#but now have to stay in a cottage together as they try to figure out why a witch is targeting them

[displayheartcode]

“We’ve never done this before,” she told him.

“Haven’t we?” he murmured. “Maybe not in your dreams but in mine.”

modern divination by isabel agajanian

[whore-ibly-hot]

"A Servant and His King."

Yandere!Fae-King x Fae!servant x. Fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, coercion, fae related hijinks, basically monster fucking, oral (fem receiving), loss of virginity, clit play, p-in-v sex, power dynamics.

(A/N): Part two to a non-smutnfic about Puck, based off of puck from 'Midsummer Nights Dream'. Can be read with or standalone.

Part one (not required to understand)

A brief gust of wind and leaves rattles the shutters of your small cottages window, not sounding out of place when mixed with the usual sounds of the forest. However, the gust turns softer as it gently brushes against the shutters, causing them to open slowly with a creak.

A pair of feet land nimbly upon the wooden dresser across the room from your bed, a shadowy figure squatting down with a grin. The figure hops down, making its way to your bed, where you sleeping form lies blissfully unaware of the intruder.

Groaning, you are soon roused from your slumber by a light pressure on your wrist, and your eyes flutter open. You gasp, seeing the being before you and trying to pull away. "

"W-who are you! Stay awa-" a finger is pressed softly to your lips, the figures face coming into view as the lean forward. Forest green eyes and a set of familiar pearly whites greet you.

"Shh! No need to fear, only Puck is here." He coos, kissing your wrist once more, pressing the soft flesh to his lips. "Sorry to frighten you, little mortal. I would never mean to upset you, but I couldn't very waltz in through the entrance to your humble abode, especially given your mother's feelings about my kind." He lays his lithe body across yours, head on your chest as he looks at you with glee.

"Why are you here, Puck? It's late, I must rest." You say, though you don't resist the fae boys touching. "Sleep is important for humans."

He scoffs. "I know, but I have something more important than your human need for sleep. My king, Oberon, leader of the seelie court wishes to meet you." He pulls you up by your shoulders, a hand fixing your nightgown which begins to slip from your shoulder.

"T-the king?" You're just a human woman, a peasant. You've never even met a human noble, much less a faery king. "Why? Puck, I'm not, I can't! Now? I'm not dressed properly, I'm a human, I-"

Once again, a finger is placed against your lips. Invading your space as per usual, Pucks forehead is pressed against your forehead, nose to nose. "Shush, little mortal. Please, the king loves me. I am his jester-servant, his beloved Puck! We've shared many a-" he chuckles. "Amourous night together. He knows if your good enough for me, then your good enough to meet him. Don't discredit yourself, you are so much more than some mortal maid I take in the woods for a night of passion." He makes her sit up, and tries to slip her out of the bed. "He'll love you, my sweet. It's only proper I introduce my new beloved friend to my closest companion, ruler, and my king." You allow him to pull you out of your bed, and into his lanky form.

"Mmph, Puck. I can walk." You groan, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He tsks with his tongue, and shakes his head.

"No, no, no. Don't whine, don't go away. Be good. It's a long stroll all the way to the spring we're going to, just relax." He cackles. "You humans are so indecisive. Just a moment ago you were whining, 'Puck, no. It's too late, I'm a human, I need my sleep.', now you won't let me carry your frail, tired self to see the king. Make up your mind."

You roll your eyes, but suppose he has a point, and allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, shoulders flush against his pecs.

As he slips back through the window and dances through the glen, weaving through trees and brush like a gust of cool night air, he soon arrives upon a clearing. Smooth rock reflect moonlight, as the water resting atop them comes from the babbling freshwater spring that rests at the edge of the rocks. A figure, imposing and much more muscular than Puck's is sat on one of the rocks, admiring the water.

Puck gently sets you down with nimble hands, kissing your ear lightly. This causes you to squeak and push him off.

"Stop it, Puck! I-im about to meet a king and your acting like we're lovers! Like your an enamored schoolboy!" You exclaim, and his hands only wrap around your waist from behind, playing with the cloth there.

"And here I thought we were lovers..." He feigns a sad face and a pout, before jolting forward and taking you with him by the waist. "My king!" He yells.

The imposing figure looks over, causing you to freeze, mind not really in synch with body as Puck drags you forward. The king is truly a thing of beauty, rugged and piercing as if he were carved, not from stone, but from the wood that made up the forest which he called his domain. He wears a fur pelt around his waist, covering his only upper thigh and not leaving much to the imagination. His is decidedly hairy, and though beautiful is as rugged as a human man of the woods is expected to be. He has dark curls of hair not unsimilar to Puck's, but not as long. His eyes are a deep brown.

"Ah, Puck, my fair servant friend. I was almost afraid you had planned to trick me, having not shown yet." The king muses, legs spread casually and a hand resting against his chin.

Puck gasps, hand to his chest as if hurt. "Never, my liege. Well, at least not to you." Puck coos, sitting on the rock and curling up to the man's calve. The king runs his hands through the curls of the fae man, and you are taken aback by the sensuality of their interaction.

The king looks up. "And you, little mortal, must be my Pucks new favorite thing, hmm?" He asks, head tilted. You nod nervously as the man waves you closer. You bow, and he grins. "Good, good. I assume she knows who I am then? I am King Oberon, of this enchanted woods and over all of the seelie court. Though, my servant here told me you knew little to nothing of our people when asked you about us, so I doubt you'd know what the seelie court is."

You shake your head. "No, sir. All I know-" you glance at Puck, who is practically purring at his kings touch. "All I know is what Puck has told me. That you are powerful, and to be respected."

Oberon grins at this. "That is all you need know. Come here, allow a king to gaze upon you." His hands begin to wander, cupping your face. His large fingers prod your plump lips, your cheeks, and tilts your chin downwards to look at him from where he is sat. Then, the hand is on your shoulder, playing with the straps of your upper garment, then at your chest. This sudden touch in such an intimate place causes you to jolt back. Oberon raises a brow.

"I'm sorry, sir. That is, that is just a very intimate place for humans. It's for sensual matters, when between two adults." You try to explain. Puck sighs, leaning his head on Oberons knee while the king chuckles.

"I am aware. It is intimate and sensual for fae too. That is why you were being touched there." He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Now, you are only more confused.

"Well, intimacy of those matters between humans happens between a-a married couple, and even then, it should not be openly discussed. A woman like myself couldn't, shouldn't ever bee with a stranger like that, not even a suitor before marriage!"

"I have heard humans are... less indulgent in the passions of life than fae. All those awful, boring rules. And yet you kill your leaders and revolt because your miserable? Perhaps. Eing unable to express those urges is why." He laughs, and Puck joins in. He sense your confusion and continues. "Fae do not believing in brief enjoyment and indulgence. We live life to the fullest. Our liquor is stronger yet we drink more, our food is richer, yet we all eat like kings. And most of all, we indulge in the passions of the flesh with each other more than your little mind could take. I think if you had the opportunity, you'd see it was the best way to live." He muses.

To your suprise, he suddenly moves Puck up from his calve to his lap, holding the thin man by the waist as Puck grins wickedly. "You see, me and my servant here are close, emotionally and physically. We have enjoyed many a night of passion, without the watchful eye of my queen, of course." There is some bitterness in Oberon's tone at the mention of his queen.

"You... you indulge in passion with those, of the same gender as you, o-often?" You ask. It is not wrong, you are just so suprised and curious. You are not even supposed to think about a man pleasing a woman, let alone a man and another man. It is such a foreign idea.

"Mhmm. Being a king is hard for his majesty, and Puck... I, am happy to help him with his desires. My king cares for me, and I care for him." Puck says, before gasping and cutting off. You blush, seeing Oberons hand has slipped below Pucks leafy loincloth, hand stroking Puck manhood. He focuses only on the tip for now.

"I am suprised seeing as you are so shocked by how touchy and sensual fae are, seeing as you bedded my dear servant." Oberon says, and you immediately shake your head.

"No! I've never, me and Puck did nothing together. We drank a little, but he took me home." You exclaim, and look st Ouck for answers. He's too busy letting out soft whimpers and moans as Oberon moves his hand the full length of Pucks cock, paying attention to his bulbous tip.

"Is this true, Puck? I find it hard to believe, my servant can't keep his hands to himself. I suppose this makes you seem even more special to me, that my Puck would wish to see you again so desperately, and rave about you to me even if he had not bedded you yet. That begs the question though..." He leans in to Puck's ear. "Why did you lie to your king?"

Puck groans, brows furrowing. "M' sorry, your majesty! I knew you were so busy, and if I told you I had found a mortal capable of giving such incredible pleasure, you'd be more likely to come and see what a treasure I had found." He stammers. The king shakes his head, slowing his movements on Puck's cock.

"You know better than to lie to a king with a temper, Puck."

Puck cries out, bucking his hips and trying to chase that friction against his kings rough hands. "N-no sir! Trust me, I know if she'd just indulge, the mortal would be wonderful! She... she could be our mortal, not just mine! Please sir, I'll be good, she'll be good, don't stop." He begs.

Oberon sighs, still frowning in Pucks direction but intrigued nonetheless. "Alright, mortal girl. I yell you, if you would only let go, indulge just a bit in the pleasures of the fae, you would live a better life overall. And, should you please a king of the woods, perhaps your... what is it your mother does? Herbs? Perhaps they would see a better yield. An enchantment perhaps?" He offers.

You gulp, body hot with both arousal at the sight before you and anxiety. "I couldn't. What would the people in town think, I-I would be outcast!"

"Who would know? Even if someone were to find out, no one would believe a quiet gardeners daughter slept with a wicked spirit." The king teases, tongue poking out from between his lips slightly. He pulls you to him, and you offer no resistance. "For an untouched maiden, I assure you there is no one better to introduce you to a world of pleasure than the king, and his most loyal servant."

As he says this, the moaning Puck latches his lips onto your neck, continuing to moan as he sucks the soft flesh. You gasp.

"Oh, oh, gods." You squeak, the sensitive skin of your nape never having been touched, much less kissed in such a way.

"No gods, here, mortal. No angels or demons, only fae. Only the spirits of nature." He leans into your ear, kissing the shell. "Only your king."

Soon, a rough hand gets your skirt pooled around your knees, kneading the fat of your thigh and preparing to spread your legs and allow the fae king and his srmervant a view of the untouched treasure that lies there. You shiver as the cold air brushes across your stomach, you've never felt so exposed.

"See, highness? I told you, she's the perfect, pretty little mortal. Tease her, please? For me? I want to see her face as she experiences pleasure for the first time." Puck begs.

Oberon raises a brow and the request. "Such demands from a liar who has already been granted mercy, and is still being pleasure bu the hands of a king." He pulls his hand from Ouck's cock, causing tears to well in the edged faes eyes, having been denied his release.

"Majesty-"

"Enough. I will allow you to tease and prep the maiden, so she may except you king. Before you say anything, be grateful I don't only allow you to watch, or send you home." Puck whines, but grins a little inside. He knows the king enjoys his presence to much to remove him from this sensual scene.

Oberons large hands keep your shoulders flat against the warm stones of the spring, while Puck, still hard beneath his tented loincloth, crawls unceremoniously up between your thighs.

"What are you doing, Puck?" You whisper out softly, looking into his dazzling green eyes. He smiles warmly, pressing his cheek to one of your thighs.

"I assure you, maiden, my wicked tongue is not only good for japes and jabs." He coos. You are still confused at what he could mean, until the two thin fingers parting your folds are replaced with a hot, wet muscle. Puck licks a stripe teasingly up your center, savoring the flavour but eyes never leaving your face.

Oberon smiles down as he watches your face contort and wrinkle at the new sensation.

"Puck, y-your majesty, what is- oh, what is he doing?" You ask, trying to form a coherent sentence at the odd feeling of pressure and friction against both your clit and your entrance as Puck explores your folds.

"It's called cunnilingus, maiden. Fae have many ways to pleasure each other, but many enjoys the feel of one's mouth on their most intimate areas." He chuckles as he watches Puck tasting you curiously. "Sometimes, I find filling his mouth is the only way to quiet him." Puck giggles, and the vibrations make your legs quake.

Soon, the muscle invades your entrance, as Puck is now groaning almost as much as you. It's a gentle stretch, but both Ouck and Oberon know it will be necessary for what the king is to do later. Your aroused and needy clit is not forgotten by the fae pleasuring you, as a free hand comes to tweak it gently. The feeling is overwhelming, and soon, that knot inside you snaps, and you feel a high you've never known. It feels as though currents, waves run through your body as your maidenhood spasms around Pucks tongue.

He removes it, but continues to lap at your spent clit, tasting the juices of your climax. Oberon smiles.

"Was he good, maiden? Did you first touch by a man satisfy?" He asks. You can only weakly nod. "Ah, answer, maiden. Your being addressed by a royal."

"It was... it was very good, m-majesty." You gasp out. You look away at the sheer lewdness of the sight and Oberon crashes his lips to Pucks so that he may taste you on his servants lips.

"She was a divine nectar, my liege." Puck groans, pulling away from the kiss and now trading spots with his king. Now Puck lays by your shoulders, playing with your locks and kissing your neck and jawline while Oberon moves into place.

His chisled body places itself atop you, his sheer size dwarfing you and removing the moonlight from your body, casting a large shadow. You gulp.

"I... I've never done-" he chuckles, cutting you off.

"I'm aware, mortal. All that talk of purity led me to that conclusion. But, you won't be that innocent for long. I will be gentle, but it will hurt at first when you accept me into your sweet cunt. It's all part of the process."

You tense a little at the feeling of something hard, much more rigid than Pucks limp tongue, prodding at your entrance and folds.

"M' scared." You admit. This seems to soften the sensual yet cold king, and he sighs. Even Puck gives him a sad, wide eyes look. He leans down.

"Don't worry, mortal. I will be as gentle as any man has been with a woman. My Puck was never one to be nervous, but I have had lovers in the past who were. I will take care of you." He says.

Puck holds your hand and nuzzles his cheek to yours to provide a semblance of comfort. "It's true. The king is a fair and gentle lover when he wants to be. Don't worry, my friend." He assures.

Oberon strokes your thighs to relax soon, and soon the tip enters your weeping slit. You whine, the intrusion burns a little, especially as he adds a few inches every so often. But, he is slow, and talks you through it.

"Shh, it's alright. Your taking me so well, especially since I am endowed with more than some. Such a good mortal girl, it will feel good once you've stretched to accommodate a fae's cock." He coos.

As he begins to gently thrust, the slightly pain gives way to a burning pleasure. You whimper, his thrusts rocking your ads back against the stone of the spring. His large, curved tip is hitting the right spots, cervix getting pounded by the large man of the forest.

"O-oh, shit! Oberon, please- please, m-more! I need all, all of you in me!" You cry, and he chuckles.

"That's your womb speaking. This is your first time, you couldn't possibly accommodate all of me. But I will give you what I think, ugh, what I think you can take." He thursts become rhythmic, rolling in and out of your stretched tunnel, as Puck holds you steady and plays gently with your chest.

Oberon humps against you a few more times, moaning at Pucks encouragement. "She is so close, sire. I can tell, she's all tense and red, come on! Give it to her, let her take you. Please." It's clear Puck is still needy from not having gotten his release earlier. Still, he seems satisfied watching the king fuck his newest treasure.

"Mortal, mortal. You squeeze like a vice, such a warm, needy cunt. You needed this, to feel such pleasure, didn't you? Needed a cock to fill this cunt?" He moans. "It was fate, wasn't it, Puck? Finding this maiden, all alone. It was fate for you to be brought to us." Puck nods as his master continues.

"Your majesty, I'm gonna- its happening again." You cry, and his pace doesn't slow.

"I know, I know. I'm, fuck-" one last thrust sends the king over the edge. He groans, feeling your tunnel convulse around him as his thick white cum fills you. Puck plants quick, overwhelming kisses across your face as you climax, secretly wondering what you would look like if you bore the king's child.

Soon, Oberon pulls out, and you lay there, trembling and on the verge of sleep. Puck leans down and plants a final kiss upon your lips. He smiles.

"Sleep, little mortal. It's okay, you are safe with me and my king. I'll return you to your bed, pretty one." He strokes your hair softly, until your tired eyes close and stay closes. He sighs, and looks at the king. It's clear he could go for a fee more rounds.

"Majesty, our poor mortal needed this so badly, her body was on fire for it. We can't... we can't well let her go back to her little cottage, all alone in the dangerous wood with no one to please her. She's trusting, and she broke all the rules of interacting with fae so quickly, what if a worse one came along and-"

"Puck!" Oberon exclaims, making the imp jolt and go silent. Oberon sighs. "I am not a fool. I know how much this unique mortal has captivated the two of us. You need not convince me to take her back to my palace. As fair as Titania will be concerned, she is a plaything for you, correct? I will not have her cursing this treasure." Oberons muscular arms cradle your slumbering form.

"Majesty, I know of your endurance. Perhaps when we get back to the palace, while our maiden rests, I may please you." Puck asks, eyes wide and innocent.

Oberon scoffs. "All this acting because I didn't allow you to finish, Puck?" Oberon says, seeing through Pucks facade of goodwill and selflessness. Puck pouts.

"Isn't it tempting, though?"

"Perhaps."

[paige1722]

Bah Humbug

Summary: instead of playing nice with the village that chooses to sacrifice you, you get revenge!!! This is an alternative to Silent Night.

Pairing: Krampus!Konig x GN!Reader

Warnings: major death, gruesome, Krampus, attempted sacrifice, mentions of hell

I hope this is what you were looking for, it starts out kind of similar but I made the characters a little more cruel towards the reader. I hope you like it!!! @melimelisworld

The village you live in is small and quite quaint; everyone knows everyone, and nothing stays secret for long. Growing up here, you recall how loving everyone was to each other, people constantly stepping up to help others. Now that all seems like a distant memory, as the never-ending blizzard that plagues your town causes food and trading shortages, everyone has become bitter and cruel towards one another, willing to do anything just to save themselves. 

As you looked out of the window of your small cottage towards the center of town, where in years past, you would be able to see streets filled with people walking around with their loved ones, children, and their parents playing out in the snow together, laughter filling the air, but now the streets are empty nothing but the white snow covering the stone paths throughout the village. The harsh wind caused the window panes to groan, and the snow kept piling up more and more. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as a figure marches their way through the thick snow from your neighbor's house towards your front door. 

You walk to your front door just in time to hear a harsh knock. When you open it, you see Philip, the assistant to the village leader. Moving back so he can enter, he makes his way inside, tracking snow throughout your house. Once inside, he makes his way towards your fireplace, placing his hands in front of the fire. 

“Philip, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” you asked, closing the door behind him and moving to stand in the middle of your living room. Feeling a bit uneasy at the sight of him in your house, nothing good ever comes from one of his visits, usually trying to con people out of food rations for himself, saying it is for the good of the village. 

He turns around, placing his hands around his back to keep them in front of the fire, his eyes scrutinizing you, a small sneer on his face. The fire casing an ominous shadow over his frame, and you are now able to get a better look at him. The food shortages obviously have no effect on him. At the same time, most people in your village, yourself included, are forced to ration their food just to make it through the week. He and Shepherd, the village leader, constantly have full plates, never once having to starve, wondering where their next meal is coming from. His expensive fur jacket looked more pristine than ever, and nothing on his outfit was out of place. 

“Yes, I have been tasked with letting everyone know that at six tonight, there will be an emergency village meeting in the church. It is mandatory for everyone to be in attendance.” He sounds as if this task is below him, but he will do whatever Shepherd tells him to do.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and you feel skeptical about the emergency meeting. “Oh, okay. By any chance, do you know what the meeting will be about?” 

At your innocent question, Philip squints his eye, looking at you up and down suspiciously, clenching his jaw and taking quick steps towards you. He points an accusatory finger in your face, causing you to step back at his fast approach. “It does not matter what the meeting is about. You are required to be in attendance, understand?” 

Your back hits the wall separating the living room from the kitchen; setting your hands on his chest, pushing him back from you, he stumbles back, grabbing hold of your wrist, disgust clear on his face. His breath hits your face, “have some respect for your village leaders.” 

Ripping your hand from his grip, you walk towards the door, open it, and motion for him to leave, venom clear in your voice, “You are just the assistant, not the town leader. You can leave now. You told me about the meeting.” 

Smoothing down his jacket and giving you one of his signature smiles, Philip chuckles and walks back toward the front door. He pauses to stare at you, a strange look in his eye. “I look forward to seeing you at the meeting then,” he winks as he walks out the door and back into the snow.

You shut the door behind him, sliding the lock into place. You let out the breath you had been holding, wishing that things could go back to normal in the village. What does it matter if you were not going to attend the meeting? Though with his reaction at the thought that you were not going had him acting like that, you fear to think of what he would actually do if you failed to make an appearance. Not to mention, you are very curious as to the details of this emergency meeting; perhaps it was about food rations or the never-ending blizzard. 

You place your head against the door; a headache begins to form with all the frantic thoughts running through your head. Opening your eyes, you see the trail of snow Philip tracked into your house. Cursing him under your breath, you move to the kitchen to grab a towel to clean up the mess before it ruins your floors.  

—----

You glance at the small hand-carved clock on your wall. Seeing that it is almost time for the meeting to start, you make your way to your front door, putting on the thickest coat you own, your gloves, and winter boots. Opening the door and closing it behind you, you wrap your coat tightly around you, pulling up the collar to cover the bottom half of your face as you venture down the snow-covered stone path that leads throughout the village. You see your neighbors already making their way inside the church. Two men stand outside wrapped in thick fur jackets and hats, each holding lanterns to signal the start of the meeting. You trudge through the thick snow, carefully walking up the ice-covered steps to the entrance. The two men, who you now recognize as Simon and Johnny, the town’s butchers, open the massive doors. You mumble a quick thank you to the men and make your way inside the warm church. 

Looking around the massive sanctuary, a long line of lit candles operas on either side of the pews gives the room an almost eerie glow. You realize you are one of the last villagers to arrive, seeing as most of the pews are already filled to the brim with people waiting for the meeting to start; whispers could be heard throughout the room, filled with hateful gossip about one another. You decide to sit in the back, where there is still a little bit of space left, sitting in one of the only empty spots left.

You take off your thick jacket and hang it on the back of the pew you were sitting on, and continue looking around the room. At the front of the pulpit stands Philip Graves, talking in hushed tones to the village leader, Shepherd. They look to be arguing, judging by the looks on their faces. Philip turns his head, looking near the door; when he makes eye contact with you, he turns back to Shepherd, whispering in his ear, a sinister grin appearing on their faces.

The front doors slamming closed behind you cause you to jump a bit. You turn around in your seat to see Johnny and Simon standing inside the church, placing the lanterns on the golden hooks on either side of the doors. They move to stand behind the pew you are sitting on, making you feel uncomfortable, but before you can ask them about it. A throat clearing causes you to turn your attention back to the front of the church, where Shepherd now stands behind the podium with Philip by his side.

“Thank you all so much for joining us today for this emergency meeting. We know that things have been tough recently for us all. But fear not; we have come up with a solution that will surely save us all from this torment.” 

Everyone perks up at the news, excited at the thought of ending their suffering. For some reason, you feel a sense of dread overcome by this news. Something about this whole situation does not sit right with you. Something in your gut telling you that nothing good is going to come out of this meeting.  

“Now, I know you all must be wondering as to what the solution to our problem is. Philip and I have found who is responsible for our suffering it is none other than the demon Krampus. He must be growing bored with punishing children and is looking to torture the innocent people of this village.” 

Gasps echo around the room; Shepherd raises his hand up to silence the murmuring, “To appease his wrath, we must give him an offering; then I am certain we will be saved.” 

Your heart starts to pound in your chest, an offering? What could anyone in the village possibly possess that would be good enough to use as an offering to a demon to appease them? Shepherd locks eyes with you, “I know what you all must be thinking: we have no material possessions good enough for such a beast. We will give the demon a human sacrifice!” 

The room suddenly becomes too hot, sweat beads down your face. Johnny and Simon come up behind you and pull you out of your seat. They begin dragging you, kicking and screaming, to the front of the church. You try to pull your arms from their grip, but is it no use, kicking your feet, trying anything to free yourself. Tears flow freely from your eyes. You look around at the people of your village, pleading with them, hoping that someone, anyone, will help you, but they just all sit there watching, doing nothing. Reaching the front of the church, Philip grabs you from the grip of the two butchers, placing a rough hand over your mouth to silence your yelling. 

Your back is pressed against Philips's chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you in place; you struggle in his grip, causing him to tighten his grip on you. His grip bruises your arms, but you refuse to give up. Ignoring your efforts, he says, “Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal once the demon has his offering! Return to your homes and await the glorious rewards that will be gifted upon us all!” He yells out, his chest rumbling against your back. 

As you watch, everyone slowly rise from their seats and make their way toward the entrance of the church, leaving you to your demise. You bite the hand covering your mouth as you let out more screams for help, “Please don’t do this, there must be another way!!” you yell out desperation clear in your voice,  but all you get in return is a slap across the face from Philip. 

“Bitch just bite me, hand me the gag. I can’t stand to hear any more of this pathetic screaming.” Simon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gag before harshly shoving the cloth in your mouth and tying it around your head. 

Once the door slams, such as the last of the villagers returning safely to their homes, Shepherd grabs a rope from his pocket and stands in front of you, “Ah, fear not. Think about the good your sacrifice will bring to the people of this village, all the lives you will save.” He pulls your wrists together in front of you and binds them tightly together, the rough rope digging into your skin.

Philip unwraps his arms around you and grabs the rope around your wrist, dragging you towards the front doors of the church, the rope squeezing your wrists, causing you to let out a pained gasp that is muffled by the cloth in your mouth. What was about to happen to you setting in, causing you to dig your feet into the carpet of the church trying to free yourself. Tears flow down your face, muffled screaming, as you try desperately to escape. 

“Alright, I can’t deal with this the whole way to the forest. We got to do something,” says Philip, annoyed by your constant struggle. 

Johnny walks back to the podium and pulls out more rope; he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, handing the rope to Simon, “Tie their feet together. It will probably just be easier to carry them.” 

Simon takes the rope from Johnny, grabs both of your kicking feet and ties them together as tight as he can, making it more difficult for you to free yourself.

With you bound tightly over Johnny's shoulder, the group makes its way to the front of the church. Simon and Johnny retrieve their lanterns from where they had been left earlier. The heavy church doors open, and they begin their journey toward your death, the flickering flames casting long, eerie shadows in the snow. Your muffled screams echo through the village. Through blurred, tear-filled eyes, you catch glimpses of people watching from behind their windows, doing nothing to help you. 

—-

They have been carrying you farther and further into the forest, walking for what seems like hours. The light from the moon can be seen through the trees; the only source of light for miles is the lanterns. Your throat is sore from all the screaming, and you're pretty sure your wrists and ankles are now bleeding due to the rope rubbing against your skin from your flailing around. As you all reach a clearing in the middle of the forest where only a single twisted tree stands in the darkness, everyone stops walking; Johnny throws your body on the ground, the harsh impact knocking the breath from your lungs. 

Philip yanks you up from the rope around your wrist, dragging you through the snow towards the tree, the fear flooding your body, giving you a new rush of adrenaline, trying to dig your feet into the ground but with your ankles tied together, making it near impossible. Shepherd is already standing underneath the lowest hanging branch of the tree, holding one end of a rope that has been tied around the branch. They tie the rope through the rope on your wrists, hoisting your arms above your head until your arms are straining and your toes are barely scraping the ground. You let out muffled groans of pain and cursing them as best you could.

All four men are standing in front of you; no sympathy for what they are doing to you can be seen on their faces. Shepherd gives one last look at your body hanging from the tree, “This is where we leave you. Thank you for your sacrifice.” he says smugly before turning with the others and leaving you to your death.

  As you watch them all walk away, the light from the lanterns slowly fades away until you can no longer see it, leaving you in the dark forest alone. You begin to try to free yourself from the tree. Tears run down your face and neck. You try and scream to the best of your ability, but the cloth in your mouth muffles your shouts. Flailing around, trying to somehow untie the ropes on your wrists, all you end up accomplishing is tightening the knots, burying the rope farther into your skin, and blood from the open wounds on your wrists running down your arms. 

Your body quickly runs out of energy from your constant struggle, crying, screaming, and the cold. You begin to feel tired, struggling to keep your eyes open, thinking to yourself that you really don’t want to die, especially not for the people of the town who did nothing to help you; they all just watched. Until, from the darkness, you begin to hear the distant sound of bells jingling closer and closer. Looking all around you in the darkness, you see the glow of a lantern with an outline of a huge figure. You automatically think it is probably someone who is out hunting, so you begin screaming as loudly as you can through the gag, trying to gain their attention. The figure pauses walking, turning towards the sound of your screams, and begins walking in your direction.

 A huge figure emerges from the trees, standing nearly seven feet tall with twisted horns protruding from the mask peeking out from under the hood, his eyes shining through the darkness, the mouth carved onto the front of the mask was open with sharp teeth and a long red serpent-looking tongue, underneath the dark red hood covering his face and body. With every step it draws closer to you, you catch small glimpses of the jingling of bells hanging on a chain wrapped around his torso from underneath the red cloak glimmering in the light from the lantern. 

Frozen in fear at the person walking towards you but still in the back of your head, you are hoping that they will set you free. He stops right in front of where you are hanging from the tree, even dangling in the air, the top of your head barely level with his chin. The soft glow from the lantern gives off an eerie glow to whoever is standing in front of you. You swear that you can see his eyes staring right through you. You let out a muffled “help.” 

“Warum bist du hier draußen?” The demon in front of you utters, reaching for the gag tied around your head. He pulls the fabric out of your mouth, letting it hang around your neck.

Your voice hoarse from all the hours you spent screaming for help, you manage to croak out a gasped, “What?” 

He eyes you curiously, looking at your bound hands and feet. He reaches inside the large red cloak and pulls out a sharp hunting knife. Wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you from falling to the ground. He cut the rope around your wrists, your numb arms falling limply to your sides. Lowering you to sit on the snowy ground, he moves down to the rope around your ankles, cutting the rope. You rub your wrist, trying to bring feeling back into your body, the blood flowing through your arms causing a tingling sensation. 

Still crouched down in front of you, he places the hunting knife back inside his cloak and pulls out a small water skin, holding it out for you to take. You eye him cautiously before grabbing the water skin and taking big gulps of water, the cool water soothing your raw throat. As you hand him back the half-empty water, he says,  “Now, let's try this again, ja. Why are you out here?”

Sniffling due to the cold, anger courses through your body at the memories of the past few hours. You hiss. “They said I was supposed to be some kind of offering to save the village from Krampus’s wrath. They tied me up and dragged me out here against my will.” You take a deep breath, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them before continuing your voice much softer this time, “No one even bothered to help me. I was screaming at them, but they wouldn’t listen.” 

The man in front of you lets out a hum, “I have no need for an innocent sacrifice. Where do people get these silly little ideas from.” he says, scoffing and shaking his head in disbelief. 

You squint your eyes at him, looking him up and down from the way he is sitting in front of you, causes his cloak to open a bit and allowing you to see the chains wrapped around his torso more clearly. On the chains are the little golden bells engraved with small intricate designs. You can barely make out the cursive ‘Krampus’ written across them. Come to think of it, his cloak, mask, the bells remind you of the description of Krampus from the old stories people in your village used to tell children to keep them from misbehaving or else the demon would arrive and punish them. You look up into his eyes, and seeing him already staring at you, you ask, “You are Krampus?” 

“That’s me. Though you can call me Konig.” He stands up to his full height, holding his gloved hand out for you to grab, “come, let’s go.” 

Taking his hand, allowing yourself to be pulled to your feet, swaying slightly due to the feeling not completely coming back to your legs. “Where are we going?” you ask, tilting your head back to look at him. Still holding his hand, following him deeper into the forest.

He looks down at you, his voice dripping with disdain as if the answer should be obvious. "Back to your village."

"My village? Why?"

Konig stops in his tracks, turning to face you fully. His eyes rake over your face, a calculating look in his eyes. "I am Krampus. I punish those who are bad."

You furrow your brows in confusion. Is he really suggesting that he's going to punish your village for you? And what does he mean by "punish"? Scare them? Or… something worse?

His gaze lingers, reading the flurry of thoughts playing out behind your eyes. After a moment, he adds, his voice low and heavy with dark promise, "I assumed you'd want revenge. It is your choice. After all, you are the one they wronged. Though I should probably warn you, many will not survive."

The memories of your village’s betrayal flood back—how they ignored your pleas for mercy, how they bound you and left you to die in the forest. It is no longer the same village you grew up in. You nod in a slow, deliberate motion. "I want revenge."

Even with the mask hiding his face, you can see the faintest crinkle at the edges of his eyes, a wicked gleam catching the faint light. He lets out a low chuckle, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Let’s go then," he murmurs, continuing walking. "It’s been a long time since I let my elves have any real fun."

—--

You stand at the outskirts of your village with Konig, his elves circling the perimeter, waiting for him to give the word. The streets are empty; everyone is already in their houses, settling in for the night. Rage courses through your veins at the thought that while they left you to freeze to death hanging from a tree, they were all snuggled up safe and sound in their beds without a care in the world. 

Konig’s elves were dressed similarly to him, standing tall in the darkness, though none of them were as tall as Konig. They wore terrifying masks with twisted and crooked horns protruding from their foreheads demonic-looking faces carved into the wood of their masks. Their gloved hands gripped jagged tools that clinked along with the bells wrapped around them as they moved. The air around the village seemed to thrum with a dark, malevolent energy.

Konig places a hand on your shoulder, “Stay with me. I do not want you to get hurt.” You nod your head in response, grabbing a hold of the chain around his torso, which is now on full display. His cloak sits wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from the harsh weather. 

“Hinterlasse keine Überlebenden.” His thick accent echoing in the darkness. The elves take off their maniacal laughs and pounding footsteps, announcing the chaos that was about to ensue.  

He trails behind them, you in tow, gripping tightly onto the chain wrapped around his torso, struggling to keep pace with his long strides as he makes a beeline straight toward the church where all of this began.

Screams pierce the stillness of the night as the elves burst into homes, ripping people from their beds. Some set fire to houses, others destroy everything in sight, their chaos unquenchable. Simon stumbles out of his front door, drenched in blood, not making it very far before an elf hurls a bola at his feet. The cord wraps tightly around his ankles, sending him crashing face-first into the snow.

When Simon sees you walking alongside Konig, he tries crawling toward you, desperation in his voice. “Please! Help us! We’re being attacked!” 

You don’t even spare him a glance as you keep walking, your pace steady as Konig leads the way. Behind you, you hear the sound of the elf dragging Simon away back into the madness. No one had come to your rescue when you screamed and begged for mercy. No one here will get any sympathy from you. They deserve this.

You both reach the church and with a single, powerful kick, Konig sends the locked doors crashing to the ground, causing some of the candles near the door to extinguish the smoke traveling to the ceiling. The wood splinters violently under the sheer force of his strength. He enters the church, ducking to clear the doorframe. His gaze sharpens as he spots Philip and Shepherd huddled in fear before the pulpit.

Konig rolls his shoulders back, making himself seem more menacing and threatening as he approaches them, his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the church. With every step, the bells make a small chime. Each jingle is a reminder of their impending doom. Shepherd and Philip stand unmoving as Krampus now stands before them, towering over their trembling forms. 

He stands tall, the shadow created from the lit candles throughout the room, causing him to look more and more like a demon, but you are not scared, knowing that you are not the one receiving his anger. His eyes glow with a burning hatred and promises of pain. You let go of the chain around his torso, moving to stand beside Konig, wanting to see them suffer as they made you suffer.

Shepherd tries to appear unfazed, staring Konig right in the eyes. “What is the meaning of this? We gave you a sacrifice to save us, not kill us all!” he says, raising his voice at the end and pointing a finger toward you. Both men gave you disgusted looks as if it was your fault that all of this was happening to them.

“You thought sacrificing someone who has done no wrong would put an end to your suffering?” Konig growls, his accent thick, “I am the one who brings retribution to the wicked.” 

With a flick of his wrist, using his dark magic, a rope slithers down from the rafters of the church, wrapping itself around Philip’s and Shepherd’s wrists and hauling them up until they were dangling in the air much like how you were when Konig found you. They let out groans of pain, trying to free themselves from the rope, but the more they continued to struggle, the tighter the rope wrapped around their wrists.

Konig rips one of the bells from the chain, a sinister glow now emitting from the bell, the intricate details now shining a dark red. He tosses the bell on the ground at the men’s hanging feet. As soon as the bell makes contact with the floor, the ground begins to shake and split open, revealing a deep, fiery pit. 

They both look down, seeing the entrance to hell open up beneath them, causing Shepherd to frantically try and plead with Konig to let them go, “Please, let us go. We are sorry, don’t do this.”

Philip looks at you, screaming profanities at you, “This is all your fucking fault, bitch. Stop him! Set us free!” 

Tired of hearing their useless pleading, Konig waves his hand, and a gag appears over their mouths, muffling their angry shouts. Konig turns to you, his eyes softening, reaching his hand again for you to take, “do you still wish to do this?” 

Placing your hand in his and moving closer to lean into his side, you look up at his masked face, “do it.” you whisper. 

Konig looks back to where the two men hang from the ceiling, both of their wrists bleeding from where the ropes have become embedded into their skin from their constant struggle. "You failed to show mercy," Konig growls, his voice low and guttural. "Now you shall receive none."

The rope snaps, causing both men to fall into the fiery pit, screaming, descending into what you can only assume is hell, both of their souls destined to be tortured forever. The light from the pit begins to dim until all that’s left is a deep hole in the ground with a single bell in the middle of the pit. 

The village is silent once more. There is no more screaming coming from outside the church. Following Konig back out into the snow, you see your once beautiful village in ruins, homes burnt to the ground, and everything destroyed, but you don’t feel any sadness or regret for what happened here. The elves are now nowhere in sight. If it weren’t for the damage, you would have never even known they were here in the first place. 

 You walk hand in hand with Konig back into the forest, a sense of relief falling over you. The people of this village tried to sacrifice you for their own survival, not caring about you at all, but in the end, you got your revenge.

[honeykaes]

—𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

⟡ him having a “photo” of you hc’s feat. alhaitham, baizhu, childe, kaveh

⟡ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

⟡ disclaimer: gender-neutral!reader with no pronouns, masturbation, fantasy shower sex (alhaitham), exhibitionism (childe), riding (baizhu), semi-exhibitionism (kaveh), body worship (kaveh), unedited

When Alhaitham hears a ding from his phone facing downwards on the table of his desk, he doesn't think much of it. Stress plagued the genius’ mind, trying to figure out the daily tasks to help run the Akademiya smoothly. With a sigh, he put his pen down reaching out for his device. As the screen flashed bright with your message, he clicked the icon only for his eyes to widen and mouth to part in shock.

There, laid a picture of you. He could see the curves of your beautiful form, hands laying across your chest shielding your nipples from his now darkened gaze. Your legs were cross, as he noticed your underwear mischievously hanging by the edge of your foot pointed up. 

He darted his tongue out, moistening his now dry lips as he meticulously memorized every detail he could of your nude form. The Akademiya can manage without this paperwork for 10 minutes—a good scribe needs to know when to take a break, right?

Alhaitham shifted his legs feeling his half hardened cock press against his slacks. He quickly popped a button open, zipping the trousers down as his hardened member slapped across his clothed lower abdomen. Gripping the phone tightly, his other hand took a shaky breath as he clamped his hand on his cock. 

With one pump, Alhaitham leaned into his chair lazily pumping his cock shutting his eyes close trying to search for the last time he slipped into your tight, wet hole. His mind drifted to a time the two of you took a shower together. As your front pressed against his muscular back, your hands eagerly pumped his cock as he tried to keep himself steady pressing his hand against the shower door.

Your hand felt so soft, sliding back and forth against him as you peppered your lips on his back. 

With a choked moan, Alhaitham hips bucked as cum began to spurt out of his flushed tip—decorating his phone with it. The haze of lust that once clouded his mind slowly dissipated, narrowing his eyes at his now softening cock and cum-covered device. 

He hated the effects you had on his rationality.

Baizhu could only sigh to himself realizing he would most likely have to stay at Bubu Pharmacy overnight as he got called in to treat a patient at the last minute. He longed to be in his small cottage in Qingce where you were, waiting patiently for him to return. The bed creaked as he sat on top of it before he went to grab his phone. He could at least check in with you that he made it to his office safely.

A small smile fell on the doctor's face noticing he had already received a notification from you. When he opened the message, Baizhu could only click his tongue in amusement, narrowing his eyes at the delight he was greeted with. Two fingers coated glistening in your arousal were deep inside of your hole as your legs spread wide. His body shivered, feeling his cock beginning to harden.

He might as well utilize the gift you had bestowed on him.

Baizhu placed his phone down before stripping his clothes off and laying in the rickety bed. He watched as he length slowly began developing in size before it was fully-hardened—his flushed tip beginning to drip in precum. He snaked his hand down, feeling his body shiver as he slowly made way to his cock before gently clasping the appendage. 

He slid his hand back and forth against it, letting the tips of his fingers brush against his sensitive tips as he mind began to wonder. He would do anything to have you ontop of his again, feeling your walls tighten around his cock as he gently bounced you on it. He could easily remember the taste of your sweet lips, his own tongue coated with your arousal and juices. 

His hips slightly raised, and gyrated trying to mimic the action he fantasized you doing. He wanted nothing more but to dig his nails into your hips, admiring the bruises he hand made along your thighs seeing you come undone by his actions.

Baizhu’s brow furrowed as he sucked a breath in, feeling his cock pulsating once more as cum pumped out—coating his hand with it. He let a shaky sigh out, letting the afterglow of lust consume him and his exhausted body before leaning up.

He’d be with you tomorrow, by nightfall. It was important for a doctor to take care of his beloved’s needs after all.

Childe absolutely hated whenever the Harbinger’s had to convene to update each other on each of the activities the generals were up to. He’d rather be fighting and showing them results of his scheme; results were better than ideas after all. 

As he fought against the boredom glazing over his dull sapphire eyes, Childe leaned his cheek against the palm of his head hiding his phone from beneath the table. Seeing nothing catch his eyes, he went into his photo gallery trying to find anything that could help pass the time before he was dismissed. While swiping his eyes widened and finger paused gazing at a photo of you. There you laid, completely nude to the eye as his oversized Harbinger coat hung on your shoulders.

Childe bit his lip, shifting his hips at the sight. What he wouldn’t do to have you beneath him, cock thrusting inside of you with your legs perched up on his broad shoulders. He let out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes and grinding his cock against his slacks. He knew he had to stop—he would be a laughing stock among his peers but as lust and desire continued to shake his core, he couldn’t help not to care.

He discreetly continued to shift his hips to get any bit of friction to brush across his throbbing cock. He brushed one hand against his thigh, fighting the urge to not palm the obvious bulge in his pants. His nails dug into his skin wanting nothing more than to be inside your fluttering walls.

His stomach curled as he forced a fist into his mouth, as he felt his cock quivered—feeling only wetness in the bottom of his hands. He knew globs of his cum now hung on his boxers and thighs. He briefly looked down, noticing his slacks seemed dark enough to cover the stain up as he let out a sigh in relief. 

He could easily clean this up at the next recess…

…And desperately have you once this meeting is completely over.

Being away from you was starting to get to the architect. He wished he could have brought you to the quaint oases the desert offered where he was trying to get inspiration for a building that could survive the heat and sandstorms the lang of King Deshret offered. 

As he tapped his pencil against his sketchback, Kaveh groaned loudly before sighing. He couldn’t focus, he just wanted you to be with him at this moment. Maybe he should have asked you to accompany him, he didn’t realize he’d be this distracted. A frown crept on Kaveh’s sun-kissed skin as he looked through previous sketches he had done only to gawk in surprise.

There was your nude form poised on one of his intricate rugs he had purchased when he first moved in with you. He flipped, eyes shifting back and forth on the nothingness of the land. Perhaps if he got his fill for now he could focus on the task at hand.

Kaveh looked down at the sketch, placing it down on a rock as he shimmied his pants down—cock curved and throbbing at the very thought of you giving him attention. Kaveh grabbed onto his length tightly, clenching his jaw harshly as he began to pump himself. 

He needed to get over this quickly.

His eyes clung onto your chest as his lips gnawed on the bottom of his lips wishing he could latch onto it. His hips began to move at a steady pace, pressing down against a prominent vein along the base of it causing pleasure to shoot through his system. A whine threatened to leave his lips as he leaned himself against a palm tree to stabilize himself.

God, he wanted to grab a handful of your ass watching the ripples glide through it as he sank his cock continuously inside of you. He wanted to press his lips against the arch of your back whispering how much he loved you in your ear. He wanted to empty himself inside of you as your lips pressed against one another.

Kaveh’s body shivered as he furrowed his brow, choking out your name as ropes of cum shot down and onto the desert sand. He could only continue to pump his cock and shakily thrust trying to nurse his high. 

As he sighed, Kaveh slid down by the palm tree shielding himself from the cruel sun, sweat causing his clothing to cling onto him. His tired eyes drifted from the mess he had made back to his sketchpad where the oil-pastel nude still laid only to groan once against as his softening cock began to harden once more.

His body and heart were so insatiable for you.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hello! First time asking. English ia not my first language, but i'll try. Could you write about the reaction of the m6, especially Muriel, to finding a kid with the same traumas as them, and them adopting them with MC? I especially am curiouse about Muriel with a kid that was taken frim their parents to be sold around.

Thats It, thank you very much, your work os incredible!

The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6 find a child with the same trauma as them

Julian: takes in a gangly teenager he found sleeping in a Temple District library because he was left orphaned and didn't want to be a burden on resources that younger kids could use. empathizes with him SO MUCH and insists on not only taking him in but helping him find his calling and education. he's currently Julian's apprentice in the clinic and has already started calling Mazelinka "Grandma"

Asra: found a kid under the docks who refused to leave because they were waiting for their parents to come back - months after they had disappeared. he helped them leave a letter behind with the address for the shop and asked them to stay with him, since (as he put it) you had too much work on your hands and could use an assistant. they're best friends with Faust and already know multiple pranking spells

Nadia: bumped into a poorly-disguised runaway noblewoman while she was making a poorly-disguised visit to the South End. she knew she couldn't offer to adopt a thirteen-year-old right off the bat, so she invited her to the Palace for a job interview instead and used the opportunity to figure out the situation. now Nadia is her "mentor" (read: guardian) and she has six aunts very eager to spoil her rotten

Muriel: came across a merchant's cart broken down in the woods and found a toddler stowed away in the back. after hearing that he was an orphan from a warzone, Muriel picked him up and carried him home without a second thought. Now he spends his time running and playing in the woods with Inanna and occasionally visiting Auntie Countess and Funcle Asra for school lessons and shopping trips

Portia: started chatting with a little girl selling flowers in the market place, only to find out that she and her orphaned brother had lived together on the streets before he got old enough to travel on his own. she brought her back to have dinner at the cottage, and then to have a sleepover with Pepi, and then to have breakfast. she's officially your daughter now, and Julian still keeps an eye out for her older brother

Lucio: got teamed up with a young mercenary who was clearly lying about his age on one of your jobs. he found out later that he had run away from home after falling in with a bad crowd and losing his parents as a result. he ended up inviting him to travel with the two of you, first as a mentor, then as a father figure, and finally as his legal guardian. he likes pranking the dogs and watching you two bicker

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 5

Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood afternoon, everyone.

:) Have fun

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Awkwardness, flashbacks, feels

Word Count: 1,950

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4]

This wouldn't be your and Bucky's first undercover mission together, but it would be the first one where the tension between you is decidedly not sexual. You're not even sure how well the two of you can pull off this charade since you have no idea what your chemistry is like anymore. Used to, you could do anything together, be anything together.

Not so much now.

There’s an awkwardness between you. Silences pregnant with all the things left unsaid – or should have been left unsaid. You’ll catch Bucky watching you from the corner of your eyes, always with an unreadable expression like he’s trying to figure you out again without actually asking any questions.

You can't imagine that you've changed so much in the intervening months, but Bucky makes so much progress in therapy that his confidence in himself and his personality grow by leaps and bounds all the time. 

You don’t know this new Bucky, but you wish you did. You wish you had been with him to see his growth, encourage him on. 

You’ve missed out on so much of your life by staying away from the Tower. You’d had so many plans that never came to be – no walks in the park when the flowers started to bloom, no trips to the beach on the hottest days of the year, no ice skating when the first snow fell. You kept a tab on everything that should have been on the calendar in your mind, noting all the days that had significance in the past but went uncelebrated this year.

But what’s done is done, and you have to pay for your actions – half a year away is a small price to have Bucky back in your life, even as a stranger instead of your lover. 

You’re now trying to organize your new life on the outskirts of a small town in Russia, just a few miles away from a HYDRA base. Snow was falling thick and fast as the quinjet touched down hours ago, leaving behind a pristine blanket of white outside your new home. The small, two-bedroom cottage looks rustic, but it is still nicer than most of the surrounding homes due to Tony’s influence. There is hidden technology that will help the house to stay warm in this cold climate and random high-tech appliances, lights, and other things that look normal and are anything but.

With the HYDRA base going radio silent, you may be in this little home for longer than was initially expected earlier this year. Bucky is sure that the base is still active, though.  He spent a lot of time here as the Winter Soldier, but no one has received reports from the embedded spy in recent months. This inactivity is concerning since you're no longer sure what is going on inside the building anymore.  

It would be too obvious for Bucky to go undercover inside the facility, so that leaves it up to you to infiltrate as a researcher. The spy had assured last year that no one from the facility lived in the town you’ve settled in, so it’s safe enough for Bucky to remain close by as you work.

But the small town you’ve settled in is so traditional that the only way to remain inconspicuous as a younger woman is to be connected to a man in some way – be it living with family members or a husband.

And since you don't want to be labeled an outcast or worse, Bucky is here.

Bucky is going to be a mechanic at the small family-owned shop just down the road, and his prosthesis is covered in Stark technology that makes it appear as if he’d never lost it. Bucky used to spend a lot of time fixing up old cars and motorcycles between missions, so he should really enjoy spending his days in the garage helping out the Kowalds.

Unfortunately, your background isn’t as fun. You’re a whiz when it comes to biology, so Nat cooked up a false resume full of lab work that centers around eugenics and biomanipulation – things your spy had reported the facility was actively looking into. In order to get your foot in the door at the HYDRA facility, the Avengers had to create a background so disturbing that you're not even sure if you can interview for it properly.

 You're just zipping up into your thick winter coat when Bucky walks out of the kitchen drying his hands on a dish towel.

“You headin’ out now, doll?” He asks, a small worry line between his eyebrows.

“Yup,” you answer back with a comforting smile on your face. “I need to go meet with our contact to make sure that everything is still okay.”

“Just be careful, yeah?” he tells you, slinging the towel up onto his shoulder. Today is his first day at the mechanic shop, so he's dressed in blue overalls with a small name tag stitched onto his chest. The sun is just barely rising, but he's going to be late if he doesn't hurry.

"You know me, Buck. My middle name is Safe."

"Your middle name is Trouble and you can't convince me otherwise, babygirl."

You stick your tongue out at him and blow a raspberry, holding your middle finger up in the air as you turn around and head out the door. Once out of his sight, you smile and bask in the feeling of having your friend back.

You'd missed the banter and easy wit you used to share together, so this small exchange feels like a return to normal. The awkwardness might return in time, but you hope Bucky has forgiven you enough to power through.

You trek along the deserted streets. The early hour and layer of snow on the ground seems to be keeping the townsfolk within their homes, wrapped snugly under their warm blankets. You sigh heavily and watch your breath fog in the air, the mist condensing and freezing your skin as you walk through the cloud.

You pass house after house, noticing lights turning on and the sound of hairdryers, televisions, and conversations humming in the air. Everything has a vague, indistinct quality to it, lulling you into daydreams of what their lives are like. Is it simple? Do they enjoy this cold, snowy location? Or are they also dreaming of a warm day laying in the grass in nothing but a pair of shorts and a tank top?

A memory worms its way to the surface of your mind of a day spent just like that with Bucky. 

This was only a few weeks before your friends-with-benefits situation started. It was the hottest day of the year so far, the humidity heavy in the air and making the sidewalks and parks of New York City intensely uncomfortable. Even though Stark has the Tower equipped with the latest technology, he's incapable of leaving anything well enough alone. He'd been tinkering with the HVAC and somehow short-circuited the entire system. Everyone in the Tower was miserable and cranky, choosing to avoid one another in an attempt to stave off arguments and confrontations. 

You'd been sitting in the shade of the balcony, fanning yourself as you watched all the teeny tiny people on the ground maneuver the crosswalks and traffic to get to where they were going. It was no warmer outside than it was in your room, so you chose to people-watch instead of lay there and sweat miserably on your clean sheets.

Just as some bratty kid you’d been watching chucked the ice cream he’d been yelling for only moments ago onto the sidewalk, the sliding glass doors behind you whooshed open. The sound of metal knocking against the doorframe had let you know that Bucky was the one to interrupt your spying.

Regretfully turning your neck, you felt your skin sliding wet and hot against itself. A frown marred your features as you stared at Bucky as he stood behind you, his eyes alight with mischievous glee.

“What did you do…?” You question slowly, almost afraid to know what that look was all about.

He shrugged a shoulder and smirked. “Nothing too bad.”

“BARNES!!!” a voice roared from the depths of the Tower.

You quirked an eyebrow at him and a small, disbelieving smile graced your lips. “That doesn’t sound like nothing, Buck.”

Bucky hmm’d and glanced back into the building when a CRASH reverberated from where the voice had yelled moments ago. “I was going to get out of here for a while. You wanna come?” he questioned breezily.

“And why would I want to leave when Tony’s working on fixing the AC?” you replied as you continued to fan yourself. Bucky’s eyebrows had quirked ever so slightly.

“Y/L/N!!!” 

Your hand had frozen mid-fan and your eyes widened so much that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where’d you say we were going?” you asked as you rose quickly from your seat and bypassed Bucky at the door.

***

“You little shit!” You had laughed uproariously when Bucky finally admitted to the prank.

“What else was I gonna do?” he responded, turning his face to look at you.

Even with the intense heat that day, you and Bucky had decided to forgo the climate controlled vehicles in the garage and went instead with the fastest getaway vehicle – Bucky’s bike. The wind had whipped against your body when you held onto Bucky and watched the city fall into the distance behind you. 

He apparently hadn’t had a destination in mind, so you had ridden until cities and towns disappeared. He’d pulled off beside a barely visible hiking trail and jumped off his bike. You had followed suit and watched as Bucky pulled a blanket from inside the storage compartment on the bike. You hiked your eyebrows questioningly, but only got a grin in response. 

That’s how you had found yourself lounging on a blanket in the middle of a field with Bucky on the hottest day of the year. You’d chatted and laughed for hours until the sun had slowly faded from the sky. Out that far, the light pollution of the cities couldn’t touch the stars. You had gazed upwards, trying to draw the constellations as you remembered them.

You weren’t any good at astrology or astronomy, but the stories behind the figures in the sky captivated you nonetheless.

You laughed again and turned to face him as well. “And why’d you have to implicate me, huh?” 

“Figured it’d be more fun that way,” he had answered slyly. 

You had wound your arm up and smacked him on the stomach, your hand bouncing off of the toned muscles. He’d caught your wrist on the next swing and held it up and away from his body. You’d tried to tug it away, but his metal fingers held fast and didn’t let you go. You rolled over toward him and began trying to use your body as leverage, but you had only succeeded in pulling yourself closer to him.

You huffed and blew the piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes away and looked up at him. He’d had a look in his eyes that he hadn’t directed at you before, but you’d seen glimpses of it when he’d find someone to bring back for the night.

You can’t help but think that that moment had been the turning point in your friendship with Bucky, the moment he thought about asking you to be friends-with-benefits. Of course you’d found him handsome long before then, but that was a moment that really cemented your attraction to him. 

You didn’t have romantic feelings at the time, but you should have known they were inevitable.

Part 6

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch@stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[profoundbondfanfic]

Do you have any recommendations for fics in which Dean is a kindergarten teacher and Castiel has his child or children, if they are twins in Dean’s class?

Unfortunately, we don't remember anything exactly like that. But here are a few fics with Dean teaching Cas' kid/s, which might interest you.

A Fine Romance by DragonSgotenks (Explicit, 54k words)

Castiel was one of those Parents the other teachers referred to as a "hot mess" but Dean just thought he was hot, even if he did come off as kind of a dick sometimes. When an accident lands him in the ER Dean comes face to face with his biggest crush when he discovers Cas is his nurse. It seems like fate that he manages to strike up a friendship with the father of some of his favorite students. But with Castiel still bitter over the way his ex used him up and then left him with nothing but 3 young kids to raise on his own he may be guarding his heart with too much caution to let someone new in. Dean will have to find a way to thaw the ice around Cas' heart or risk letting his chance at happiness slip through his fingers.

Learning Curve by mtothedestiel (Explicit, 37k words)

Dean is a pre-school teacher and Castiel Novak is his new student's intriguing guardian. They both know the sacrifices that come with caring for others, but, over time, they learn what it means to want something for themselves.

Raising Kids, Finding Love - The Family Business by Mydestielbabies_67 (Explicit, 28k words)

Castiel Novak, an widowed omega, finds himself navigating the challenging role of being a single parent to his daughter, Claire. Struggling to balance parenting and life itself, Castiel's life takes an unexpected turn when his brother Gabriel encourages him to enroll his daughter in childcare. Reluctantly, Castiel agrees, not realizing that this decision would lead him down the path of friendship, love and self-discovery.

Start of Something Good by tricia_16 (Explicit, 184k words)

Dean Winchester is introduced to his new neighbor, Castiel, and his daughter, Claire, in an unexpected way. When an unlikely connection forms between Dean and Claire it also helps to push Castiel and Dean closer together. But Castiel has been hurt badly in the past and it's up to Dean to prove to Castiel that he can be trusted with both his daughter and his heart, even when outside sources try to make Castiel believe differently…

With Interest by everandanon (Explicit, 296k words)

Eighteen, bored, and not quite able to turn down the money, Cas agrees to an ill-advised bet, and Dean's heart isn't the only one that gets broken. Eleven years later, grieving his twin brother and struggling to take care of his niece, Cas finally returns home — only to meet Dean again and discover that the boy he left behind has grown up a lot. And now, Dean seems to have every intention of getting him back — with interest.

Not Cas' kids, but still includes Dean being an adorable teacher around children.

Duck Duck Boots by almaasi (Explicit, 92k words)

Castiel doesn’t do one-night stands. Once he hit forty, he figured his time was up, his life had pretty much come to a halt, and there was nobody out there for him. He lives in a cute little village, riding his bicycle between his vet clinic and his cottage; that’s his world, and he’s given up on expanding it. But in one last, desperate attempt to find someone, he contacts Rowena, the local witch, and asks her to summon his soulmate. Rowena brings a storm. The storm washes up a trio of ducklings, huddled for shelter inside the rainboots of the new-to-town kindergarten teacher (and retired motorcycle daredevil), Dean Winchester. Ducklings in hand, Dean seeks out Castiel’s veterinary expertise. Somehow, in a flustered, spontaneous burst of attraction, they spend the night together. And just like that, Castiel’s life starts again. With every passing week they become better friends, sharing deeper intimacies, caring for their duck babies as well as each other. But staying together requires taking risks which neither of them planned for. Dean’s risk puts him in extreme physical jeopardy. And Cas? He has to overcome fifteen years of emotional hurt, just to follow where Dean leads.

Standing Where the Lightning Strikes by Casloveshisfreckles

When Sam gets his life together and fucks off to live in a hippy-dippy self-sustainable commune in Costa Rica, Dean never considers following suit. That life isn’t for him. But after years of being away from his brother and withering his own life away at his monotonous, soul-sucking job, Dean finds himself caving to Sammy’s pleas, accepting a job offer he can’t refuse, and boarding a plane to the exotic island. It’s nothing like Dean could have ever imagined, full of vibrant life and color, foods he’s never heard of, and animals he’s never seen. It’s a tropical paradise… a paradise that becomes a hell of a lot more interesting when a dark haired, blue-eyed commune native catches his eye. After a rather upsetting first meeting with the grumpy stranger, Dean must continue to navigate life on the island, his new career as the school’s music teacher, and the ultimate feat of dislodging his foot from his very big mouth. With a community of characters as familiar as his brother and as wild as a capuchin monkey with a flair for mischief, Dean will discover that maybe it wasn’t just Sam’s life that needed a reboot. Still, the question remains; will Dean be able to win over Casa Nova’s most reclusive resident?

[mariamakeslemons]

@ghouljams Please help Lilac. She's tired enough to not realize Mom and Dad are fucking

Lilac woke to the sound of slamming. Sitting up, she looks around the dark room worriedly. It sounds like it’s coming from inside the cottage, even though the moon is still high in the sky and the wards are up. Slowly, she slides out of the bed Miss Witch was nice enough to let her use during her stay here. Wringing her hands nervously, Lilac hesitantly opens the door of her bedroom to peer out into the hall.

Nothing is there.

Swallowing nervously, Lilac shuffles over to her desk and moves around her grimoire and the tarot deck that she and Miss Witch are slowly working on together. Eventually, she finds the letter opener that Shop Keeper gave her on one of their more recent shopping trips, one made of iron with little pearls decorating the handle. Grasping it tightly, Lilac goes back to her door. Another series of loud thuds sounds through the cottage, making her jump.

Slowly, Lilac pads down the hall, her hand shaking as she figures out where the sounds are coming from. She freezes upon realizing it’s coming from Miss Witch’s room, fear making her stomach plummet.

“Miss Witch!” Lilac cries, running to the room and slamming the door open. Inside, Price looms over Miss Witch in her bed and both adults give Lilac wide eyed looks.

“Lilac!” Miss Witch cries back, shoving Price off her, “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“I-I heard slamming,” she replies, “Are y-you okay? He d-didn’t hurt you, d-did he?”

“No,” Miss Witch assures her, giving that nice smile that soothes Lilac every time, “No, he didn’t hurt me. I’m okay. You can go back to bed, okay?” Lilac hesitates, peering nervously at the frowning fae, before slowly nodding.

“G-Good night, Miss Witch,” Lilac repeats from earlier, before pauseing and adding, “Good n-night, Mister P-Price.”

“…Good night, little witch,” the fae offers back with a sigh. Lilac nods again and steps back out into the hall, but not fast enough to miss Mister Price mumbling, “Now, where were we?” There’s an abrupt sound of a hand against skin that makes Lilac jump and almost turn back, before deciding to trust her mentor.

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

Soap and Gaz are howling, Roach is wheezing, and Ghost snickers, as they all sit in Price’s bar. Price scowls, holding his whiskey on the rocks against the still red skin on his cheek. Normally, he’d have taken that as his Witch being a brat, but after the little one’s rush to check on her, he can’t really blame her.

“Yuck it up, y’ muppets,” he grumbles, scowling as he lowers his drink enough for a sip before raising it back up to keep the cool glass against his heated skin, “I c’n kick all you out.”

“But ye won’t!” Soap immediately argues with a shit-eating grin. Price grumbles, refusing to acknowledge that he’s even remotely soft on his boys (and his Witch, with the little one becoming important too, but he won’t admit shit). Instead, he sniffs and turns to Soap with a warning look as the younger fae peers over at Moon, again.

“Stop starin’ at m’ bartender,” he scolds, causing Soap to avert his eyes with a pout. Gaz chuckles as Roach claps the catch their attention.

‘You have no one to blame but yourself,’ the little shit signs, ‘Isn’t rule number one to not fuck while a kid’s in the house?’

“Naw,” Ghost pipes in, “That’s rule two for kids in the house. Rule one is no cursin’.”

“Why do I deal with you idiots?” Price groans as Soap and Gaz both start cackling again.

“Because you love us?” Gaz manages to get out between snickers. Price flips him the bird while trying to figure out how to get back into Witch’s bed while her little trainee is still around.

[alpineshift]

an incomplete list of professions I'm putting jacknico into in my ongoing kit of ‘what if one of them weren’t an NHL player, how will they meet and what would their relationship be like?’

Jack's a hockey player (and most definitely wearing the C):

Corporate Nico who's Jack's neighbour and is incredibly disgruntled by Jack's weird hours and occasionally noisy af team gatherings at his place.

Working points include Nico being politely huffy and Jack always running out on their arguments bc he's going to be late for practice

Jack's incessant need to sing in the shower and Nico constantly overhearing him bc they share a wall (amongst other accidental noises)

At some point Nico wins some kind of corporate recognition prize for his Hard WorkTM and it's...VIP Devils tickets. And a meet and greet with the captain AKA his own neighbour that he regularly beefs with. Imagining Jack finding out it's Nico before the game and gets a dick trick that night out of spite? The unrelenting desire to show off a bit for his grouchy hot neighbour? And Nico has to begrudgingly admit Jack played really well

At some point also maybe Jack's out on IR and Nico just. Accidentally-not-really looks after Jack bc they "dislike" each other, but he doesn't want Jack to actually suffer. Classic finally getting to know each other phase iykyk

Suit designer Nico, who's introduced to Jack through one of the Swiss guys and begins to exclusively style Jack over the course of his years as a Devils player

Jack having to get suits resized and custom made every year bc his ass is incredible and Nico is not immune to said ass

Nico is always complimenting his figure and Jack is losing his mind bc he's obsessed but also firmly believes Nico is just being so professional

Jack always flexing his suits online with flirty captions and tags Nico and Nico has such a crush but also firmly believes Jack just really appreciates his work and this is His PersonalityTM

At some point after they get together Nico designs the WAG playoff jackets and Jack tells him he has to make one for himself too. Cue blushing.

Kindergarten teacher Nico who simply Does Not Care for hockey (or hockey players) who has to host the Devils school visit for his kids

The kids adore the players. Especially Jack, who is very good with the kids. He's super sweet and very engaged and stays late hanging out with them

Obligatory Jack chatting/being flirty with Nico and asking who his favourite player on the Devs is. And Nico going "Honestly I think I prefer football." And Jack's all oh! I also love watching football with my brothers at UMich-- and Nico's like "European. European football."

Luke just about killing himself laughing watching Jack try and fall flat on his face again and again while he attempts to flirt with Nico

But now that Nico's met Jack it feels like a dam has been opened and Nico is somehow seeing Jack everywhere. Grocery store. Harbourfront parking lot. Bus stop ads. Farmer's market. On his goddamned uber eats app promo. He can't escape.

One of Nico's students draw him and Jack together and point it out to him going "Are you guys getting married?" and Nico is like...at this point, who knows. I am at the universe's mercy

Just cutesy goodness everywhere. This is such an overdone trope and I love it.

Also - continuation of the reporter!Nico AU why not

Also just them fucking nasty in this AU cause why NOT.

Nico's still Captain of the Devils. Jack's doing other Hot Girl Shit:

Classic Michigan cottage owner/renter Jack who hosts Nico once during bye week and suddenly Nico is making time during the offseason every year to visit

Beautiful potential for there to be "Jack almost became an NHL player too but didn't bc of xyz reason" and it gets angsty

I imagine Quinn and Luke still play in the NHL but the dots literally never connect for either of them Nico doesn't mention he plays professionally for the NHL and Jack doesn't keep up with anything hockey except for his brothers' stats and to know they're not injured

Summer romance clichés everywhere. Nico catching sight of Jack sunbathing all the time, boating everywhere. Minor problem at the cottage and Jack comes over to fix it, impressing Nico. Nico talking about Switzerland and just really endearing Jack to him.

When Jack eventually warms up to Nico he invites Nico out to the town summer festival and it's not not a date. But let's just say Nico doesn't wake up in his own cabin later that night.

Also potential for the worse blowout fight when Jack does realize who Nico is. Angst! Angst!!

Will Jack ever go to see Nico play a game or will he hide away from the hockey sphere forever? Will they ever forgive each other? Stay tuned

Tennis player!Jack

I halfway jokingly assigned Jack to tennis during the Olympics and now even if it's short I want him to compete in it and I want Nico to sit in the stands with his shades on and cheer Jack on in the offseason. That's it, really.

Indulgent idea of novelist Jack being the author of Nico's favourite book series

Maybe it's a series Nico started reading when he was younger, but went on hiatus bc Jack took a break

It comes back in full swing when he's Captain now and it's Nico's go-to road trip series. He gets a full secret profile on like an online bookclub to enthusiastically yap about it

Meanwhile Jack is a secret Devils fan - fave player #13 - and has a burner twitter acct where he gushes about how good of a player Nico is online.

I didn't think super ahead in this au but I'm sure they will somehow cross confusing paths at some point. I just want book nerd Nico and enthusiastic online fan Jack.

ALSO. What else could be said about underwear model Jack AU?

Becks has to nurse his forbidden knowledge for like an entire season until Luke sits him down one day and goes "Buddy. It's fine. It's not that big of a secret" and Becks is like oh thank god. I thought my head was going to implode. And Luke is like "However if you do sell Jack and Nico out to the media I will be preemptively ending your career. But you're a good kid, so I'm not worried. Anyway, nice chat!" And Becks is about to shit himself.

Side note - for a while I did not realize there was a Becks on the devils LOL

Or - this time Nico is the one who gets papped with a guy and it's not immediately recognizable as Jack (he cut his hair for a shoot or something) and the rookies are besides themselves thinking Nico is cheating on Jack or something (assuming at some point they also learn the truth). It's shenanigans.

An eventual boyfriend reveal? To put the rookies out of their misery? Jack finds the whole thing hilarious.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi mods Hope yall are doing good. Can i ask for some really domestic aziracrow? Like taking baths together and just being sappy

Hello. We have #fluff and #domestic fluff tags you can check out. Here are some domestic fluffly fics in which there is bathing...

Where Love Grows by AFrenchFanWriter, heeen (T)

“It starts, as it will end, with a garden.” Or After moving into their cottage in the South Downs, Crowley & Aziraphale cultivate flowers and memories together.

Soft and Soapy by Aegopixel (T)

“Can we skip to the part where I curl up next to the fireplace and fall asleep? It’d be nice to shed these layers so I can recuperate from the fatigue my tiresome good deeds caused.” At that request, Aziraphale placed his hands on his hips, looking for all the world like Peter Pan after facing down Captain Hook. “Actually, I’ve prepared something far more pleasing than that.” His statement peaked Crowley’s interest. “Oh really?” he drawled, tilting his head with seductive grace and a smirk to match. “What could be more pleasing, I wonder?” “Allow me to show you, my dear boy.” Crowley has spent his entire day out in the freezing cold, and now that they live together Aziraphale can take care of him in the most considerate of ways.

pausing the world to stay right where we are by RepQueen15 (T)

Aziraphale’s hands grasped at him gently, not in a commanding way, more like making sure he hadn’t stepped away. His pooling blue eyes gazed up at Crowley, and Crowley got the feeling he was just now realising how carefully they were doing this all, just how fondly he was being handled. Maybe he even guessed at the thoughts running through Crowley’s idiotically sappy mind right about now. In any case, he pulled at him slightly needily, almost vulnerable. He always looked this way, when he was at Crowley’s mercy, but there was no fear in his expression at all. “Are you…?” “‘M here, angel,” he said softly, stepping forward and taking Azirphale’s hand in his own. "It's okay." *** Crowley takes care of Aziraphale after Armageddon, exhausted, confused, but most of all, safe.

Lavender Haze by Scarlett_Oakenshield (T)

"You can stay at my place, if you like." "I don't think my side would like that." "You don't have a side anymore. Neither of us do." Right after the almost Armageddon, and with nowhere else to go, Aziraphale returns to Crowley's flat for the night. He takes a bubble bath to clear his head and decipher Agnes Nutter's final prophecy. Crowley joins him. They embrace their feelings with nothing left to lose, while simultaneously trying to figure out how they're going to get themselves out of this one. Or...canon compliant, couple bathing fluff for you to enjoy~

Just the Way You Are by Kat_Rowe (T)

Angels are, at their creation, biologically asexual. All too aware of his own vulnerability to pleasures of the flesh, Aziraphale has spent 6,000 years avoiding the sin of Lust by simply never adopting the equipment necessary to experience it. Until his relationship with Crowley started to grow more intimate (and more physical), Aziraphale never gave it much thought. Physical incompatibility can be solved in an instant, but he finds himself worrying how Crowley will react, and about the assumptions he might make. Now that they're covered in stardust and on their way into the shower, the issue can't be avoided any longer. But a tense discussion is a small price to pay for a romantic shower with your best friend in the universe.

he ahold of my hand by cuefog (G)

It takes them a while, but they do get there eventually: The cottage in the South Downs with the garden, and the greenhouse, and the private library of old books. The angel and the demon curled up in bed together, warm and safe under the covers. Meanwhile, Aziraphale has something to tell Crowley, but it takes him a few tries and a bit more time to figure things out for himself. (aka the slow burn after the slow burn: a collection of moments)

- Mod D

[box-architecture]

I was rereading some of your stuff on Ao3, and went “huh. I know Sapnap kidnaps Dream out of a misguided idea of what’s happening at one point, but how does that all go? How did Dream react? What was Sapnap like?”

So now I’m asking you. At 12:20 am. I have class in 7.5 hours!

Okay so we're going to ignore how long this has been sitting in my drafts, half answered. Okay? Okay. Awesome

-

So at some point during the Discovery Of Many Kinks (because when you're having a weird poly relationship with your former Warden, you're going to try a bunch of different things. For Science) awesamdrunz attempt to do a sex tape. It gets left around and found within like three days. By Sapnap.

So of course because of burning curiosity he has to watch the mysterious tape to see whats on it.

Then the only reason he kept watching was shock and also trying to figure out who the hell the third person was, why they looked familiar but also what the hell happened to them. Fun ways to find out your former best friend wasn't lying when he said he was horrifically tortured by your kind-of finance: finding his sex tape.

And listen, originally it was a fun crack idea to have him see this relationship nonsense where awesamdrunz was basically fucking in sex dungeons (made by Sam) after kidnappings, and decided that this was actually a really good template to fix his own relationship. He ends up trapping Quackity and Karl in what might be a previously unused sex dungeon!

(Resounding success: both of his boyfriends did not murder each other (due to bars in between them) and even spoke to each other in order to escape. This is the most progress he's had in months.)

But then! Alternate Idea! Sapnap sees the sex tape and (honestly not unfairly given his prior knowledge) believes Punz & Sam are at minimum, pressuring Dream into this relationship, and somehow this is a worse crime than murder. No wonder Dream couldn't stay in the prison! (Which. Not inaccurate.) So Sapnap sets about needing to find and protect Dream.

Sapnap finds Dream, and tries to convince him that he'll protect him. Dream is confused about what Sapnap saw, and has a tough time refuting anything. He also does really miss his friend. So he,,, doesn't really fight when Sapnap takes him to a secondary location.

-

"The windows are nice. Not as defensible, but you'll know if the enemy approaches." Dream commented, staring at the cloud-covered sea.

Sapnap laughed nervously, pulling open kitchen cupboards. "Yeah, I don't know. There shouldn't be any way for someone to find us out here though; its not like I told anyone where we were going."

Dream pursed his lips, but said nothing, eyes following the way the waves crashed against the shitty boardwalk Sapnap cobbled together half asleep. He figured Dream wouldn't want to be cooped up in the cottage all the time, not after… everything, so they could go sit out on the beach and fish, maybe, or go look for seashells. They hadn't built a sandcastle since they were kids, either, so it would definitely be something fun to try. Just like old times.

The wheat was crumbling in his hands, so Sapnap quickly tossed it on the counter.

"Are you hungry?" He called out, trying for a bit more cheer. Dream's gaze pulled to his, and Sapnap began pulling more ingredients out on the granite. "I know I'm not usually the person who cooks, but I've been getting into it lately! I made rabbit stew for Karl the other day, and he didn't even make a face when he was chewing."

He didn't really think about the potatoes as he dumped them into the sink, but he did notice the way Dream flinched, drawing in on himself and towards the doorway.

"Dream?"

"Just…" Dream looked back out into the sea. His fingers, what remained of them, dug into the fabric of his pants. "Nothing with potatoes. Please."

Sapnap felt his anxiety roll like the tide.

"Yeah, dude, that's cool. Doesn't sound appealing right now anyway." He said uncertainly. Dream's shoulders relaxed marginally, but Sapnap still felt off. "Anything you're in the mood for, though? Beet soup? Cheese sandwich?"

"Whatever you cook is fine." Dream reassured him. A brittle, but teasing edge appeared in his smile. "Unless you somehow got worse at baking bread."

He had, but god forbid would he ever admit to that. He grinned, and sat up on the counter. "Oh, like you're so good at it. I tried your stupid 'Everything' bread, and it tasted like ash."

"You turned off the timer and it burned."

"Well maybe next time don't leave random timers on the oven and expect anyone to know what they're for."

"Maybe next time you should assume its there for a reason and not touch it." Dream said in exasperation. Sapnap stuck his tongue out, and Dream threw his hands up, exiting the kitchen. He was so dramatic, Sapnap thought fondly.

-

Its a lot of Sapnap attempting to reestablish their previous connection and realizing how much Dream has changed, and staring at the scars when he thinks Dream isn't looking. He gets Super Protective and promises he wont let anything else happen to him. Dream is instinctively upset (why now, why does it matter now, why do you care, I am Perfectly Fine) but its one of his People and he is So Tired.

Sapnap is sorta kinda keeping Dream with him. It's not exactly against Dream's will, but it's also like, if Dream could walk out the door and come back later without Sapnap freaking out he'd rather do that. But Sapnap is freaking out, and seems to believe that there is a credible threat against Dream if he leaves. Given Sapnap's previous relationship with Quackity, Dream is willing to believe he might know something and that alone makes him anxious enough that he wants to stay.

Sapnap gets more horrified the longer he's with Dream (Dream flinches under his touches, his fingers are gone, Dream makes a snide comment about Quackity when Sapnap asks about the scars,) and this only convinces him more that clearly he needs to be protecting Dream. Sapnap expresses a lot of fury towards Sam, and Dream doesn't have any good arguments against it. There's a lot of stuff that he just sorta, decided to ignore, and now that coming back up is messing with him.

They get into a brief yelling match when Dream gets tired of what he presumes is pity and fake behavior, and it ends with Sapnap holding Dream to keep him from leaving or collapsing.

(The irony(?) of Dream comforting Sapnap for most of his life only for them to switch places in this moment is not lost on him.)

He gets to snuggle with him under the covers and gets a kiss on the chin (Dream is half asleep, and thinking about how much he missed him.)

Meanwhile, Punz is going to Murder Sapnap.

Punz has no context for why Sapnap took Dream so he is assuming Sapnap is going to attempt to imprison Dream again (after failing to kill him) and while he is 100 percent confident in Dreams abilities he also is aware that Sapnap is one of Dreams People and therefore capable of hurting Dream emotionally. Hurting Dream is Not Allowed.

Sam is having a panic attack because Dream isn't within sight line and isn't with Punz and therefore everything is Wrong and Bad in his world.

When you finally get a confrontation between Sam and Sapnap (because at this point, they don't know that Sapnap knows about Punz, so Sam is going in first), Sapnap responds viciously, tearing into Sam both for the scars on Dream's body, but also stating he knew they were fucking, and there's no way that's even remotely acceptable given the position of power Sam had (he's not wrong. this is a true statement of fact for everything that occurred prior to the prison break. it's just that things got weird after that). Sam has no good rebuttal, and faced with violence from Sap, has to flee. He's left shaken from everything.

Dream: listen he may have enabled my torture and abuse, and starved and isolated me, and accepted sexual favors from me while being in a position of power over me But he's also a very sad wet cat of a man, and I'm a control freak

Punz tries to talk with Sapnap on slightly less,,, angry grounds? On his part. Knowing about the interaction with Sam, he feels better about the fact Dream is probably safe and Sapnap probably has good reason for what he's doing.

To be clear though, Sapnap is furious with Punz. Right out of the gate he reveals he knows Punz was involved. At first, he's assuming that Punz was paid off to help Sam, but Punz decides "fuck it" and reveals at least part of things. He explains he was working with Dream after the prison break, that he felt bad for betraying him, and that they had a relationship. Dream wanted to involve Sam post-prison, Punz was against it, but wanted Dream to be safe.

Sapnap: you're forcing him to do this! Punz: I DON'T EVEN WANT HIM TO BE DOING THIS Sam: >:(

Sapnap needs to take some time to processes that, but he then presses to clarify; Dream and Sam had a relationship while Dream was in prison? Yes.

Sam had a hand in the torture and Dream's condition? Also yes.

After he broke out, despite all of this, Dream still felt like he wanted to return to Sam? Yes.

Sapnap: And you LET him?!

Punz doesn't have a good answer for that, other than Dream is his own person, and Punz can't stop him from doing what he wants with his life. To which Sapnap responds, yes you can motherfucker

It's a very fundamentally rift in their two perspectives. Punz, particularly post-prison, couldn't morally justify restricting Dream or telling him how to life his life or cope. Sapnap, thinks that Dream was not in a position to make a choice like that.

Punz doesn't have a good answer for that, it's the exact thing he's been feeling guilty over. So he ends up leaving, Not for forever. Just to think.

Meanwhile, Dream overheard everything. He now understands what Sapnap is seeing as the "real issue" (or at least, the current threat at hand), and he knows that he's going to make his own choice here.

Dream: I understand that my decisions are problematic but have you ever considered that I've made my choices and will continue to make them, even if you don't agree Sapnap: NO

Dream tells Sapnap gently that he's leaving now. He wants to go back. Sapnap doesn't want him to, he makes fair arguments about how much Dream could be hurt here. Dream understands, but he's also an adult, and he's decided what he wants. He's forgiven his stupid creeper hybrid boyfriend. It might not make sense to, but he has. It's his choice in the end.

Sapnap doesn't like it, there's a long people where he's just holding Dream and in tears. He's apologized a lot. For leaving Dream there. He says it again for good measure. Dream gives him a soft kiss on the forehead and he doesn't say it's okay, but he does say that he loves him. That it will be okay.

Dream has to go now, but he promises to come back, they set a time and they get to just spend time together. Talking about things one at a time.

(Sapnap and Dream see each other a lot now, as he slowly enters Dream's life again. Occupying his space and checking up on him and fretting. They get more kisses, more cuddles in bed. Once a week they come back to their little cottage and grow something that isn't what they used to have, but its still good, and its full of love.)

Later, Dream will be reassuring Punz that he made the best choices he could make, sighing and pulling Sam out of his prison depression hole. Kidnapping once again proves to be a great way to solve problems.

[stargazer-sims]

The Art of Redemption

(part 20)

previous // next // story index

—————

"I didn't realize it'd be this easy."

Nikolai watches in fascination as Ginger slides the iron along the length of a damp towel spread over her ironing board. Underneath the towel is one of his medals. He can see the silver peeking out from under the edge. Tiny wisps of steam rise up from the towel, and the iron emits a soft sound that's somewhere between a sigh and a hiss, as if it can't make up its mind whether it's proud of a job well done or annoyed that this particular job is necessary.

They’re in Ginger’s kitchen with its cheerful yellow-painted walls and a large window that faces her apartment building’s courtyard. He’d spent last night here at her place and he'd slept remarkably well on the pull-out couch, with Tangerine tucked into the crook of his arm. This morning, Ginger made tea, waffles, and fruit salad with cottage cheese for breakfast, and then they went to the rink together. Afterwards, as Ginger had promised, she took him shopping for the things they’d need to restore and preserve his skating memorabilia.

Ginger smiles as she lifts the iron and sets it upright at the end of the ironing board. "I didn't say it'd be difficult. All I said was that it'd be a bit of work." She peels back the towel to reveal the medal. Its ribbon looks as good as new. "You've got a lot of medals. This isn't exactly a ten-minute task."

"Sorry."

"Don't say that," she admonishes. "I'm glad to do it. They deserve to look their best. Here." She lifts the current medal from the ironing board and passes it to him. "I'd be furious if anyone damaged my medals, but I know you'd help me fix them."

"I would, if I'd known this trick." He carries the medal to the table and lays it on the leaf of white tissue paper he'd already set out for it. Wrapping it carefully, he puts it in the plastic storage box he'd bought earlier that day. "Can I try doing the next one? Give your arm a break."

"Sure," Ginger agrees. "Shall I show you what to do, or has Beth-Anne been teaching you how to iron as well as teaching you how to cook?"

He shakes his head. "She irons my shirts. I don't think she trusts me with it. But I do know how to wash my own laundry now."

"She truly is your second mother, isn't she? Teaching you how to cook and do laundry. What else has she taught you?"

"I'm getting pretty good at cleaning my own bathroom. Apparently, she doesn’t do, uh… smelly man bathrooms, I think is how she phrased it.”

Ginger laughs. "Lord help us. Is she as bossy teaching you housekeeping skills as she is on the ice?"

"Surprisingly, no," he says. "I'm actually seeing a whole new side of her, living under the same roof, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it. She has more mom qualities than even I imagined."

"I'm glad it's working out," Ginger says.

"Me too. She’s letting me stay there until I finish my coaching courses, at least. We'll see what happens afterwards."

"So, you're doing that, then? Coaching, I mean."

"Yeah." He joins her by the ironing board as she pulls another one of his medals — a gold one this time — out of the cardboard box on the counter. His breath catches a little when he recognizes which one it is. "Ginger, I really have to fix this one myself."

She glances down at it. "ISU World Figure Skating Championship 2010. Yes, I can see why you'd want to sort this one out yourself. The 2006 and 2009 ones as well, I expect."

"When you find them, yeah," he says.

She gives the medal to him. "All right. Lay it flat, and press the ribbon as smooth as you can with your hand. Then we'll put the towel on."

"Okay." He does as she instructs. "How's this?"

"Good. Now, the towel. Don't cover up the gold bit. You don't want to iron that."

"Got it."

“Press down firmly, but not too hard.” Ginger positions herself behind him and places her hand over his to guide him for the first couple of strokes with the iron. "Yes, that’s the way. Well done.”

He concentrates on what he's doing, but that doesn't prevent him from thinking about the world championships. The competition was in Italy last year, and a record number of Canadian skaters had qualified, four of whom were from their very own Brindleton Bay Skating Club; himself in the senior men's category, Ginger in senior women's and their friends Hunter and Juliet in pairs.

Their coaches had considered it a triumph for so many of them to have made it in. However, by the end of the week, their elation at qualifying paled in comparison to the emotional high of what sports journalists had dubbed 'The Canadian Sweep'.

It hadn't really been a sweep, of course. That would've required Canadians to win gold in all four categories. In reality, Canadian ice dancers won silver, and although Juliet and Hunter didn't have a top-three finish, the other Canadian pair in the competition took home bronze. Ginger, who'd received her citizenship the previous summer and was finally able to officially compete for Canada, won gold in her category, and Nikolai had also claimed gold in his. It was his second Worlds gold in a row.

Would I have made it three in a row at Worlds this season? he wonders. Is Ginger going to be able to get her own double gold?

Like him, Ginger has more than one world championship gold medal, and also like him, she won her first and second ones in non-consecutive years. Nothing would excite him more than to see her earn back-to-back titles.

He hopes she's ready. She hadn't skated yesterday, and from what he'd seen from her in practice today, she doesn't appear to be concerned at all. Stan didn't seem particularly bothered either. He'd been going easy on her.

But, maybe that shouldn't have been a surprise. Ginger looked flawless on the ice. Nikolai tried to observe every move she’d made, and he hadn't noticed a single thing he thought she could improve on. Her performance was powerful and beautiful and technically perfect.

Don't worry about her. She's got this, he tells himself, but the directive only partially works. He's still going to worry, not just because he wants her to do well, but because he wants her to be safe, to not be careless or overconfident.

This year's world championship is being held in Russia, in Moscow, and it's taking place in just a couple of weeks, near the end of March. It's been more than a year since Nikolai has been to his grandfather and parents' home country, and he's overcome with the sudden, crazy notion that he could go and watch the competition. He's not a fan of flying, and he'd have to pay for the trip out of his own pocket, but he's certain it'd be worth it to see his best friend skate her way to a spot at the top of the podium.

"Nikolai." Ginger's voice inserts itself into his thoughts.

"What?"

"I think it's done."

"Oh." He sets the iron aside, and then pulls away the towel to find that it is indeed done. It looks as pristine as it did when the ISU official had draped it around his neck last spring in Turin.

On impulse, he picks it up and puts it on. Somewhere in the back of his mind, an imaginary crowd cheers and tosses bouquets of flowers onto the ice, and O Canada plays. He swallows convulsively.

Ginger's palm comes to rest on his back. She rubs gently between his shoulder blades. "You okay?"

He nods. "I'm... I guess I'm just a little sad. All of this has been a lot."

"I can only imagine," she says. "It's okay to be sad."

"I know." He touches the medal hanging around his neck. "I'm getting better, though. My leg's getting stronger, and I'm feeling better about most things. Going to the rink with Beth-Anne every day has helped me a lot."

"I think mostly everyone is glad to see you there."

"I'm glad to be there," he tells her. "I really do want to coach, you know. I wasn't sure at first, but I realized I don't want to leave the sport even if I can't compete. This seems like the way that makes the most sense since I discovered that I really like helping people learn new skills. Beth-Anne says I'm good at it too. She thinks I'll be a great coach."

"For what it's worth, I'd tend to agree with her."

"Thanks. Your opinion's worth a lot to me, if you want to know," he says. "Anyway, the other reason I want to get into coaching is kind of a selfish one."

"Oh?"

"There's this one little kid..."

"Eden?"

"Yeah, Eden Seong. Have you seen him skate? He's only ten and he's absolutely amazing. He's going to be a champion some day, and I want to be there for that."

"He's one of Beth-Anne's students, right?"

"Right, but Beth-Anne says he might be my student in a couple of years, once he’s in Junior division.”

“And how does little Eden feel about that idea?”

“He’s into it. I think he’d want me to start coaching him right now if we were both ready,” Nikolai says. “I've been helping Beth-Anne with Eden’s individual lessons, and with one of her Novice students, and the group classes. She thinks I'll be able to teach a preschool group class by myself by September."

"That's brilliant," Ginger says. "Do you think you're ready for the challenge of teaching four year olds how to skate backwards and how to stop without colliding with something?"

He grins, remembering the antics of the five little skaters in the Saturday preschool class. "Well, I already taught one girl how to stop without crashing into me or into the boards, so I think I'll be fine."

"Helmets are mandatory, I hope."

"For the preschool kids? Yeah, definitely."

Ginger laughs. "I meant for you."

"With the way they bounce around, I think hockey shin pads might be more useful for me," he says.

"When Beth-Anne gets back, I'm going to come and watch you in action," Ginger declares. She pokes around in the cardboard box and retrieves another medal. "Here's Worlds 2009. I'll look for 2006 as well. Can you do this one on your own?"

"Yes," he confirms. "Do you really want to watch me work with the kids?"

"Adorable children and adorable you? Why wouldn't I?" she says. "The only thing that'd make the entire scenario any cuter than that would be if you brought the bear."

"I could make that happen."

"We should go to Build-A-Bear and see if we can find some skates for him."

Nikolai laughs. "He actually has some already. Workout gear and costumes too. If you want to come to my house with me later, we can find all his stuff and dress him up."

"Sounds like a project for tomorrow." Ginger looks both amused and pleased. "I had something else in mind for tonight."

"LIke what?" Nikolai asks.

"Ordering Korean food and watching the opening ceremonies of World Juniors. You did tell Brett you were going to watch, didn't you?"

"To watch him skate, yeah. I honestly didn't think about the opening ceremonies, but I’m liking this plan. Korean food because the competition's in South Korea?”

“Exactly so.”

“I like it. Can I sleep over again?"

“I think you’d better. South Korea’s twelve hours ahead of us and the ceremony’s on at half-past nine. It’ll be your bedtime by the time it’s over.”

“Yours too.”

“Mine too,” she concedes.

"What are we going to do between now and nine-thirty?" he inquires.

"Finish this, for a start." Ginger gestures at the ironing board where he's pressing the ribbon of his Worlds gold from 2006. The other two are around his neck, and they clink together gently each time he moves. "I've got dance time this afternoon, and Uncle Stan's probably going to be there. You can come along, if you like. Are you allowed to dance yet?"

"As long as I don't jump or put all my weight on my bad leg, I don't see why not," he says. "Nobody specifically said I can't dance, and I'd love to dance with you. It can replace my time on the treadmill."

"How much time on the treadmill are you allowed to do?"

"Thirty minutes."

"Right, then." Ginger nods, as if settling something in her own mind. "After thirty minutes, you've got to stop, and if you get tired or your knee starts hurting before thirty minutes, you stop."

She looks so serious, he has to put the iron down and cover his mouth to smother his laughter. "Are you channelling Beth-Anne right now?"

She folds her arms across her body and arches an eyebrow as she gives him a mock glare so reminiscent of Beth-Anne that it's uncanny. She manages to smooth out her English accent somehow as she demands, "Nikolai Pavlenko, are you questioning my coaching decisions?"

He snorts inelegantly in his futile effort not to crack up, "Oh my God..."

Ginger obviously tries to maintain her stern expression, but she dissolves into giggles too. "We've all spent way too much time together, I think."

"No," he says, once he catches his breath. "There's not such thing as too much time spent with you. Or Beth-Anne, for that matter. Or Uncle Stan. We're family."

"I love that sentiment, honestly," she says.

"Me too." Steady enough to resume ironing once more, he finishes another medal and then puts it around his neck with the other two. "There. That's my third Worlds gold done. How many do we have left?"

Ginger peers into the box. "About eight or nine. Are you going to put those three away before you press any more, or do you plan to wear all your Worlds medals at once?"

He considers for a moment. "All at once. Do you see the silver ones, or did we already get to those and I didn't notice?"

"Let's see... Here's 2007 and 2008," Her hand emerges with the two silver medals, and she sets them on the ironing board. "We're only missing 2004 now. Just give me a second."

"No problem. These'll take me a few minutes. I'm not as good as you at ironing yet," he says. "What time is your dance session, by the way? I can drive us over there."

"It's at three o'clock," she answers. "But, I thought perhaps we could take the bus."

"And... keep riding past our stop on the way home?"

"Hmm... For a couple of hours, perhaps."

"Let's do it," he says. "Do you want to stop to pick up food on the way back, or should we just order in?"

"Order in. That way, we can put our pyjamas on and settle in for the night, and if we happen to accidentally fall asleep on the sofa bed together, at least we'll already be dressed for it."

Nikolai smiles. More and more, he's learning that situations don't have to be monumental or momentous to be significant. Today's been a good day so far, an ordinary day. Nothing dramatic had to happen for him to find some sort of meaning in it. All he needs to understand right now is that he feels safe and that he’s content to be with his friend. Skating on TV, spicy noodles, and a sleepover. What more could he possibly want?

He and Ginger continue to chat amiably while they finish the task of getting all the wrinkles and creases out of the ribbons. Then, she takes a bunch of silly pictures of him with all six of his world championship medals around his neck at once, and they post them to their social media accounts with the most ridiculous captions they can come up with.

When they're done playing, they wrap the remaining medals and tuck them into the storage box. Ginger says she can keep the box here, if that'd make him feel more comfortable, and he agrees. He trusts her. If anyone would take care of them as if they were her own, it'd be Ginger.

Nikolai is just nestling the last small tissue paper wrapped bundle into the plastic container when his phone beeps for attention. It's a text alert. His phone is on the counter next to the microwave.

"Can you check that for me, please?" he asks Ginger.

"Sure," she says. She crosses the kitchen and scoops up the phone. A second later, she utters a half-spoken, half-groaned, "Ugh."

"What is it?" Nikolai inquires as he snaps the lid onto the storage box. "Or do I want to know?"

"It's Anya," Ginger holds out the phone at arm's length, as if it's giving off a bad smell. "She's written part of it in Russian, but I assume it's something disgusting if the string of pink heart emojis is anything to judge by. The other bit says, 'did you get our cat back?'."

"Our cat?" Nikolai echoes, incredulous. "Since when is Tangerine 'our' cat? She's mine. Anya barely tolerates her."

"Would you like me to send a reply to her?" Ginger asks.

"No, just delete that message. I'm not about to have a whole conversation with her through texts, and you shouldn't have to either."

"Do you really just want to delete it?"

"Yes," Nikolai says. "I'm determined that we're going to get to enjoy our plans for the rest of the day, and there's no way I'm going to let her mess it up."

[cassieoz]

Warrior

Ciara watched with huge eyes at the towering figure as he marched towards her. As he moved, the determination was evident. He was there to fulfil his role to impregnate the Fairy Queen. Ciara trembled as she stared bewildered at the muscular giant. How was she going to deliver his child?

The fairy council had insisted on choosing for the Queen. A strong, powerful breeder was required so the next generation would successfully survive.

Ciara felt his hand encase her small fingers as he continued towards the privacy of the cottage. The couple would stay inside while the breeding and the birthing would take place.

The Giant grunted as he closed the door, clearly not happy about the arrangement.

"So, it's my duty to give you a child! I think this is crazy but it's the council's decision, not mine!"

Ciara nodded, still staring at the large warrior in front of her.

"Dont be afraid! I will try not to hurt you too much! I have been told that I have a way with women. You may even enjoy the mating. I can't promise the birthing will be easy. In fact, it will be one difficult ordeal."

Ciara weakly smiled as she quietly walked towards the huge bed in the middle of the room.

Alexander laughed a little when he watched Ciara awkwardly adjust herself against the quilt. He slowly approached the bed. He gently sat next to her and lowered his mouth to her lips.

"If we are to make a baby together, let's see what you are like to kiss?"

Alexander ran his fingers through her long golden curls before pulling her to his face. His mouth captured her. A sudden flash of energy erupted between the two of them. Alexander instantly felt it. His body tightened and his desire exploded for her. It must have been some kind of fairy spell. Alexander was immediately aroused. He wanted her so badly. His hands were exploding down her body in minutes. His crazed needs went into overdrive.

Ciara smiled against his attentions as she felt his hungry mouth kiss her wildly. She had cast a spell to help with the mating. At least, she would be pregnant and stay to birth by the end of the night.

Alexander's fingers were dragging up her skirts and playing between her thighs. He was completely mad with sexual tension. He pressed firmly against her folds. He smiled when he find her wet and ready for him. He pressed harder and faster.

"What do you want woman? Do you want me inside here?"

The strong warrior rubbed vigorously over her twitching lips as she moaned and panted frantically with her own increasing desires. She nodded against his face and whispered,

"I want you in me! I want you to give me a huge baby! I want you by my side as I push it out!"

Alexander grunted and pulled up her skirts. He throbbed with his enormous manhood. He pulled roughly at her undergarments until she was free and open to his readiness. He pulled her against him and thrusted inside her, swiftly and powerfully.

Ciara moaned loudly and squeezed strongly as he pounded her towards one almighty climax. She was lost in her need to conceive the healthy offspring. She panted, breathing faster and faster until his hot seed exploded into her fertile womb.

"Promise me, don't leave me! Stay with me as I birth this baby!"

"I promise! Every push! Every scream! I will be with you!"

Fairy magic and Celtic strength had the Queen impregnated and rapidly ready for delivery in the next few hours.

The Queen sat on the edge of the bed, panting and whimpering as the strength of contractions grew intense and powerful. The gigantic baby was forcing its way through her cervix as Ciara shook wildly in agony and delirium.

"Hold me! Oh please make it come! Its too much! I need to push it out! Right now!"

Alexander pressed inside of her and told her to just breath a little longer to allow for the head to fully descend into the birth canal.

Alexander held her as the transition fever took hold of the Queen. She thrashed madly against the sheets, sweating and begging to relief the growing pressure with strong pushing efforts.

It was not long until Alexander was able to tell her it was time! Ciara roared at the top of her lungs as her first push shoved the massive head fully into her birth passage. She screamed as she clutched his arm and pushed again and again.

"Its too big! I must have been crazy! Get it out!"

Ciara gripped Alexander's massive frame as she pushed harder and harder. The head was fighting to crown through her pulsating lips. Ciara had struggled through an extremely painful labour all the night. As the morning came, the burning of crowning consumed her lower body.

"GET IT OUT! WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH! MUST PUSH IT NOW!"

Ciara bellowed and squeezed downwards through the unstoppable fire storm between her quivering legs. Alexander remained calm, supportive and overprotective.

"I have to push! I have to push it out! I HAVE TO GIVE BIRTH!"

Ciara lost all sense of time and reason as the humongous crown filled her vaginal cavity to its widest point. She howled out through her primal need to birth.

Alexander watched in complete amazement at the strength of the fairy's efforts. He may have had his doubts at the beginning but now, he wanted more babies with her. Lots and lots of them!

Ciara vibrated against Alexander's soild chest as the baby parted and exploded through her in one tremendous effort.

The baby wailed and wriggled between her legs as the father lifted it up and hugged the fairy and the beautiful baby. The girl infant was ENORMOUS.

Alexander held Ciara and whispered in her ear as she nursed the infant,

"I want to do that again! And again! And again!"

[bluestar22x]

The Future

The Outcast - Epilogue: The Future

Summary: Just like winter, the end is just the beginning

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,700 (ish)

Warnings: Mention of a baby goat (kid) having died, angst, pregnancy plot, non-graphic labor and birth, fluff, pov changes, quintessential happy ending

Author’s Note: This is a very self indulgent bonus part - you can read the first four parts and have a satisfying ending if this kind of ending isn't your thing. For those who do like this kind of ending guess what my favorite line(s) to write was.

Also, any names I used in this fic were themed and/or meaningful. And if one of my running themes of relating winter with life instead of death wasn't apparent, it should be now.

xxx

Death is far from a stranger on a functioning farm. Even though you usually sold your old, infertile goats to the nearest village's butcher instead of culling them yourself, that still left a whole slew of other ways for you to witness it. Illness, lethal injuries, stillbirths, and difficult deliveries that ended badly for the doe or her offspring or both had all occurred on your farm more than once.

You'd accepted it, and your need to hunt, a long time ago, because you loved the simplicity of this kind of life. You loved being mostly self reliant, knowing you could be fully self reliant if need be, and you loved the companionship of the animals you were dependent on.

Sometimes though, the deaths still hurt. Like when River, your first horse and Meadow's mother had died a few years after you'd moved onto the mountain, due to colic. She'd been in so much pain for so long you'd been forced to end her misery with a knife. The senseless guilt you'd felt after had lasted for weeks.

That was the most you'd ever cried over losing an animal, until one spring morning a year after Pero had decided to stay.

You tried to hide how upset you were by the latest death on the farm when you returned to the cottage to cook a morning meal for you both, but as soon as he followed you inside after an hour of chomping wood, you uncharacteristically started sobbing on sight of him.

Eyes filled with concern, your husband silently approached and gathered you up in his arms, kissing your temple as he did so. You took a deep breath and focused on his soothing warmth, his reassuring broad hands that slid up and down your spine, trying to put yourself back together.

"What has you so upset, mi esposa?" he eventually asked, nuzzling the side of your face, his short beard scraping against it lightly.

You stepped away from him, leaned against the kitchen counter top on one hand, and looked back to him. "It's one of Sweets' kids, the one who was sick, I found her dead this morning."

"I'm sorry cariño," he said quietly, dark eyes serious. "I know how hard you tried to save her."

You shook your head fiercely. "It's not that, I could handle that, it has happened several times before, but it's the way Sweets reacted when I removed the body from the paddock. She started bleating and desperately searching for her, even though she had her other new kid alongside her, even though the body had been cold when I discovered it. Hearing those sounds from her broke my heart."

"It doesn't help I kept thinking -," you paused, eyes widening as you realized what you'd been about to say.

Pero frowned at the way you'd cut yourself off. "It doesn't help what?" he prompted gently.

You sucked in a deep, shaky breath. You figured you might as well not hide it from him. "It doesn't help I kept imagining what she was feeling. Putting myself in her place. I don't think I could handle it if I lost the baby that way."

"The baby," Pero repeated, lips parting in surprise. He reached out to you and tugged you back to him, his arm looped around your waist. "Mi amor, are you saying what I think you are?"

You nodded, fresh tears flooding your eyes, joy overcoming your trepidation. "I am. It's still early, I'm probably only two months or so along, but I'm certain."

You hadn't bled in that time, and had felt nauseous many times over the previous month, neither of which was normal for you. Your emotions had been all over the place lately too. You'd never been a super stoic character, but you were usually far from the emotional wreck you felt like that morning.

Pero beamed at you and the shock of it left you breathless. It was a rare sight, his smile, let alone one that obvious. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek softly, lovingly, showing more affection than you'd once thought him capable of. "Everything will be alright, cariño," he reassured you.

It was not something he could actually promise, no man could act as a god, but his words comforted you anyway.

"I'll need to find a midwife who would be willing to stay the winter with us," you told him nervously. "If I'm correct, the baby will be born in the final days of the year or the early ones of the next. The passage will be closed off by then. When my sister visits I'll ask her to help me search for one."

Pero caressed your cheek with a thumb. "I'm sure an older one without family to care for would agree to stay with us in exchange for coin and free room and board. If not, I will convince them."

You arched your eyebrows, understanding what he meant. "I appreciate the offer, but please don't threaten any of the village midwives, especially the elderly."

"I cannot make any promises, mi amor."

x

Winter had never come faster. Not because it actually arrived sooner, but because there was so much to do before then. In the late spring you and Pero planted your garden and a part of the field with enough crops to keep all the animals and yourselves through the winter.

In the early summer your sister and her husband visited with their four children, two girls and two boys, and for a week the tiny cottage was chaotic. The children were always running off doing something adventurous while your sister helped you milk the goats and Pero and your brother in law worked together to build an additional room to the cottage.

As summer neared its end and your belly rounded, you began to focus on smaller tasks. You still cooked and cleaned, you still took care of the horses and goats, and some of the weeding in the small garden behind the cottage, but Pero assisted you and he took on the tasks that were more dangerous by himself, like hunting. He did the extra work gladly, wanting to do everything he could for you, never feeling like he could do enough.

Harvest came around and your brother in law returned to help with the crops, the midwife your sister had found for you in tow. Her name was Franny, and she was strict about what you could and could not do, having you rest most of the day when she wasn't helping you knit baby clothes, but she was kind, reminding Pero of the one grandmother he knew for only a decade before she passed. It took him time to get used to another adult being in the cottage for so long, but he figured a newborn would be an even bigger adjustment, so he adjusted.

The first snowfall was almost a shock, the months having flown by in a blur, and Pero began to feel anxious. Even with Franny in the spare room, what would later become the baby's room, being closed off from the village for a whole season with you in your condition and eventually a newborn worried him. So many things could go wrong, you of all people knew that, but you would have never agreed to leave the farm. As far as you were concerned if Franny couldn't help you, nobody could, and he supposed you were probably right.

Your prediction about your due date turned out to be precise, your first pangs of labor beginning during an early afternoon at the start of the new year.

He'd found you in the barn, sitting on a square bale of hay with an arm curled around the huge swell at your abdomen, grimacing as you endured the first painful wave.

And then everything moved far too slow. He helped you into the cottage and watched as Franny got to work, prepping for the delivery, clueless about what he could do. Franny was no help there. Traditional as could be, she would've shooed him out of the cottage for the day, no matter the cold, if you hadn't insisted he stay.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay, as useless as he felt, as fearful as he felt, but he did it for you. He scraped his mind for ways to help all the while, assisting a dubious Franny in setting up the bed for you, gathering enough firewood to keep your home warm for a couple days, and caring for all the animals on his own as quickly as he could before returning to your side to let you squeeze his hand as your contractions continued to strengthen at an agonizingly slow pace.

It wasn't until morning the next day that Franny declared it was time for you to push. She had you sit up in bed and undress halfway with Pero's help before she prompted you to spread your legs and bend your knees. You pressed your back to Pero's chest after, using his body to support your own.

Through gritted teeth you bore down with several contractions, panting and breaking out in a sweat from your efforts. Pero kept his face close to yours, murmuring encouragement into your ear as you struggled. And when you reached back and grasped one of his a thighs tightly in an attempt to distract yourself, he let you, not caring whether or not it bruised under your fingertips if it helped you cope.

As the minutes passed, as you tired, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your legs trembling, he became concerned something might be wrong, but Franny remained calm, continuously urging you to keep going.

"A couple more," she promised you. "A couple more good solid pushes and it'll be over, sweetie. Don't give up now."

Pero saw it in your eyes, the moment you mentally and physically dug your heels in and began pushing with renewed determination, and he was awed, not sure how you'd come by the reserve.

Finally your laboring paid off and you slumped backwards into his arms, relief washing over your face as a sharp wail pierced the air.

He glanced from you to the small, wet infant flailing in Franny's arms, and his world shifted.

Outside, snow began to fall.

x

Ten years later...

"Why do I have to go?" the seven year old girl before you bemoaned. "Why can't I stay here?"

"You're not old enough to stay here by yourself, Stela," you explained. "Your brother wouldn't even be allowed to stay by himself and he's three years older than you."

"He's old," she stated and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Maybe, but still not old enough."

Stela pouted at you then continued to put on her winter coat and boots, a long dramatic sigh slipping from her as she stood up from the kitchen chair she'd been sitting in. You thought she was far too young to be turning into a moody teenager, but guessed it was the part she'd inherited from her father breaking through.

You finished assisting her five year old sister, Lene, with her coat before leading them both outside into the frigid night. Lene immediately dove head first into the fresh snow layered on the ground gleefully, while her older sister folded her arms and stomped her way over to the front of the barn where Pero and her brother William were waiting for them.

Out of all of your children, William looked most like his father, his eye shape, chin, and nose all miniature copycats of Pero's. Stela had his eyes, but was more like you, physically, and Lene reminded you of your sister. However, they all shared Pero's dark hair and eyes.

"Ready to ride?" Pero quizzed Stela as she trudged right past him. He frowned when she showed no sign of hearing him and met your eyes. "What is she upset about this time?"

"She's angry about being outvoted," you replied. "Said she didn't want to see the stupid lights again and wanted to stay home. She's definitely your daughter."

Pero chuckled and pulled you against him at the hip with one hand as you both trailed your children into the barn to saddle up the horses.

Lene assisted her father with Orion, a four year old colt who was the youngest offspring of the since retired Clover and Thor, grandson to the deceased Meadow, and Pero's new mount. Like his sire, Orion was jet black in color, except for the small crystal shaped star marking that was usually hidden under his forelock. His surprisingly calm disposition was more like Clover though.

Your latest mount, a five year old solid bay mare named Aspen who was Orion's full sibling, was equally as quiet once she'd settled into adulthood, and you had her tacked in no time as Stela watched, still moping.

Last was Thunder, an eight year old bay gelding with a stripe shaped like a lightning bolt running down his face. The most well behaved and eldest offspring of Clover and Thor, Thunder had been assigned to William when he got old enough to start riding on his own.

He was still too tall for William to saddle him, so Pero flung it over the horse's back for him, but the young boy took care of the rest, a true horseman despite his youth.

Once you, Pero, and William led your horses outside the girls approached, Stela hesitantly letting Pero boost her up onto Orion, and Lene begging you to set her in Aspen's saddle. You and Pero climbed on your horses so you were behind them while William found a stump to help propel himself onto Thunder's back.

Someday the children would learn how to ride bareback, but it would not be that night, so you lived with it, though the wind was making you shiver and yearn for the shared body heat.

You led the way up the mountain as was tradition, your family making the trip at least once a winter, more if the children wanted to ride out that far in the dark.

Lene loved it. Loved everything, really. The girl had more positivity and enthusiasm than you and Pero could've ever had combined.

William enjoyed it as well, already into nature as much as you were, and just as quiet about it.

And Stela, well, she often spent most of the ride brooding and complaining about the cold. That night was no different.

Once you reached your destination, you, Pero, and William slowed your horses to a stop a few yards from the edge with your horses shoulder to shoulder so everyone had a great view of the lights.

While the children had grown older (far too quickly), and you and Pero had long since started to grey, the lights had remained the same, seemingly everlasting, tying the years of memories you'd shared together as they shimmered in the sky.

You looked to each of your children in turn and smiled at the delight on their faces, even Stela's, before you glanced to Pero, who was studying your face. You hoped he would never tire of it, cause you certainly wouldn't tire of looking at him, especially when he was holding your middle child by the hip to steady her, to make sure she wouldn't fall off Orion. He was always watching out for his children like that and whenever you witnessed it first hand your heart always threatened to combust.

Fate was not something you'd believed in when you were young, but the older you got, the more you weren't so convinced there wasn't something bigger out there at least nudging you towards the future you were supposed to live out. How else could you have been so lucky to find Pero in time? How else could he have been so lucky to have been chased up your mountain instead of any of the others in the chain that were uninhabited?

One change in events and you'd have never met, or he'd have never turned back come spring. And then you would've never married, and your children would've never been born. You would have spent the rest of your life in tranquility, happy, sure, but never quite fulfilled.

Whether or not fate was real, you were grateful.

You stretched your hand out towards Pero's and he automatically intertwined his fingers with yours, having long lost a hesitancy he'd had towards sharing that kind of intimacy with you.

"Let's head back home," you said simply, and he nodded, turning Orion away from you, for once choosing to take lead.

Guiding you into your future, like you had guided him home.

xxx

Tagged: @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[optimisticgrey]

I used to wake up to the color of your soul.

You are everything. Part 3

This is too personal. All of this. This piece. This hurt. This series that I did not plan, just somehow tumbled into and now cannot stop writing. Once again, I am not sure if this works outside of my head.

Pairing: Named Tav (Celeste), Halsin, Gale, Jenevelle/Shadowheart

WC: 3153

Warnings: Heartbreak. Drama. Tears.

Summary: After the battle for Baldur's Gate, Gale decides to leave Celeste and return to Waterdeep, instead of joining her and Halsin in Reithwin.

Read on AO3

Celeste walked with her hands tucked deep into her coat, her footsteps muted by the rain-soaked ground. The night was cold, the rain relentless, but the biting chill against her skin brought a strange sense of comfort—a sharp, tangible contrast to the warmth of her home that she had willingly left behind.

Scratch trotted beside her, silent and watchful. His worried eyes glanced up at her from time to time, but he remained the steadfast companion he had always been, loyal to her even in her solitude.

She wandered for hours, her steps tracing familiar paths through the settlement, looping endlessly through the woods beyond. The trails were well-trodden, as were the spiraling thoughts in her mind.

He had come.

After nearly two years, Gale had finally shown up, uninvited but unmistakably present. And, of course, he had said all the right things.

Everything she had needed to hear. Everything she had longed for during countless nights of restless anguish.

And yet, she felt nothing but sorrow. Sorrow for the time they had lost. For the hope she had poured into the void he had left behind. For the love that had been shattered and scattered.

What could they have been, if he hadn’t left? What life might they have built together if he had stayed, if he had listened, not got lost in his head…. Celeste sighed.

The ache in her chest felt physical, a sharp, deep pain that had never truly dulled. She missed him so profoundly, it hurt to breathe. Did she miss him or the man she believed him to be?

Was she grieving for the person she had carefully crafted in her mind? A figure of love and devotion, built from memory and longing but far from the reality of who he was?

He had seemed so sincere in his apology, his words chosen with a precision she had always admired. His vulnerability was unmistakable, his regret etched into every line of his face.

She believed him. She could see the honesty in his eyes, the way his voice wavered with emotions he was unable to contain. He still was somehow the man she had fallen in love with. Thoughtful, reflective, and unflinchingly candid.

The rain poured harder, streaking down her face. Scratch whined softly, brushing against her leg to comfort her.

Celeste paused, her fingers curling into fists within the depths of her coat pockets. Tilting her head back, she let the cold rain sting her face, each drop sharp and grounding, tiny pinpricks against her skin. She exhaled slowly, letting it dissipate into the damp night air.

Around her, the world was quiet, except for the rhythmic patter of rain and Scratch’s steady breathing as he padded faithfully at her side. In the stillness, the question clawed its way to the surface, one she had been avoiding but could no longer ignore.

Was there a way back?

And even if there was, did she want to take it? Had she become so accustomed to the dull ache of emptiness, the heavy, throbbing nothingness, that she no longer knew how to live without it?

Celeste looked around, trying to orientate herself. Her gaze landed on a familiar cottage in the near distance, its windows glowing softly. She sighed. Of course. Of course, her feet had taken her here.

“Let’s go visit an old friend,” she murmured, the words spoken as much to Scratch as to herself.

Scratch let out a small, understanding whuff and trotted ahead as she began to make her way toward the door.

Jenevelle opened the door, her expression shifting quickly from surprise to concern. “Celeste! Are you alright? It’s so late…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze swept over Celeste, drenched and weary.

Without waiting for an answer, Jenevelle stepped aside and smiled faintly. “Gale finally found his conscience, hasn’t he? Come on in.”

Celeste entered, peeling off her soaked coat as Scratch sniffed around briefly before curling up near the fire next to the two dogs already sleeping there. She didn’t know them so she introduced herself, offering her hand to take her scent. “Hank and Neema,” Jenevelle introduced the two dogs who lowered the heads and the moment they understood Celeste was friend not foe and went back to sleep. “We took them out earlier, and now they’re simply exhausted—try not to hold it against them.” “I won’t.” Celeste grabbed a towel and gently dried Scratch’s fur, smiling as he whimpered contentedly. “That’s officially a dog towel now,” Jenevelle muttered, handing her another dry one. She paused, eyeing Celeste’s clothes. “Why in the Nine Hells are you wearing armour?”

Celeste hesitated before answering. “I thought… I mean…I needed to clear my head and Halsin doesn’t want me leaving Haven unarmed.”

Jenevelle chuckled, shaking her head as she motioned for Celeste to turn around. Deftly, she unfastened the buckles and helped her shrug out of the leather.

“I was about to take a bath,” Jenevelle said lightly. “Care to join me? For old times’ sake?”

Celeste opened her mouth to object but stopped, memories surfacing unbidden—long, deep conversations over shared baths, bottles of wine or beer between them, the kind of heartfelt bonding she hadn’t indulged in for what felt like a lifetime.

Celeste nodded silently, trailing Jenevelle into the small, firelit bathhouse. The space was simple yet inviting. Barely more than a room with a timbered fireplace and wooden floors. Like many of the buildings in Haven, cracks in the walls had been sealed with overgrown plants and twisted roots, carefully coaxed by druidic magic or Thaniel’s helping hand. The effect was both functional and beautiful, lending the room a natural charm. The air was thick with steam, its heat wrapping around Celeste like a blanket as she stepped inside.

At the center of the room stood the bathtub, a reclaimed treasure from a distant bathhouse. Its generous size could easily accommodate four people or, as was often the case for Jenevelle and Celeste, two friends stretching out comfortably while sharing a bottle of wine.

Without a word, Celeste eased closer, already feeling the tension in her muscles begin to loosen. She allowed herself to breathe deeply, letting the heat of the room and the soft crackle of the fire begin their quiet work.

“Tea or something stronger?” Jenevelle asked, holding up a bottle of rum with a mischievous grin.

“This is not a night for tea,” Celeste replied quietly.

They undressed in companionable silence, the crackle of the hearth a soothing backdrop. When Celeste eased into the steaming water, a low moan escaped her lips, and Jenevelle chuckled, handing her a cotton roll for her neck.

Celeste sighed, the realization clawing it’s way back into her thoughts. She’d completely forgotten about the bath Halsin had prepared for her. Baths had always been a space of solace for her, a place where some of her most meaningful conversations had taken place. A shared bottle of wine or beer, hours spent delving into deep thoughts, exchanging feelings, and forging unshakable bonds.

She paused, remembering how she had quietly let the practice fade away. It had been after Gale voiced his ongoing discomfort with the notion. The memory stirred a mix of regret and resolve within her. Deeply exhaling, they both sank into the hot water, crossing their legs in the middle of the tub as they had down countless times before. Celeste could feel the tension leaving her muscles and her mind. “It is rare to see you so quiet,” Jenevelle said after a moment, handing her the bottle. Celeste blinked gently and took a deep gulp. “That is one fine rum.” “Fine rum for a fine night in fine company,” Jenevelle smiled, accepting the bottle. She sipped and put the bottle down on a stool next to the tab. “How did it go?” “How did you know he would be coming?” "You do realize we’re all still in regular contact, don’t you?” Jenevelle chuckled. “Oh, we certainly gave him a proper tongue-lashing after what happened in Baldur’s Gate—every last one of us, including Wyll. Karlach, if I’m not mistaken, threatened to drag his ass straight into Avernus and give him a taste of Cambion hospitality if he didn’t straighten himself out.” She let a quiet laugther slip. “Admittedly, that does sound precisely like something Karlach would say. Anyway, we made our feelings quite clear, yet most of us still offered support. From what I gather, he only accepted Wyll’s. As for me, our correspondence remained polite. Though our esteemed wizard took great care never to even brush upon the subject of you." Celeste let out a weary sigh, brushing the dampness from her brow with the back of her hand. “Of course not. You slept with him once, he would never talk to you about another woman.” Jenevelle’s laughter filled the room. “Are you serious?” “Of course I am. He still chastises himself about it.” "It was a one-time slip—drunken, fleeting, and never to be repeated." ”What I kept telling him, yes.” “He is a great lover though.” “He always has been.” "There’s a certain gentle sternness about him that I found… rather appealing." Celeste nodded, letting out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken thoughts. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to…” Jenevelle said quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s fine. You didn’t.” Celeste grabbed the bottle and took a heavy sip. “You do know I do not care….And I agree. It was one aspect of him I always loved.” “You do still love him.” “Do I, Jen?” Celeste asked, rolling her eyes in frustration, more at herself than at her friend. “Was any of it real? I mean… any of it? The day he left was the day I planned to propose. I had chosen a ring, a place-” Jenevelle shot upright, her eyes wide with shock. “You—what?!” Celeste turned to her, smiling widely. “He needed it. The last proof. The security he thought could only be found in marriage.” “You…what…I don’t understand! Explain yourself!” she demanded, leaving Celeste chuckling. “Relax. We didn’t get married, did we? To Gale, marriage represents the most intimate form of bonding. Spiritually, magically, bodily—we could already achieve all of that, and surprisingly easily. But he always dreamed of something more distinctive. A romance steeped in shared memories. Battle and achievements even.” “You did that! We all did that!” Jenevelle exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation., splashing water around.

“I know,” Celeste replied with a faint smile, motioning for Jenevelle to pass her the bottle. The warmth of the rum spread through her, soothing and grounding her in a way few things had lately. “To him, it’s something deeply intimate. A tradition imbued with meaning, and I respect that.”

Jenevelle leaned forward, her brow furrowed with disbelief as she took the bottle. “You? Respect marriage? You don’t even believe in it! Binding young women of noble birth to decrepit men for power they wouldn’t have without them? A tool to enslave the poor, prolong bloodlines, and legitimize those already in power? Your words!”

“I remember what I said,” Celeste admitted warmly, her voice calm but resolute. “My opinion hasn’t changed. Yet, even so, I would have given him that part of me. I would have let him claim it if it made him feel safe—secure in my love.”

Jenevelle stared at her, wide-eyed, her disbelief palpable. “After everything you’ve done—everything we’ve been through—the horrors you both survived side by side... You would have given up something so core to who you are, all for his sake?”

Celeste nodded as she set the bottle down. “Certainly.”

“Why?” Jenevelle pressed, her voice barely above a whisper.

A weak, painful smile tugged at Celeste’s lips. She hesitated, the words slow to come.“Because I am nothing without him.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jenevelle said quickly, though her tone softened.

“I’m not,” Celeste replied, her voice carrying a raw edge. “You’ve seen me these past two years, Jen. I’m a shadow of who I used to be. I can’t write. I can’t compose. My magic is unreliable, often unstable. All my songs are the same. Desperate pleas hidden as ballads. I’ve put Halsin through all of this, and somehow, he still loves me with unwavering devotion. I don’t even know why…”

“Because it’s not true,” Jenevelle interrupted, her voice firm but kind. “You’re burdened, yes. Hurting. Deeply and rightly so. But you are not broken, Celeste. This pain doesn’t reflect who you are. It is but a product of Gale’s choice, of him running from something he couldn’t face. It doesn’t define you.”

Celeste shook her head, her voice quiet and heavy. “It still left me like this,” she murmured, lifting her hands from the water. The flickering firelight danced across her trembling fingers, casting shifting shadows over her skin. “In this... state. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Not without him.”

"I hate that he did this to you," Jenevelle said, her tone firm, tinged with anger.

Celeste looked up, surprised by the intensity in her friend’s voice. “Don’t, please. Gale is a good person. He’s still your friend! A brilliant man. The best and most gifted mage of his generation, and likely beyond. He was afraid. Overwhelmed and—”

She paused, noticing the mischievous smile spreading across Jenevelle’s face, her eyes gleaming with a knowing light. Celeste stopped mid-sentence.

“There you have your answer,” Jenevelle said simply, her voice calm but resolute.

The room seemed to grow still, the silence vast and heavy, settling around them.

After a long pause, Celeste exhaled and nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have put you all through this. It is my broken heart, my responsibility, not yours. I should have handled things better. I apologize—”

“Argh!” Jenevelle’s frustrated groan cut her off, startling Celeste into silence.

"You truly don’t understand, do you? For all your brilliance… Gods, Celeste, have you ever actually listened to Halsin? About true community? About how trust is forged not through words but through actions? We carry each other, Cel. That’s why I chose to settle here. With you! To care for you. Yes, I admit, I wanted a safe place to help my father care for my mother, but you were the deciding factor. You and Halsin. What you’ve built here is—"

“Halsin built it,” Celeste interrupted, her voice soft. “I was just…” She trailed off, her tone growing lighter as a self-deprecating smile played on her lips. “I was the puppy with cute eyes, just staring at him, happy to be allowed to tag along.”

“You do have cute eyes.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Celeste said with a small grin, eliciting a chuckle from Jenevelle.

“I was just lucky to be allowed to live under his grace.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, their gazes meeting before they burst into warm laughter.

“Grace is bestowed by nature, not me!” They quipped, mimicking Halsin’s patient tone, their laughter bubbling even louder.

It was a good way to reconnect and share this with her, Celeste realized.

As the laughter subsided, Celeste sank deeper into the water, spreading her fingers across its surface, gently flipping waterdrops in Jenevelle’s direction. She let out another long sigh. “Be that as it may, I was just helping. He is and always has been the leading force.”

“You’ve taken on all the tasks he’d sooner leave undone. The chores, the burdens,” Jenevelle said firmly, her tone laced with warm admiration. “It’s what we’ve come to know you for, what endears you to all of us. Once again, you are the one taking the tasks no one else wants to touch. Sure, Halsin oversaw the ledgers, yes, but let’s not pretend he didn’t despise every ink-stained moment of it. He prefers working with his hands, building. Restoring!”

“True but-“

“Let me finish, please,” Jenevelle demanded and Celeste just nodded. “Bringing Nuram into the fold? That was your move. Look at what it’s led to—the resources, the expanding trade, the new hospital. The damn school! This was supposed to be finished next year and is already in use! And let’s not forget the way you care for the children, Cel. It’s remarkable, truly. But you’ve sunk so deeply into your own grief that you can’t even see the beauty you’ve built around you.”

Jenevelle paused, her expression softening. “And for Gale? He spent two years climbing out of his own self-dug pit, only to return here, begging for your forgiveness. He did beg, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Celeste admitted. “Quite eloquently, I might add.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” Jenevelle smiled, sinking back into the steaming water.

They fell into a comfortable silence, sharing the rum in quiet reflection.

After a while, Jenevelle broke the stillness. “Why haven’t you reached out before?”

Celeste closed her eyes. “Honestly?”

“What is all this, if not honest?”

Celeste hesitated, then exhaled deeply. “I was… ashamed. You all relied on me to lead you. What does it say about me—about who I am as a person, a leader, a woman, as someone you trusted—if I couldn’t foresee the deceit of my own partner? I was blind to what was coming because I trusted him. How can any of you trust me with basically anything when I failed so profoundly at seeing what was right in front of me?”

“You really believe that? That you failed us because Gale decided to spontaneously lose his spine?”

Celeste nodded, briefly smiling “If I can’t trust myself—a lesson I had to painfully and slowly learn, as you well remember—then how can I ask others to rely on my judgment? I see it clearly now: my trust in myself relied on my ability to trust him. Gale, I mean. If he could love me, with all the broken pieces, all the wrongness that was in my blood…”

Her voice trailed off as her head dropped, and she shook it softly.

Jenevelle chuckled, a warm sound that broke through the tension. “How do you figure our wise druid fell for you, if it was all because of Gale?” Jenevelle’s chuckle. “How do you figure our wise druid fell for you, if it was all because of Gale?”

Celeste blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Indulge me,” Jenevelle said, leaning forward with a smirk. “Let’s think about this for a moment. What does Halsin—a brilliant, stunningly beautiful, centuries-old Archdruid, wise and experienced beyond measure—see in you? If, as you seem to think, every good thing you’ve done, every noble thought you’ve had, came from Gale’s influence?”

Celeste’s brow furrowed as she let the question linger. She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. After a long pause, she finally admitted, “I… I don’t know.”

“It might be worth a thought.”

[meghantheduchyofpitstains]

The stages of ‘Meghan the Narcissist’s’ relationship with Harry. Three basics stages of a Narcissist’s relationships: Idealize, Devalue and Discard

iDEALIZE

It is a dizzying whirlwind

Meghan and Harry were married after knowing each other for about 2 years. The majority of this time they spent on separate continents. Markle pushed it quick and hard to get to the altar.

“Love Bombing - the initial stage can feel like a drug or a love cocktail as potent as cocaine or heroin because the same feel good chemical called Dopamine is released in the brain by both and we know Harry likes a drug high. During this phase there is intensive sex, exciting travel, constant praise, being put on a pedastool and focused ego driven attention (all release the same feel good brain chemicals as regular cocaine or heroine use would) so the victim feels an addictive high.”

- the traveling from continent to continent spending a few days at a time together so when together it is intense sex which is like a drug in Harry’s brain - releasing the same Dopamine etc. and we know he is a feel good drug addict.

- intense sex fest in Africa

- intense sex as they holed up at Nottingham cottage - seeing the addiction pattern???

- getting the fairytale wedding

- traveling to the South Seas and Africa for work

- clothes and jewelry shopping spending hundreds of thousands of dollars, basically buying anything you have ever wanted

- meeting famous people, private jets, staying in huge mansions

All the Love Bombing high for Harry and the superficial, materialistic, super fame high for Megan

Stage 2: Devaluation

Harry doesn’t know what hit him. He is probably in a state of pure confusion trying to figure out the mood swings and the up and downs. He gets glimpses of how it was during the love Bombing stage but most of the time it is walking on egg shells, repressing himself, confusion and just trying to do what he can to get back to how it was in the beginning and the get those addictive feel good chemicals in his brain flowing again.

Meghan has started to - subtly, insidiously, and covertly—to devalue Harry. “This may happen via putdowns, gaslighting, intermittently lacking emotional or physical intimacy, withdrawing affection, seductive withholding, inexplicably disappearing from contact, or blaming the target for the narcissistic person’s issues (projection).”

What we see happening in the devaluation phase.

- Harry is not protecting her from bad press and looking bad, she is not getting the super stardom and fame she wanted. It is Harry’s fault.

- Harry not making her the belle of the ball, she still is always number 2 to Kate. Harry needs to fix this.

- Harry not getting her a huge Mansion/ mini castle to live in like all the other Senior Royals

- the money/budget being pulled back as the public and the press finds out about how much she is spending on clothes alone. Harry needs to get her the money she expected.

- she is now pushing herself in front of Harry at events and greeting dignitaries and ordering him around at events while she controls him with her hand on his back or clawing his arm at all times. She has always been more important than him.

- making jokes about Harry at her events and stunts. Harry becomes the court jester.

- she is speaking first or cutting Harry off to do all the speaking when they are at an event. Even South Park made fun of her doing this.

The devaluation is in full force in LA as Meghan is trying to break out as the star speaker without Harry, solo events with celebrities, working to be the Princess Diana of Hollywood.

Stage 3: Sooner than later the DISCARDING phase will happen. Probably when the money is cut off or reduced, she will then file for divorce and get the guaranteed payouts and keep the mansion he will have to pay for. She will write a book bashing the hell out of Harry and Telling the world she never loved him because he is a whiney, drug addict, loser.

“Inevitably, the discarding occurs when the person with narcissism either disappears or orchestrates his or her own abandonment by engaging in some form of egregious emotional abuse. The outcome is often shocking for the survivor, unclear as to how someone that he or she fell so deeply in love with could throw it all away.” - Source Good Therapy

I believe the public discarding has started.At its worst, she will use the kids and keep them from Harry. I really believe it will end in tragedy for Harry. Being the grieving widow may be more enticing for her then being a divorcee again?? She will still technically be a part of The Royal family.