagged lol. Don't feel pressured to do it, though! @artsycryptix @just-a-random-demon-official @miallurk @pikos-den @tokyonymph @mianing @bamsara @coffincrows @fanged-cotl

[emeryhall]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Also, thank you to @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for asking me this question too! ❤️ Here goes...

Only Creatures (88K, E)

The fic I just completed. I think this is my best plot with the possible exception of, well, see below. In the middle, I felt like I had so many balls in the air, I was afraid I wouldn't catch them all, or at least not gracefully, but I think I managed it. I've been working on my plots hinging on character choices. They walk through a door, the door shuts behind them, they cannot re-open it, and they change. I feel like I finally got it with this fic. And then there was the morning I woke up to find that @artsyunderstudy had drawn art for chapter 5 and my heart exploded. Except she kept drawing art and every time, I got to see my words come to life in the most beautiful way imaginable. Oh, oh! And then @monbons sewed me a little wings & tail Simon doll and Baz in his PJs, and I adore them ❤️❤️

Blood Sugar Sex Moony (63K, E)

The other contender for best plot. I think this is possibly my most creative fic. Sirius and Remus are both canon-compliant guerrilla soldiers from 1981 AND a goth-boy and star quarterback at a SoCal high school in the mid-90s. I wrote it for the 2023 @rsbigbang, which finally narrowed the wolfstar community down to a small enough group that I could make friends! It's also how I met @euripidestrousers who shaped this fic into what it became. And I was lucky enough to get the amazing artist @spikesteaseasalt as its illustrator.

A Little Bit Deadly (49K, E)

Derek Jeter. Need I say more? This fic was my introduction to the Carry On fandom, and that is reason alone for it to be one of my favorites. Y'all are a beautiful community of people who have been so kind and enthusiastic and welcoming. I'm delighted to be a part of you. ❤️ This fic was another one where I woke up from having posted the last chapter and found that @letraspal had made art - ART! And then she kept making art, including the glorious Mr. June. Derek Jeter was modeled on my amazing orange chonk who died, and every time I see Annie's drawings of him, it makes me cry a little. I feel like he gets to live on in this fic and Annie's art.

The Space Between (34K, M)

This is the first fic I wrote, having read absolutely zero fanfic. It was tagged entirely wrong, had a terrible summary, and only three kudos for, like, ages. But I had one enthusiastic reader who left me the kindest comments about my writing, and since then, it's gained its handful of fans who don't mind a little sadness. I still think it contains some of my prettiest writing, and I love the "behind the veil" space I created, which came out of my studies of Symbolist playwrights for my doctorate.

night after night, I let you eat me alive (8K, E)

Aka, my cannibalism fic. This one took me by surprise. I wrote this ridiculous short story because I needed a break from my Big Bang fic, then wondered if I should post it at all because I thought it was too out there. Happily, some of the RS/BB crew encouraged me because people love it. I love writing comedy, and I think this is the funniest thing I've written. But also, a sweet little fluffy love story - with a twist!