#complete fanfiction

[ebongawk]

"“Eddie––” “Shh, baby. I’m about to have second breakfast.” “Oh my God––”"

dancing in the light a we're a lie hellcheer AU by makeshiftcandy rated E | chapter 2/2

[madamzellegiry]

Cody turned to him, studying him with a gaze that seemed to carry as much understanding as it did pain. "You could stay, you know," he said, his voice low, as though afraid to disturb the fragile calm around them. "The Rebellion needs someone like you, Kenobi. The galaxy needs someone like you."

Obi-Wan glanced back at him, catching the unspoken plea, the hope that maybe—just maybe—there was a place for him among them, among those who still fought openly, who still believed they could change something. But that life was lost to him, buried beneath the sands of Tatooine, waiting for him in the guise of a young boy who would someday bear the galaxy's burdens.

"My path lies elsewhere," he said softly, almost to himself. "There's someone I must protect. Even if he never knows."

Cody's expression tightened, a flicker of something raw crossing his face, a reminder of old loyalties that never quite died, of brothers-in-arms scattered by betrayal and fate. "And he's worth that much to you?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, though the word was barely a whisper. He had asked himself the same question countless times in the stillness of the desert, as the stars blinked coldly above him, indifferent and eternal. And yet, the answer was always the same.

[reyllos]

Chapter: 7/7

Word Count: 68,882

Chapter Summary: A masquerade ball may cause more chaos than anyone ever expected.

Fanfic Summary:

Unable to reach Penelope’s carriage on foot, Colin had no choice but to chase after her with his own carriage. Now, not only did he fail to express his feelings for her, but he also found out that she was Lady Whistledown.

Meanwhile, as the weight of their unspoken emotions lingered in the air, Penelope finds herself racing against the clock as the Queen places a bounty on her head. Surprisingly, she finds herself receiving help from the most unlikely pair: Eloise and Colin Bridgerton.

--

A mere few minutes of delay drastically altered the course of events, a season 3 canon divergence, fix-it fic.

Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV); Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn

Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington; Eloise Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington; Penelope Featherington & Portia Featherington; Colin Bridgerton & Violet Bridgerton; Anthony & Benedict & Colin & Daphne & Eloise & Francesca & Gregory & Hyacinth Bridgerton; Agatha Danbury & Penelope Featherington; Charlotte zu Mecklenburg-Strelitz | Charlotte Queen of the United Kingdom & Agatha Danbury

Characters: Penelope Featherington; Colin Bridgerton; Eloise Bridgerton; Charlotte zu Mecklenburg-Strelitz | Charlotte Queen of the United Kingdom; Agatha Danbury; Violet Bridgerton; Anthony Bridgerton; Benedict Bridgerton; Portia Featherington; Prudence Featherington; Philippa Featherington; Cressida Cowper

Additional Tags: Fix-It; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Season 3 Finale; Angst; Happy Ending; Fluff and Angst; Humor; There's a lot I would change on part 2 let's be honest; And writing a fic is the better way to channel that; Colin finds out about lw earlier; peneleop and colin talk more about everything really; even if they are fighting; more drama(i can't believe we actually needed more drama but); more good drama I mean; eloise being a good friend; and more - Freeform

[crymeariveronceagain]

Chapters: 12/12 Fandom: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tam Song/Biana Vacker, Biana Vacker & Fitz Vacker, Sophie Foster & Keefe Sencen & Biana Vacker & Fitz Vacker, Keefe Sencen & Tam Song, Linh Song & Tam Song, Marella Redek & Linh Song Characters: Tam Song, Biana Vacker, Fitz Vacker, Linh Song, Keefe Sencen, Sophie Foster (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Marella Redek, Blur (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Alvar Vacker, Gisela Sencen, Fintan Pyren, Mr. Forkle (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Edaline Ruewen, Grady Ruewen, Della Vacker, Alden Vacker Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Pirates, Ik it's mermay but there are no mermaids, Minor Sophie Foster/Keefe Sencen, Swords, Boats and Ships, Captain! Biana Vacker, Captain! Keefe Sencen, Biana Vacker Needs A Hug, Tam Song Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Sophie is a Disaster, Keefe is actually kind of put together, if you ignore the trauma, Storms, morally gray characters, this entire thing is just, Gray Morality, Morally Gray Biana Vacker, Morally Gray Tam Song, Morally Gray Sophie Foster, Morally Gray Keefe Sencen, Mild Gore, Sexual Harassment, Period-Typical Sexism, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Past Sexual Abuse, not a happy time in chapter 5, Captivity, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical Accuracy, At the same time, For reasons, when is this set? couldn't tell you, Non-Consensual Kissing, Vomiting, Abuse, Dissociation, Childhood Trauma, Trauma, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:

“Some hid scars and some hid scratches It made me wonder about their past And as I looked around, I began to notice That we were nothing like the rest...” ~ Mountain Sound, Of Monsters And Men

Biana Vacker ran away from home with her brother when she was fifteen. She stumbled, recklessly, onto a pirate ship leaving the port that night. She was pulled into the family on the ship like she'd always belonged there.

Tam Song ran away from home with his cursed sister when he was thirteen. He threw himself at the mercy of a pirate queen whose own son sought to destroy her. And when the regime of the Neverseen was overthrown, and Keefe captained his own ship, there was only one thing left to do.

Piracy.

The question is, would the new crew of the Neverseen ever find a way to best their adversaries, the greatest pirate ship on the sea, the Black Swan?

~~

AKA: Self indulgent Tiana pirate au. With Swords.

[smol-and-passionate]

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Lupin III Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Arsène Lupin III & Original Character(s) Characters: Arsène Lupin III, Zenigata Kouichi, Yatagarasu Gorou Additional Tags: Original Character(s), Minor Jigen Daisuke, Minor Goemon Ishikawa XIII, non-binary original character - Freeform, Non-binary character, writer is non-binary, no onscreen heist, Lots of Talking and Feelings, Not Beta Read, non-descript oc, do not copy to another site Chapter 6 Summary:

An old man comes into the flower shop for a large order.

Last chapter! But not the last of Reid!

[kyri45]

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Liu Qingge comes back to find out that everyone believes Shen Qingqiu murdered him and he’s offended that anyone would think Shen Qingqiu could beat him in a fight. And, as Liu Qingge bitches people out for believing such a ridiculous tale, Shen Qingqiu is off to the side muttering about how he “could absolutely kill that brute if he wanted to.” Liu Qingge turns to him exasperated, grumpy, and annoyed and snaps, “You couldn’t even stop me from killing myself.”

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[choccy-milky]

💖🎊the end, & thank you for reading!!🎊💖

im so thankful for all the support i got on this story, and i wouldn't have finished it if not for all of you, and for the love i got for seb and clora. so thank you again for giving me the motivation to write this 600k+ monster, and to see it through to the very end. LOVE YALL💖🫶 (ao3/wattpad)

[dapper-lil-arts]

I'm not the kind of person that's like "Here let me fix the canon" usually but like holy crap gen 5 implied a lot of messed up shit about our hero Twilight Sparkle lmao

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is an ao3 writer

Hear me out!

Y'know how there's a running joke that ao3 authors/writers will put in the author's notes that they're sorry that they took so long to update and their reason is because of either they got into a horrible accident/ life threatening health issue/serious personal issues/ their life went up in flames figuratively or literally, or somehow a combination of all of those scenarios. And they're all like "Well enjoy the chapter! tee-hee!" and everybody who's reading it all collectively go "are you okay?!" (aka the ao3 writers curse)

So I want to take this, and add Danny

Danny begins taking a liking to the classic literature that Mr. Lancer talks about during class and decides to writes a fanfic about it along those lines. It all starts for when he writes a Pride and Prejudice fic where Charlotte gets a better life where she's both happy and comfortable. And when he gets pretty supportive comments about it. He starts writing fics for other books as well (and it never stops)

During that time, who else but the Jane Austen fan, Jason Todd reads this fic. Yes he reads fanfic (do not ask him about his ao3 history), he yearns for more Jane Austen, but unfortunately she's not exactly able to write more books for him to read. So he turns to ao3 where there are some people who have incredible talent for writing pretty good regency era romance.

So what happens when he finds a couple of Pride and Prejudice stories written by " HalfDeadHalfAliveWriter

And when reading through the stories and looking at the author's notes.

All with very weird scenarios happening to the writer that he can't be sure that if it's a joke or if it's an actual thing he should be very worried about.

Author's notes such as:

Sorry it took so long for me to update this I was being shot at by my parents and ended up getting a burn on my hand and couldn't use my computer for awhile.

Sorry the chapter's so short, all the people in my town are being possessed by a hoard of angry ghosts because somebody had a bright idea to steal an artifact that belongs to an ancient civilization. So I had to get this out quick before they ruin my wifi connection

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, I had to fight off a crazy guy that is obsessed with killing my father so he could marry my mother and become my new stepfather.

Sorry for the wait I got sent back to Ancient Egypt by my mentor to hunt down a runaway ghost that was messing with time.

But honestly the most recent author's note on a fic that hadn't been updated in week is what makes Jason really worried.

Sorry for not updating for a couple months guys, I was taken by a government agency that started vivisecting and torturing me. Thankfully my sister and friends busted me out and now I'm working on healing up. Anyway here's the Great Gatsby fic where Nick and Gatsby kiss.

After reading that author's note, Jason just sits there thinking only one thing.

What the fuck?

[ebongawk]

"“I haven’t accepted anything yet. I have until May, and... I wasn’t sure what we were doing.” “I don’t have plans that aren’t ‘Follow Chrissy Cunningham to the Edge of the Earth’.”"

we're a lie (you and i) by makeshiftcandy chapter 16/16 (now complete)

[heywriters]

it always shakes me when someone writes "i binged this overnight!" or "i finished this in two days!" on a long-fic it took me 10yrs to write

[reyllos]

Chapters: 13/13

Word Count: 110,917

Chapter summary: Eight months later

Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV); Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn

Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington; Eloise Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington; Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Anthony & Benedict & Colin & Daphne & Eloise & Francesca & Gregory & Hyacinth Bridgerton; Benedict Bridgerton & Colin Bridgerton; Colin Bridgerton & Violet Bridgerton; Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane; if you squint; Harry Dankworth/Prudence Featherington; Colin Bridgerton & Eloise Bridgerton; Francesca Bridgerton/John Stirling I; Francesca Bridgerton/Michael Stirling; if you squiiint; Anthony Bridgerton & Colin Bridgerton;

Characters: Colin Bridgerton; Penelope Featherington; Eloise Bridgerton;Benedict Bridgerton;Francesca Bridgerton;Violet Bridgerton;Hyacinth Bridgerton;Gregory Bridgerton;Portia Featherington;Prudence Featherington;Harry Dankworth;Cressida Cowper;Lord Debling (Bridgerton);Lady Whistledown (Bridgerton);Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma;Anthony Bridgerton;Daphne Bridgerton;John Stirling I,Michael Stirling;Footman John (Bridgerton);he deserves a tag now;Charlotte zu Mecklenburg-Strelitz | Charlotte Queen of the United Kingdom;Philippa Featherington;Albion Finch

Additional Tags: Romance;Slow Romance;Slow Burn,Happy Ending;Angst with a Happy Ending;Friends to Lovers;Colin Bridgerton Being an Idiot;an idiot we love truly;Regency Romance;Season 3;a season 3/ book fic as I would have written both;Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington-centric;Bridgertons Being Bridgertons;Bridgerton Family Feels;Eloise and Colin getting closer as they are the only ones that know about lady whistledown;and see penelope;and have their own penelope dramas;penelope being the amazing woman we all know she is;bridgerton family being crazy and supportive;Drinking,"tea" consumption;(not glorifying these things but they're described)

Fic Summary:

“Fail to unders-” Colin shook his head and took a step closer to her. “I’m sure you are aware that it is a gentleman’s duty to marry a lady should he bring dishonour upon her.”

“Yes, but you’re not a gentleman, you’re Colin,” she interrupted him, her blue eyes boring into his, “You don’t count.”

Taken aback by the explanation, he could only stare at her in disbelief. Those words were familiar to him, yet they made him feel strange.

"Just look at our surroundings," Penelope gestured to the empty room. “We are without a chaperone, as we have been on multiple occasions. Suppose someone were to enter through those doors at this very moment, we would be under an obligation to marry, regardless of whether or not we kissed. So, what difference does it make?”

----

The year is 1815, and Colin Bridgerton devises the brilliant strategy to aid Penelope Featherington in attracting eligible suitors.

[starmocha]

Relentless Conqueror [Sylus/Reader ★ 1790 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] To be wedded to the strongest warrior in the village was an honor and a blessing. A/N: I saw someone specified that Sylus is dressed as a Mongolian wrestler in the new memory. I am so excited for it, but um…this fic has absolutely nothing to do with that. My mind just swerved completely off-course the moment I saw this man manhandling us again lmao And…yeah…this is based on this post I made earlier. Still in my ✨shameful Sylus posting era✨ 😔

In the wide-open plane of the grassland, everything could be heard for miles all around. Stretched across the vast expanse, one area was occupied by numerous huts making up a small but thriving village.

Within the village, everyone had a role. The elders guided and led the villagers with their years of wisdom. The men were providers, hunters, and warriors while the women sustained the community and reared the children who would one day take over, thus continuing this cycle of life.

You were no exception. It was time for you to take your place among others with the new role you were about to take.

Fortune had smiled down upon you. Hushed whispers wove through the village, going from mouth to mouth, passing loose lips after loose lips, before the news finally reached you.

Sylus had chosen you to be his bride.

To be chosen by the strongest warrior in the village to be his bride was an honor bestowed only on you. He would provide you with a life of comfort and in turn, you were to bear him strong children. Many of the other maidens envied you, wanting to covet your place, to steal him away from you.

However, Sylus was truly the epitome of the ideal warrior: Large, strong, and imposing. He was unyielding on the battlefield, and he was unyielding in his decisions.

Of all the maidens who had crossed his path, only one had managed to ensnare him, to captivate him like no others.

You.

It was a prosperous union witnessed in a lavish ceremony by the entire village, cheered to be blessed by the gods themselves. A true match made in Heaven, many declared, as the wedding ceremony ended and the celebration began.

Arm linked with your new husband, you greeted and thanked the well-wishers, watching with wonders as everyone feasted and drank to your marriage. The merriment started from morning and continuing well into the late night. After nightfall had descended, Sylus led you away from the celebration. No one noticed the absence of the bride and groom, too drunk on alcohol and the festivities to even be aware of their surroundings.

Sylus whisked you away to his quiet hut, far from the music, laughter, and cheers. He towered over you, holding aside the curtain at the entryway to allow you entrance. As you entered, you could see the hut had been prepped for the wedding night.

It was a very comfortable living space, more extravagant than many of the other villagers’ homes. You barely had a moment to fully take in the sight of your new home before Sylus swept you off your feet, cradled in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He laid you down on fur, your beauty illuminated by the lamps within the hut. You could still hear the residual laughter and chatters outside as the rest of the villagers continued in their merriment celebrating this union.

“Pay them no heed,” Sylus ordered, grasping your chin firmly and forcing your sight on him. “Tonight, and for the rest of our lives, you are mine.”

He kissed you roughly, not minding your inexperience. It pleased him that your chasteness meant you were untouched, meant that he would have the sole honor of claiming you.

He disrobed his blushing bride, guiding your nimble hands to his toned body, letting you touched upon his firm muscles, feel the heat from his body. One by one, accessories fell, clinking and clanking on the ground. Then, his own ceremonial garments were discarded, tossed carelessly to the side and leaving him bare and nude, your eyes feasting on the wonderous sight of your new husband.

You swallowed slowly, feeling the gentle flutters of butterflies in your belly. He smirked at your nervousness. One hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You whimpered when he claimed your lips again, his large body overpowering you in seconds. He had you spread beneath him, his own body looming over yours and keeping you trapped under him. He cupped your sex, startling you as his long, slender fingers worked into your folds.

You let out a sharp gasp, fingers finding their way into his hair, and tugging at him nervously.

“Relax,” he ordered, “You’re not ready for me yet.”

He was well-endowed, his size intimidating, and you unconsciously clenched, only realizing when you heard Sylus’ deep chuckle. You blushed crimson, but your embarrassment soon passed the moment you felt Sylus working his fingers in and out of you.

“Ah—” Your hips moved on their own, desperately meeting his thrusts, wanting more, just a bit more. Your toes curled, body tensing up when you felt his thumb brushing against something that was causing you to jolt in pleasure. “M-more…Sylus…please…”

“You like that, sweetie?”

You nodded numbly, your voice coming out breathless. “Yes…please…my husband.”

You didn’t see the way Sylus’ eyes gleamed in satisfaction, didn’t hear his quick intake of breath over your own helpless moans. He smirked.

He seized your mouth again, taking in your startled cries, his fingers slipping in and out of your wet folds faster and faster. “My bride—my wife…” he murmured back, nipping and sucking greedily, “You’re so wet now, sweetie…Do you feel good?”

You sobbed and cried as his fingers curled inside. There was a tightening in your belly. You called out to him, scared. “Sy—Sylus…”

He shushed you gently. “Come for me.”

You clenched around his fingers, your cries filling the room. Sylus’ smirk widened as he watched you come undone by his fingers alone. He kissed your lips, praising you softly as you panted and sobbed. You barely recovered when he withdrew his fingers, his length taking place.

You bucked in surprise, eyes widening. “Sy-Sylus, no…”

“You are ready for me, my bride,” he assured. He pressed forward and you gripped a handful of the fur throw beneath you, your sensitive body feeling suddenly overstimulated by the massive intrusion taking place. Impossibly big, you thought, as your walls stretched around his thick length, taking him in slowly through much pain. He barely comforted you, seemingly enjoying the sight of you gasping and moaning as you were getting stuffed by him. His soft pants grew shallower, his eyes darkened with desire as he watched his beloved new bride taking him in inch by inch.

He praised you over and over once he was fully sheathed inside you, his deep voice comforting you in that moment. “You’re doing so well,” he said, voice thick with desire, “I have chosen the perfect wife.”

You felt a warmth in your belly, his praise filling you with unexpected joy. “Sylus…”

He smirked.

He took you brutally, riding you as rough and hard like his faithful steed. You wept and sobbed as his powerful thrusts reached that euphoric spot that had you writhing and moaning, begging him for more and more of this sweet, agonizing pleasure. You had never known the touch of a man before this night, and from this moment onwards, Sylus made sure you never will. He was going to make sure your body learned that you were his, craved only him, and only satisfied by him.

He was wrecking you, ruining you. You moaned as his large hand covered your flat belly. “You better prepare yourself, my bride,” he husked, “the women in my family only bear large children.”

You trembled, unsure if what you were feeling was fear or otherwise. He slipped his hands under you, groping and grabbing your buttocks and lifting you off the bed, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Immediately, your head lolled to the side, your moans resounded within the private space as you felt him penetrating you deeply, his pacing still unrelenting and unforgiving. This new angle had you calling out to him needily, feeling the second climax approaching fast.

Closer…and closer…and closer—

“Dear gods…” he groaned as you came undone again, your walls squeezing tightly around his cock. He pressed you back into the bed, letting you ride out your high as he chased after his. His hand grasped yours, pressing them deeper into the bedding.

“Gonna fuck my child into you,” he grunted, his hips slapping against yours, “Gonna breed you, have you heavy with my baby in your womb.”

He fondled your breast, massaging it roughly under his calloused hand. His mouth was close to yours, his hot, humid breath fanned over your lips. “Gonna have you swell, gonna have you bear me sons and daughters over and over again…”

Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him in closer to his surprise. He smirked. His hand reached out to brush your hair out of your sweat-slicked face. He leaned in closer, kissing you briefly, and then he asked, “Did you like the sound of that, my bride? Do you like what I am saying? Do you like knowing this is your role from now on? To bear my children over and over again?”

“Y—” you bit down on your bottom lip, embarrassed.

“Say it,” he demanded, thrusting in harder, eliciting more of your sweet cries.

He held you close and you sobbed into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck as you felt him still pounding into your pussy. “Yes…Yes…!” you cried out, clinging to him, “I want your baby…I want to have all of your babies, Sylus!”

“Fuck’s sake…” His eyes squeezed shut, feeling you come again already. This time, he also felt his own climax, felt himself pumping hot into you. He groaned again, “Take every last drop, sweetie.”

You felt so impossibly full, his seed flooding your womb. There was not a doubt in your head that this union wouldn’t be fruitful. You were going to carry his baby, bear him large, strong sons—future warriors to carry on his legacy.

“My bride, my beautiful bride,” he murmured, lavishing you in his sweet kisses as he pulled out. He gazed down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and doe eyes staring back at him. He hummed softly, his lips finding yours again, his large hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.”

Beyond the hut, the celebration continued. Laughter and singing continued well into the late night, but within this hut, there was only the labored breathing, desperate gasps and pleased moans filling the space for hours on end. Time seemed to have slowed down, the world quieting.

He took you, claimed you over and over again. Your body was his, and his was yours. From this day and onwards, in this life and all of the lifetimes to come, you were his bride, the only one capable of stealing the heart of the feared conqueror of the grassland.

[crowleysgirl56]

Something that I noticed about Good Omens season 1:

Aziraphale’s tunic has a slit up the front of it showing us a glimpse of his chest and chest hair.

Ok, so I’m gonna need about one thousand fanfictions of Crowley trying very hard not to lose his mind and keep his composure here.