#it’s called my very dear lord on ao3 if you even care!!!

[sunonwaxyleaves]

Here is a snippet of the upcoming chapter of my beloved Jegulus fic based on the story of Michelangelo and his gay lover that no one asked for <3

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Plenty of time was spent riddled with guilt, and plenty of time was spent within the walls of where his God wanted him and where it all began. He found, however, if he were to ignore the honesty behind his actions when in the midst of it all, it was rather easy to not get lost in it.

He fell in love with many men, all with whom he spent no more than two days and no less than two hours with, but none had ever returned his feelings. It became easier to stomach the more it happened, especially knowing it was the sacrifice he had to make to get what he so desperatley desired. There had been no real reason to stop the self sabotage, and so for a very long time, he hadn't.

But then Regulus arrived.

James had looked at a man in the way he was never supposed to for the last time the day that his eyes had found Regulus. The only man to ever matter made James realize that he'd felt love for another before, but it had never been true.

His darling aristocrat made the tips of his fingers tingle, his toes wiggle, and he had given his beating heart over only once he was ready. James knew just exactly what to do with it once it lay in his hands, because he had been preparing for it and waiting for it since that day in the church. It was all that James had ever needed.

For what is love, if not faith given by free will?

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[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter IV - Where Lions Preen and Dragons Feast

Summary: Yours and Aemond’s relationship flourishes as you wait for your wedding to arrive. But when Jason Lannister steps out of line, insulting not only yourself, but also your mother and your future husband, you putting him back in his place elicits an interesting reaction from Aemond.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 4,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); Aemond being pussydrunk; Jason Lannister being a major asshole; Aemond is a simp through and through (I plead my case)

Notes: Hello my dears, how have you been? I bring you the next chapter of this series (this is also my second time ever I writing smut so bear with me please, I apologize in advance)

Just to explain some things, Aemond and Reader call each other husband and wife in High Valyrian even though they are not married yet because apparently there is no word for betrothed, fiancé, bride, groom or anything similar in High Valyrian, so they call each other that (it’s meant to be more affectionate than a indication of their relationship status anyway)

Also, I again used an online translator (if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.

Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this story so far and that you enjoy this chapter!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Things had been calm, albeit quite hectic all the same, at least for a while. On the very same night after the spectacle that was the hearing over Driftmark, King Viserys had passed away in his sleep. Your mother, bless her soul, was with him when it happened, and promptly called for the maesters’ help but there was no longer anything they could do, leaving his body in the care of the silent sisters. Her coronation, reluctantly, happened on the very next morning. Rhaenyra wanted time to mourn her father, but an heir had no time to mourn a king, for the realm demanded a new one. Or, in this case, a queen.

In order to remind the lords of all the great houses of the oath they’d sworn to King Viserys almost twenty years before, Rhaenyra sent out every dragonrider to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms. Daemon flew to Riverrun; Jace paid the Lord Cregan Stark a visit; Baela, accompanied by Rhaena, was sent to the Vale; Aegon and Helaena took flight to Casterly Rock to negotiate with a promise of maintenance of Ser Tyland Lannister’s chair on the Queen’s Small Council and a future betrothal between Jaehaerys and Jason Lannister’s daughter, Cerelle; Luke headed to the Reach. 

You, on the other hand, were sent to speak with the Prince Qoren Nymeros Martell with a proposition to join the Seven Kingdoms under Targaryen rule, which he of course refused and practically laughed in your face. But you were nothing short of prepared, coming up with an alternative: should he recognize your mother as the Queen of Westeros, even if Dorne remained an independent kingdom, he could keep the Stepstones and incorporate it into Dornish territory. You’d even personally aid them with your dragon in driving away the Triarchy; the only catch was, after that, he’d have to maintain it of his own accord. If he was successful in keeping the Stepstones going forward, they were his to do what he pleased so long as he kept open commerce with the rest of the realm. He’d eventually caved in, an impressed smile adorning his features (and a proposition to warm your bed, which you politely turned down) as he agreed to your terms.

The only two great houses who gave any indication of trouble accepting your mother’s claim to the Iron Throne were Houses Baratheon and Greyjoy. Lord Borros Baratheon, although vexed at having to bend the knee to a woman, didn’t seem so bothered after negotiations with his cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, and a proposal to wed one of his daughters to the previous king’s youngest son, Daeron. Lord Dalton Greyjoy, on the other hand, was quick to bend the knee to Rhaenyra the moment he set his eyes on Vhagar flying above Pyke, the sheer size of her rumored to be bigger than the whole castle itself, and Aemond barely had to do any negotiations at all.

All of this, allied with the extensive gatherings of the Small Council (which Rhaenyra decided not to change most of its members for the time being, just rearranging their positions and reinstating Lord Corlys Velaryon as Master of Ships) meant yours and Aemond’s wedding got pushed back several weeks, if not moons, the last thing on anybody’s minds at the moment. The betrothal itself was only announced after the return of the last of the dragonriders to King’s Landing, almost a whole moon after the death of your grandsire. By then, the expected date for the birth of your mother’s and Daemon’s babe was approaching, and so it was decided to wait until after the babe was born so as to not cause Rhaenyra unnecessary stress that came with planning a whole wedding feast.

In the meantime, you and Aemond would spend every waking moment in each other’s presence; wherever one was, the other was never too far behind. Especially after your betrothal was formally announced the two of you could often be found walking together around the gardens, your hand tucked on the crook of his elbow, or breaking your fast together. Sometimes you’d be found reading together in the library or you’d watch him train on the balcony above the courtyard. Your handmaids often jested with you calling him your shadow, as he never strayed too far, almost like a lost little puppy. 

What the ever watching eyes of court didn’t see, however, was the way you’d often drag Aemond by the hand to some deep alcove away from everyone, or to the darkest hallway of in Maegor’s Holdfast, holding tightly onto the lapels of his leather doublet and crushing his lips to yours. Sometimes the kisses were unhurried, soft and gentle, everything you’d once dreamed of in your youth when your father, Ser Laenor, would tell stories of knights and princesses. Other times the kisses were fervent, passionate, his hands locked on tightly to your waist to stop them from wandering elsewhere. He’d been getting better the more you practiced together, more deliberate, sometimes catching you unguarded with a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head upwards, or a hand on your head and nimble fingers tangled in your hair. These stolen kisses, stolen moments, you shared had become the highlight of your days, and you suspected they were his too.

Almost two moons after her coronation you’d, regretfully, turned down your mother’s offer to spend some time with her in the middle of the morrow, promising to do so during the afternoon’s tea.

“You just want to gawk at your future husband training with a sword, don’t you?” she spoke, not even trying to hide the smirk hanging from her lips, much to your dismay. You felt the tips of your ears burning but didn’t try to deny it, for she knew you too well and could spot when you were lying.

Scurrying off to the courtyard you were pleasantly surprised to find it was practically devoid of the usual onlookers, not even the ladies of court were perched on their spot on the balcony, probably due to the gray and chilly weather that had briefly taken over the capitol. 

Only a few knights occupied the yard, engaged in heated training matches. On one corner Ser Erryk, who had been appointed by your mother as your sworn protector, sparred with his twin, Helaena’s sword and shield. Jace was also present, slaughtering a hay stuffed dummy with his sword; normally Daemon would supervise his and Luke’s (and your own, in secret) instruction, having picked up where Ser Harwin left off, but with the late stages of his wife’s pregnancy he chose not to venture too far from her side should she need his assistance. And Aemond, dedicated as ever, found himself in a match against Ser Jason Lannister, who had been briefly summoned away from Casterly Rock by his brother for some reason or another.

Emboldened by the lack of people who would possibly berate you or gossip behind your back about your ‘unladylike’ conduct (and considering you didn’t particularly care for the opinion of the likes of Jason Lannister) you decided to join the men in the courtyard, sitting down on some crates near where your betrothed was sparring, meaning to watch him from closer than usual.

Aemond was good. He was more than just good, he was phenomenal. He moved effortlessly, swiftly around the makeshift battlefield, embodying the first rule your father ever told you when he began to train you: ‘the sword is an extension of your arm’. He was one with the steel, moving with a graciousness that rivaled that of the greatest dancers. You could only imagine how many hours he had put into achieving such mastery, considering the incident had most likely completely changed his depth perception. Watching him fight, even as just a training exercise, winning match after match against Ser Jason, was doing funny things to your heart as it beat wildly in your chest, heat expanding from your cheeks and down to other places.  

The sun, partially hidden by gray clouds, was already high up in the sky when both men decided to call it a day. Aemond had already re-sheathed his sword and was making his way towards you when Ser Jason stopped him, trying to engage in some rather interesting conversation.

“My prince,” the man started, loud enough for you to hear, only getting an impatient hum in response “I hope not to take up too much of your time. I was just hoping you could maybe have a word with your grandsire.”

“What about?” Aemond’s eye barely flitted to the man in front of him, his gaze settling on you over Jason Lannnister’s shoulder as he talked his ears away.

“The changes in the Small Council.” he shrugged, as if it was the most trivial thing in the world “Lord Velaryon being named Master of Ships barely seems fair, especially with the state of his health.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you see my prince, with a new reign just beginning I was hoping to be named Master of Coin.” he explained, finally gaining Aemond’s attention “But with the announcement of Lord Corlys for what was once my brother’s post, Tyland has now been appointed Master of Coin instead.”

You could see Aemond pursing his lips in thought, somewhat amused with the whole tirade Ser Jason was making.

“But you are the Lord of Casterly Rock, my lord. Shouldn’t that be enough for one man?”

“Ah, but to be granted a seat at the King’s Small Council is a great honor!” he kept on talking, not even noticing the slight jab aimed his way “Although the Queen’s Council just doesn’t have that nice of a ring to it.”

“Do you question your Queen’s decisions, my lord?” your betrothed asked, clearly meaning for Ser Jason to fall onto his trap and put his foot in his mouth. And oh, did he do it.

“I mean,” and that had you perking up on your seat “she hasn’t been known to always make the best decisions. My bet is she did this to appease Lord Velaryon about the death of his son. I simply don’t buy this tale of him being murdered by his squire. I am most sure she and that husband of hers had him killed so they could be together, she always had eyes for him in her younger years.”

He was speaking as if you weren’t even there, not noticing or simply not caring for your presence. You’d always known Jason Lannister was a fool, but you never took him for an idiot.

“She is a woman after all. They are more emotional creatures, thinking with their hearts rather than their brains.” he chuckled maliciously “Although a woman like Rhaenyra Targaryen probably thinks with her cunt more than anything.”

You were on your feet in an instant and even Aemond seemed surprised as the man started bad mouthing your mother, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, calling her every possible name under the sun.

“She would fuck any man who even glanced her way. Who knows who the father of all of her children even is? It might be one father for each offspring, we might never know.” Aemond’s expression got increasingly darker as the man talked about your brothers and you “The ones sired by her uncle are more likely to have purer Targaryen blood than the other three. What was she thinking, naming one of those counterfeits as heir?”

One moment you were watching the whole thing go down from afar and the next you were between the two men, holding Aemond back with both hands on his chest.

“You dare speak lowly of my betrothed, my future wife?! Your future queen?!” he tried lunging at Ser Jason but you stopped him, using all your strength to keep him from strangling the moron “I should have your tongue cut out and feed it to Vhagar, then feed her the rest of you along with it!”

“Aemond!” you held his face in your hands, firmly yet gently forcing him to look at you instead of the object of his ire “Ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys! Issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla.”

He exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring at the effort of calming down, until you eventually felt him nod curtly against your hands.

“Might I remind you, Ser Jason, that the one you speak ill of is none other than your Queen, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and that the last man who called her a whore lost his head for it at the hands of that husband of hers.” you spoke over your shoulder, throwing his words right back at him, smirking mockingly “And if my memory serves me well, Lord Lannister, you actually sent in a request to take her hand in marriage when she was younger, a request she herself rejected. So, by your own words, she would fuck any man who even glanced her way except for you.”

Aemond stared at you wide eyed, and you couldn’t decipher if his expression was one of indignation or awe. As for Ser Lannister, whereas any smart man would have stopped talking by now, Jason Lannister was no smart man, and it seemed his wounded ego and pride only fueled his loose lips.

“You hide behind a woman, my prince? I never took the One-Eyed Prince for a coward. What next, are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?” he chuckled cruelly before mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for the both of you to hear “Maimed freak.”   

The ringing in your ears and the way your name fell off of Aemond’s lips in a warning tone were the only indication of your next moves, and the next moment you found your hand wrapped around the handle of his sword. He couldn’t react fast enough, for you had already unsheathed his sword and turned, the tip of the blade pointing at Ser Jason’s neck. 

“How about you kneel?” you hissed at him, noticing the other two knights and your brother intending to move forward and intervene, but they stopped with a gesture of your head.

The sword was longer, heavier than you were used to, but it would do. You held the Lannister’s stare daring him to move. He, in turn, unsheathed his own sword, clashing it against yours and proceeded to try to attack you. 

One lesson Ser Harwin had taught you that had stuck with you for the rest of your life was that most of the knights in the realm were physically stronger than you. It was a given fact. But you were faster, more agile, not wearing several pounds in steel armor that slowed you down meaning you were light on your feet in turn.

“The realm isn’t a nice place for ladies such as yourself, princess.” you remember him saying, a wink thrown your way “The world will not play fair, so you must use every advantage you are given.”

So you waited, dodging Ser Jason’s every blow. You waited for a moment, for just one small falter on his part. It didn’t take long; he was angry, humiliated even, and thus he was reckless, giving you a large window of opportunity to strike. In an instant, while his arm was pulled back way above his head to strike down at you, you twisted your wrist, hitting him square on the nose with the pommel of your sword. He tumbled to the ground, one hand clutching his now bleeding nose and the other blindly feeling around for his sword, which had fallen out of his hand during the fall.

“Yield.” you pointed Aemond’s sword at his neck once more “Yield and those present might just be merciful and overlook your transgressions, forget your treason.”

Both Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk had their hands placed on their own swords, prepared to defend you at a moment’s notice and arrest the treacherous lord should you just say the word. Jace, on the other hand, looked like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing at the situation, a strained smile painting his face.

“Why don’t you control your wife?!” Ser Jason spat at Aemond, gurgling on his own dripping blood as it ran down his face.

“She is not yet my wife. And besides,” Aemond smirked playfully at you, despite you not being able to see him “no one can control her.”

Seeing as he was vastly outnumbered, Ser Jason couldn’t see any other option than to accept defeat, raising his hands. Once you were sure he wouldn’t try anything funny again you turned back around, giving Aemond back his sword before stalking off, fuming at the man’s audacity.

You didn’t get very far, however, feeling a large warm hand wrapping around your wrist. You turned around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, but you faltered once you realized it was Aemond who had reached out to you. His expression was firm, determined, as he started dragging you by the wrist, finding one of the secret doors that lead to the hidden tunnels in the Keep and pulling you behind him with a steadfastness similar to the one he held himself with on the training yard.

“Aemond?” you asked while he pulled you deeper and deeper into the secret passages “I’m sorry.”

You feared you might have offended him. When you started approaching the age suitable for marriage, your mother had sat you down to explain what you should expect and to prepare you for what was to come. She told you most lords expected their wives to be proper, never speak out of turn and bend to their every whim with a head bowed. You replied, indignantly, that what they wanted then was a servant they could sire children with, something that prompted a full belly laugh from Daemon who had been standing closeby. You were worried that, by putting Ser Jason Lannister back in his place for insulting not only yourself and your mother, the Queen, but also your future husband, your actions reflected poorly on Aemond himself.

He only stopped walking when you were very far into the tunnels, turning you around and pushing your back against one of the stone columns. He was standing so close to you, staring at you so intently, you couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

“Please, uncle, forgive me! I do not know what came over me, he started insulting you and I just-”

The force with which he crashed his lips against yours was so intense it almost sent you tumbling backwards; your head would have surely been slammed against the wall behind you were it not for his hand gently cradling the back of it to prevent you from hurting yourself. He kissed you fiercely, and by the Gods, had he gotten good at it. His tongue moved against your own with rapid movements, his fingers tangling in your hair and tugging, electing a small breathy whimper out of you, to which he hummed in return, nipping at your bottom lip. He shoved one leg in between yours, keeping them apart, crowding you even further against the wall as his slender fingers pulled at your hair again to tilt your head to the side, allowing his lips to trail a path down your neck to the junction of your shoulder.

“Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes,” he groaned against your neck, nibbling softly at the skin “ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio.”

Arousal pooled in your core at his words, not even realizing your hips had started mindlessly moving back and forth against his thigh. It was over all too soon, however, as he took a step back from you, to which you whined at the loss of contact. But what he did next surprised you even more.

Aemond sank to his knees in front of you, his hands caressing from your hips to the back of your thighs. 

“W-what are you doing?” you asked breathlessly.

“Proving some of Jason fucking Lannister’s words right.”

It dawned on you then what he meant, as he started bunching up your skirts.

“Are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?”

“Hold these for me?” he asked softly, holding the front of your dress bunched up against your navel, and the way he was looking up at you with so much adoration almost broke your heart.

“Aemond, I told you, we can’t-”

“Fear not, ābrazȳrys, this will not break your virtue.” he mentioned, hoisting one of your legs bend over his shoulder.

He spoke with so much conviction you wanted to believe him.

“And how do you know that?”

“Aegon may have mentioned something of the sorts.” he said casually.

“Are we trusting what Aegon says now?” you asked, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“My brother may be an idiot, but his expertise lies in two places:” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “his wines and the pleasures of the flesh.”

Your laughter echoed in the empty halls.

“Aegon does not strike me as the type to know how to please a woman.”

“I said he knows the pleasures of the flesh, not necessarily how to do it right.” he chuckled along, before his expression turned serious once again. He turned his head slightly, laying a kiss on the side of your knee “But if you really don’t feel comfortable, we can simply forget this ever happened and just wait for our wedding night.”

You pondered for a moment, not wanting for this moment with him to end. You were rather quickly realizing that there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for him, and that thought brought a light fluttery feeling to your stomach.

“No no, I trust you.” you smiled reassuringly at him “If Aegon says it is fine, then I trust your judgment.”

“Good.” he inched closer to your core, pushing your smallclothes to the side “But please, stop talking about my brother. His name is not the one I want to hear coming out of your mouth while I feast on your cunt.”

As he was about to dive in, a hand holding onto his locks prevented him from doing so just yet.

“Would you rather I chanted Daeron’s name instead?” you jested, giggling at the annoyance that took over his features.

“I​​ksā iā ōdres.” he pinched the skin on the back of your thigh where his hand was resting, his other hand snaked around your leg perched over his shoulder, helping to keep you balanced “Ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon.”

“I mean, you did agree to marry-” your jesting was interrupted by a soft moan that left your parted lips, the feeling of his tongue licking a broad stripe between your folds catching you off guard.

Never in your entire life had you felt anything like it. A tingling feeling spread across your entire being, starting from where his lips and his tongue were diligently moving against your soaked slit. He worked smoothly against you, alternating between gentle strokes of his tongue over your entrance and soft kitten licks on your little bundle of nerves on the apex between your thighs.

“A-Aem…-” you tried uttering his name, now completely lost to the blissful sensations he was eliciting out of you, your fingers knotting on his hair and pulling hard.

And then something in him changed. Like a switch had been flipped in his mind, his grip tightening on your thighs as he started devouring your cunt with renewed vigor with a groan, its vibrations against your skin sending your toes curling from unbridled pleasure. You couldn’t fathom what could have possibly caused it, if it was the way you tightened your hold on his silver strands, the breathiness in your voice or, as you’d later be reminded, the accidental use of a long forgotten sobriquet you hadn’t given a second thought to in several years. 

Aemond feasted upon you like a man on a mission, desperately leaving open mouthed kisses and broad licks against you cunt like he was starved. It felt like he wanted to memorize the very taste of you should he perish tomorrow, pulling moan after moan from you. Had anyone been venturing these tunnels, they could have surely guessed what was happening, the wet noise of his mouth against your cunt and the way you weren’t even trying to muffle your cries of his name giving it away. 

The way his tongue worked in vigorous movements, swirling swiftly around your clit and then down to your entrance again, had you shoving his head even closer to you, canting your hips against his face. The motion caused his sharp nose to bump against your clit, prompting a sharp whine to tumble from your lips.

You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his lips, feeling something warm and almost tangible, like liquid fire, steadily pooling in your core. You felt the pressure of it mounting higher and higher, like a coil threatening to snap, streams of pleasure climbing up your spine and turning your mind into mush. Your thoughts were hazy, like a fog had taken over your thoughts, and you could barely register that Aemond was murmuring something on your skin, but what you couldn’t tell. 

Opening your eyes again, for you haven’t even realized they had fallen closed, you stared down at him in between your legs. He looked ethereal, his eye closed as he savored you, some strands of his normally neatly groomed hair messy from where your fingers had pulled. You wanted to see him, for him to gaze up at you, so you grasped his fingers which lay upon your thigh and gave them a little squeeze. His eye fluttered open almost lazily, violet hue half-lidded as he stared up at you. For just a single moment, your traitorous mind was reminded of Aegon, for Aemond looked like he was honestly drunk on your dripping cunt, like it was the finest of Dornish reds he had ever tasted, expression fogged up as if his mind was far away. The small pang of guilt you felt at the comparison was quickly replaced by blinding pleasure as he, upon you smiling down at him with quivering lips, wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked sharply.

Then that coil snapped, your head thrown back in ecstasy. That liquid warmth spread over your body like a tidal wave as your muscles trembled, and had he not been holding you up you’d have surely dropped to the ground, consuming every part of you and leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling in its wake. He switched back to gentler motions as you rode out your high, eventually coming to a halt when you finally stopped twitching. He dropped your leg and climbed to his feet, a glazed sheen against his chin and lips as they found yours, the tangy taste of your cunt invading your senses as he kissed you softly, so very different from just moments ago.

Aemond pulled back, resting his forehead against your own, both of your breathing hard against each other’s mouths.

 “I’d get on my knees every day if you asked it of me.” he mumbled.

Your heart fluttered at his words, clenching in your chest. 

As he embraced you, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge that had formed in his trousers, but as your hand started to untie its laces, he stopped you, intertwining your fingers together.

“Later.” he whispered, laying a soft peck on your lips “I wanted to do this for you.”

“Let me assist you, like you have done for me.” you pleaded, voice a bit hoarse from how loudly you had been chanting his name in pleasure.

“Tis’ but a small inconvenience. I will take care of it by myself later.”

You pulled back only slightly in his arms to look down between the two of you and couldn’t help but jest.

“It seems like quite a large inconvenience if you ask me.” you smirked.

Aemond stared at you, expression blank, for but a beat before bursting out laughing, and you decided right then and there, in his arms, that it was your favorite sound in the whole world. You’d get on dragonback and watch all of Westeros succumb to dragon fire if it meant he’d never stop laughing. You could only hope on bated breath your wedding arrived sooner rather than later, for you couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

High Valyrian translations: - ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys - let it go, husband - issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla - he is just a little man, you are better than him (meant as in ‘it isn’t worth it’) - ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes - my fierce dragon - ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio - my little dragon defending me from a little lion (‘little dragon’ meant affectionately while ‘little lion’ is meant with condescension) - ābrazȳrys - wife - iksā iā ōdres - you are a pain (meant as in ‘you are a menace’) - ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon - my name will be the only one you scream

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[b-does-the-write-thing]

general incivility, chapter six

- a brienne x jaime pride & prejudice retelling -

chapter one l chapter two  l chapter three l chapter four l chapter five l chapter six l now on AO3

At the end of their first month in the Stormlands, a letter appeared from King’s Landing. Bronn, no doubt curious, brought it to the breakfast table, where he might be able to linger and ascertain its contents. A savvy move that Tyrion could applaud if it were not for the fact Cersei and Jaime could not help but notice the royal seal.

At its appearance, Cersei fell uncharacteristically silent. Though at the rate she was straining her neck, she’d be out of commission for the upcoming week’s assemblies. His dear brother pretended he had gone blind, deaf, and dumb, but Jaime was not leaving either, showcasing his interest in the missive. Tyrion would have preferred to retire to read it in peace; he already guessed at its contents, but there was nothing to be done other than to face the music. Cracking the seal, Tyrion’s suspicions were confirmed within the first few words, and the following ones compounded his headache.

Outside, the evening clouds had not departed, and the trees were whispering to each other in the breeze. A storm was imminent, not one of the gentle spring rains that had come and gone in their few weeks here, but a proper tempest, the true namesake of the region. Judging the entire thing to be more trouble than it was worth, Tyrion tossed the letter away. It landed on top of the porridge and, under the weight of the royal seal, began to sink. Cersei shot her cousin a filthy look before ordering one of the footmen to fish it out for her. Receiving it with the utmost care, Cersei devoured the soggy paper’s contents. A smile bloomed across her face until her smile was the only bright spot in the breakfast parlor.

When Cersei finally deigned to lower the letter, a footman rushed forward to offer her a serviette. “But this is wonderful,” Cersei said, seemingly unaware she was daintily wiping her hands on the footman’s jacket and not the offered napkin. To think, the king—here of all places!”

Jaime stirred to life. “What fortuitous reason do we have to thank for such an honor?”

Tyrion rubbed his forehead, running his stubby fingers across the odd ridges of his skull, letting the familiar sensation soothe his threatening headache. “He claims to visit Lord Stannis, but no doubt he has heard father’s succeeded in running me off finally.”

Jaime did not argue. Everyone knew there was little love lost between King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, and Tywin Lannister. The vaults of King’s Landing were rumored to have long since run dry, but perhaps with a son of Casterly Rock at his side…

Cersei stood, pressing her skirt down, her eyes staring past both her cousins, fixated on something far in the distance that only she could see. “I’ll have to send word home at once. I barely brought anything suitable for court-”

“Were you not still planning to depart within the next fortnight?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Cersei snapped, this time directing her glare at Jaime. “The King is coming to Storm’s End, and he will, of course, call here.” Her eyes darted to Tyrion. “You’ll need a lady to lead the house, plan the ball-”

“Ball?”

“Host His Highness, and well he mentions his Kingsguard will be attending. No mention of any courtiers, but of course, the usual toadies will be in attendance- “

“Cersei, if you would like to play lady of the hall, by all means, my home is at your disposal, but do me the very great courtesy of not looking like the cat who caught the canary. It’s very disconcerting.”

“Only you would have the king send him a personal letter and look as if the world was coming to an end.” Tyrion did not think his brother looked any happier about this development, but Cersei seemed determined to ignore Jaime. “If you will excuse me-” and with that, she swanned out of the breakfast parlor, looking all the world as if she already had a crown upon her brow.

“She’ll be insufferable,” Tyrion lamented. “Robert’s no tactician, but he’s not going to ignore a lioness laying down on her back for him-”

“Tyrion,” Jaime hissed. “Have a care for how you talk about our cousin.”

“You should be glad she’s not eyeing your neck for the noose at the moment,” Tyrion continued, tearing into the pastry to find it still warm and steaming. The manor might be considerably smaller than the Rock, but he quite enjoyed the new proximity to his kitchens, even if his belt protested. “Perhaps Robert's visit will allow you more time to pursue your interests without hindrance?”

Jaime’s eyes darkened in displeasure. “There is nothing of interest in this desolate corner of Westeros. I am only here because of you.”

“Interesting,” Tyrion continued, “I, for one, have thought you rather intrigued by our resident beauty.”

Tyrion had not seen it at first. He had been so taken with the odd Miss Tarth, finding her to be one of the truly most unfortunate people he had ever seen besides himself, that he had almost missed the way his brother’s eyes tracked her around the room, how Jaime moved after her when she passed by as if caught in her wake and drawn after her despite himself. He was not sure if his brother was even aware of his interest, if not for the odd way his lips quirked whenever Miss Tarth was mentioned.

“You are referring to which renowned Stormland beauty, Tyrion? Miss Tarth or Miss Baratheon?”

Tyrion chuckled. “Cersei has had your ear again, I fear. Miss Baratheon is not yet eight and ten. Her brush with death has added to her character, but I am not one for unaged wine.”

Jaime considered him across the table. ”And Miss Tarth?”

Tyrion grinned. “You know I am a great lover of beauty.”

His brother’s lips thinned, face darkening into a pensive glower until he looked just like their father. “Surely you of all people would think to look past appearances-”

“Have you?”

Jaime’s eyes shuttered, and he looked pointedly away to the storm gathering outside. “I have barely spoken a word to the party in question.”

“On the contrary, I believe you’ve spoken more to her than anyone else in the Stormlands.”

“If I happen to stand by the only other person who has less desire to speak than myself-”

“Happen? Jaime, you followed her around the length of the ballroom last week.”

Jaime shot up from his seat. “I should make haste if I want to get a ride in before the storm-”

“Jaime-” But his brother was already gone, leaving him alone with the great feast. Tyrion looked over at the footman nearest to the table, his cravat still smeared with oatmeal. “Do we have any blackberry jam?”

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 21: Star Of Wishes [B8]

Pairing: Snape x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: OC’s home -> Severus’s hidden place

Continuation of: Prompt 2. Restless Waiting, 3. Snowballing, 7. Stormy Reunion,  8. Rosemary For Holly, 16. Keep Warm, 19. Hope & 20. Returning Home

A/N: TODAY WE WRAP UP SEVERUS’ STORY! I’m super drained, tbh, but I so loved writing this part and giving everyone that HEA even if it doesn’t happen until the very end so to say 😂🙈 We do get some lovely smut though, hope you'll enjoy the emotional ride of the intimacy too 🤭 This might be the last long fic for the year. I have 0 time, I have no idea how I’m gonna be able to write the next 3 fics and get them up but I’ll manage somehow 😂 I still don’t know what prompt 23 and 24 will be this year, I do know that tomorrows prompt will be the one I use to wrap up Turpin’s story — how, I have no idea yet. We’ll see 😂👍

+A/N: This part of the serial contains a relationship dynamic in the beginning that can be extremely toxic and dangerous when real, but this is FICTION, and as the author I have created this relationship with the intention of it being trauma-healing, safe, loving, and no harm have or will come to any of the characters due to the relationship or any acts of either of the characters. If you feel this relationship matches yours, PLEASE take a step back and really evaluate if you are in a dangerous relationship - if your partner is treating you in a manner that isn’t loving or safe.

Tags/TW’s: Kisses, embracing, Harsh and Soft Touching, Apologising For Ones Behaviour, Slight Snark, Trying Ones Best, Stunted Emotional Development, Confessions of Regret/Hurt/Anger/Fear/Pain/Lacking Knowledge/Love/Affection/Trust, Explicit Description, Dark Sexual Past, Gentle and Caring Touches, Hints At Past Sexual Abuse/Coercion/Rape (not graphic or described),

Word Count: 4.7k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

It had been over seven months since the day I thought my heart would stop. The day I found him more dead than alive in the Shrieking Shack. The day a strange little elf was sent to me with a message from someone a mere boy, which led me to find the man I loved so broken — poisoned, snake venom slithering through his veins no magic could have stopped. But my mom, she stopped it. My mom, a muggle who the Dark Lord so much detested, had won over his own snake.

The year had passed in a blurry ordeal of pain, love, recovery, and healing. But still, there was so much healing needed I could barely wrap my head around it. Christmas was upon us, and I hadn’t the heart to decorate our home. The home we ended up sharing, just me and Severus. At first, it was to get away from everyone and give him a chance to heal, but it changed about a month ago. A month ago, it became something different, an emotional journey for the two of us one could say. Spewed words of hatred, panic attacks through dark nights, long stretches of time without a word spoken from him, my dear broken man.

I didn’t give up, yet yesterday, when he’d so viciously barked at me about the time I’d decorated his office and how stupid I’d been to do such a thing — well, something broke in me. I hadn’t decorated our home, I hadn’t put up anything related to Christmas despite it being the 21st of December now and my most loved holiday. I’d simply allowed our home to remain barren, for his sake, as he seemed to hate the holiday with a vengeance unlike any I’d ever seen.

“I’ll take a walk,” I called through the little house, not expecting any response. The cold winter air greeted me but there was no wind, not a sound from beyond the bubble the little house sat in at the very end of a clearing in some ancient forest I still had no idea of the location of. I could only apparate there since I knew what it looked like.

My heart ached for the man left behind in the house while stepping into the night. No matter what, I wouldn’t give up on him. He had every right to be broken, hurt, lost — but sometimes I had to take some time for myself to find the strength and courage I needed to go on when his hatred and pain shined too brightly. Sometimes, I was the only one around he could lash out against and even if it hurt beyond anything else to hear such foul words in his voice directed at me, I still loved him more than anything and the nights when I held him tight I just knew it would pass. Eventually, time would heal his wounds and I’d still be there. I would never abandon him, something I knew he feared above all else yet he always showed I was free to come and go as I pleased. He knew what it was to be trapped, he didn't wish that for me in any sense of the word.

The snow crunched beneath my shoes, I slipped on my mittens and shoved my hands into my coat’s pockets while walking ahead. Above me, just before I left the clearing and the trees would obscure the sky, I saw the little stars speckling the darkness. I paused for a second to just look at the enormity of the universe, to get perspective perhaps, or simply allow myself to think of how small things can mean so much in the enormity of it all. A falling star streaked by, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes and send a wish to it. It was a childish thing to do perhaps, but I wished for Severus to allow me to help him and be close with him. Some day it might come true, he’s trying already…

I walked around for nearly two hours, until my toes were numb and my cheeks beyond chilly. Just breathing, imagining a happy Christmas with him. “In the future, when he’s healed… Maybe then…” I murmured to myself as I stomped off my boots and stepped back into our little home.

I lost my breath.

When I left, the house had been dark, dreary, void of all things Christmas but now… Now there were decorations everywhere. Eternally burning candles, perfectly green garlands, golden ornaments, and red bows littered every surface, door frame, and window. The house had turned into a Christmas-littered haven perfectly decorated to my own taste, almost as I had decorated Severus’s office a year ago — just slightly different colours.

“What in the world,” I whispered as I dragged off my fluffy mittens and shrugged out of my coat. “S-Severus! I don’t mean to alarm you but I think Santa broke in!” I called, my brain not able to think of another reason why our house looked like Christmas heaven. “No, love,” he murmured as he appeared in the doorway to the living room beyond the hallway I was moving through. “I am apologizing,” he continued and the sweet look of guilt and hope covering his features made my heart ache.

“Severus, what-, why?” I asked as he straightened and reached for my hand to tug me into his arms. I followed without any resistance. I always wanted to be in his arms, one of the many things I always wished for while I nursed him back to health physically after my mom had saved his life. “I said dreadful things.” “You’re trying, Sev.” “No, you are trying, Linna—” he exhaled the words into my hair “—and I’m constantly making it harder for you.” “Healing takes time, Sev. It takes time.” “It gives me no right to take it out on you, you have done nothing but stand by me.” “I always will, I won’t abandon you.” “I almost wish you would, it would be easier to be in misery than… deal with it all.” “Oh, stop, you’re a strong man, you can deal with it.” “Love, you overestimate my abilities, and underestimate your importance…”

For a long moment, I said nothing, just thought about his words — the sweet ones he now spoke and the hurtful ones that came out when we tried to process his trauma. It wasn’t easy to stay, wasn’t easy to take it and not retort or yell or scream or cry. But the hardest thing I had ever done was stay away from him, nothing else came close to it.

“Will you forgive me?” he asked, his voice low and nearly that of someone frightened. “I-, Severus… you don’t need my—” “Your forgiveness is the only one I need.” “I won’t forgive you then,” I said softly. “I won’t forgive you until you fight harder.” “Love, I—” “No, you’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. I’m nothing compared to you and I have nothing to equal your pain and hurt, your strength, or your bravery, so if I only have this one thing to hold over your head I bloody well will, Sev.” “Feisty today, are we?”

His voice was teasing, yet the hurt and fear still lingered behind it all and I couldn’t help but feel even more love for the man who dealt so poorly with his own emotions — he’d never been allowed any, so how would he ever know how to deal with them properly? I did the only thing I could think of, I hugged him with all my strength until his arms wrapped around me and I felt some of the tension leave his body. “Silly man,” I whispered. “You really need to learn how to deal with your emotions.” “I’m… I am trying,” he confessed and I knew he spoke true. He was trying with everything he had and I’d be with him every step of the way.

We stood there, for the longest moment, until I felt the urge to explore all the Christmas decorations he’d filled the house with. “I thought you hated Christmas with a passion as strong as amortentia’s power to make people go insane with obsession.” “I do.” “Then, why?” “You are the obsessed in this case,” he chuckled. “So, for me, then?” He merely nodded but I smiled warmly at him. It was a giant act of care and love on his part, it only made me love the holiday even more.

We walked through the little house, I looked at everything he’d done in a sort of stunned silence until we got to the bedroom. “Really?” I asked and arched a brow at him, he shrugged while raising his own brows in a sort of “what?” kind of expression. “Rosemary?” “Well…” he murmured as his cheeks took on the tiniest hint of pink, barely there but significant enough for me to notice after having gotten to know him so well the past few months. “I love it,” I said and kissed his cheek gently. “It’s perfect,” I continued while allowing my eyes to rest another moment on the rosemary twigs replacing the holly — just like it had done a year ago.

“Love, I truly am sorry… I shouldn’t have said the things I did, or done it in the manner I did.” “I know, and you know, and it’s in the past.” “It is not in the past,” he said and sighed. “I fear I’ll never be able to… To…” “Sev, schh, it’s okay. You’re learning. Have you ever had a right to express yourself? Or even have feelings at all?” “No.” “So you’re a baby.” He sneered at that, almost recoiling. “If you think about it logically, you’re as able as a child to deal with your emotions and when children feel truly safe with someone they’ll act up, they’ll cry and scream and get pissed because they feel it’s safe to show their emotions and, eventually, with the help of safe adults they learn to communicate and deal with their emotions in a healthy and proper manner. Yes, you’re a grown man, but you’ve never had the chance to learn or become comfortable with your emotions.” “I’m comfortable with you.” “And I am with you, we can both show our emotions, and right now your emotions aren’t under control but that’s not your fault. You’ll learn, grow, and become able to handle it eventually.”

Severus simply stared at me. It felt like an eternity passed while his eyes seemed to dig themselves into mine. Eventually, he drew a long breath. “You are far too good.” “I’ll be anything you need me to be.” “I merely need you, just as you are. If you… if you are willing to be patient, with… me…” It sounded as if he had to push with all his might to say the word in a calm and collected manner, as if he felt a need to either spit them out or say nothing at all. It warmed my heart and I nodded gently, smiling up at him as I took his hands gently in my own. “I’ll always be patient with you,” I said and leaned up to kiss him. His thin lips pushed harshly against mine while he tugged me closer.

He backed me up, toward our bed, and gently laid me down without our lips ever leaving each other. “Severus?” I asked, my heart hammering too hard while my entire body tightened warmly under him. “If you don’t want this, say so now, love.” “I-, I do…” It feels like I’ve waited all my life for this moment. “But are you ready?” I asked in return, remembering all the times he’d recoiled at my soft touch or jolted at a sweet caress of his cheek. Loving touches, as I’d learned over the past months, wasn’t something he was used to or even knew how to deal with.

“I want to try,” he confessed after another kiss. “Okay,” I whispered and he kissed me again while his hands roughly caressed my sides. His kisses turned harsher and he bent my legs to fit himself between them. I simply moved with him, allowed him to lead the way while I avoided touching him, keeping my hands above my head even if all I wished to do was strip him and ravish him with all my love and adoration, thousands of kisses and hundreds of soft caresses — with all my warmth.

His hands travelled up my arms until one of them clamped around my wrists before the other tore open my blouse with a jerk. His breathing turned ragged, his hand clamped around my wrists harder while he undid my pants with his free hand — tugging at the buttons too harshly.

“S-Sev,” I whispered against his lips. All his motions halted. He looked down at me, his eyes darker than ever. “I won’t run away,” I whispered. “Even if you don’t hold me down, I won’t touch you unless you allow it,” I continued. “I-, I don’t know how to… How to do this…” His voice was a mere murmur, a deep droning of a confession barely audible. “I know. I understand. But I do… Let me show you?” I asked gently while holding his eyes with my own.

He hesitated, a fear of what was to come in those onyx eyes of his, while I laid utterly still despite the need to love him clawing at my skin with a burning desire. He nodded, a stiff motion, while he slowly released my hands.

I sat up and he backed off the bed, standing between my knees. I looked up at him, not making any quick moves but standing up while he took a step back and his fists clenched. “Will you let me lead?” I asked. He merely nodded. “No, Severus. I need you to say the words.” He looked bewildered for a second before his fists unclenched on a deep exhale. “You lead.” “Thank you.”

I gently reached out while he stood absolutely still. “I’m going to undress you. And then you will undress me, slowly.” He nodded at my words and I got to work with the buttons of his shirt, not letting my fingers tremble while he watched them work. I tugged the shirt off his shoulders without touching his skin, dragging the fabric down his arms while searching his eyes before it floated to the floor. I undid the belt of his pants, then the button and zipper before bending to tug them off as he wore no shoes.

He lifted each leg for me to remove the pants fully while simultaneously slipping my finger within the hem of his socks and taking them off at the same time. I heard him draw a shaky breath as I rose before him as he stood in just his boxers. He was such a beautiful sight in the candlelight and I couldn’t help but look him up and down while my cheeks heated, no matter how hard I tried to control my own emotions for his benefit.

“Now, you undress me in the same manner. But, you can touch me if you want to.” He nodded at my words and as he reached for my already open blouse I caught a glimpse of his unsteady fingers that seemed to be both stiff and trembling. But he managed to undress me in a somewhat slow fashion, even if he didn’t look at me while he did so. His eyes flickered all over the place as if he didn’t know where to look.

When he stood up we were only in our underwear. I was strangely relaxed while he seemed tense. So I stepped closer, my eyes seeking his, and allowed my hands to reach out. “I’ll touch you now,” I said and his eyes found mine. He looked terrified, but he didn’t move away as my hands reached his chest dusted with dark hair so soft to the touch I wanted to moan at just the sensation of him. “Touch me, Severus, feel my body. It belongs to you,” I said gently to encourage him to dare. “I-, I have never in-, in this manner,” he confessed. “Tell me how you’ve done it, share your experiences with me while we do this gently.” “Love… No,” he said, a darkness to his voice. “Tell me, and touch me.”

I allowed my hands to stroke down his arms, slip to his hips, and go up along his sides until I could spread my fingers over his chest — his heart pounded. Then his hands reached out for my hips. “It was rough,” he began while his uncertain fingers began exploring my body in a jaggedly jumpy fashion. “Never out of care or, want… A necessity, sometimes something done without my approval. Merely for the… mission …” “Never again, darling,” I whispered while my hands explored his back and my front went flush against his, forcing his hands to slip behind me as well.

I kissed his collarbone and allowed my lips to slant up along his throat until I met his jawline. “This will only ever happen if you want it,” I assured him and his fingers stiffened at my lower back while I felt his cock press against my pelvis. “I can’t talk about it,” he confessed. “Not like this,” he continued and I nodded before kissing his cheek. “That’s okay, Sev. Will you still allow me to lead and touch?” “Yes…” “Say stop and it all stops.”

I stepped back and took off my underwear before ridding him of his. As we stood face to face I searched his eyes, tried to read what few emotions he showed, I found none truly alarming so I continued to kiss and caress him before we ended up on the bed. He was stiff beneath me, but I kept kissing and caressing his upper body while snuggling myself between his legs.

“Love…” he murmured. “Yes, Sev?” “Are you-, do you truly wish for this?” “Yes. I want all of you, all you are willing to gift me.” “All?” “Yes, all . There is no part of you I don’t love. I want to be close to you, care for you, love you.” He seemed to soften beneath me at that. “I will try,” he said quietly while his hands finally began to caress my skin, travelling along my sides until his fingers reached my face and he pulled me closer before kissing me softly.

I moaned into his mouth and kissed him back with all I had while still keeping the pace slow and the touch gentle. His thumb caressed my cheek and the kiss ended. I began stroking his side, travelling from his ribs to his hips before lifting myself a bit to reach his cock. He exhaled deeply as my fingers wrapped around him and I began stroking him gently, each movement measured and controlled to be gentle and comforting.

“It-, it feels good,” he whispered as he laid back fully, relaxing and taking in my touch. “I’ll always make you feel good, Sev,” I said, my voice too low but I was desperate to keep my control when all I truly wished to do was ravish him and have him fill my aching cunt. But we both needed this, he needed this to be different and I wanted him to feel safe and adored with me — as he always should feel.

I worked him to the point of him moaning deeply beneath me, my hands touching and stroking, my lips slanting and kissing, my mouth whispering sweet words of adoration and care. The room turned too warm, his breaths came harder and his muscles tensed beneath me while my core turned slick and needy.

“Sev, I’m going to ride you,” I said, making sure he knew what was about to happen before I did anything, giving him the chance to stop me. But he didn’t, he merely looked at me with warm eyes of want even if a small sliver of worry still lingered within the onyx colour.

I climbed atop him, guiding his thick cock to my entrance while straddling him. He looked up at me, his hands landing on my thighs as I began to sink, allowing him to slip inside and fill me up deliciously slow. He groaned and threw his head back as I took him to the hilt. It felt too good. He felt too perfect within me.

His hands flexed, his fingers digging into my flesh, and I moaned his name while taking in the sensation of being with him. I had dreamt of that moment for so long, wondered what it would be like, what he’d feel like, how he’d react — never had I imagined I’d be the one leading. But with Severus, things were always different.

“Love,” he groaned as I began riding him slowly. “You feel so good, Sev,” I moaned as my cunt adjusted to his size. “Belinna,” he moaned. “I-, I can’t,” he continued with a strain to his dark rumble of a voice. “Want me to stop?” I asked while keeping on riding him in slow motions, steady rising and falling, using all of my power to not allow the frenzy building within me to take over. “No, no don’t stop,” he groaned as his fingers dug themselves into my flesh with a grip so tight I wondered if he’d leave marks on me from his desperate hold. “But I can’t, I can’t hold out,” he panted while I felt his entire body turn nearly solid beneath me.

I’d only barely begun, but I wouldn’t take away his pleasure or deny him a release he so obviously needed. “Then let go, darling,” I said while I upped the pace a tiny bit. “Just let go.” “ Belinna ,” he moaned in a near prayer as I splayed my hands out on his chest, leaning forward to find a new angle to take him. He jerked beneath me, his jaw clenched tightly while his hips bucked upwards, and I moaned as he came undone beneath me.

His cock jerked with me, warm waves coating my insides while I kept riding him steadily while my hands felt the hammering of his heart. “You’re so good, Sev,” I praised while he groaned deeply. “So good, darling,” I continued and he moaned a strange sound of relief and something darker. I slowed my pace until I stilled fully, not chasing my release.

I watched him, the pale skin with a slight tint to his cheeks and little beads of sweat across his forehead, and couldn’t help but be filled with a desperate need to comfort him. He looked strangely satisfied but confused, tense but relaxed at the same time.

“Sev, are you alright?” I asked while stroking away a few stray strands of his hair. He looked up at me, I was unable to understand what his eyes were filled with though. He just looked at me, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, while I felt him soften within me his hands released their grip on my flesh.

“I-, I don’t know,” he confessed. “That’s okay,” I said and leaned forward to kiss his hooked nose while he slipped out of me, a gushing of sticky cum flowing out of me. “We’re a mess, would you like to shower with me?” I asked with a smile even if my entire body was reeling with the need to come. He shook his head and I nodded before kissing his thin lips gently. “I’ll be right back, I don’t like cleaning up with magic.”

I handed him his wand after having stood and went to the bathroom on shaky legs. My insides pulsed and his cum streaked down my thighs. I locked the door and stepped into the shower, the warm water cascaded over me and I reached down to find the release I so desperately needed while his moans and groans filled my head from mere memory. His cum and my slick covered my fingers as I stroked myself into a trembling mess, taking support from the wall while biting down on my lip to not make a sound. I made quick work of it all, finding my release swiftly only to rush through cleaning myself.

I grabbed my robe from the hook on the wall and left the bathroom while cinching the sash around my waist. When I stepped into the bedroom Severus sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in a new shirt and his black silken pyjama pants. He was leaning his elbows on his knees, a hunch to his shoulders and a stiffness to his back.

I walked up, sinking down on my knees before him. “Sev? Are you alright?” I asked anew but he shook his head. “What’s wrong?” I continued while wrapping my hands around his where they were entwined before me. “Is that how it’s supposed to be?” he asked quietly. “What do you mean?” “Soft, caring… Warm …” My eyes widened as he looked up at me. “Sev… Darling… Yes, it’s supposed to be all those things. It’s supposed to feel only good.” My heart screamed at the torment and confusion in his eyes while he looked at me so intently that I felt as if he were trying to enter my soul.

“What do you need, darling?” I asked while squeezing his hands. “Need?” “Yes, what do you need from me?” “Nothing you haven’t already given too much of.” “Okay, what would make you feel safe and cared for right now?” I asked to change his view on the question I was asking. “I-, I don’t know.” “Cuddles?” I asked. “Or alone time? Food? Words of affirmation?” I kept going to try and jog his thoughts about it all. I knew what I wanted but what I needed was to comfort him in whatever manner he needed.

“I usually prefer some cuddles and snuggles after getting clean, and talking about what felt good and what didn’t,” I said to open up about my own wants to hopefully make him see it was okay to ask for something more, for what one needs. “There was nothing about that which did not feel good, love,” Severus murmured, his eyes cast down on our hands. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Would you like me to stay or give you some time?” I asked after another moment. “Don’t leave,” he whispered. “Stay. Please…” The confusion and worry in his voice was heartbreaking but that he asked me to stay warmed me. “I’ll stay, for as long as you wish.” “Forever. I wish you to stay forever,” he said and I felt my eyes water at his honesty. “I love you, Severus.” “I love you too. And I am trying, I am truly trying, Belinna.” “I know,” I said and reached my hand up to caress his chilly cheek.

He leaned into my hand, a small smile across his lips. Such a difference to just a few weeks ago. “It may sound foolish,” he began quietly, “but I… I wished on a falling star for the bravery needed to be closer to you. It fell across the sky just as you left for your walk.” “I-, Sev, I wished on that star too,” I confessed and he blinked at me. “I wished for you to allow me to be close to you…” “Is that so?” “Yes…” “Star of wishes, perhaps we needn’t wish on stars in the future…” “Perhaps we can simply… talk with each other more?”

Severus reached up and cupped my face, smiling softly while I placed my hands on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath my palms and warmth seemed to envelop the two of us among the garlands and candlelight. “I wish for nothing more than a future where we can speak openly,” he said gently and I felt as if I were melting on the inside. “Let’s make that future a reality, together.” “Together,” he echoed and kissed me deeply. My wish came true, and my hard work and patience were rewarded in the end. My own little Christmas miracle…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: WAAAAAAAH!!!! Gosh, frikkin darn it, I love this so much and it's so sweet and they are so loving and caring and waaaaah..! I hope you enjoyed the end to this Rickmas2023 serial as well darlings! 🥰👏

+A/N: I am so so so sorry I haven't had the chance to reply to comments/reblogs yet - I am itching to do it and I will get to it as soon as I have a chance to and life isn't going crazy (I love and adore that you comment and reblog darling! I really do!) ❤

Q: Do you feel ready for 2024? A: I am so so so ready for 2023 to be over, it's been the most insane year and I can't quite wrap my head around it now that we're on the home stretch - how did I manage all I managed this year?

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[Dec:2023]

[acapelladitty]

Sandman Bloodborne AU 🩸🔪

Also posted over on AO3

The stench of smoke and cooking flesh ran rampant through the air as local hunters celebrated a victory over a beast a few streets away, their celebratory roast of the monstrous flesh ridding the corpse of its scourge. The night of the hunt was long and men took solace in the small victories. A kill here. An immolation there. Enough for the blood lust to be satiated and pride to bloom in their chests.

Hidden amongst the shadows, far away from the flames, two beings were careful to keep their shared presence to a minimum but no less messy.

Hob Gadling tilted his head away as the Corinthian claimed his bloodied prize from the fallen Vileblood. The fingers of the great nightmare moved with grim precision, plucking the eyes and slipping them to plump lips which lay just beneath the metal veneer which covered his upper features.

Blood. Fear. Desire. Insight.

This had proven to be a particularly delicious kill as the fresh corpse possessed a history of vile cruelties which they enacted upon many unfortunate humans, many of them from the damned Hemwick village.

Stood to attention once more, the Corinthian watched with mild fascination as Hob inhaled the scent of fresh blood like a familiar bouquet. He could see it, the way the blood called to the young hunter like an old friend and he smirked as Hob visibly inhaled deeply through his mouth to minimise the temptation.

"As the champion hunters of Lord Morpheus," the Corinthian stood to his impressive height as he wiped the residual drops of blood from his twin Blades of Mercy - named in jest from a flippant comment by his Lord - on the edge of his robe, "you truly do not appreciate the gifts our Lord has to offer." He continued with a slight goading tilt of his head.

Clearly still rattled by the unexpected appearance of the nightmare - even if it could do him no harm - Hob's bloodstained fingers were quick to palm the hilt of his moonlit sword with a shake of his shaggy head.

"I imbibe the blood, but the eyes don't interest me. I've seen enough, and Morpheus has not asked that I develop my insight. The danger is too great."

"Human weakness. A shame, then. The ones who succumb to the madness of the vileblood have wonderful sights to share. Delicious in their blasphemies. I know our Lord has tasked you with eradicating the escaped menace of Hemwick witches but they also know how to have a good time if you dare to indulge sweet Delirium and her frenzied daughters."

The Corinthian flashed a brilliant red-stained smile, his ocular teeth as obscured as ever by the steel crow-shaped mask.

-----

As the familiar looming doors of the throne room swam into view, a shudder rolled through the Corinthian's spine as freely as his lace-edged cape flowed across his shoulders. His Lord's voice rolled through the air, carrying through the very molecules like it belonged there.

"Fear the blood, Desire. Your influence will push them beyond the ability to dream and further into the arms of our dear sister, Delirium. And there, neither you nor I will be able to reach them. Fear the blood which you spread so freely, sibling of mine."

Ah.

The Dream Lord appeared to be entertaining one of his kin; Desire, Child of Appetite and Twin of Despair. The inner machinations of his Lord's relationships with the other great children remained a mystery to him, but Desire often sparked a true irritation within his Lord which often led to further delightful bloodshed on his part.

"Your delicious little pet awaits you, brother." Desire's warm tones, so unlike Dream's, swept through the air in a similar fashion regardless. "We may yet save our hunger for another night."

The Corinthian's heart jerked as he became an unwilling participant in their conversation, his mind fluttering with memories of each Vileblood he had consumed. Desire acted as their unofficial patron and their wrath was not to be scoffed at. One who scoffed at a Great Child would not be laughing for long; and that included one with as much power as he.

Regardless, the doors opened with the slightest of creaks and he did not hesitate to walk through. Weakness was not sewn into his being and it served him no benefit. His mask sitting heavily atop his face, he was thankful regardless for what little protection it offered.

Dropping to his knees as he approached the raised pedestal of the throne room, the constant presence of his eldritch Dream Lord enveloped the Corinthian like an ocean, lapping at his clothed skin and filling his lungs with every shaky breath as invisible eyes took stock of his bloodied state.

"May I witness you, Dream Lord Morpheus?"

"You may." The disembodied voice rang out, each syllable taut and measured as the grave as Dream acquised to indulging his most deadly nightmare with a physical form.

In a blink, the blackened throne was filled by a familiar but no less imposing presence. The inky hair of Lord Morpheus stood in all directions and the deep void of the robes which wrapped around his thin frame swirled and twinkled like the evening sky.

"To what do I owe this visit, my Corinthian, Blade of the Nightmare."

"I request permission to move against the School of Mensis." The Corinthian purred, standing from position to move towards his Lord with a serpentine gait, the allure of his physical form proving too difficult to resist. "The people of the Unseen Village speak of a monster he has crafted to challenge your rule. An abomination known as the One Reborn. I will bring you its many eyes for the disrespect while your shaggy-haired Hunter continues his pursuit of the Hemwick harridans."

The laugh of the Dream Lord is low and the Corinthian basks in it with pure delight for only a moment before schooling his features back to a familiar neutrality.

"You would move to kill that fool Micolash for such a lowly and petty show of disrespect? We both know his abomination could never hope to hold the true power of an Old One."

"I would kill him for less." The Corinthian smirked back before remembering himself and offering a slight bow. "With your permission of course, my Lord."

"Indeed." Dream hummed. His marble fingers rose from the arm of the chair to beckon sweetly. "Regardless, remove your helm and join me by my throne, my nightmare. It will please me to hold these discussions of your intentions with your true face and not this crow-like veneer you adopt as part of your games."

The Corinthian snatched his helm from his head with an undignified speed as his feet carried him swiftly to his Lord, his hardened heart fluttering at the close proximity.

[tugoslovenka]

Warding Bond - Chapter 1

Hope

The Feast of Heroes was meant to celebrate the efforts of common and special champions who took up arms against the threats that dared target the city of Baldur’s Gate. It would always include mention of some spectacular individuals that gave life and limb for their home. However, the legendary six were always at the forefront of these tributes, led by none other than the self-proclaimed leader of the group, pivotal in taking down the mind flayer threat.

Lord Astarion Ancunín.

Owner of the Ancunín Estate. Member of the Council of Four. All-powerful vampire ascendant.

And the target of Althea’s emancipation pact.

A/N:

Also posting on AO3!

I would like to preface this that this is a rather heavy fic with explicit mentions of SA, dealing with trauma, trauma bonding, PTSD, dissociation etc. The dark tag is there for a reason, so please proceed with caution going forward.

I am the biggest D&D nerd imaginable, so I’m absolutely including a metric fuckton of lore and mentions from the universe. It’s not going to be heavy, but those that appreciate it, I see you.

Finally, be careful in how you deal with the devil, lovelies. As in, don’t.

110 years had passed since the siege on Baldur’s Gate.

Those lucky enough to escape the illithids had mostly perished to disease, madness or the natural order of death. Elves, dwarves and gnomes were a minority amongst the population that had witnessed the horrors of the Grand Design and survived to tell the tale. Even those who were willing and able to carry on with their livelihoods after the assault took their businesses elsewhere—save for the few who cherished the attention each winter brought them during the Feast of Heroes.

Varra— Althea, as she now answered to—was not present during the mind flayer invasion. She was not aware of the plot that nearly brought upon the collapse of Faerûn, nor did she care. There had been enough heroes sprouting like lilies across every alleway in the city. Most of them met a fate worse than death before they could infiltrate the famed Cult of the Absolute.

Instead, back then, Varra was deep in the forgotten lands of Cania, treading through icy waters and monster-infested lands. It was irony from the Gods, sacrificing her to the whims of a petty lord, for her to endure years of torture and a hunger that could never be satiated, only to find false freedom in a cambion devil whose arrogance trapped her within the last bastion of Nessus. Some time had passed since she first visited the Eighth Circle of Hell.

Only now was she able to enjoy the bustling streets of the city she once called home. With one leg hanging off each side of the stone wall that overlooked the Lower City, she took a deep breath. It was almost time for the firework display. She hoped it wouldn’t be as loud as the tavern patrons promised.

Though, hope was a dangerous thing. 

“Just one nod, my dear, and I shall grant you freedom,” he mused, curiously inspecting the cage that Lord Cazador had designed in the likeness of the very devils he so admired. The vampire wasn’t aware of these nightly visits, of course, which gave her ample time to understand the true powers of the son of Mephistopheles.  

Raphael was his name. A handsome devil, true both in expression and physique. His presence was the only reason she could think clearly for the first time in, as she learned, ages.

He informed her that 75 years had passed since her imprisonment. Brief moments of the life she once had were now but a memory, occasionally flickering like candlelight in darkness. Varra would sometimes recall the crackle of flames underneath a starry sky. Often, she could smell a sweetness; honey, with a hint of woodiness that followed the sensation of a thick liquid coating her throat. People who she no longer recognized—men, women and children—rallied themselves in turns, revealed in memories that did not belong to her. 

And yet, the ache in her heart upon seeing them told a different story.  

With the years, the strangers she had been seeing in her dreams faded. Bit by bit, they were plucked from her mind as she stood, watching the locations and noise disappear faster than she could comprehend. Yet one person remained perfectly still. 

An elf. Unimposing and charming, draped in fine leathers and specks of gold, who always ensured his cuffs remained white. He stood at attention, one hand rested behind his back while the other held hers. A toothy grin revealed two sharp canines. Though he never spoke, Varra’s body seemed to instantly respond to his touch. Even in the blurred haze of her obliviousness, a spark of rage usually sprung her awake to her mindless existence. 

It took Raphael less than a breath to fill in the empty contours of her mind. 

“Astarion...” he answered her thoughts. “One of his spawn. One of his favorite spawn.”  

Astarion.  

With a flick of the wrist, the devil began painting in the details. An opulent ball, exuding grandeur and extravagance that befitted the highest socialites of Baldur’s Gate. A gown, glittering with color and fashioned from silk that inspired the finest tailors of the Court. A dance, lively and passionate that displayed more intimacy than the most intertwined of souls in the Material Plane. 

She laid against darkwood, coated in her own pleasure and listening to the lapping sounds of the partner kneeling between her legs. The tops of his curls glistened under the chandelier as she felt her knees buckling under increasing pressure. 

“That’s it, darling. Let go,” he cooed, his voice coated with deceit, and she could not remember why she trusted it still. His tongue was talented, that she would not deny. At no point had the elf made any efforts in prioritizing his needs. Instead, she vaguely remembered a gentle kiss that led to her sprawled on a table like a common whore. Astarion appeared to savor every touch. His hands were equally as talented, burying themselves inside her hair while his mouth explored the details on her skin. 

“Divine...” he mused as he took in the scent of her. 

Varra had scarcely ever been indulged in similar fashion. Not even the most romantic of novels could compare to the perfection—the practiced flawlessness—of his movements. She was no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, but while even the most charitable of men opted to service themselves, this stranger seemed to enjoy devouring her like a starved animal would food. Every reaction of hers was met with an equally methodical action—a second finger, a thumb circling her most sensitive nub, a purring of praise. 

Until he stopped. 

The main event, as he reminded, was still to come. It would only take a short walk to the main quarters. And so, with a lust-filled gaze and no sense of self-preservation, Varra followed the stranger through the halls of the estate. She hadn’t commented on the quiet walkways that led to a circular chamber. She didn’t raise an alarm when he left her to her lonesome for a minute too long. It was not until she was met with the glowing eyes of the master of the house, Lord Cazador, that she realized the seriousness of this ruse. 

This experience marked the eve she turned into one of his many spawns. 

Blinking back into the sore reality of her predicament, she met the eyes of the devil who so sheepishly looked at her. Reason had long abandoned her, but the undead that occupied the dark halls of these dungeons told her that eternity would involve torture unforeseen even by the Gods should she continue this path. 

Not even the Hells would be this cruel. She would hope.

With a nod, Varra simply said, “I accept.” 

“Wonderful.” 

Raphael clasped his hands in delight before disappearing from the very spot he apparated at. Soon enough, she felt a powerful force pull her through the marble until she found herself sitting on a lush chair, bathed in the glow from the torches that surrounded the dining room. The smell of ash overwhelmed her, though it was comforting when compared to the rotting flesh of Cazador’s estate. 

Her skin was no longer icy to the touch. The hunger that clawed at her insides was gone. The smell of blood was not etched into the deepest parts of her brain.  

“It is rather peaceful in my House of Hope, is it not?” 

The devil had sprouted wings. Horns decorated the top of his head, and his skin grew redder with each passing moment. The glow in his eyes was as bright as the spawns’ who shared her prison, though it was that of ambers and not rubies. He confidently walked to the other side of the dining table. Only then did she notice her mouth watering at the delicacies that decorated it. 

In the dungeons, food was a rarity afforded only on special occasions. It was a wonder seeing thirty souls fight tooth and nail to reward themselves with the scarce remains of a filthy rat. Varra was too weak to engage in the arguments that preceded the pecking order before a meal. She was not a fighter like some of the captives, which is why she opted to lick away the dried remains of the crimson vigor that splattered the walls while the other spawn satiated themselves. 

Her stomach growled at the offerings in front of her eyes. 

“Do spoil yourself my dear, far be it from me to deny a tortured soul a chance at reprisal.” Raphael raised a fine glass from the other end of the table. 

Dealing with devils was dangerous. Those who knew the perils of the Nine Hells were wise enough not to trust the words of imps, let alone the offspring of archdevils. It wasn’t until 135 years passed that Varra realized the twisted perversion of Raphael’s vow. The House of Hope was another trickery of the tongue, a life of servitude engulfed in oaths of freedom that would allegedly come one day. 

And so, spoil, she did. For what seemed like another harrowing eternity. 

A devil’s torment was unlike the indifference of a vampire lord. Instead of empty nihility that rotted away at her personhood, she was now overwhelmed with the promise of hope that could break the chains of her slavehood. Raphael was no mere executioner. Sometimes he would reward her obedience with trips to his boudoir where she would indulge in passions so fiery, it rivaled the hottest corners of Nessus. Very rarely, she would catch a glimpse of the Archive, which held the countless scrolls of souls that signed their life away to him. Never would she be allowed to touch the feast in the House of Hope. 

Varra had the misfortune of meeting countless other victims that had been courted by Raphael’s sharp tongue. She learned to remove her feelings from the interactions. 

She observed him for many of those years. The physical satiation of her most basic needs allowed her mind to sharpen—to piece together her broken past. Though she could never be certain if they were mirages or reality, some parts of the life she led before her enslavements, like missing puzzle pieces of her history, began putting themselves together. 

Varra. 

Baldurian. 

Gur. 

“Come now. Why play hard to get when you’re in deep over your tadpoled head?” 

Another set of guests had arrived at the House of Hope. Hurriedly, she made her way to the halls that led to the forbidden feast. A curious set of adventurers stood in awe as they examined the unknown surroundings. It had been too long since visitors required the protective charms that barricaded the servants quarters from the dining area. A one-way mirror to witnessing a master at work, Raphael had remarked. They must have been special. Hopeful. 

A one-horned Tiefling, whose beating heart seemed to be made of iron, looked particularly uncomfortable in this setting. They were an interesting bunch, no doubt—soon-to-be illithids carrying secrets sure to be plucked from them by the very same devil who charmed them. She caught their names; Karlach. Wyll. Shadowheart. Lae’zel. Gale. Astari— 

Astarion. 

Her cries of agony were deafened by the magical barrier. Still, Varra slammed against the translucent obstacle that separated her from the man who began her suffering all those years ago. Only when her hands began searing from the flames did she regain her senses. 

Disobedience never went unnoticed in his home. 

If he was gracious enough, he would offer her a lashing. Physical punishment was preferable to the alternative—a dark, quiet room, filled with nothing but her own thoughts. Once, he tricked her into believing her bravery would be rewarded with freedom. She awoke in Baldur’s Gate, no longer a spawn, capable of exploring the markets and taverns for days on end, meeting people, enjoying life. Companions she learned to call friends invited her to various adventures where she grew stronger, more experienced. Soon enough, she found a lover. 

All was well, until it wasn’t. 

In a tenday, she lost every person she learned to care for. Her friends each met a different gruesome end—drowning, burning, starving, madness. The lover she had taken soon found another, but not before taking every last coin earned in their years of labor.  

Varra hanged herself near Wyrm’s Crossing that same night. She swung there, watching another series of memories fling past her, as the gust of wind that grazed her face turned into the warmth of a crackling fire. Her neck was no longer swollen as she, once again, found herself perched on a lush chair in the House of Hope. 

The devil’s wicked smile was all she needed to understand the message. Her fate was that of eternal suffering. 

And so, Varra shut her eyes as Raphael circled her like a wolf would deer. Servants would often be compelled to share their thoughts during his interrogations, which is why she was praying to every God in the known realms that he would show mercy in his judgment. 

He snapped his fingers, which commanded her eyes open.  

“My, my. I must say, your impulse continues to impress me!” he said, stopping in front of her, his hands behind his back. “One could say a century would dull you into nothingness. Yet you truly risked my wrath for a moment of fury. Why is that?” 

“I… I do not know.” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted. “You know better than to lie to me, little lamb.” 

“It’s—that man. Astarion...” she murmured, keeping her gaze fixed on her master as she was taught to do. 

Raphael cocked his head, “The spawn?” 

Varra fell to her knees from the sudden intrusion into her mind. She wept and screamed as he combed through 200 years of her life. Empty cots under the waning moon, a woman with dusky skin similar to hers, roaring flames and loud singing, blades expertly slicing into flesh, firm handshakes with unknown faces, the tugging of rope at her waist, a belly full of wine, an invitation to a grand ball. Astarion. 

A smile was never a good sign in the House of Hope. 

“Well, my dear, you may have just proven yourself more useful than even my associates.” 

Varra—Althea’s—attention was momentarily brought back to the cold stone she sat on. The colorful explosions that bathed the sky in blues and purples were a sign of the celebration to come. The Feast of Heroes. An annual remembrance of the siege that was stopped by a group of brave heroes whose names were forever etched into the history of Baldur’s Gate.

The booming barrage prompted her to clench her fists. True to tale, it was as spectacularly loud as the residents had promised. What followed were thunderous cheers and applause, an anxiety-inducing concoction that reverberated through Althea’s body. Loudness was never appreciated in the House of Hope. Quiet was warranted in the depths of Cania. Silence was necessary in the Szarr Palace.

Yet, noise was a vital element when saluting the bravest in the realms. She swore even the local animals roared in choir.

“Gods bless the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate!”

Tales of their courage were permanently inscribed in books of fable and fact. Their names were sung in songs that reached the very edges of the Sword Coast. Never again would this world forget the sacrifice the special few made for the many in Faerûn.

Wyll Ravenguard, the Blade of Frontiers.

Karlach Cliffgate, the Fury of Avernus.

Gale Dekarios, the Prodigy of Waterdeep.

Lae’zel, the Champion of Vlaakith.

Shadowheart, the Dark Justiciar.

Astarion Ancunín, the Decadent.  

All assumed their titles, though none remained in Baldur’s Gate. Rumors spread that the Chosen of the Blade of Frontiers abandoned his duties to help the one-horned tiefling wreck havoc in the Nine Hells. Gale of Waterdeep assumed various positions at the many magical academies across Faerûn, though he too soon disappeared after a particularly disastrous affair involving the Netherese destruction orb inside his chest. Lae’zel’s destiny was one of servitude to her Queen following the triumph over the Netherbrain. She was the first to leave the Material Plane to travel among the stars, chasing away the illithid menace that threatened the Astral Plane instead. Not much was known of Shadowhart’s fate, though given her status as a divine servant of Shar, most wished her story would continue in silence. 

Most of these heroes, if not all, were dead by now.

Still, Baldur’s Gate was not without trouble. In just a few years, the city had suffered another attack from a new group of cultists. A few more decades passed, and another reality-threatening scourge would appear. Legions of heroes banded together to fight against whatever evil was queueing at the city gates. Through it all, one legendary figure remained steadfast in his attempt to preserve the city’s rich history. Most had by now been made aware of his particular condition —an affliction which councils in neighboring cities chose to ignore for the service he provided the realms during times of need.

The Feast of Heroes was a three-day holiday, meant to celebrate the efforts of common and special champions who took up arms against the threats that dared target the city of Baldur’s Gate. It would always include mention of some spectacular individuals that gave life and limb for their home. However, the legendary six were always at the forefront of these tributes, led by none other than the self-proclaimed leader of the group, pivotal in taking down the mind flayer threat.

Lord Astarion Ancunín. 

Owner of the Ancunín Estate. Member of the Council of Four. All-powerful vampire ascendant.

And the target of Althea’s emancipation pact.

[love-bokumono-fics]

Fresh Crops! February 5 - February 11, 2024

This week's newest fics and chapter updates for Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons on AO3!

Already Told You I'm Right Here - by SymphonicFantasia; Complete, 1/1, 4.0k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: Hero of Leaf Valley, Sunshine Islands Relationship: Vaughn | Waltz/Gwen; Characters: Gwen, Vaughn | Waltz Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Kurt, Joe, Winter, Bokumono Winter Warm-Up Exchange 2024, Woody, Animals, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Snow, Kissing Summary: If he had been told a few years ago that he wouldn't care about losing a day or two worth of pay, Vaughn wouldn't believe it. He would believe it even less if told it would be spent with someone he cared about. There were only two people in his life that he "cared" about, and he only saw them twice a week—while being paid. That was then before he met Gwen. Now he didn't mind it as much.

Dark Princess - by ZatiLinn; Complete, 1/1, 4.2k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandom: Friends of Mineral Town Characters: Princess, Dark Lord Summary: In Friends of Mineral Town there is a TV show called Dear Princess. This is the sequel to the TV show.

Tackling the Bear - by ZatiLinn; Complete, 1/1, <1k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: Gen Fandom: Pioneers of Olive Town Characters: Bridget, Ralph, Bear Summary: Ralph took his job as a forest ranger very seriously, so when he told the Mayor he would take care of the bear lurking near Olive Town in his own time, he meant what he said. Could the decision to take a slow approach have put someone's life in danger?

Karena Kamu Tertidur - by revabhipraya; Complete, 1/1, 2.7k; Language: Bahasa Indonesia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandom: Friends of Mineral Town Relationship: Elli/Harris; Characters: Elli | Elly, Harris, Ann the Innkeeper | Ran, Doug | Dudley, Cliff, Gray, Doctor | Trent Additional Tags: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Hope, Moving On Summary: Begitu Elli kembali dari ibukota, hidupnya berubah drastis. Selain kebiasaan yang telah ia putuskan untuk tidak lakukan, rupanya seseorang yang baru pun muncul?

Both You and I Know - by revabhipraya, rey (revabhipraya); Complete, 1/1, <1k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandom: Friends of Mineral Town Relationship: Carter/Harvest Goddess Marina | Megami-sama; Characters: Carter the Pastor, Harvest Goddess Additional Tags: Angst, Sad, Internal Monologue, POV First Person, February Ficlet Challenge 2024 Summary: Both you and I know about yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Lady Of Grasstrail Farms - by FromADenOfBeasts; WIP, 46/?, 58k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: Pioneers of Olive Town Relationship: Female Farmer/Lars; Characters: Original Female Character(s), Female Farmer, Lars, Laura, Angela, Clemens, Damon, Jack, Emilio, Reina, Victor, Gloria, Simon, Jesse Additional Tags: My First AO3 Post, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Supportive Big Brother, honestly the best big brother ever, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Wish Fulfillment, Mysterious Origins, Childbirth Summary: A young woman named Vallon quits her job and follows her heart to Olive Town, where her family has roots deeper than she ever thought. Now she has to contend with new neighbors, ancient magic, and getting the hang of farming a wild land. Can she cope on her own, or can she at least find someone to share it with?

Winter's nights - by Daryls_Favourite; Complete, 3/3 , 3.3k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: A Wonderful Life Relationship: Reader x Daryl; Characters: Reader, Daryl Additional Tags: BokumonoWWW, NSFW, Sex, Light Bondage, Unprotected Sex, Pull Out

The Scientist and his Farmer - by Daryls_Favourite; WIP, 11/?, 15k

Rating: Explicit; Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M Fandoms: A Wonderful Life Relationship: Daryl/reader; Characters: Daryl, Rock, Muffy | Molly, Marlin | Matthew, Forgotten valley villagers, Reader Additional Tags: BDSM, Bondage, Multiple Orgasms Summary: You have been living in forgotten valley for a little under a year. Winter is underway and you need to keep your farm afloat whilst also trying to court a suitable spouse.

Love Like You - by SymphonicFantasia; WIP, 6/29, 13k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/F Fandoms: Hero of Leaf Valley Relationship: Gwen/Alice; Characters: Gwen, Alice Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Femslash February, Femslash, Bisexuality, Bisexual Female Character, First Dates, Post-Canon, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Picnics, Dating, First Kiss, Girls Kissing, Kissing, Fireworks, beach date Summary: People say this love is wrong / But all I want is to belong / I can say without any doubt / People should learn how to love like you

[nonalie]

Hello again! Here's another piece of my Cahir fanfic. They will all probably be posted out of order since I'm only writing certain parts when I find the inspiration to write. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

AO3

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The sun was always shining in Nilfgaard, but the shadows always found a way to creep in when she thought of her future in the kingdom. Knowing very well that the only thing waiting for her at the end of her time in the capital would be an arranged marriage to some Duke or Lord.

It was her duty as the firstborn daughter to “continue the bloodline,” as her mother liked to call it. But she was never interested in the boring chatter of old men and politics, all she wanted was for those giant double doors to open so she could run out and never come back. But her handlers, as she liked to refer to them, would catch on very quickly that she's gone and probably send a search party out after her.

Although she had other plans, and so at every banquet or celebration that was held at the court, instead of searching for a potential match, she kept her eye on a certain knight who was only recently given the title of Count. She wasn't sure if her mother would find that agreeable or not, but after months of being pampered, flaunted, and presented, she was starting not to care.

Her time at court would be significantly more exciting if the Black Knight actually paid attention to any of the women around him; or rather, anything around him apart from the White Flame. And that's even if he happened to show up to these events. Sometimes, she would sit around the gardens all day just hoping to catch a glimpse of him; maybe plotting to faint into his arms so he catches her and falls in love immediately.

She laughed at the thought of the renowned Black Knight catching some silly girl and realizing that there's more to life than just serving an Emperor.

“Might I ask, what is it that you find so funny, my Lady?” The decorated man in front of her asked.

She immediately snapped out of her daydream and back into the situation she was in: post dinner party, with a middle aged man dressed in all black sitting right in front of her. His very full eyebrows seemed to be twitching, or was it just the flickering of the candle, which of course made her almost start laughing again.

Trying to desperately mask the smile returning to her face, she covered her mouth with her hand, faking a cough. “Nothing, My Lord, I was just truly enjoying your tale, sometimes I cannot contain my emotions.”

The Lord nodded and slowly took a sip of his ale. “Well, I cannot imagine why the death of my dear cousin would please you so.”

Her mouth fell open and stayed that way until she closed it again to try to explain herself. “I only meant that…” She stammered but couldn't find the right words to make her current predicament sound any better.

He stood up suddenly, causing the bench to push backwards slightly. “I believed the reason why you ladies are always sent here was to finally learn some manners and respect, clearly that's something that the women from Beauclaire lack.”

He leaned over her threateningly and just as she was about to stand up to give him a piece of her mind, a gloved hand slid in front of the man to push him a few steps back.

“My Lord should be careful or he will fall over.” The man reached over to seize the mug of ale from his hand before adding, “I think that's enough ale for this evening, sire.” The calm voice said and she slowly rose up from the bench to stand her ground.

The Lord seemed to want to exchange a few words with the person who pushed him, but walked away when he saw who it was. And she wasn't surprised at the reaction, if she wasn't completely stunned, she would have probably ran the other way too. The Black Knight was now turning towards her with the half empty mug of ale in his other hand, which made her completely forget what she had planned to do when she saw him.

He bowed his head to her and was probably expecting her to do the same, but against her better judgment she blurted out, “I assure you I can fight my own battles.”

She heard him audibly sigh as he lifted his head back up. “Then I apologize for interfering, my Lady. I will leave you to your own accord next time.” With that he began to turn and walk away.

“Sir, wait!” She called out after realizing that maybe she should indeed learn some manners, especially towards the one person she actually wants to talk to more than once in her life.

He stopped and turned to look at her. “Yes?”

“Thank you for saving me from the boring drunk man.” She said, and she could have sworn that she saw the corners of his mouth turn up momentarily, but it could have been a trick of the candlelight.

[ka-za-ri]

Sequel

Someone on Ao3 said something about showing Diavolo the tape Simeon and Lucifer made with you. Things spiraled down from there. Y'all know what kind of trash I'm all about being. A follow up to Press Play Pairing: Simeon x Diavolo x Reader Genre: PwP Smut Wordcount: ????     Tags: Smut, Porn without plot, Sub Dia, Voyeurism, size kink, dirty talk, sex toys, orgasm control, orgasm denial, pet play Summary: Simeon hatches a plan to include Diavolo in his next feature film.

There was a certain tension in the air you couldn't quite place. The pointed glances Diavolo made over his cup made you uneasy. It was made worse with how Simeon seemed blissfully unaware of just how heated the Demon Lord's gaze was whenever he glanced at the angel. You felt out of place, to say the least; but there was no getting out of a personal invitation to tea from Diavolo. "I do hope classes are going well for you." Diavolo broke the silence with mundane chit chat, though there was still the underlying feeling that he was hiding his true feelings from you. "Have you found things to do to alleviate your stress?" 

Before you could speak, Simeon answered for you, his tone matched Diavolo's; chipper yet oddly restrained. "Oh yes, we've gotten into the habit of meeting up to go through a movie on Lucifer's watch list. It's quite extensive. Everyone benefits from a little stress relief at the end of the week, don't you think?" Diavolo laughed jovially, his expression no longer as tense when Simeon explained your weekly "relaxation" activities. "Oh absolutely!" Diavolo agreed. "Nothing like a good movie and some quality time with friends!" You heard his voice lilt just slightly at the end, an oddly fragile note to his overall happy-go-lucky attitude. Was that a… pout you saw forming at the corner of his mouth? 

Simeon chuckled, taking a small sip of his tea, ignoring whatever signs the demon lord might have been dropping. “Yes, the quality of time spent with my dear friends has been nothing short of exquisite. It is such a shame that Lucifer is away on business this week and we will have to skip out on our regular meetup. I was so looking forward to the film this week too.” 

“Oh, what was on the watch list this week?” Diavolo’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Was it something I’ve seen before?” 

“Ah, we were… going to view a film we shot together.” Simeon’s smile was ironically innocent for what he had just said. The silence that followed from his statement said volumes and only added to the tension in the room. 

“Oh.” Diavolo finally stuttered, blushing madly. “Lucifer has advised me of your ah… filmmaking endeavors, I hear you’re quite the director.” It was your turn to blush. Diavolo knew of what you did with Simeon and Lucifer. Lucifer told him about the film you had made. Even if it hadn’t been said out loud, you had thought the recording would have been a secret between the three of you. “Well. I uh... “ You stammered, trying to come up for a defense for yourself. 

“Well, since you’ve already screened my latest work, what are your thoughts?” Simeon cut you off. The look in his eyes had changed, there was a glint of mischief and the heat in them matched Diavolo’s. “I’m always open for constructive criticism.” Diavolo looked to the side, to the ceiling, to the carpet below, anywhere but right in front of him where Simeon sat. He cleared his throat and loosened the collar on his top. “Well. If uh.. I had a say in it, I think I’d like to perhaps partake in the sequel you had planned?” his voice faltered and for once, you saw the vulnerability in his expression. Diavolo was lonely. Despite all he owned, he was feeling left out of gatherings. There was a hint of desperation in his voice as if he had put all his eggs into one basket, hoping to be included in this activity. 

His expression was everything Simeon had hoped for. Diavolo had walked into every trap he and Lucifer set up for this very moment. The pleading expression and the puppy dog eyes he was giving Simeon were just a bonus. The angel’s face broke out in a wide grin while he regarded the redhead. “Well, since you asked so nicely, it’d be rude of me to not let you join us. It’d be a good surprise for Lucifer to come back to, yes?” 

Diavolo’s face brightened instantly. He nearly leapt up from his seat in excitement. The tension in the room broke instantly once he heard he was to be included in your rendezvous for the week. “Oh how great! I’ll make sure my evening is free! Bar--” 

Simeon silenced Diavolo with a simple gesture, holding his hand up to stop the demon prince from going too ahead of himself. “But first….” The pitch of Simeon’s voice dropped an octave. He stood up, sauntering to Diavolo and gazed deep into his eyes. “To land a role in any film, a proper audition is needed, yes?” 

“Ye-yes…” Diavolo stuttered, looking down at the angel who was mere inches from his face, the smile told millions of secrets that he had only begun to unravel. In his flustered state, he didn’t even notice Simeon’s subtle movements until something was pressed into his hand. Diavolo didn’t need to look down to know what it was. The weight and the shape in his palm told him all he needed to know. Simeon retreated, satisfied once recognition flitted across Diavolo’s face. “Well, I’ll see you later tonight! I have to help tutor Luke a bit and prepare some snacks for the movie. See you!” He waved and made his way to the door. As he passed you, he slipped something into your hand. 

“Prep him well, will you? He’ll need all the help he can get.” 

You waited until after the door clicked shut to look down and have your suspicions confirmed. A little remote, no doubt one that was connected to the thing Diavolo had in his hand. 

There was a long gap of silence, one which made the tension grow once again. The two of you stared at each other for what felt like hours and you sat there frozen in your seat. Who would make the first move? Who would speak first? Would Diavolo even consider submitting himself to such humiliation? Surely he wouldn’t? “Well…” He cleared his throat, his blush turning his cheeks as red as his hair. “Think you can help me with this?” 

There was a certain charm to the way he was so sheepish and how he hesitated with his words. It made you want to take care of him, take charge and promise him everything would be all right in the end. “Of course.” You replied smoothly, pushing the shakiness out of your voice as you took control. Simeon did task you with ensuring his proper preparation, the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint the angel. 

You strode over to where he was and slipped the control into your pocket for the time being. You gently guided him to bend over the arm of the chair he was just sitting in. “Relax.” you reassured. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” 

You kicked his legs apart, making sure his knees were bent to prevent him from passing out.Your hand caressed the swell of his ass and he shivered under your touch. The smallest traces of a moan left his lips and he quickly buried his face into the cushions to hide from the shame. You hadn’t even done anything to him and he was already trembling. “Are you excited?” You asked, tracing the cleft of his ass, trailing your finger up and down the seam of his pants while you waited for an answer. You noticed the crotch area was already rather tight and you couldn’t help but smirk, realizing how affected he was by the simple gesture of being invited to movie night. 

“I… I’m a little nervous.” he admitted, stuttering. The normal confidence he had around others was all but gone as he submitted himself to your touches and your approval. “I don’t… I don’t want to disappoint.” 

“You could never disappoint.” You cooed, reaching around to undo his pants. “Just remember to breathe.” Your hand dipped between his legs to grasp his half hard cock, earning you a loud gasp. His dick twitched in your hand as you felt just how large he was. Even without being fully erect, he was a girthy monster, your hand was barely able to circle around his shaft and your walls clenched at the thought of possibly taking him in later that night. 

“There now, see? Just like that, be good and show me how excited you are for tonight.” You encouraged, stroking his length and watching his body language change from nervous to lustful. You slid his pants down his thighs to gain better access to his cock. Looking down and seeing his member hanging hot and heavy between his legs was such an enticing sight. His balls pulsed with need, nearly ready to release his load prematurely if you kept teasing him. 

“My, my, you’re quite hard already, aren’t you? I know you’re going to be perfect for the audition tonight.” You praised, letting go of his cock to palm the smooth, soft swell of his ass. He whined, once again burying his face into the cushions, ashamed at how turned on he was from just the thought of later activities and your teasing touches. 

Diavolo shivered, unable to process much outside of the fact that his precious exchange student was currently making him feel a certain way he couldn’t quite comprehend. It felt good to be the center of attention. It felt good to be under you, at your mercy and letting you take the lead. It only made him anticipate the activities to come. “I’ll… I’ll do my best to impress.” “Oh, I’m sure you will.” You smiled softly and plucked the plug from his hand. Even if Simeon and Lucifer had left you out of planning to get Diavolo involved with your movie nights, you were rather satisfied with the outcome to say the least. You assessed the plug and had to admire Simeon’s taste. It was slim, long and textured in a way you imagined would tease the demon prince for hours but not enough to make him cum. You traced Diavolo’s ass crack with the tip of the toy, paying close attention to his body language and memorizing the moment you had the demon prince himself bent over and at your beck and call. “Well now… this wouldn’t be very good to go in dry…” You mused before you sauntered around him and placed the toy at his lips. “Make sure it’s nice and wet, won’t you? You wouldn’t want to get hurt taking this all in, now would you?” He looked up at you, his golden eyes filled with a fair amount of lust in them before he dutifully took the toy into his mouth, obediently licking and sucking it until it was coated with his saliva. You could see how much it hurt his pride to do such a debauched thing based on how hard he was gripping the cushion below him, but his hard cock told you how much it also turned him on. He couldn’t even hold back a moan when the plug hit the back of his throat as you pushed it in further, ensuring he got every inch of it coated. “Good boy….” You praised, patting his hair softly and admiring how pretty he was whenever he blushed. Once you deemed it adequately lubed up, you went back to his waiting ass and pressed the toy into that tight hole of his. You heard him gasp at the sudden intrusion before his whole body seemed to relax and he let out a breathy groan. In no time, he was pressing himself against the toy, willing it to go deeper and deeper into him. He was eagerly moaning at this point, cum beaded at the tip of his cock as he was finally getting the attention he craved. “Aww look at that, it went all the way in so fast.” You praised, giving his ass a quick pat before pressing the toy into him as far as it would go. He rewarded you with a particularly lewd moan when the tip of the plug brushed against his prostate and made him see stars. “You were waiting for something like this, weren’t you?” “I… I maybe…” he mumbled, his words were muffled by the cushions. It was adorable. He was so eager to join in on the fun. You could tell just how lonely he was and how jealous he had been when he found out Lucifer was having these movie nights without him. It almost made you forgive Lucifer for showing him the movie you made. Almost. You giggled once everything was in place. Getting his pants back on was no easy feat considering how hard he was, but there were still a few more hours before you were supposed to meet back up with Simeon. Not to mention, he had quite the mountain of paperwork to do still. “There you go, all nice and tidy.” You announced once he wearily buckled his belt again. The bulge in his pants looked almost painful and you resisted the urge to reach out and fondle him. Instead, your hand went to your pocket and you clicked the power button. The reaction was almost instantaneous as Diavolo doubled over, collapsed onto his knees and his whole body trembled when the toy buzzed to life. His soft, breathy moans couldn’t cover up the hum of the toy in his pants and his embarrassment was only intensified by this fact. His cock throbbed in his pants, yearning for freedom once again, but he had duties to attend to even if his mind was far removed from them. Possibly the most arousing part was how attentive you were, how much care you showed him as you toyed with his body. That, was the most erotic part of it all. He had lost all power over you and now, you controlled him at the touch of a button. You watched writhe a bit longer, admiring how his body contorted as he tried to find more stimulation somehow without begging for it. After a while, you lowered the intensity of the toy until it just barely vibrated at regular intervals just enough to remind him who was in charge. “I’m sure you have so much work to do before we get to meet up with Simeon again.” You said, acting as if nothing was wrong at all. “I actually have a report I need to work on too. Do you mind if I stay here and ask you questions?” “N-no.. not at all.” Diavolo managed to stutter out. It took all his strength to stand back up, when he did manage to get back on his feet, he felt light headed, his mind was solely focused on pleasure and not anything else he had to get done. However, with you pulling out your books and settling down at the table to get to work, he made his way back on shaky legs to his desk where his mountain of documents awaited him. Diavolo yearned to touch himself while his lower half was hidden by his desk. It would have been perfect for him to just get a little bit of relief from the torment you had wrought up on him. However, he knew better than that. He knew if he could be patient, there would be a much greater reward than the immediate relief he sought. 

It was just unfortunate that he would have to suffer for hours to get to his goal. And as he finally settled down to start going over contracts with neighboring lands, the toy inside of him hummed to life once again, sending jolts of pleasure through his body until he couldn’t see straight. Just as he felt like he was about to pass out from being denied the ability to cum, the vibrations stopped and he was left on edge. Breathlessly, he would glance over to you diligently working on your report, the perfect image of innocence before him even though he knew that in your palm, you held the incarnation of sin itself. 

It would be a very long afternoon indeed for him. 

~~

Diavolo wasn’t wearing a leash, but he might as well have been with how eagerly he followed after you down the long hallways and to your usual meeting room where Simeon awaited you two. The promise of snacks wasn’t a lie as the scent of popcorn and cookies got stronger the closer you got to the room. You threw the door open and grinned widely when you arrived. “We’re here!” You announced with Diavolo in tow. 

The lights were already dimmed and a rather familiar film was playing on the screen. You blushed madly when you were faced with the movie you had made earlier with Lucifer and Simeon. Diavolo seemed to be absolutely entranced with the images flashing across the screen. There was an unabashed adoration that flickered across his face and a yearning you couldn’t quite place in his expression while he watched the lewd acts play out. 

“And you’re late.” Simeon chided, his gaze was hard and cold. “Not a very good start to the auditioning process, now is it?” His voice cut through whatever daydream Diavolo was in and the demon prince stood up straight in attention. Ah, he’s in one of those moods… You smiled sheepishly, ushering Diavolo in and shutting the door behind you. “I’m sorry, I got wrapped up in finishing my latest report so that the rest of the weekend is free.” You explained, hoping for some mercy; though you knew it likely wasn’t going to happen. 

He ignored your excuses and busied himself with setting up the camera. Simeon took one long look at Diavolo, his expression was unamused and he almost seemed bored. The angel finished fidgeting with the camera before turning to Diavolo. “I have high expectations for you. I’m hoping for a rather riveting performance.” He had the smallest of smiles on his face before gesturing to the bed. “Why don’t you start by showing me how well you can undress yourself.” Simeon took a seat in the corner of the room, crossing his legs and leaned against the armrest of the chair. His gaze never left Diavolo as the prince sheepishly climbed onto bed and started to undo the layers he had on. You moved to help him but Simeon stopped you, beckoning you over to sit on his lap while Diavolo did his thing. 

“Come now, the view from here is so much nicer, isn’t it?” 

You nodded dumbly, not able to resist Simeon. The sound of your moans coming from the television had you remembering exactly what he had done for you just a few weeks prior and you squirmed in his lap. 

“I hope you’re looking forward to this.” The angel murmured. “It’s not every day that we are graced with the presence of Lord Diavolo himself. We should make the most of this, yes.” He smiled sweetly, grasping your breasts while he trained your gaze back at Diavolo who was in nothing but his boxers. There was a noticeable wet spot at his crotch and his hard cock strained against the soiled fabric. Even in the dark, you could clearly see the outline of it and once again, imagining what it might be like to take him. 

Just as Diavolo started to peel off his boxers, Simeon stopped him with a quick gesture of his hand. The redhead audibly whined. He was so close to being free. Yet, he knew better to disobey if he wanted to impress his audience. He couldn’t help himself from stealing glances at the screen. Watching you get fucked by both a demon and an angel had him wondering just how tight you would feel beside Simeon and he hoped to experience that later that night. He licked his lips, barely aware of Simeon getting up and getting a hank of rope from one of the drawers. It wasn’t until he felt the weight of the rope on his shoulder did he realize something was happening. 

“Distracted are we?” Simeon teased, covering up the screen just as the film behind him reached its final climax. The sounds of shouting and moaning echoed in the room and Diavolo blushed at just the thought of what that scene looked like. However, he had more pressing concerns to worry about in front of him. Simeon looked like the very definition of sin in that skin tight get up he wore regularly. There was a reason why he didn’t enforce the school uniform rule on the angel. The eye candy was much too tempting for him to resist. 

Simeon’s fingers were deft, gracefully working Diavolo’s arms behind him and securing them in place with intricate knots. “There we go. Now, you can focus much better, yes?” Diavolo nodded, his eyes now solely entranced and fixated on Simeon. “Yes… sir.” There was a genuine smile when Diavolo let the title slip from his lips. “Oh… I like how that sounds coming from you. Call me that again when you cum.” The angel swooped in, kissing the demon prince deeply, pushing him onto his back and settling between his legs. He beckoned you to come over as well to join them. Once you joined him between Diavolo’s legs, Simeon finally started to take off the last piece of clothing he had on. 

“My, my. What a mess he made.” He commented, noting the large stain on the boxers before tossing it to the side. “Did you have fun this afternoon?” You nodded, holding up the remote to the toy still inside of the man below you and pressed the button to put the vibrator on the highest setting. “I sure did!” You giggled while Diavolo screamed, writhing from the stimulation. Simeon ignored him, his attention affixed to you and his eyes were filled with pride and adoration. He stroked your hair before kissing you as Diavolo watched helplessly. When the kiss broke, you were breathless and more than ready to entertain whatever whim Simeon had. 

“Now… what shall I do with you... “ Simeon finally turned to Diavolo and casually stroked the man’s length, making him squirm even more. The buzzing in his ass slowed and eventually stopped, giving him some reprieve. “Aww, the batteries must have died.” Simeon pouted. “No matter, It’s time we gave our … pet a new toy, yes?” “Sounds like a plan.” you agreed, reaching between Diavolo’s legs to slowly pull the plug out while Simeon continued to tease his dripping cock. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Come with me, Let’s go looking together.” He suggested, leaving Diavolo right at the edge of a climax. “The night is still young, my prince. There’s so much fun to be had.” 

Diavolo was left in silence as Simeon led you away to a corner of the room he could not see from his place on the bed. HIs mind raced with the possibilities of what was to come and it only made his dick twitch in anticipation. A small puddle of cum pooled on his abdomen as his cock continued to leak and when Simeon came back to see the mess, he could only tsk at how poorly Diavolo was misbehaving. “My, my…” He chided, smearing the fluids across Diavolo’s abdomen. “This just won’t do.” He shook his head, feigning disappointment before selecting a cock ring and securing it around the base of his shaft. Diavolo hissed at the feeling of being so restricted after just having a taste of freedom. “There….” Simeon smiled, patting his member. “Now we can have all the fun we want without worrying that you’ll cum too soon.” His expression was so sweet, it almost made Diavolo sick, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on that fact. Part of playing with him meant you and Simeon dressed him up in the prettiest toys you had. Nipple clamps with bright red jewels were affixed to his chest. A delicate chain connected them and that was soon attached to the collar you placed around his neck. “A proper leash for a proper pet.” You explained, patting his cheek softly. His heart melted seeing you so content. Your touches sent him right into bliss. The pain at his chest felt negligible when he was able to bask in the attention he was getting. It had been so long since he had been pampered in such a way. He had missed those intimate touches, those longing looks. He craved being coddled and here you and Simeon were, giving everything he could dream of. Though he was barred from entering heaven, he wanted to believe that what he was experiencing in that very moment was akin to paradise. Diavolo struggled against his bindings, wanting to return the favor, he wanted to thank the two of you for showing him what it felt like to be adored. He whined, putting on the most impressive pout he could muster. “Please… I want to touch…” Simeon paused in the middle of undressing you and scoffed at the request. “A little early for begging, isn’t it?” He mused before completing his task. “Our pet’s a little talkative, why don’t you shut him up while I do a little disciplining?” You nodded, crawling up Diavolo’s side and straddled his face. You pat his head once more before lowering yourself over his lips. “Keep me entertained, why don’t you? I promise if you do a good job I’ll sit on that fat cock of yours.” You didn’t give him time to reply before grinding yourself down onto his face and letting his tongue do the work. 

Simeon smirked, parting Diavolo’s legs so he could properly situate himself between them. He could spend hours watching you ride the prince’s face if only he didn’t have more important things to do. The angel waited for you to get a hold of the headboard to keep yourself stable while grinding down on Diavolo’s face in between breaths. From the sounds of your moans and your breathy sighs, it seemed as though the prince had quite the talented tongue. Simeon wondered briefly what it would feel like if he was in your position before he steered his focus back to what was right in front of him. Having prepped Diavolo earlier meant that the toy he had chosen slid in with little resistance. In fact, it was as if the thick dildo was being sucked into the prince’s hole with how easily it went in. “My, oh my….” Simeon mused, impressed with how quickly Diavolo seemed to adjust to taking the toy. “We really do have to teach you patience, don’t we?” Simeon started a sinfully slow pace, fucking Diavolo with the toy and simply taking the time to admire every reaction he was able to pull out of the man below him. His moans were muffled but there was no denying the pleasure he was getting out of this. It only made it more sweet to torment him and deny him his climax. 

Time and time again, he would pull the toy almost all the way out before inching it back inside. Even with the cock ring on, Diavolo’s member throbbed and his seed dribbled from the tip. Simeon made sure to tease the rest of the demon’s body, tugging at the chains to the nipple clamps, placing soft kisses all along his thighs and pelvis but pointedly ignoring the aching cock that begged for attention. He loved seeing Diavolo’s muscles tighten anytime he was close to getting what he craved and only drove him to tease the man below him right to his breaking point. 

He counted the times you came on top of Diavolo and decided that maybe after your second orgasm you could rest a while before he finally ramped the pace up. “Rest a bit and watch,” Simeon gently guided your tired body to where he sat, letting you sidle up against him in content while he continued his work. He worked in a methodical, almost calloused way when it came to controlling every aspect of Diavolo’s pleasure that evening. It was equal parts arousing, amazing and terrifying to you just what Simeon was capable of. Diavolo gasped for air once you were no longer on top of him. He stared at the ceiling, not sure what he should do next. The taste of your essence lingered on his lips. He was sure he could have continued until he either passed out from lack of oxygen or you did from overstimulation. Unfortunately, that scenario would only remain being a dream and he could only daydream about it. He was instantly snapped back to reality when Simeon roughly shoved the dildo that had only been teasing him all the way in without warning. 

The prince let out a choked cry, his whole body tensing in the sudden roughness. He loved it, he loved every second of the sweet torture the two of you had come up with. He couldn’t tell when the pleasure stopped and the pain began, but he didn’t care. He wanted more of it, he craved the attention and would do anything to be on the receiving end of it. Glancing down between his legs, his heart skipped a beat when he saw how happy and content you were snuggled up against Simeon who was relentlessly fucking him. There was a tenderness in your expression that he wished you would direct his way. 

“Look at you… So sensitive.” Simeon cooed, tugging at the chains attached to Diavolo’s sensitive nipples. “I’ll bet you could have just cum without me touching your cock at all. You’re that much of a needy slut,, aren’t you?” He chuckled, slamming the toy inside of the prince once again. 

“Y.. Yes…” Diavolo sputtered arching into the thrust, wishing that the toy would go deeper, stretch him wider, do something to tip him over the edge. “I… I need…” 

“You need?” Simeon repeated. “We’ll have to teach you some lessons, now. Good pets don’t need anything. They beg for what they want.” 

“I… I ahhh~~” Diavolo’s brain short circuited when you had grabbed a nearby vibrator and pressed it against the tip of his cock. Whatever he wanted to say promptly flew out the window as he was thrown into a world of bliss. “I… I…” “Use your words.” You encouraged, turning the vibrator on higher. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.” 

He wanted to fuck. He wanted to be fucked. He wanted everything all at once but he couldn’t express it with how overloaded his senses were. “I … I want to…” 

“Go on.” 

“I want to fuck… I want to fuck you and cum… please. I want to cum so bad. I did good, right? You weren’t bored right? I can keep being good, just let me cum, please, please please. I’ll be the best slut you’ve ever seen.” 

You looked up at Simeon, wondering if the angel approved of Diavolo’s groveling. His expression betrayed none of his emotions and he simply pressed the toy further into Diavolo’s ass, garnering a loud, appreciative moan from the man beneath him. “Very bold words… I hope you’re ready to live up to them…” He said quietly. 

“Yes, yes. I promise I will! I’ll do so good. I’m a slut, a fuck toy for your entertainment. I’ll do anything for you. Please, just… I want to cum so bad. Can I please?” 

“Hmmm” Simeon hummed softly, carefully considering Diavolo’s words. “Yes, you may.” 

Diavolo gasped, his heart nearly beating out of his chest when he received permission. However, his excitement soon grew into dismay when Simeon produced a long length of ribbon to tie the vibrator against his cock. “Wh.. wait, you said I could cum…” He whined. “I said you may, I did not say when.” Simeon stated smoothly. He reinforced his statement by turning the toy onto its highest setting before he pulled you into his lap. The angel had your back towards him and he spread your thighs out to let Diavolo see just how drenched you were. Simeon reached between your legs and spread your lower lips, toying with your clit and making you moan in need. He wasn’t ready to reward his new pet just yet. 

What he was ready for was making Diavolo watch you getting fucked. There wasn’t enough desperation yet, not enough hopeless need coming from the prince. “Is this what you want?” Simeon asked, grunting as he was balls deep inside of you. “Is this what you want to feel? How hot they are? How tight they’re going to be around your cock?” The pace he set was hard and fast. You had craved being filled after being eaten out so thoroughly before and Simeon’s cock was filling every craving you had. You ground your hips down to meet every one of his thrusts, loudly moaning every time his cock hit the most sensitive spots inside of you. It wouldn’t be long before you would be climaxing around him and he knew it. As soon as he felt your walls fluttering around him, he slowed his pace and let your racing heart calm down just enough to leave you hanging. 

You whined squirming in Simeonn’s lap, hoping he’d keep going, but he stayed still and observed Diavolo’s expression instead. You followed his gaze and you were met with the most delightful visage of the debauched prince, blushing and desperate for attention. Tears were freely flowing from his eyes as he babbled incoherently, begging to experience the same thing he was witnessing. 

“Please… sir, I want to cum” His voice cracked. “May I now please cum?” “What do you think? Do you think he’s deserved it?” 

You pretended to ponder over your answer, dragging out Diavolo’s torture for a few moments more. “I think he’s done well enough to be rewarded.” 

“Hmm, I think so too.” Simeon agreed. 

He was loathed to leave the warmth of your pussy as he laid you down on the bed; but he was sure his cock would be satisfied soon enough in other ways. The toys were taken away, the cock ring removed and Simeon waited a moment for Diavolo to get his wits about him before offering your body up. “Well, go on. You’ve earned it.”

Even with his arms still bound behind him, he was able to roll onto his sides and bring himself onto his knees. It was rather impressive, to say the least how quickly he got between your legs and plunged himself into your waiting hole. Though Simeon’s cock had stretched you out earlier, nothing compared to how full you felt once Diavolo was sheathed within you. You wanted to savor the moment, but there was no time to think as he started to pound you with his cock. 

It was your turn to be a blubbering mess. The fullness, the roughness, the wanton need that oozed out of his very being was intoxicating and you were lost in the pleasure of it all. “Oh, good boy.” you praised, reaching up and pulling on his hair to encourage him to keep going. “What a good slut you are.” Hearing your praise only made him go feral with need and he redoubled his efforts to gain more of your compliments. Diavolo was so lost in the moment, he nearly forgot Simeon was there until he felt something warm press up against his ass hole. His pace stuttered and he looked back in confusion. That bit of disobedience was met with a hard slap across his ass cheek. “No one said you could stop.” Simeon hissed, pressing himself into Diavolo. 

“Prove to me how good of a slut you are and make us cum at the same time.” He demanded. 

This was it. His final test. He put everything he had into turning himself into the perfect pet, the ideal fuck toy for the two of you. Diavolo resumed his pace inside of you, making his strokes long and hard while his ass clenched around Simeon’s cock to ensure the man behind him was enjoying the hot tightness there. His own pleasure didn’t matter to him anymore, it was pleasure in itself to serve the two of you. 

Euphoria was reached when he was the best slut in your eyes. 

Diavolo did as he was promised, making both you and Simeon climax at the same time. You were the first to crumble. Your inner walls clenched around his cock, sucking him in deeper, milking him. All the while, Simeon’s thrusts became erratic as he reached his climax and spilled his seed deep into the demon prince. The moans coming from his lips were the most delightful symphony. 

“Go on, show us how pretty you are when you cum.” 

Finally having the permission to climax, Diavolo slammed himself into you, burying himself as deep as he could go before releasing his load into you. The hot spurts of his seed filled you and you swore you came again just from that feeling alone. The groan that came from the back of his throat sounded more like a possessive growl to you and the heat behind his golden eyes was practically palpable. 

It took a long moment for the three of you to come down from the high of such an intense climax. Simeon was the first to recover. He carefully extracted himself from Diavolo and went about finding some towels to help clean up the worst of the mess you had all made. Along with that came the snacks he had baked earlier and water. Setting everything aside, he finally freed Diavolo’s arms and the demon prince visibly slouched in relief as his aching muscles finally got a chance to relax. 

He wasn’t ready to leave the warm confines of your pussy just yet and shifted himself to cradle you against his chest while Simeon fed you cookies and made you sip some water. Diavolo’s fingers brushed your tousled hair and you stared at you with nothing but admiration in his eyes. “So, do you think I’d get a callback after that audition?” 

Simeon chuckled softly, sliding back into bed with a bowl of popcorn and offered some water to the prince who gulped it down eagerly. “Absolutely. You’re the perfect fit for the role.” 

[ladydimitrescuspet]

Just This Once, Your Ears Only

AO3 link! this is for my anon that just found out about miss d and the pallboys and wanted a fic about it so here you go! I hope y'all enjoy this and apologies for any grammatical errors!

Tag List (form to join): @lord-dimitrescu, @alwaysgoodnight, @paint-it-periwinkle, @lightspica, @ultimatebottom69, @sexyheisenbeast, @crazy-obsessed, @squid3, @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu, @the-obscurity, @sapphicalciee, @ladydimitresculove, @solemnnova, @itsyourgirlmalise, @the-little-shadow, @marvelwomen-simp,@rachelthefanfictionwriter, @d14n4ol, @peachesandlesbians

-----

Alcina didn’t talk much about her past and that was fine. You always cherished the things that she had told you about her time before Mother Miranda and the cadou. You never pushed her to tell you more than she was comfortable, but when you found that old jazz album in a box your curiosity was piqued. How had she not told you that she used to be in a jazz band called Miss D & the Pallboys? Honestly, you were pretty shocked that Alcina hadn’t told you about this part of her life. So when you brought it to her, your find, she was a bit hostile about it.

“Ali, come on. This is really cool.” You said. “I know you don’t often talk about your past, but I really want to know more about this.”

Alcina sighed, rubbing her temples to ebb away the oncoming headache. “Dear, I’ve already said that I don’t wish to revisit such a trivial time in my life.” Alcina replied.

“But I’ve never heard you sing.” You counter. “I’ve heard you hum, I’ve heard you play the piano, but I’ve never once heard you sing.”

“And I’m afraid you’ll never get the opportunity to. My singing days are long behind me and I’d like to keep it that way.” Alcina replied.

You frowned, but ultimately accepted your defeat. “Alright, Ali, I’m sorry. You win.” For now, at least. Time for Plan B. “Can I visit Karl this week?” You asked.

Alcina groaned. “I am not sure how you became friends with that annoying little imp, but I do need you out of the Castle tomorrow so I suppose you may go and visit him then.” Alcina responded. “However, when you leave, have him escort you home. As much as I despise that man-child, there have been lycans spotted around the village and forest more so than usual in the evening, so you’ll be safe with that little idiot by your side.”

You gave her a smile and nod as you did an internal happy dance. “I will call him now to let him know. I’ll even throw in a little threat so he knows you’re serious, Ali.” You teased. Alcina snorted at that. “Alcina?” She hummed in acknowledgment. “Have you ever tried to say something nice about Karl or even tried to be a little bit nicer to him?” You asked.

Alcina looked up at you. “When that insufferable idiot is nicer to me then I shall repay him in kind. Until then, if he keeps calling me lady super sized bitch, I will continue to refer to him as a child. Although, he really is a child regardless of what affectionate nicknames he has for our so called family.” Alcina replied. “But Heisenberg being nice to me will never happen in a million years.”

"Are you willing to bet on that?" You asked. Alcina whirled her eyebrow at you. "If Karl does something nice for you then you have to sing one of your jazz songs for me."

"And if he doesn't?" Alcina asked.

"Then you get whatever you want from me." You replied.

Alcina hummed. "And if I want you chained to my bed all day to do with as I please, I can have that?" You nodded your head. "Then I believe we have a bet on our hands, dear."

You gave her a nervous smile before excusing yourself from her study. After you left, you made your way to your own study. The thought of it made you smile. Alcina had realised that you didn’t have a room in the castle to call your own, so she allowed you to remake one of them into your own, so to speak. It was still decorated the way Alcina had, but now it had more of your things in it to keep you occupied if Alcina went out for a meeting or if you just needed a quiet space to be in.

The first thing you did upon entering your study was call Karl. You let him know that you’d be over early and you even mentioned the bet you had going on with Alcina. “Lady Super Sized Bitch is going down.” were his exact words and they made you laugh. After you said goodbye to him, you called Donna and asked her if she could sew some costumes up for you, the girls, and Karl. You were glad that she had agreed and accepted your invitation to Jazz Friday as opposed to Opera Wednesday. This week’s meeting had been moved from Friday to Wednesday so Opera Night had been moved to Friday. You really hoped that Alcina wouldn’t mind you hijacking her night with your plan and with only five days to get it all planned, you really didn’t have time to work yourself into a tizzy with worrying.

You spent the next day with Karl, telling him what instruments you’d need him to produce for the show. With that taken care of, you could talk to the girls about the surprise and the parts that they’d play for Jazz Night. You made sure all of the Lords had an invitation for Friday. You would’ve invited Mother Miranda, but she was out of the village on business. You were nervous when Friday finally came, making sure everything was perfect.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t worry. Alci’s gonna love it.” Karl said as he fussed over his tuxedo.

You let out a deep breath and smiled at him. “Of course. Or at least I hope she does.” You replied. You held the microphone in your hand when you heard Alcina’s voice.

“Donna, Moreau, it’s a pleasure to have you two with us tonight. I see Heisenberg has failed to join us for another evening.” That made Karl scowl. “Nevertheless, the show must go on. My wonderful daughters and my lovely partner, Y/N, have prepared something special for us tonight. So please sit back and enjoy the show.” Alcina said, finishing off her speech before sitting in her seat.

A couple of maids opened the curtain and you could hear the small gasp Alcina let out, your face starting to heat up. You’d had Karl make a saxophone for Bela, a piano for Cassandra that she could comfortably sit at, a cello for Daniela, and a trumpet for himself. Whilst Donna made tuxedos for all of you. The girls and Karl wore black tuxedos with white dress shirts, the only difference being that the girls had their gemstones on the collar of their shirts and Karl’s didn’t. Your tuxedo was white and you had a hat on with a feather like the one Alcina wore on the cover of the Miss D & the Pallboys album. You managed to not let your nerves get to you as you sang a Nat King Cole classic, Unforgettable. When the performance was over the five of you bowed before the curtain closed.

“Y/N, that was amazing!” Bela said. “I think I saw Mother tearing up out there so I’d say that she loved the performance!”

You scratched at the back of your head, laughing nervously. “Really? I just wish we could’ve sung a Miss D & the Pallboys original for her too, but you can’t go wrong with a classic like Unforgettable.” You replied. “Now you three go get changed, you still have to do that Italian opera piece your mother picked out for you.”

Daniela gave you a hug. “Thank you for putting this together.” Daniela said into your ear.

Cassandra gave you a smile. “And we completely understand if you want to skip the rest of the show. Putting together something like this sounds very tiring.” You nodded your head before wishing them good luck.

The rest of the night was purely opera, but you didn’t have it in yourself to join the others back out in the audience while the girls did their performance. So you had made your way back to the room that you shared with Alcina, putting on your pyjamas and curling up into bed with a book. And that’s how Alcina found you, except you were almost half asleep with the book lying across your stomach.

“Darling?” Alcina called out softly, rousing you from your sleep. You hummed in acknowledgment to let her know you were still with her. Alcina took that opportunity to put on her nightgown before slipping into the bed next to you, pulling you into her side. “Did you put together that whole thing just for me?” Alcina asked.

You nodded. “I did. Not alone though. Karl and Donna really helped out. And Moreau was the one that recommended the song I sang, Mother Miranda bless him for the suggestion.” You mumbled out slightly before yawning.

Alcina pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, My Love. Now, I do believe I lost a bet so I’ll give you your reward, yes?” You sleepily nodded your head against her side. “Alright, little one, but just this once and for your ears only. And only because you got that idiot oaf to do something nice for me.” Alcina said.

“Be nice, Ali.” You mumbled again, smiling at the grumbling noises that Alcina made at your words but you could faintly make out her saying “Fine,” before you let out a hum of approval.

After a few seconds of silence, you heard Alcina start to sing the words to a song you didn’t know. You could only assume that it was one of the songs she sang with her band and you smiled. Alcina really did have a beautiful singing voice.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Words: 1900+

Rating: T

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary: Apparently alcohol makes Benimaru more honest about his feelings. And what he wants for the future.

AO3

Following your success with the Yuki-Oni, Rimuru-sama decided to send you on more ambassador excursions throughout the land.

You had been surprised, but warmed by his faith in you, and took your role very seriously everywhere you went. It was all very exciting. Seeing new places. Meeting new, important people. Sometimes you went with Benimaru, as you did before, but with his own important duties as Commander of the Jura forces, he couldn’t always go with you. It was difficult to be apart, but you made do for the good of your nation and whatever partner you had been paired with for your journey.

This time, it had been Shuna. You and your sister had enjoyed your visit to the coast, to visit the seaside kingdom that lay on its shores. It was the first time either of you had seen the ocean. It was incredible. It was also nice to get away from the excitement of Rimuru, if only for a little while. You loved all your friends, its people, your family. However, you would be the first to admit they could be a bit over the top sometimes.

Like the feast they had insisted on throwing for you both upon your return.

“I don’t see why they’ve decided to throw a party for us.”

“You and Shuna were missed.” Rimuru-sama answered when you, playfully, bemoaned all the ruckus. So much for your peaceful, seaside atmosphere. “It’s been dark days in Rimuru without either of you to brighten them up. I’m sure everyone wants you both to know how much they appreciate you.”

“Flatterer,” you mutter at the humanoid slime, who just smiled at you with that cheeky little grin of his.

Rimuru-sama asked you to speak with him before going to the party. He wanted to get the details of your visit, and treaty with your new allies, down before they got lost in the shuffle. You were happy to oblige. You did wish you could see Benimaru first though. You had missed him so. You’d only got to see each other for a moment upon your return before you were pulled in opposite directions again. It was hard being a power couple.

By the time you and Rimuru-sama were done, it was getting very late.

The party was in full swing. Music, dancing, food and drink, all filled the center courtyard as people gathered to enjoy the festivities without a care. But where was Benimaru?

“[Y/N]!!”

Oh dear….

Benimaru repeated your name a few more times on a loop as he tried to stand. Eventually getting to his feet, even if you have to come over to him to help keep him there. “Ah~! It’s my wife!”

“Yes dear.” You tell him. Trying not to laugh at his hilariously intoxicated state.

“Where have you been?” He questioned with a small pout. His expression made even more adorable by his flushed cheeks. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

“And the last place you looked was at the bottom of a sake bottle?” Benimaru grinned wide at having been caught, but seems to understand, even in his clouded mind, that you were joking. “Rimuru-sama needed me for something, so I was delayed to the party. Honestly. I leave you alone for a few moments and this is what happens.”

“It’s not my fault!!” The ogre whined. The usually regal, serious leader of the Jura forces arguing with you like a child. “The dwarves! It’s the dwarves’ fault! They challenged me to a drinking contest and I couldn’t refuse. My honor was only line!”

“It most certainly was not!” You tell him. Genuinely irritated this time. He should know better than to challenge dwarves to drinking contests. Their stomachs were as bottomless as Rimuru-sama’s when it came to ale. “Come on. Let’s get you back home to sleep it off. The rest of you, this contest is over. By order of Rimuru-sama and his advisory.” The last sober one standing anyway.

“Hehe! That’s my wife! Rimuru-sama and I are so lucky to have such a capable woman in our lives. Have a drink with me to celebrate!”

“What did I just say?!”

It took a little bit more fumbling and dragging on your part, but eventually you pull Benimaru away from the party and back home. Not helped in the least by his stumbling feet, him banging into various walls, and nearly knocking you down every time he tried to lean on you.

“[Y/N], I don’t feel so good.”

“Not surprising. Since you drank a small lake’s worth of sake.”

The ogre grinned again. Squatting down to meet eye level with you with a drunken smile as you tried to get his outer coat off. “It was good though!”

“Most bad decision are at the time my love.”

He fell to his knees at that moment, so fast that you thought they had given out, but you realize it was intentional once he wrapped his arms around your middle and nuzzled the side of his face into your stomach. “Ah~ I love it when you call me ‘my love’. It makes me so happy. I love you so much too!”

You chuckle softly. Both in amusement and a little nervously. It was cute how honest he was being with his feelings, but you were a little concerned with how he was nuzzling his head against you that he might gore you a little with his horns. It hadn’t happened before. But there was a first time for everything.

“Yes, yes. I love you too.” You tell him as you place your hand on his head. Getting him to stop rubbing on you like a cat for a moment. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Ney, [Y/N], let’s make a baby.” Benimaru had turned to look up at you. Eyes glassy and unfocused, with a sort of soft innocents that didn’t really go with this conversation.

You don’t think for a moment he was being serious. Assuming he meant ‘make a baby’ as in ‘having sex’. So your reply was obviously, “I don’t think it would be very honorable for me to take advantage of you in this state.”

“No! Not that! I really wanna have a baby with you!” Apparently, he was serious. His expression shifted from soft, blank innocence to fierce determination (or as much as a drunk person could muster) so fast it made your head spin. And you hadn’t even been drinking.

“Benimaru, surely you can’t mean that. We can’t have a baby right now.”

“Sure we can! I can put a baby in you right now.” His arms untangle from you, but only far enough to start fumbling with the tie of your dress at your hips.

You let out a squeak and give him a good whack on the head. Rimuru-sama called it a ‘karate chop’ when he taught you. It seemed to do the trick as your husband flinched and fell back off of his knees onto his butt. “[Y/N]-chan doesn’t want to have a baby with me…..” Benimaru bemoaned sadly, rubbing his head.

“I…I didn’t say that!” You snap at him. Cheeks pink yourself now, and incredibly flustered. “I just don’t know where this is coming from all of a sudden. You’ve never said you wanted to have children before.”

“Of course, I want to have children with you. You’re my wife and the woman I love. Why wouldn’t I want to have children with you?” He replied, seeming to bounce back from being sad fairly quickly. How was he not getting a headache from all these sudden emotional shifts?

Taken aback by his soft words, you don’t say anything at first and Benimaru got back up on his knees to re-wrap his arms around you. “I want us to have strong sons to carry on my name. Girls too. I wanna have daughters as pretty as their mother. I wanna have enough kids to start a little ogre army. I wanna watch your belly swell as they grow inside you. Hold you while you carry my child.” You feel his lips press to your stomach near your navel. Clearly already picturing you ripe with child. “We can rebuild the ogre tribe that was taken from us. We can have a family.”

“I’m not giving you a village or a small army Benimaru.” You don’t have the heart to correct him on the ogre tribe being taken you. It had been taken from him, not ‘us’. A fact that you know still weighed heavy on his heart. He’d accomplished so much. Protected so many now. But his failure in his early life still haunted him. You or no one can give that back to him. “But…I wouldn’t mind starting a family.” A boy and a girl, with your eyes and his flaming red hair, would be nice.

The ogre looked up at you and beamed. He practically jumped to his feet and leaned in to kiss you. “Ah, ah! Not now! When you’re sober.” You tell him with your hand against his lips.

Benimaru pouted for a second before he grinned and nipped at your fingertips foolishly at his lips. “There’s no harm in practicing now.”

“You’re drunk.” You remind him.

“Not as much as I was a little bit a go.” An outright lie. “Besides, as Rimuru-sama says ‘practice makes perfect’.”

“I repeat: you are drunk.” You say again. Bating his clinging hands away from your form. “Besides, besides, I don’t think you could even preform in this state with how much sake you drank.”

“You question my virility at your own peril woman.” Benimaru ‘warned’ and you karate chop him on the head again. Lighter, this time. More to stop that train of thought than stop him in his tracks.

“Keep it up and I’ll be sleeping in Shuna’s room for the night, and you’ll be sleeping in the barracks for the rest of the week.” The terrifying flame lord looked mortified with his mouth ajar, before shook his head and beg you to let him stay. “Can you behave now and go to bed amicably with your hands to yourself?” He nodded furiously. Just seeming happy to be allowed to stay.

You both get into bed and Benimaru shyly asked if he could at least hold you. He said he agreed to keep his hands to himself, but didn’t know what that all meant, and he missed you with you so far away. So far away being: the other side of the bed. You scoff once and shook your head before you curl into him. Resting your head against his chest.

Your husband seemed to immediately relax and fall asleep when your head touched him. His breathing even under your ear as your ‘pillow’ rose & fell. You lay awake for a little while longer. Thinking about your conversation. You have to wonder if he was serious. But, then again, he seemed serious enough. And as they say, in wine there is truth. There was a possibility though that the ‘liquid courage’ had also made him more ready for children than he really was.

Your hand trailed away from Benimaru’s chest to your own stomach. You picture a bump there. The start of your child flourishing inside you. Your husband’s face, soft with adoration, as it pressed against your stomach to listen to their heart beat when it had grown and was almost ready to be born. The thought made your own expression glow in adoration. Maybe it was time for you both to start considering the future.

“Goodnight….Daddy.” You whisper to Benimaru, who only grumbles in his unconscious state back when you kiss him. “You’re going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning.”

[bluemusickid]

Hi! I hope you're doing well 🥰 Can you I request one where Steve breaks reader's arm or leg by mistake during training and has to take care of her afterwards? Definitely won't mind if some smut is added 😅 Thank you!!

OMFGGGG MY FAV WRITER SENT AN ASK ASDFGHJKL (Also full disclosure: this has been one of my kinks for a while :P)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slow burn (just a tad), 18+, SMUTTTT, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), did I mention NSFW? Read at your own risk.

A/N: I would like to thank @imdarkinme for sending in this AMAZING ask! She’s a doll and I’ve been a fan of her writing for so long!! I would also like to thank @donutloverxo for converting me to a Steve Stan loool. I wanted him to be a bit dark here, but in the end his dorky side won. :P Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!! Send in your requests here and you can join my taglist here (or you could just send an ask lmao)! Thanks!

I post my stuff only on AO3 and here, nowhere else. 

The Learning Curve

You groaned as you got up from the mat, yet again. It was dumb of you to ask Captain Rogers to train with you. As a new recruit, you’d obviously wanted to impress him; he was the leader of the Avengers after all. There was only one tiny problem you forgot to factor in: the man was a Super Soldier, while you were...not.

“Come on, get up! We still have two rounds to go!” a voice bellowed from above you.

You mentally cursed at the voice. You’d tried to not let it affect you, but like many others, you had a bit of a crush on the Captain. But it wasn’t solely because of his looks, it was more about his passion to help and save and to protect. He was always so passionate, it was hard to keep away(which was a fiercely guarded secret). You felt like Icarus, when you were with him.

Getting up, you tried to block his punches, while getting in a few yourself. It was impossible, the man was a champ. You saw your opening, however, when he seemed to be distracted by someone approaching him from behind you. Seeing this as a golden opportunity to catch him off guard, you threw a punch aiming for his face. Unfortunately, he blocked the punch and pushed you, to ward you off. It seemed as if he too, forgot that he was a Super Soldier, pushing you a bit too hard.

You screamed as you fell to the ground, twisting to save your face, your arm breaking your fall. Your suspicions were confirmed as you tried to move your arm but couldn’t. Steve heard you yelp and rushed to your side, carefully inspecting your injured appendage. You squealed as he touched your arm, the pain indescribable. Steve whispered his apologies a million times, trying to haul you up by your waist, in vain. Finally, he gave up and picked you up bridal style, like you weighed nothing.

You gasped, partially out of pain, but mostly out of surprise at the sudden move. 

“Umm...Cap..tain..I..can..walk..” you stuttered, unable to keep the pain out of your voice.

He looked into your eyes and smiled, shaking his head. Oh dear lord. This man truly was gorgeous. Nearing the MedBay, he slowly placed you on the bed, his mouth tantalisingly close to yours as he lowered you onto the surface. You never realised how blue his eyes were, which at the moment were filled to the brim with anxiety and some other emotion; which you couldn’t quite place your finger on. Deciding you were probably delirious from the pain, you tried to focus on what the doctor was telling you.

“...so you’ll have to be on constant bedrest for the next two weeks before we can check again to see if you need a rod put in.” 

“Err, I’m sorry doc, what?” you mumbled apologetically, embarrassed by your thoughts.

“As I was telling Captain Rogers, you seem to have a hairline fracture in your ulna, which could require support. You need to rest and take it easy for at least two weeks. Training will have to be put on hold, and I suggest you call a family member to take care of you in the meantime.” the doctor said, scribbling notes.

“Oh, that..won’t be necessary. I can do stuff on my own, I’ll be very careful.” you said with a grimace, not wanting to seem weaker in front of Steve.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Steve said, firmly. “She’ll stay in my quarters. It’s the least I can do after breaking her arm.”

You stared at him, a million things going through your head. You and him, in the confines of a room, alone. Oh no. This was going to be torturous in more way than one.

“Oh no no no, Captain. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t like to impose. Plus, I’m feeling better already! I’m sure it’s more than manageable. Please..I..I’ll be okay, really.” you rushed, pretty sure that your voice was betraying just how fast your heart was beating.

Steve smirked. “This isn’t up for debate. Plus, I’m sure it would be easier for the others to check up on you when we’re away on missions.” he said, taking the prescription from the doctor.

You winced as he helped you up from the bed, the warmth of his hand making you hyperaware about what your life was gonna be like for 2 weeks. You sighed. It was gonna be a loooong two weeks.

-------

You realised after a week that your worries had all been for naught. Steve was an excellent caretaker. He made sure you took all your medicines at the right time, ate properly and rested enough. He was also a thorough gentleman, always calling a lady nurse when you needed to take a shower or get dressed; really respected your boundaries. But you couldn’t deny the shift in his behaviour towards you. At first, you felt like you were reading into it too much, but then it started to get more noticeable. They were little things, but it meant so much. He would insist on having lunch with you, no matter if you were quiet or chatty; Steve always was there. He brought your favourite blanket from your chambers to make sure you felt more comfortable. At night, he would make sure you were comfortable, get you hot chocolate, maybe even sit next to you till you fell asleep. One time, he held your hand till you drifted off; but you were sure that you felt him leave a small peck on your cheek as you nodded off.

If you weren’t falling for him earlier, you sure as hell were now.

------

After hitting the two week mark, you went to the doctor again for a checkup. All seemed well, there was no need for a rod to be put in but the cast would have to stay on. Steve was there throughout the appointment, listening intently at everything the doctor said with his full focus. It was quite distracting and kinda hot, and you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him periodically. On one occasion, he caught your eye and grinned, catching you in the act. You wished the ground would swallow you up just then: this man fully well knew that you had a crush on him and was enjoying messing with you.

You nearly gasped as you felt his hand on your shoulder, guiding you to the lift. Something was different today. Steve seemed buoyant, which was very out of character for him.

“The nurse isn’t available today, she had some prior commitments. If it’s ok with you, I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” he said, softly. You gulped, his tone messing with your train of thought.

“Uh, that’s ok, I can manage things for a night. I’ve already imposed on you quite a bit and don’t want to create more of a hassle.”

Steve smiled. “Sweetheart, you’ve not been a hassle, trust me. It felt nice having you around, I enjoy your companionship. Just a few weeks more and you can get rid of me.” he said, with a mischievous grin. You groaned inwardly; this man was driving you nuts.

“Oh no, I really liked staying with you. You’re great company! I don’t think I want to get rid of you, ha.” you said in a flourish, mentally cursing yourself for being such a blabbering fool around him.

Steve looked at you, his eyes darkening. He stepped closer to you, opening his mouth to say something, but the elevator seemed to sense the tension rife in the air and opened at that exact moment. You both snapped out of the haze you were in with Steve beckoning you to his quarters, his hand resting softly on your back.

Back in your room, you realised you needed to take your nightly shower. You were about to call for the nurse, when you remembered that she wasn’t gonna come. Shit. You’d have to call Steve to help with your sling. Closing your eyes, you sighed before you walked to his room, praying to God that you would get through this. Just go in, get the brace off, and get out, you whispered to yourself. With that mantra in mind, you hesitantly knocked on his door. A muffled ‘come in’ reached you, and you timidly entered the lion’s den.

Steve was tinkering with the laptop, clearly engrossed in some work. You felt guilty disturbing him, but it was kind of an emergency. 

“Is everything ok?”

“Yes, I..just needed some help with my sling; I tried to take it off, but it’s not coming off. Can you..unfasten it? I’ll be out of your hair in no time..”

Wordlessly, Steve sauntered over to you, turning you around to face the wall. Softly, his fingers undid the clasp of the sling, pulling the straps off your neck, his fingers grazing over your skin gently. You jerked, surprised by the small currents you felt with these small touches. Turning you around, he helped you take your arm out of the sling, his hands accidentally brushing the sides of your breasts. You didn’t dare make eye contact with him; you were sure you would say or do something you would regret later on. 

“All done.” he whispered, his eyes not leaving yours. You realised he was merely inches away from your lips; the proximity driving you crazy.

“Thanks.” you mumbled, wanting to run out of the room.

“Are you going to bed? Do you need anything to drink?” 

“Yes, I was just gonna head to bed after my shower.”

“You can shower here. I’d be able to keep an eye on you then and you won’t have to worry about any mishaps. See? Win-win.” he said with a grin.

You were about to decline his offer but stopped when he held up his hand. “You need to stop thinking that you’re a burden on me. I like doing things for you, it makes me feel like I’m not totally alone. These two weeks have undoubtedly been one of the best weeks in my life. I like you, and I know you like me. I just want to show you how much I care for you in my own, peculiar ways.” he said, taking your hand in his, drawing patterns on your knuckles softly.

Your mind raced with all the information. You never knew Steve felt this way, he was always so taciturn. Your gaze flitted to his face, his eyes darkening the way they did in the morning. He didn’t need words to convey what his eyes said; he felt the same way you did about him.

You melted as he raised your hand to his lips, placing a kiss which felt like petals grazing your skin. Leaning down, his lips inched closer to yours, his breath tickling your face.

“Tell me if I should stop, and I will.” he whispered.

You waited a beat before making your decision. Raising your lips to his, you touched his lips slightly before murmuring, “don’t stop.”

And that was it. You were lost in the maelstrom of emotions that was Steve kissing you. It started off sweet, with Steve engulfing your lips within his, taking his time to make sure you were enjoying. It turned heated the moment you ran your fingers through his hair, gently tugging on it. Steve ran his tongue over you, begging for entrance. You moaned and opened your mouth, prompting him to unite his tongue with yours, as if to memorise every inch of you. You broke apart, the need for air greater than your desire. 

He picked you up and carried you to the bed, placing you on it carefully. Being extremely careful, he pulled off your tee, eyes widening as he took in your bare chest. Kneeling in front of you, he took off your sweatpants and your underwear, leaving soft but searing kisses at every inch of skin he exposed. You sharply inhaled, already feeling yourself get wet even though he hadn’t even touched you properly.

Lowering you to the bed tenderly, he made sure your arm was resting comfortably, placing a pillow underneath the appendage. Placing his hand next to your head, he kissed you deeply, pouring every emotion he felt into that kiss. You moaned as you felt his lips trail lower, leaving kisses along your neck, laving your pulse point. Moving lower, he kissed your breasts, leaving small bites along the way. Taking a swollen nub in his mouth, he sucked on it while massaging the other, prompting you to groan and run your uninjured hand through his hair, wanting him inside you.

While he moved his attention to your other breast, he trailed his fingers down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He finally reached his destination, his fingers soft against your wet nether region. 

“Steve, please..I need you..” you whispered in urgency. His intrepid fingers found your swollen nub and circled; gently at first, and then with more intensity. Moving lower, his digits swirled around your wet lips, before plunging into your tight channel. You gasped as he began thrusting, his knuckles bumping along your front wall, hitting your sweet spot. You had to refrain from arching your back, instead relegating to pulling his head down for a kiss. He increased his speed, adding another finger once he sensed how close you were. You shrieked as you reached your peak, breaking apart from the kiss. 

As you opened your eyes, recovering from your orgasm, you saw Steve look at you, an unspoken question in his deep blue eyes. You nodded, cupping his cheek, running your thumb over his soft, soft skin. You don’t know what power he wielded over you, but it didn’t matter. You had no qualms being caught in this spell he wove.

Shedding his clothes, he returned to his place, widening your spread legs with his torso. Sitting back on his heels, he took in your body, his gaze running over every curve, every stretch mark, every beauty spot on your body. Taking his hard member in his hand, he gave a few strokes before lowering himself, running his nose against yours. He ran his tip along your wet folds before plunging into you in one swift move. You gasped and closed your eyes, your head falling back against the pillow. He gave you time to adjust to his size, your walls snug against him. After a moment, he began moving, careful to not move your arm. He started off slow, making sure you felt every inch of him. You hooked your legs around his hips, urging him to move faster. He took the hint, his pace increasing with each thrust. The coil in your belly was tightening and you could feel yourself hurtling towards completion for the second time. Running your hand along his back, your hand made it’s way to his ass, pushing down, begging him for more. Steve held himself up, looking deeply into your eyes, as he sped up his thrusts. You could feel him within you, each thrust hitting your weak spot over and over again.

You screamed his name as you reached your peak, your legs tightening around him; wrapping yourself around him like a vine. He was close too, his thrusts now becoming frantic as he was chasing his end. Your walls contracting around him set off his orgasm as he moaned, spilling every last drop of himself inside you. You both panted, as he dropped his head on your chest, trying to catch his breath. You both stayed like that for a while as you ran your fingers through his scalp, enjoying the feel of his weight on yours. 

There were many things to talk about, sure.

But for now, this was more than enough.

-----

Tags: @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @worksby-d @gotnofucks @imdarkinme @chris-butt @ozarkthedog

[dapandapod]

Place your smile in mine

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this little series I made almost a year ago. Jaskier asking for permission to touch Geralt just... melts me. I don’t know. And I wanted to give Geralt the same opportunity.

Thank you darling @kuripon for being my beta, as always, you are wonderful and I love you! <3

Is a part of a series but can be read as a stand alone. Please enjoy <3

part one: Taste of apples   part two:  Touch of home 

On Ao3

Hushed voices whisper around them in anticipation. The sun hangs high in the sky, a warm breeze gently playing with the ribbons hanging around the marketplace. It is a special day. Today the village comes together to celebrate the birth of a nearby lord's firstborn. Jugglers, bards, storytellers and acrobats mingle around the crowd, waiting for their turn on the stage. Jaskier is about to go up, and Geralt stands by his side, feeling rather useless.

“Seriously Geralt, go stand in the crowd. It’s gonna be fine,” Jaskier tells him with a half smirk. Geralt refuses to meet his eyes and shoves at the gravel on the ground with the tip of his shoe.

“They are not going to throw things at us, I promise.”

“That’s not it,” Geralt mutters, but he doesn’t want to explain himself further. The feeling of unease doesn’t let him go, and he finds it hard to leave Jaskier's side.

Jaskier must read it on him, so he steadies his lute with his left hand and reaches out to Geralt with the other. His hand is warm and soft against Geralt's, his fingers slipping over his palm and then lacing their fingers together. Geralt's heart lightens and tightens at the same time. It is a strange feeling. He gets a little squeeze before Jaskier lets him go.

“Go stand at the back of the crowd. Nobody will care anymore. Blaviken has come a long way since you were here last.”

So Jaskier noticed. It really seems to have changed, but Geralt still feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb. And he is a bit worried that he might drag Jaskier into it, just by having him close. He sighs, but does as he is told as Jaskier is called upon stage.

Usually towns aren’t that bad. At least not for short periods of time. Yes, he is eye-catching with his yellow eyes and tall form, but it is easy to get lost in the crowd. In a town, you can be invisible, even if it’s just for a little while. He had never expected this to be true in Blaviken.

Geralt is a good head taller than most of the men present, but they pay him very little mind. Their eyes, like his, are locked on the stage. Jaskier dominates the stage. He doesn’t need accompaniment, doesn’t need any backup. Up there, he shines. Geralt has seen him perform many times, and he never tires of it. The bard is already so full of himself, so Geralt only voices it on special occasions, but still. The truth is, Jaskier fills every space he enters brightly and effortlessly. His every move and word evokes feelings, both good and bad depending on who you ask. And Geralt can’t get enough.

Having had a taste of it, a taste of what Jaskier promises in his songs, it does something to him. Something he can’t put his finger on, but wants more of. That single squeeze of his hands pushed the unease away, if just for a little while.

Geralt watches Jaskier move about, winking as his long fingers pluck at the strings and shape the sound. He realizes he is fixated on Jaskier's hands, and that he can feel the ghost of it against his palm. He flexes his hand to shake it off, and when he looks up again, Jaskier is watching him. Geralt's breath catches in his throat, and he is suddenly glad to have some space between them.

When the last song is sung, Jaskier bows deeply and accepts the generous applause and cheers from the crowd. Geralt gets lost in thought, lost in the ghost sensations of Jaskier's hand around his, and next thing he knows, Jaskier is standing right in front of him.

“There,” he says, smiling brightly. He is just a little sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead. “Shall we take a stroll? I am pretty sure I saw plum pastries somewhere, and I haven’t had them since I was a child.”

Geralt files that information away, and nods. They visit two stalls right next to the town square where the stage is set up, the crowd not letting up in the least. Geralt can’t stop thinking about Jaskier's hand in his.

Maybe he should just ask. Jaskier asks for things all the time. He could.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier stands bent over a table lined with rings and trinkets, scratching his chin with one hand and the other perched on his hip.

“Mhm?”

The stall owner gives Geralt a long look, and maybe now is not the time. Geralt turns away before any comments can be made, deciding that maybe this was a bad idea after all.

“What’s wrong, my dear friend?” Jaskier asks, standing up and walking over to bump his shoulder against Geralt's. Somehow, Geralt is grateful that Jaskier isn’t using his name.

Unease pushes its way into his chest again and makes him tense up. He just wants it to go away.

“Can I ask you something?” Geralt manages, and Jaskier smirks.

“Isn't it usually me asking that?” he says, and oh. Yeah, maybe he does. “And always.”

Geralt takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

“May I hold your hand?” he asks.

Jaskier doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t tease. He just slips his hand into Geralt's. He looks up at Geralt, his eyes seeing so much more than Geralt thought he showed. His arm is a warm, comforting presence against his side, his fingers a little damp and hot, but it fights that unease, it pushes it away and replaces it with something else.

They start walking again, slowly. Jaskier sticks close, and Geralt fights the urge to lace their fingers together. But why should he fight it? He readjusts the grip, Jaskier looking up at him when he lets go for a moment. When his fingers intertwine with Jaskier's, he feels like his heart is beating out of his chest. Jaskier just smiles and squeezes his hand tighter. They find the stall with the plum pastries, and Jaskier's laugh when Geralt gets a bit of cream on his nose is the dorkiest, most wonderful sound Geralt has ever heard.

Maybe he can ask... for more…

They end up at the outskirts of town, where the decorations are fewer and the shadows longer from the setting sun.

“Can I ask you something else?” Geralt ventures, coming to a halt between two houses. The street is empty and quiet, most people still in the town center, enjoying the entertainment.

“Yes.” Jaskier smiles, still standing just as close as when they were in the crowd.

“May I kiss you?”

Jaskier's eyes widen, and he sucks in a breath as color climbs his cheeks.

“Yes, please,” he breathes, leaning forward.

Geralt tightens his grip around their fingers and tucks his other hand under Jaskier's chin, tilting it upwards. The kiss is tender, much like the first time, and it doesn’t take much for them to fall deeper. Geralt's hand cradles Jaskier's cheeks, and Jaskier brings up his own hand to hold it. There are words at the tip of his tongue.

They haven’t talked about it, but the feeling that replaces the unease is big. Important. Heavy. When they part, Geralt wonders if Jaskier can read it in his eyes, like he read almost everything else today.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and Jaskier smiles again.

“Anytime,” he whispers back, pulling at Geralt's hand so that it rests over Jaskier's heart. “Anytime.”

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #20 - Anon

AO3 LINK HERE

Fill under the cut.

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

A short letter, written in painstakingly neat Eorzean, tucked inside a small wooden box.

--

Dear Sazha,

It has been some time since last we spoke; I hope all is well. I was very distraught when L'haiya told me you had gone away, as it seemed so unlike you to leave without a parting word. I would have liked to wish you goodbye and safe travels before you left, but perhaps a letter will do as well.

I know you're in training to be a soldier somewhere, and you don't yet have a permanent posting for me to send a package, but I have gained Lord van Baelsar's assurances that he will see to its safe and uneventful delivery. I have elected to have some small faith that it will reach you in due time. Postmasters are not like to defy a legatus, or a provincial viceroy for that matter.

I'm sorry to say that my first letter to make its way to you must bring with it sad tidings. Father is dead.

Father is gone 

father is ps

(The next two lines are illegible: a series of the same aborted statements, each crossed out with a firm hand. The rest is obscured by an ink blot, or perhaps an especially frustrated scrawl from the writer's quill.)

Father has passed away. killed by fighters up in the mountains. 

I'm not very clear on the exact details, and I'm not to talk about it very much in any case as I'm told it is a security matter. I hope you can understand.

Due to present circumstances I will be leaving home sooner than I had thought. Lord van Baelsar has reached out to my aunt and uncle who live in the capital-- the ones you met Saturnalia last. They will be arriving on the morrow to see me and my father and some of my personal belongings onto a transport. It seems I'm to sit the Academy's entrance exams in person after all. I will be staying with them in their villa in Garlemald. I'm not certain yet how long.

I keep thinking about the day Father died. The viceroy was in the parlor with L'haiya when he told me what happened. He asked if there was anyone I could call to come stay with me, or anything he could do. It was all very kind of him but I think maybe everyone was expecting me to cry and I couldn't.

The house feels so strange now. I can't sleep so I go down the stairs at night on my way to the garden. I open the door every time I pass and I don't know why. His study is empty and it'll always be empty now. Sometimes I think I can hear him talking.  I can still smell his cigars and the whiskey bottles.

None of it seems real. L'haiya said it probably just hasn't sunk in yet.

She told me earlier today that she'll be staying behind in Ala Mhigo. The viceroy offered her a ps position in the palace. she'll be workng in  wkr 

[----]

(Water marks have stained and bled the ink here beyond recognition.)

She'll be part of the goverm government, working in civil service. I wish she would come with me to Garlemald, no matter what Uncle Janus says. I told her she could come even if it was just as a travel companion, that the viceroy would have allowed that much, but she refused.

L'haiya says she had to give me up and I have to be on my own from now on.

She's leaving me too. It hurts so much. I couldn't say anything to her without crying and I know she hates that sort of display, so I left the room instead. I haven't spoken to her since.

I don't know why she would say <s>someething</s> something like that to me.

I miss you. It's hard doing all of this by myself.

But, Sazha, I know things must be far more difficult for you than they are for me. When I’m out in the garden late at night I think about you being so far away from home and everything you know, and how lonely you must be. I know I am.

I was thinking maybe if you had something of mine then it might be at least a little easier to get through your days. So I'm letting you borrow Mama's memento mori. Please be careful with it. It's old. I don't know if you can wear it; I don’t think the army will let you do that anyway, but you can still hold onto it for me for a little while. Only you have to give it back to me when we see each other again, all right?

I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be all right. I have school to think about and that should keep me busy. I'll still find the time to write to you, my letters will just come from Garlemald instead.

Please be safe. I hope to hear from you soon.

All my best,

Aurelia

[damienthepious]

Arum needs one last hurrah of stupidity. I love him.

still need your teeth around my organs (chapter 10)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ao3] [ch 11] [epilogue?]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags:  Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Enemies to Lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Dueling, Sexual Tension, (because they’re IDIOTS), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, mutual IDIOTS, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings, Polyamory, (eventually lmao), Polyamory Negotiations

Fic Summary: Damien won yesterday, Arum won today, and now all  that’s left is to break the tie. The only issue, however, is that  neither of them are willing to do so, not until they are both satisfied  that they have fought fairly, and honorably, and one of them has truly won.

Chapter Summary: A fairly inevitable breakdown.

Chapter Notes: Yes, there will be one more chapter. Yes, I know i probably said that last time too. Yes, i have exactly zero control over this whole fuckign mess. But i am fairly confident this time. Next chapter should be the last one. Should be. Probably. Don't blame me, blame these fucking ridiculous flowers. Chapter specific WARNING for some pretty active suicidal ideation in this chapter, or at least, a sense of... acceptance of death. take care of yourselves please!!!

~

Damien is healing well. Extremely well. Amaryllis has even helped to modify less strenuous versions of his usual exercises, to help him rebuild his strength as he heals.

(Arum only knows this because the ridiculous knight is stubborn enough (or bored enough) to be out in the clearing next to Amaryllis' hut in the evening, shirtless and stretching as the dusk slowly gives way to night, breathing slow and measured, expression poised, when Arum slips from the trees.)

("While still bandaged, you ridiculous little fool," he growls, and Damien grins slyly, rolling his shoulders and shifting into his next set of stretches without pause.)

(Arum does not know what to do with the way his stomach pulses. He rolls his eyes, sweeps past the knight with a huff, and goes to join Amaryllis inside, instead. He pretends not to envy her position as they converse, leaning by the window to sip her tea, expression smug and hungry as she holds the curtains open with her other hand.)

Damien is healing well, which means that it is only a matter of time before he and Arum will duel again. Again, and for the last time, though he has not said as much to Sir Damien, just yet.

Arum doesn't know why he puts the conversation off. Perhaps it is because Sir Damien does not speak of their combat particularly often, during his recuperation. Perhaps Arum is simply following his lead. Perhaps it is because he does not want to cause any further anxiety while Damien still heals.

Amaryllis has explained Damien's paroxysms, his panic attacks, as she calls them. She has explained that he suffered one during the gap between two of Arum's visits, which set him back somewhat in his recovery, so draining they are to him, so much energy they steal. Arum would prefer not to cause another attack by forcing more stress upon Damien's healing, not until he is fully steady.

In the meantime.

Arum wins more games than he loses, now. Damien seems unbothered by the trend. He smiles wryly, in fact, and shakes his head, and he reminds Arum that he predicted as much before their very first game.

"I knew you were clever and strategic before I invited you to turn those talents against me on this particular battlefield, my dear rival," Damien murmurs, his eyes down as they both reset the board, and Arum pretends not to feel it like a static charge each time their fingers brush together over the pieces. "I can hardly complain now, can I? Besides," his eyes flick up, sharp warm amber, and Arum stills, "I do believe I am improving, anyway."

~

"Oh!" Rilla looks up from her almanac with a grin and a spark in her eyes. "Okay so- there's this specific, mildly magical species of moonvine that blooms exclusively on the new moon - newmoonvine, obviously, scientists aren't the most creative, speaking nomenclaturally - but that's not the only thing, it has this longer cycle, too, where, on a specific new moon once every nine years - every eight point eight five years, technically, but close enough - the flowers don't just bloom, they reach a point of magical accumulation in their cells that causes an overflow, and while they bloom, they glow, too." She pauses, grinning too hard to speak for a moment. "According to Cerastes-"

"Sage Cerastes," Damien pleads, clearly an automatic correction despite his own grin, and Amaryllis relents with a shrug.

"If the Sage noted the dates correctly," she continues, "there's going to be a glow-bloom in three months! And I," she says smugly, "just so happen to know the location of a grove of newmoonvine just about an hours' walk away."

Arum blinks, and- Amaryllis' excitement is catching, in an odd way. Clearly Damien is affected; he has that look in his eyes, that poetry look, all eagerness and art and pleasure, and Arum-

Arum can't pretend that he isn't fascinated by the idea. He has his own modified morning glories that will glow for him at various prompts, his own creations, but- it isn't the same as the phenomenon in the wild, a full grove of the flowers attracting luna moths and giant hawk moths, all glimmering with magical bioluminescence.

"It's still a few months off, and Damien, you'll be fine in like two weeks, so we don't need to worry about overexerting you! And they only bloom at night anyway, so the three of us could pack a basket, meet up around dusk. It'd only be a short hike, and then we could watch the whole thing together! I'd need to do just, like, a little bit of research to see how the reproductive structure of the flowers differs from their less-magical counterparts," she adds in a side-of-the-mouth rush, but she turns back with a grin, her eyes darting between the both of them. "But the rest of the night could be just for us! It coincides with the new moon, obviously, but the bioluminescence should be more than enough to see by and we could just relax, have a little midnight picnic, spend some time... together...?"

Her voice trails off. She must see the look on his face, whatever it is.

The truly painful part is that Arum can imagine it. Easily. He can imagine exactly how stunning they must look in full bloom, a full grove all growing tangled together, wild and thriving. He can imagine, as well, exactly how delighted Amaryllis will be to see them, exactly how fond Sir Damien will be to share in her delight, exactly how wide she will grin and how she will bounce on her heels. How she will snatch up Damien's hand, greedy-tight. How he will so fondly follow in the wake of her enthusiasm. How Arum-

The part he can't imagine: his own place, beside them.

(The part he cannot allow himself to contemplate: where he could be, beside them.)

"It's a long way off," Amaryllis says, her voice strained and high, truly nervous for perhaps the first time to his recollection. "We don't have to- I'm getting ahead of- it's not important, it's nothing."

It is important. He can hear it in her voice. He still does not know what he must be showing on his own face. It feels stiff. He feels hollow. He feels stupid.

Arum has been complacent. He has allowed all three of them to become far too comfortable with this- this nonsense arrangement, this temporary sheathing of claws while Damien heals, so comfortable that Amaryllis has clearly forgotten-

Death is the only ending his duels with Damien will be allowed. It is a cruelty to all three of them, to pretend otherwise. It is a cruelty to indulge in this comfort, when it will so soon be snatched away.

Arum would never be allowed to stay, not truly, not forever. Their positions- the Senate, the Crown, the war, they cannot, they will never be allowed anything between them besides violence, and it does not matter a single breath what they might want, what Arum might want-

Held breath. Prey-still, terror to the bone.

Does he- does he want?

No. Stupidity in the extreme. No.

But-

(Please-)

He does. He wants it.

This. Here. Them. The evening Amaryllis proposed. A thousand nights like this. Hearth-warmth. Tea with honey, Damien's voice, Amaryllis' laugh, the garden grove. A formless more that feels like a hot stone plunging through his stomach when he tries to place it. Amaryllis' hand on his shoulder. Damien's hand on his wrist. Hearth-warmth from something besides the hearth. He wants-

He wants all of it.

And he knows he cannot have it.

"Arum," Damien says quietly. "Are you alright?"

Of course not, honeysuckle. In two weeks you will be well, and I will be dead, and two and a half months after that, the both of you will hold each other in the glow of night and never need think of me again.

Arum stands, and both humans wince, sharing a look between them of obvious panic, and Arum feels a sting of strange embarrassment at their scrutiny.

"I-" his voice catches strangely, he flicks his tongue to pretend some intention in the fumble. "I need- to leave."

"Wait wait- wait, hang on, I didn't mean to-" Amaryllis reaches out, her palm almost pressing to his bicep, and he leans away just in time to avert the contact. "Arum. It's not a big deal! I just- I like- I like, spending time with you?" she tries, sounding uncertain and panicked, and Arum's stomach churns. "I thought- look, just because you'll be dueling again doesn't mean you won't still be welcome here. Be welcome with us. Okay? That's all I- I-"

"Don't be an imbecile," Arum snaps, and Amaryllis winces as Sir Damien stiffens at the edge of his vision.

"Arum," he says, his tone a quiet warning.

"It's nonsense. I- this is- this is my own fault," he mutters, shaking his head. "My fault for- I should never have come here in the first place, fell into stupidity drop by drop without even- I need to leave. Go back where I belong."

"Please," Amaryllis says, and this time she doesn't pull away when he tries to avoid her hand, she only steps closer and reaches to wrap her warm palm around his forearm, squeezing lightly. "I- Arum, I know I didn't do this right but I don't want to- I like having you around! I like being friends with you and when I thought about doing this it was just- it was just natural, to think that you would be there too, that it would be-" her smile breaks in the middle, her eyes overbright. "The three of us."

"I am a monster, and we are not friends," Arum snarls, and Amaryllis-

Amaryllis flinches, and pulls her hand back.

"Liar," she says after half a beat, but her voice wavers and her eyes- her dark eyes shine in a way that makes Arum want to dig his claws into his own scales. He turns away instead, moving stiffly for the door.

"Believe whatever you like," he mutters, stunned that his voice even catches on the words. "It does not matter. I don't plan on ever seeing you again anyway."

He slams the door closed behind him with his tail.

He moves swiftly, but not swiftly enough. He hears the door bang back open, hears Sir Damien's voice call out through the dark, hears footsteps crunching through the underbrush in his wake.

He ignores them. Tries to move more quickly, more quietly, but eventually, through the thumping of his own blood, his own harsh breaths, he hears-

Damien panting hard, hissing under his breath, audible pain-

He spins on his heel, bolting back and nearly running face first into the knight as he stumbles back, and Arum snarls, slashing a hand through the air between them.

"What are you doing?"

"Arum-"

"Go home, you idiot, your injury-"

"Will survive a light jog," Damien snaps, his brow furrowed with something that approaches actual anger as he exhales a panting breath. "Arum. Please. We can talk about this. You don't need to- to leave, to go hide away alone again when you could perfectly well continue to-"

"Do not act as if you know anything at all about my life," Arum hisses, stung by the realization of how accurate Damien's guess is.

He looks mildly abashed, however, and sighs before he takes another step closer. "Perhaps you're right. I do not know all that much about you, outside of the context of... us." He pauses, and Arum suppresses a flinch at the last word. "But... Arum, I would like to. Very much."

"You- what?"

"I want to know you. I want- I want the chance to know you. I have been... I have been grateful to have you near, to let you know me."

"Don't be an idiot," Arum growls. "Knight. The only reason you could possibly want more information on me is to better know how to slay my kind."

"But-"

"You are nearly healed. Two weeks, Amaryllis said. In two weeks, we will fall back into our proper places again and one of us will die, and all of this nonsense will be meaningless again."

"I... I understand, if you wish to return to our duels, as before, but- but Arum, it does not have to be- have to be all that we are, to each other, it truly doesn't, and my knighthood is-"

"I am finished with the charade, Sir Damien. This next time," Arum says, his voice coming dry as old leaves, "this duel will be the last. It is time we finally break the tie."

Damien stills, his expression washed of anything Arum could read. After a moment he inhales, slow and measured, and then he exhales with just as much control.

"May I ask," he says slowly, "what will make this next rematch so special, dear rival? I thought you would better like to judge our performance as it occurred, to see if we both manage to live up to each other's quite exacting standards."

"I can't keep doing this, Damien," Arum snaps. "We can't. We- it cannot go on forever."

Damien wets his lips, then takes a step closer. "Not forever," he says quietly. "No. Not forever, but- what has changed, then? What is so different now from before I- is this because of my injury? Arum, I acted foolishly and came to harm because of it, yes, but I think I have proven time and time again that I am a worthy match for you. The interference of another monster should not lower your estimation of my skills-"

"No." Arum shakes his head sharply. "No, that isn't- I do not think you unworthy, Sir Damien."

Rather painfully far from it, in fact.

"Then what is it? What have I done? Why-"

"I am tired," Arum snaps, but the simplicity and honesty of the statement burns his tongue after it escapes, and he shakes his head quickly. "I am tired of doing this. I am bored of the same match again and again, I am- I find I've lost interest in dragging this on and on and on," he lies, and he tries not to feel it curdle in his stomach, when the color drains from Damien's face, his expression stiffening in quite a different way. "This cannot go on forever, and- and I would rather kill it in one final battle while we are both still sharp and focused than to allow ourselves to wane and bore and- and-"

"I thought-"

Damien pauses, and Arum can hear his heartbeat thudding, hard enough that he expects the poet must find it uncomfortable. He does lift his hand, in fact, pressing it hard over the center of his chest as he bites his lip and forces his breathing slower.

"You said- I thought that you said that I need not worry, for that," he manages, his voice halfway to whisper, blank of expression. "That I need not worry about falling from your attention in my recovery."

Warm in Amaryllis' hut, drowsy and half-coherent-

Arum remembers. He knows what he said.

"You have my attention, Sir Damien," he says, voice flat. "My full attention. And when our final duel is over, one of us will have the full attention of the other for the last time."

"But-" Damien stumbles again, his face wincing before he rushes through his next words. "Please. I thought- I thought that this- this rivalry between us, I thought it meant something to you the way it means something to me-"

"Means something to- do you mean treason? To continue to allow me to live, despite your oaths? Monsters don't quite share the concept, exactly, but I certainly would not be ingratiated to any of monsterkind if they knew how long I had been playing with my prey without finishing the job."

"No, that isn't what I-" he shakes his head. "Arum. Listen- my injury, it was- I said, before, it was my own fault. I have been-" he pauses again. "Since we have had this- this- this understanding, it has been difficult- I have been unable to see other monsters as... as- as quarry, as I once did, and-"

"Nonsense."

"No. Listen. I have been- when I am sent out, I have- I have been trying, to reach out, to listen, to- to see things as they are, and not as I have been taught, not how I expect them to be, and this injury-"

Arum pulls his head back, horrified. "Was your latest idiotic attempt to- to do what? To try to make friends?"

Damien furrows his brow, huffing a breath. "It may not have been sentient," he admits. "Or perhaps it was unwilling to trust my intentions, rather understandably. That does not mean that I regret trying. There are other creatures, other monsters that have been- grateful, for a chance, or- suspicious, understandably, but still- monsterkind is not so simple as this monolith of evil, as I have been taught, and I have spoken to some, established a rapport with-"

"How good to know that after you slay me, then," Arum snaps, "you will have a brand new monster to entertain you and your bow."

Damien's expression cracks, opening with something like despair, but Arum cannot-

He does not understand, he cannot believe-

He spins. "The next time will be the last. Two weeks. Here. Midnight," he spits, and he does not listen to whatever Sir Damien calls out in his wake as he retreats into the dark.

~

Two weeks until their duel.

The Keep feels emptier, now, in a way he does not understand. They were never here, so- the feeling makes no sense.

He rejects three contracts outright. He is making enemies, likely, but he simply cannot-

(Eliminate the human infection. Laughable. Arum cannot even eliminate the way they have infected him.)

He will be dead in two weeks, anyway. Better not to commit to anything he knows he will never have the chance to fulfill.

Smaller contracts. Easier projects. Symbiotic combinations of shrubs and vines meant to grow into easy, natural fences, sturdy living walls. Hybrid bug-plants to be used as motion-detecting alarms. Blooms with sleep-inducing pollen. A new subspecies of macrachnid with a silk that happens to be the perfect tensile strength for a delicate, near-invisible bowstring-

The ache in his chest is constant. It pulses when he draws his claws through the silk, when he imagines-

Best not to imagine anything.

The silk will serve just as well as tripwire, anyway.

He works to keep his mind occupied, to exhaust himself past thought, to wrap up loose ends. When he is finished wearing himself out, he curls up with a cup of serrated palm tea (the ache again - he stuffs it down) and he speaks with the Keep. He listens. He thinks- he knows he has been a rotten Lord, belligerent and stubborn and intermittently cruel, despite himself, and-

It deserves better than the worst of him, for whatever time he has left.

It worries, buzzing through the boughs and eaves, but he only smiles as honestly as he is able, and asks for a new song. Something he has not heard, yet.

Arum does not need anything, anyone, besides his Keep, anyway. It was only ever foolishness to pretend otherwise.

(Amaryllis' laugh. The way she spoons the honey into their tea, and then takes one last little spoonful for herself, eyes slipping shut as she tastes the gold. Her absent humming.)

He does not care one way or another, for the lack of their company.

(Damien's gentle smile, his pleading eyes, his narrow, clever fingers and the way he draws them over his pieces on the board before he makes his move. His sleep-fluted voice shaping around Arum's name.)

It was only ever a distraction. Only moments between his last duel and his next. A distraction.

It does not matter, and their absence does not hurt.

~

Arum dreams-

Best to forget, really.

~

Arum breaks, just once, and the Keep (ridiculous thing) almost sounds relieved as it pulls the portal open for him to slink hurriedly through. The darkness cloaks him as he approaches, he does not even make enough noise to startle the fox hunting beneath him as he slithers through the trees.

Amaryllis' hut sits precisely as he last saw it, an island of mellow illumination in the jungle night, and he barely noses his face out of the bushes before he sees-

Amaryllis' door hangs open, and Arum's stomach clenches with dread before he sees the silhouettes sitting on the step, haloed by the hearth and the lanterns back inside. His eyes adjust, after a moment, enough to see them better.

One of Damien's arms wraps around Amaryllis' shoulder, her head tipped sideways, her nose tucked against his jaw as her body heaves with something like a sigh, and Arum can just barely see the edge of a wry little smile on the poet's lips.

Damien- murmurs something, Arum can hear only the edges of it, and Amaryllis shakes her head against him, very lightly.

"-my fault," she says, her voice rising and - Arum blinks, startled - on the tremulous edge of tears. "You were right and if I just knew how to leave well enough alone, he would-"

Another murmur from Damien, still too quiet to parse, and Arum- Arum resists the urge to creep closer. Too risky, too high a chance of them spotting the movement or the shine of his eyes.

"But it was," she insists, shifting away enough that she can look towards Damien, though she doesn't dislodge his arm from around her shoulder. "I forgot. I forgot that we were all still pretending that we don't- pretending that you're going to kill each other. I forgot that I'm not allowed to let him know that I want him here-"

Her voice cracks off like a branch breaking, a brittle noise, and Damien's face twists in sympathy as he pulls her close against his side again.

Damien murmurs, Arum's teeth clenching with the foolish desire for the poet to raise his damn voice, he just wants to hear-

"Fine," Amaryllis says, anger sharp above that layer of sorrow. "Fine. It's his fault then."

A vague tutting, still too quiet though Arum can hear the tone of gentle chastising, and Amaryllis scowls hard.

"He's deluded, I don't know why he won't just- just-"

Another quiet interjection. Arum bares his teeth, relents just a breath, slinks a foot or two closer, carefully low.

"I didn't- it's just so stupid, he can help me wash our dishes and play board games with you and snark about my research and spend night after night with us but the second I bring up the future like it's- like it's possible it scares him off? It's just so- I'm sorry, Damien, I shouldn't have-"

"You didn't do anything wrong. The way we want him isn't wrong," Damien says, calm and firm and steady, and Arum twitches-

And snaps a branch.

They stiffen on the step, both of their faces lifting in his direction, expressions obscured somewhat by the light pouring out the door behind them, and Arum- they can't possibly see him, can they? They can't- too much foliage around him, too much gloom for their limited eyes, they can't-

Damien shifts on the step, slowly standing.

"Arum?" he says, his voice gentle and hopeful.

Arum remains perfectly still. He focuses on stillness as a concept. Anything to keep from thinking about their voices, their faces, the strange sorrow of their embrace.

Damien glances towards Amaryllis as she stands as well, and they communicate something silently before- Damien takes the steps down, moving towards Arum, and he-

Panics, of course. This was- idiotic from the start. He should have known better than to come back- should have known better than to follow Amaryllis here in the first place. His claws slip and scratch against the muddy ground, the leaf litter, his cape catching and snapping more branches in his wake as he flees through the underbrush, and in his backwards scramble he watches Damien startle, watches Amaryllis jolt forward as if to give chase.

"Arum!" she calls, and Arum does not know if she truly saw him or if she is only hoping, but-

He does not falter, does not stop, bolts straight back towards his portal home. This was nonsense, anyway. This was weakness. The next time he sees Sir Damien-

The will duel, and one of them (he knows) will die, and it will be the end of all this absurdity.

It will be the end.

[↣]

[lucifersforkedtongue993]

Here's the first chapter of my story which can be found on Ao3

Errand Girl: Part I

The trip to the outskirts of the village was much longer than you thought it would be, especially considering the 20 lbs. of supplies loaded in your pack. You were not looking forward to Heisenberg’s factory. You had heard all sorts of tales about the supposed horrors that lurked behind those walls, and while you wrote most of it off as simple village gossip, you couldn’t help but feel freaked out as the overgrown property came into view.

God you couldn’t even imagine having to take this trip at night. Who knows what lurks out there in the shadows?

Taking one last look at the sun-bleached factory walls, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself against whatever you were about to go into. As you walk up to the old gate, before you could even reach to push it open, it creeks inward, leaving a gap just large enough to let you through. Quickly walking through the opening, the gate slams closed behind you, causing you to jump, almost dropping your pack.

Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly close the gap between you and the factory doors, which also creak open at your approach. One more deep breath, you could do this. You had to.

As you cross the threshold, you are greeted by a dimly lit entry way that led down a short hall. You could hear Heisenberg talking about something animatedly, and you followed the sound of his voice to a metal door at the end of the hallway.

The small grungy window on the door allowed you to see the top of his broad shoulders and the well-worn hat covering his head. You knock tentatively, watching him turn around abruptly, calling the large metal hammer to him, catching it artfully.

“Who the fuck is it?!” Heisenberg booms from the other side of the door.

Quite the welcome, you thought to yourself. “It’s (Y/n), the Duke sent me. I have your supplies.” You called back.

“Well then why didn’t you say so! I thought you were Moreau, always coming by unannounced, spreading his stink about the place. Anyways, get in here and we’ll settle up.” Said Heisenberg.

The door swung open abruptly, and you took that as your cue to enter.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. The Duke sends you. You’re fucking tiny. You’re in over your head here girlie.” Heisenberg spits at you. Out of nowhere, a thick metal bar wraps itself around your ankles, flipping you upside down and shaking you a good few times. The few things in your pockets clattered to the floor below, and the heavy backpack tugging you down with its weight. It was over as soon as it started, and you were released, falling to the cement floor with a hard slap.

That is definitely going to bruise.

Before even allowing you to retort, he waves you off dismissively, continuing, “Drop the pack on the table, there’s a sack of coins on the table to bring back to the Duke, grab it and take a fucking hike.”

You can’t believe it. He doesn’t even give you a chance. The great Lord Heisenberg is no better than the rest of the idiots in the village, making snap judgments and dismissing you like you’re a child. Well fuck that, you’ve had enough! You didn’t even want to have to deal with his bullshit anyways!

You grab the bag roughly, dropping your pack on the table with a hard thud. You turn sharply, bringing yourself to meet his eyes, or his sunglasses, rather. “Look here asshole, I don’t know who died and made you King, but I’m not like the rest of the gullible pricks in the village. I don’t pray to you, or even Mother Miranda for that matter. I am here to do a fucking job. If you have a problem with that, you can bring it up with the Duke, or better yet shove it up your ass!” You yell, fire blazing in your eyes.

Before Heisenberg can lash out at you, you take off out the door, back the way you came, each heavy metal door slamming closed behind you. You can hear him call out to you as you retreat, “Run away little girl, that’s it run home to Mommy and Daddy!”

As you make it out of the factory, you could swear that you heard his deep, rumbling laugh following you out.

Well that could have gone better. You were absolutely fuming the whole hike back to the village. You made your way over to the Duke as quickly as possible, handing him Heisenberg’s payment, and receiving your own meager share. You thought best to leave abruptly, hoping that Heisenberg hadn’t called to complain about your attitude, but the Duke’s voice over your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh (y/n) dear, I want to see you back here in two days’ time. It seems you have made quite the impression on our very own Lord Heisenberg. Or at the very least you captured his attention… a very curious thing indeed.” He called to you. “Do be careful dear, and watch what you say, he has quite a temper you see, and I would hate to see you bear the brunt of it.”

You interacted as little as possible with your family that night, hoping to spare them your foul mood. You went to sleep that night with your stomach in knots, praying that Heisenberg wouldn’t use your outburst as an excuse to torture you, or even worse yet, get you fired

Here's the link to the rest that's up! 😊