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wysteria-clad · 2 years

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That's my wife! - a drabble

paring: Benedict Bridgerton x wife! reader

warnings: none, cheesy af, fluff really

summary: Reader gets married to Benedict a week ago. He drinks 'special tea' and couldn't believe he really married her.

a/n: gif credit

Dearest gentle reader,

An artist must be free to follow their muse. It appears Mister Bridgerton followed his muse and his heart. The wedding of Lord Benedict and Lady Y/n was was quite remarkable event of this season. Congratulations to Mr and Mrs Bridgerton. This author wishes them well.

Lady Whistledown's society.

You tucked that issue of Whistledown in the bottom drawer of your desk, a hint of smile at the words 'Mrs Bridgerton'. You married the love of your love and you couldn't be more happier.

You finally looked at your reflection in the mirror, before leaving for the family dnner with the Sharmas.

A pair of arms snaked around your waist from behind, "You look lovely". You smiled at your husband's reflection in the mirror. "as always" he added, kissing your neck and your right shoulder blade.

"Charming as always, Mr. Bridgerton"

"Only for you, Mrs. Bridgerton", he turned you around to cup your face in his gentle hands, a warm smile of his own filled his face, eyes crinkling with unhidden warmth and love.

You leaned into his touch, kissing him tenderly.

Benedict pulled your body closer, as if to merge completely with you. He bit your bottom lip slightly and pulling in down, a gasp escaped your mouth. His skillful hand lowered and slowly hiked your dress up.

"Ben" you breathed in, managing to pull away from him remembering your agenda. "We have dinner in an hour, remember?"

"I can think of few ideas to keep my wife occupied"

It's been just a week since you got married, you and him cut your honeymoon short in the events of his Art Academy application. You didn't complain, you knew how important this was to him.

"You know we won't be able to stop" you smiled at him, teasingly. "Besides, i would like to catch up with your mother and sisters, it's been a while we talked"

A groan escaped his lips.

"Alright, alright"

You greeted everyone who greeted you a smile and a welcoming nod. The dinner began.

"The twinkle of the candle is...it is as if we sit among the stars....", Benedict rambled.

You looked at your husband on your left, he spoke differently, like he was not fully aware the surroundings.

"It is too bright, isn't it Y/n/n?"

You looked at him with absolute amusement in your eyes. He is definitely not sober.

"What is wrong with you?" Eloise enquired her brother.

"I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece" Colin swooped in before anyone would ask more questions about his brother's behaviour.

Ah. Now you understood.

Now, Benedict moved his hand knocking over goblet of wine.

"Oh, Benedict, dear-" started Violet.

You bit your lip from smiling. You put down your fork and grabbed your husband's hand from knocking more things over, and placed both of your hands over his.

"Benedict" your voice was so soft.

He looked down at your hand, and looking up at your face with gentle expression. "Oh, my sweet Y/n/n, when i look at you, all i have in my heart is you!" he confessed loudly.

Everyone stopped and stared at you and him at his outburst. Your cheeks heated up at the sudden attention.

"I wish to marry you..." he interwined his fingers with yours, "We shall be married tomorrow!" he stated as a matter of fact.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Benedict, Benedict" you said his name slowly to get his full attention, "Ben, my love, we are already married. Look." you pointed at both of your wedding rings.

His face switched from longing to the utmost love. "We are married?"

"Mm hmm"

"We are married. We are married!"

Mumbling apologies, you grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the table.

"That's my wife!" he yelled proudly as you linked your arm with him, trying to drag him to your room.

"Aren't they lovely" Violet looked at your both with affection. It reminded her of own love with Edmund.

"They are so adorable, I'm feeling nauseous" Eloise made a gagging face.

"You all shall witness my beautiful wife!" he tried to go back and show you off to his family.

You heard everyone's chuckle and laughter.

"Ben!" your face turned red. Laughing even more, you pulled him inside your room before locking the door.

You couldn't help but smile at your adorable husband.

You did really get lucky.

#benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton

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francesminos-tt · 1 year

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Lucemond time travel fix-it au with a twist where a 11-year-old Aemond and his 30-year-old self switches bodies.

Older!Aemond is happily married to Lucerys. They have three children and Lucerys is nursing their youngest.

Youger!Aemond just got his eye gauged out. Poor boy.

It all starts at that fateful night on Driftmark. Aemond claimed Vaghar but lost an eye. The pain is too intense, the hurt too deep, the humiliation too intolerable, and most importantly, the indifference in his father’s eyes is too much to bear. As the maester is sewing his flesh back together, Aemond blacks out for a bit.

When he wakes up next, he finds himself in a strange place. He’s lying on a massive bed; the unique ocean scent tells him that he’s still on Driftmark, but the surrounding is completely different from mere seconds ago. Did he pass out longer than he thought? Did his mother put him to rest? Why is his face not hurting? What is the warmth on his left?

Aemond doesn’t have to wonder any longer, because the warmth shifts and Aemond hears a small yawn as he feels hot breath on his neck.

“Why are you up, Aemond?” A mop of brown curls emerges from Aemond’s blind side. It’s a boy, no, young man with soft features and sleepy eyes the color of honey wine.

Aemond doesn’t know him. Seven, he never sleeps in the same bed with anyone else. And he certainly doesn’t cuddle.

“Who are you? I demand you to get off my bed and identify yourself.” Aemond says, his voice deep and resonating, nothing like the voice Aemond is accustomed to.

This is NOT his voice.

The young man frowns, sleep disappearing from his eyes. He studies Aemond for a while before slips off the bed. The young man fishes an oversized tunic from the floor and throws it on. The tunic comes down all the way to the middle of his thigh, and Aemond belatedly realizes his companion is completely naked. So is Aemond.

“Did Aegon give you something nasty again? I am going to cut off his balls.” The young man spits, pacing around the room to light the candles.

Aegon, right, that’s a familiar name. His older brother is constantly horny and drunk which annoys Aemond to the core, but now he would die to see a familiar face again.

“Here. Drink some water. Does your head hurt? Do you feel like vomiting? I can have the maester prepare some tonic for you, or do you prefer some warm soup?” The young man returns to the bed with a goblet in hand. He offers the goblet to Aemond before leans down, pressing their forehead together to feel Aemond’s temperature.

Aemond’s breath catches in his throat. Never is someone so caring to him. Not even his own mother. Alicent is always civil and aloof. She is more Queen than mother to him. Aemond can’t remember the last time someone showed such affection and devotion to him.

“How do you feel? Talk to me, Aemond, beloved, you are scaring me.” The young man brushes a strand of silver hair from Aemond’s forehead, his touch so tender that Aemond doesn’t want him to stop.

“Who are you?” Aemond asks again, this time barely a whisper. This is a dream, Aemond is sure of it. Maybe the maester gives him too much milk of the poppy. That’s why he would have this strange but incredibly vivid and addicting dream. He is afraid if he asks the wrong question, the caring stranger would disappear and he will be left alone with pain again.

The stranger chuckles, as if Aemond just did something silly but endearing.

“I can’t believe you are so hang-over that you forget your own husband.” The stranger says. His eyes twinkle, small beads of sweat gives his skin an inviting sheen, and Aemond could see red bite marks scattered all over his chest, especially around his nipples.

“Husband?” Aemond repeats, rather stupidly.

“That’s right. I am your husband, Lucerys.” The young man kisses Aemond on the lips as he reveals the truth.

Aemond’s whole world starts to spin. No. It cannot be. This is merely a milk of the poppy induced dream. There is no way he would marry Lucerys of all people. The boy who just took his eye.

But, come to think of it, Aemond now sees a pair of big doe eyes, unruly curls, plush lips, full cheeks, and a cute button nose. All those features scream Lucerys to him.

“What year is it?” Aemond mutters.

“Are you sure you are all right, love? It’s 140 AC.”

And just like that, a 11-year-old Aemond somehow transfers into the body of his older self almost 20 years later.

Bonus:

121 AC, Driftmark

Aemond (turns to the maester): Can you look at my husband Lucy, eh, I mean my nephew Lucerys? I think his nose is still bleeding.

Everyone looks shocked except for Lucerys.

Lucerys (sniffles): Are you hurting too much uncle?

Aemond: It’s not too bad. Come here, you can kiss it better.

Lucerys (stumbles toward Aemond)

#aemond x lucerys #lucemond #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #mpreg #time travel #fix it au

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letaliabane · 2 years

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Caged

on the night of rhaenyra’s wedding, the tension is high between the broken bond of two former lovers. with jealousy brewing, will they fall back into each others arms?

genre: angst, major smut +18!, major jealousy themes throughout, make up desperate sex, slight choking and a spank or two, fluff towards the end

You could feel someone watching you keenly from the corner of the room. More like glaring if anyone took notice of the deep frown, furrow of his brow and clenched jaw as you mingled with the hundreds of guests gathered for Rhaenyra’s wedding.

‘Your lover seems most perturbed this evening Y/N.’

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes towards Laenor Velaryon who came to your side, the man who was to be Rhaenyra’s husband.

Having grown up with the Princess meant you knew the Prince well, visiting often with the rest of his family. And he was one of the very few people who knew about your relationship to the Commander of the city watch, and also about its untimely end.

You glanced towards the Commander. He looked absolutely sinful.

Dressed in dark navy blue, wild curls pulled back to allow his features to be accentuated beautifully by the candlelight that danced around the room.

If you had your way you would’ve dragged him out of the room and showed him who he truly belonged to. He had been on his knees for you before.

But the woman now hanging off of him let that thought burn away from your mind. She was trying to grab his attention, breasts barely covered by her low hanging dress.

You scoffed.

‘I couldn’t less about how he feels. And you know very well he isn’t mine, not anymore.’

The Prince raised his eyebrow, glancing between you and the man on the opposite side of the room who had his eyes locked on you, clearly ignoring the desperate woman beside him who was losing her patience.

‘Jealousy certainly isn’t your colour Y/N,’ He said before drinking the last of his wine. After placing the goblet down he stretched out his hand towards you with a bow, nodding towards the many of the guests who were dancing. ‘But why don’t we give him a show on what he’s missing.’

You couldn’t help laugh, throwing back the rest of your drink, barely savouring the rich bitter flavour before taking his hand, allowing him to lead you through the crowd.

Very soon, Laenor and you had enraptured many of the guests, twirling and dipping to the beat that was played by the talented musicians before continuing to switch partners.

You were so caught up in the moment, in the sudden happiness you felt, that you hadn’t bothered to look over to the corner of the room.

You couldn’t help but laugh, earning a fast twirl from a tall gentleman whose name you failed to remember, only to find yourself in a very familiar embrace, arms wrapping around your waist, hands spread across your back.

Looking up to meet blue grey-hued eyes, those of which belonged to you former lover, faces mere inches from one another. You pulled away, dropping briefly into a low curtsey.

‘Ser Harwin.’

‘Princess Y/N.’

He bowed his head before taking your hand into his, guiding you in the next dance.

You felt magnetised to him unable to break your gaze as you circled one another, hands meeting before he spun you, pulling your back against his chest.

The room slowly faded from existence, and it was almost like old times. How he’d sneak you out an dance with you under the stars, humming a deep but soothing tune, your head rested against his chest—

‘How are you my lady?’

You shivered, feeling his lips pressed against your ear, his beard prickling your skin, daring to press an almost kiss just behind your earlobe

‘I’m fine.’

You despised the break in your voice, the hurt that dripped from them. Harwin held you a moment longer before letting you unravel from him, keeping ahold of your waist as you once more circled each other.

‘I wish I could believe that was true. But I know your are anything but fine.’

‘And what makes you think you know me?’

‘Oh I know you very well my lady, so much that I knew you would try to test me tonight.’

Your eyes flew to him, annoyance rushing back to replace the hurt.

‘Who had a woman hanging off his shoulder. Bet you copped a good feel while you had the chance didn’t you Commander?’

Shaking your head, you turned to leave.

‘Do you think it’s easy for me?’ You heard him mutter through gritted teeth behind you, ‘You think its enjoyable to watch you dance with every brute here with their filthy hands all over you?‘

‘You are the one who ended things between us!’ You hissed, twirling to face him head on, the fabric of your gown caressing his body, ‘You who dropped me at a moments notice and became infatuated with others! You didn’t even fight for us-’

Harwin’s hands suddenly grasped your face causing a moan to leave your lips unwillingly, thank the seven hells for the music and the stamping of feet thrumming throughout the hall.

You wanted to pull away, to look away but it was like his gaze had you in a trance, neck straining as you looked up at him.

‘I would’ve burned a thousand times over for you Y/N. I still would,’ His voice rough as whispered heatedly, his lips caressing yours, ‘I did what was best for you.’

An overwhelming wave of emotion rolled over you, tears springing to your eyes before corroding into a deep rage.

With all your might you shoved him away from you, his hands falling away from your face.

Though he barely moved a muscle, a flash of hurt crossed his eyes. He hated being the source of your sadness. Even with the thundering of drums he heard your cry, tears running down your cheeks.

‘You had no right to decide whats best for me Harwin!’

Before he could move towards you, you slipped into the crowd, weaving through the mass of bodies, escaping his sight at the top of the stairs.

Slamming the door to your quarters, you quickly removed the suffocating gown, unable to handle the heat and heaviness of the uncomfortable material any longer.

Your breath heaved, rushing to undo the bindings of the corset, almost an awful remind of the burden you carried.

A bound princess unable to follow as her heart wishes.

The dress fell from your body, landing onto the marble floor leaving you bare before the roaring flames within the fireplace. Just when you pulled your shift over your head, the loud rapping of knuckles knocking interrupted the silence.

But the pattern of the knock made you look back to the door. A secret knock you knew all too well.

Your feet padded against the floor before you found yourself in front of the door, hand hovering hesitantly over the golden handle. Deep down the hurt still crept, the anger and sadness, and if you opened the door, you knew that would all pour out, perhaps in the worst way.

With a deep breath, you threw the door open only for Harwin to push forward fast, pressing his lips firmly against yours slamming the door behind him with his foot.

For a brief moment slam your fists against his chest but as he presses kisses to the corner of your mouth you couldn’t help but pull him closer, moaning as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

‘I hate you,’ You growled against his mouth when he finally pulled away, tears stinging your eyelashes.

Harwin couldn’t help but chuckle softly, resting his forehead against yours gently, his hand cupping your cheek. You noticed his eyes were misty, the sadness evident.

‘Do you really?’

Your heart broke at the mere whisper. You wanted to say yes, with your whole chest. But you couldn’t.

Closing your eyes you leant into the warmth of his roughened palm, humming in content as his thumb caressed your cheek. Opening your eyes once more, you looked up at him.

‘I could never hate you.’

His smile was gentle, eyes roaming your face, reacquainting himself with all the things he loved about you. Tipping your chin up, he nuzzled his nose against yours before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Exchanging brief but loving pecks before it turned heated once more. He gripped your hair, tipping your head back so he could tease your neck with his lips, smirking at the sounds that left you as he marked his territory before sucking at your weak spot.

Moaning, you ran your own hand through his hair, ripping the tie from it and letting it flying somewhere across the room, letting your nails drag over his scalp.

Harwin growled against your collarbone, leaning up once more to smash his lips against yours messily. Suddenly you pulled away from him, stepping backwards when he tried to grab for you, causing his eyebrows to furrow even as you gave him a wicked smile.

‘Take your clothes off Harwin, now.’

He moaned unashamedly, and you couldn’t help but giggle, trying to retain your sensual stance.

The man that was known throughout the kingdom as ‘Breakbones,’ one of the strongest men, keeled at the likes of you.

Slowly he pulled the blue material over his head, tossing it into a corner of the room. His hands trailed down his toned scarred chest, unbuckling his pants. It was his turn to smirk, watching you bite your lip hard, legs pressed together at the sight of his cock.

He paced over to you, his fierce kiss making you spellbound. So much that you didn’t notice how he bent down to easily pick you up with one arm, bringing your legs around his naked hips and never letting his lips part from yours. He made his way to the classic chaise, sitting down to have you straddling his lap.

You wrapped your arms around Harwin’s neck, feeling the rise of his cock against your inner thighs. Smiling against his lips, dropping your hips lower, you rolled your hips against his.

His head fell back with a moan, eyes closing as the pleasure coarsed through him, large hands trailing to squeeze your ass. Immediately you took the chance to kiss and lick down his neck teasingly, marking his skin just like he had to yours just moments before, continuing to roll your hips.

While you were distracted, Harwin gripped the top of your shift, your moan and the loud shriek of tearing cotton music to his ears. Your breasts spilt out from the shreds of material that fell to cradle your hips before he let it fall to the floor. He leant up, wrapping his mouth against your nipple, his other hand giving the other a squeeze.

‘Oh Gods!’ You cried, eyes rolling back.

Even though the entire castle was at the wedding feast the possibilities of stragglers passing by sent heat straight to your core.

The pleasure became unbearable, the swing of your hips and Harwin’s mouth already setting you on edge. With a weak sob you grabbed his head, pulling his face up to kiss him. You groaned into each others mouths, your naked chests pressed against each other tightly.

Harwin looked up at you, both hands cupping your face. His eyes roamed from your face down your entire body with a loving smile, shaking his head.

‘Your so beautiful.’

Out of all the colourful phrases he had every whispered to you, that made you bashful. You dipped your head away from his intense gaze, smiling as he chuckled.

When your eyes returned to his, you noticed they had darkened, and once more you fell under his spell.

Slipping your hand down between you both, you grabbed his cock, causing him to hiss. You pumped him in your hand, watching his expression and smirking as he whimpered, evidently trying to hold back his noises,

Grazing your nose against his, you stared into his eyes as you lifted your hips and manoeuvred his cock beneath you, allowing it to notch at your entrance before ever so slowly sinking down.

You moaned loudly into Harwin’s mouth who breathed heavily, gripping the cushion hard he was afraid it would rip beneath his grasp. Your eyes threatened to close at the familiar pressure that filled you, savouring it. It had been so long, so so long.

‘Are you okay?’

You nodded as Harwin whispered, pressing a tender kiss to his upper lip in reassurance.

His arms wrapped around you, removing any fraction of space between your bodies. And slowly, you began to move your hips once more, exchanging mere whispers of moans and gasps.

But when the pleasure began to build, the emotions began to gallop within your heart and mind. The anger, the sadness, the hurt from all the months of separation.

The very memory of Harwin, in all his glory and decorated armour, leaving you at the gates of the Red Keep tore through your mind. The words ‘I never loved you’ ringing in your ears.

He may have done what was best for you, and you loved him for it, but no one ever could tame a dragon even if they tried.

Harwin’s eyes flew open as he was shoved back against the corner of the lounge, staring up at you. Your face was an expression he was very familiar with that was anything other than pleasure.

'Y/N-'

But as he went to sit up, your hand shot to his throat, your grip firm. Not to hurt (as if you even could), but to show him you were in charge, and you could see that he knew it too, sinking back into the velvet cushions.

In that moment you were an absolute vision to revel in, sweat dazzling your skin, the fire behind silhouetting your body like a goddess.

And just like that you began to swivel your hips once more; deliciously slow, eyes never leaving his. You watched as his abs tensed, face scrunched in desperation and pleasure.

You growled. ‘Your mine Harwin Strong, and only mine.’

He nodded but you tighten your grip, turning his face to look you in the eye. ‘Say it, I want to hear you say it!’

‘I’m yours my love—I’ve always been yours!’ He gasped, dipping his head so he brushed his lips against the pads of your fingertips.

You keeled at his words, your breasts bouncing as you fastened your pace tenfold. Your hands fell to his chest, trailing against the scars that decorated his skin, nails digging into his chest causing him to roar, his hips lifting to meet your thrusts.

Your body faltered at the sudden pleasure that shot through your body, gasping and throwing your head back.

Harwin took the chance to sit up, his turn to grip your jaw. His expression was firm, voice a couple of octaves deeper, ‘And that means you are mine Princess.’

You cried as he thrusted upwards into you, smashing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans. And in a flash, he had you pressed into the velvet cushions of the chaise, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders while the other held your bottom off of the lounge, continuing to thrust into you hard.

‘Your turn beloved,’ He heaved against your ear, his heated breath batting against your neck, unable to resist nibbling there teasingly. ‘Tell me who you fucking belong to.’

Even if you tried, you couldn’t speak, left incoherent by the pleasure that raked through you in waves, your nails digging deep into the wooden frame of the chaise.

A firm smack to your ass made you squeal, your whole body trembling, bringing your attention to the man over you who smirked down at you.

‘Speak up, I want to hear you!’

Tears spring to your eyes, the pleasure and emotions overwhelming you as you gasped desperately, trying to find your voice.

Your lover noticed immediately, leaning over to press sweet kisses across your face, whispering against your skin reminders that he was right there, that he was with you.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

‘I’m yours—I’m yours! Please Harwin I’m yours, I’m yours!’ You hoarsely cried, not caring who heard you.

You wanted everyone to know you were claimed. No one else could have you. No one except Harwin Strong.

‘Please please don’t stop, please!’

‘Never. I’ll never stop.’

He kissed your temple sweetly before trailing his lips down to yours, his kiss firm as he increased his thrusts. His arm around your back moved blindly before finding your hand, removing it from the wood before entangling your fingers together squeezing hard.

Your nails dug into his back, pulling him even closer. Every time he hits deeper, your eyes rolled back, chest heaving, your climax climbing closer and closer.

‘Come on Y/N, let go for me sweetheart, that’s it.’

The moment the praise leaves his lips, your whole body trembles violently and your pussy grips hard around Harwin’s cock.

You gasp into his neck when he slows briefly, only to return his thrusts harder, sloppily but faster than before. He threw his head back with a feral growl, teeth barred and eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Clasping his cheek, you bring his face back down to yours. You stare into his hooded eyes as his lips graze yours, foreheads pressed together.

Suddenly, his expression faltered and he moans loudly against your neck, his hips tightening and warmth enveloping your insides, whimpering as you were filled with his seed deep inside you.

Weak gasps leave your lips as Harwin continued to press into you with gentle thrusts, before finally he comes to a halt. Too overwhelmed to move you stay as you are, legs shaking around his hips, his hand still holding yours while the other comes up to cradle your head.

Even with the gentle fog that settles over your mind, you can’t help but dot kisses from behind his ear to his shoulder, caressing his back, the whimpers that leave him making you smile.

Moments, or maybe hours later, Harwin barely rolls to the side, most of his body still resting upon yours, hissing softly as his cock slips out of you, resting wet against your thigh.

Silence remained between you, his head tucked against your neck, nose nuzzling at your skin gently.

You whimpered as his fingertips suddenly danced across the skin of your cheek drawing a mindless pattern. You bit playfully at his thumb as it caressed your bruised lips. His deep chuckle reverberated against your chest.

You turned your head towards him with a tired smile, his hand trailing into your hair, bringing your face closer to his.

He brings your still entangled hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle ever so gently, still staring into your eyes. Gripping your hip, he slings your thigh over his hip once more as he rests on his back, bringing you to rest against him.

‘I love you Y/N.’

You smiled up at him, only realising tears were falling when his hand comes up to wipe them away. Leaning your body against his, you slowly press a kiss to his lips.

‘I love you Harwin,' You whispered just for him, running your hand through the hair that fell over his eyes.

You knew he loved you, but fear still dug deep into your heart like a knife. Staring into his eyes, you allowed your knuckles to caress his cheek.

'Please don't leave me again ...'

Harwin felt his heart tear at the quietness of your voice, and the vulnerability glazed in your eyes. He cupped your cheek, 'Never. I won't be making that mistake again.'

Pulling you in close, he pressed a firm kiss to your forehead before letting your head fall to rest against his chest. His hand drifted down your back, fingertips dancing comfortingly against your skin.

And once again, you felt whole.

harwin masterlist - masterlist

a/n: I have never spent this time writing a smut story, nor this nervous to release it! Hope the wait was worth it!

tagged (if your tag isn't working DM me and we'll try and fix it up!): @thesithdiaries @dazecrea @ppeuppeuppeu @a-sunflower-in-bloom @siren-of-the-deep-sea @ccallistata @agoldin @vivilingme-blog @my-dark-prince @derzauberermitlilabademantel @blooomsstuff @starxdame @alexslittlegirl @budugu @piper570 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @words-way-of-life @m1tzifa1ry @gibbsgirl7 @b0xfullofdarkness @hueanhdang @criesinsagitarius @nicolewithanee @starxqt @ateliefloresdaprimavera @akilababs @lakamaa12 @iwillboilyourteeth @littlebirdgot @venus2eros @akinatrix @rainazinha @missusnora @hadesismybaby @b3nzeynep @rosemalachi

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lowlights · 1 year

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Sweet Reds and Starlight Mornings

Oberyn x f!reader, Ellaria x f!reader, heavily implied Oberyn x Ellaria x f!reader

Length: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut, a bit of wlw, mentions of group sex, heavy on the food play, everything gets sticky, everyone has bi switch energy, mentions of alcohol, a little bit of anxiety/worry, Feelings, praise kink, PinV sex, creampie, lots of cumplay, cum eating, a moment of breeding kink, f!receiving oral, it's implied that reader had a hard life.

Summary: The newest artist-in-residence at the Dornish palace, you have become a permanent fixture in the bed of Prince Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria. You reach a turning point on a very special night.

Happy belated birthday, @starlightmornings!! I know this is way late, but I hope the story makes up for it. This was a fic of many firsts for me- first time really writing Oberyn! First time writing wlw! First time with food play. ILY!!

You shouldn’t feel so nervous. You have been in here more times than you can count on both hands.

But not alone. Never alone.

You arranged your barely-there dress just so while you waited on the expansive bed. Ellaria had instructed you to come after dinner to Oberyn’s quarters, which was certainly not an odd ask. But she had asked that you wear a certain garment… and to come alone. These requests were highly unusual, but you would do anything that she and Oberyn asked of you. Without question.

The palace had only been your home for a few months and had quickly become your safe haven. This had very little to do with the comfortable living conditions and abundant food, and almost everything to do with the Prince and his adoring paramour, Ellaria. You were a new artist-in-residence for the royal family of Dorne and spent your days creating beautiful things.

You spent many of your nights between the arms of your lovers.

Your lovers who, at present, were nowhere to be seen. Nor were any of the other usual attendants or other guests who would be spending the evening.

The dress Ellaria had requested you wear was one of her own, something you had only seen her don but once. It was made of a see-through gauze that would scandalize even the most progressive residents of Dorne. It had intricately thin knotting decorating the shoulders and was slit all the way up both thighs. The soft yellow at the top of the garment faded into a deep orange that trailed behind you when you walked the empty hallway to their bedroom.

It was the most beautiful thing you had ever worn, a far cry from the drab clothing of your previous life. Just as you started to relax into the pillows, the wide door swung open. Oberyn walked into the room first, followed by Ellaria who had her hands over his eyes. Both wearing golden tunics, they lit up the room like twin suns in the sky.

“Lover, I have a gift for you,” she cooed to him, shaking her head gently as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Please, do not keep me waiting in such suspense, Ellaria.”

She removed her hands and wrapped her arms around him. “Behold!”

He looked at you lasciviously. “You’ve brought me my starlight? What a gift, indeed. But it is not my naming day.”

“No,” she said, “But it is hers.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder before gliding over towards you.

Oberyn smiled at you before walking over to the wine on the far side of the room. “Ah, I see. We must celebrate then.”

Ellaria crawled across the bed to you, never breaking eye contact. You spread your legs to accommodate her, bending your knees up and reaching out for her. She leaned her cheek against your palm and ran her hands up your smooth legs. She nodded in approval, noticing the gift of oils she had left in your bath the night before had been put to use. It made your stomach flutter.

“What do you have in store for us this evening, my love?” Oberyn sauntered over to the bed holding three goblets of sweet Dornish red wine. He placed them down on the bedside table and stood next to you while Ellaria leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You tangled one hand in her dark brown curls and reached out with your other hand to Oberyn.

“My Prince.” You gasped a little when Ellaria sucked on your earlobe.

Oberyn pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “Starlight, what have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it, my Prince,” you said with a mischievous grin.

Ellaria’s mouth trailed down your chest, kissing over your nipple. You could feel everything through the fabric; it was as though you were wearing nothing but liquid sunlight. Her mouth felt divine as you arched against her.

“She is hopeless,” Ellaria said with a knowing glance at Oberyn. “But as it is her naming day, I suppose she should do whatever she pleases.” With one last kiss, Ellaria pushed off the bed and stood next to Oberyn. His hands went immediately to her, as they always did.

They both stared at you with unabashed desire. It felt overwhelming to be at the center of their combined attention, but you had never felt more wanted and more safe than you did with them. You let one leg drop, opening up a veiled view of your cunt to them. You wondered if the material was already stained with the wetness you felt between your thighs.

“Well then, we should not make her wait,” Oberyn said, pushing down the sleeve of Ellaria’s dress and kissing her exposed shoulder.

Ellaria pushed her sleeve back up and shook her head. “I have gone to great lengths to ensure that you will be unbothered until the banquet tomorrow night. I have had my time alone with her previously. Now, it is your turn.”

Anticipation bubbled up in your chest. You have never even been alone in the same room with Oberyn, never mind in his bed. She bid you both farewell with a promise to return in the morning to rejoin you, whispered something into Oberyn’s ear, and took a goblet of wine with her as she exited.

“My Prince, are you alright without her? I could ask her to return,” you offered.

He shook his head. “She will return to us when the sun rises. For now, I want to make sure the last hours of your name day are filled with ecstasy and indulgence.”

This was a proposal with which you could not argue. Oberyn smiled at you before removing his tunic, letting your eyes take in the wide expanse of his strong back as he walked back to the table of food. By the light of the torches, he looked as though he had been molded from the softest sunlight; like the golden glow that filters through the forest trees at dusk.

Oberyn took his time at the table and you grew hungry for him. “Will you be coming to bed, Highness, or should I rest my eyes for the next few hours?”

He turned, hands full, with a bemused expression. “Who is this needy creature before me? Certainly, she is not the timid woman who has inhabited my bed these weeks prior.” He placed a bowl of ripe berries, a bowl of deep red plums, and a small lidded jar down on the bedside table.

“I miss your touch,” you pouted. He sat down on the bed and leaned over you, caressing your cheek. You curled into him like a lazy housecat, resting your head on his clothed thigh. “Did you miss me at all, my Prince?”

“Call. Me. Oberyn,” he scolded before kissing your nose.

“Did you miss me, my Oberyn?”

His hand wandered down your back, cupping your ass through your dress. “I always miss my starlight when she is away from me. Now, tell me. How would you like me tonight? Your wish is my only command.”

You bit your lip in thought. You’ve experienced the prince in many ways over the past months, each position feeling better than the last as you got familiar with each other’s bodies. The pressure of choosing weighed heavy on you, and it must have read on your face as well.

“This is meant to bring you pleasure, little one, not to bring you torture,” he said.

“I am having a hard time choosing, Oberyn. I…I want everything with you,” you confessed, cheeks burning. The affection the two of you shared was hardly new, and Oberyn was never shy with his adoration, but you were dangerously close to confessing what had been on your heart for a long time.

Oberyn’s face softened. “And I want everything with you, starlight. We have tonight to begin, and a lifetime of nights after this one if we so choose. There are no limits other than those we place on ourselves.”

You nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Lie back,” he instructed, leaning over to the bowl of berries. “Open.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth just enough for him to slip a succulent blackberry between your lips. You sucked gently on his finger, eliciting a smile. You swallowed when he told you to and he grinned as he indulged in a berry himself.

“Again.”

You took another berry into your mouth, sucking harder this time.

“Swallow. Good girl.”

His praise was like a bolt of lightning to your core- he had never called you that before. It felt good to know that he was pleased with you, especially when he took control like this. Oberyn leaned down to kiss you, his tongue immediately swiping against your lips. You opened to him immediately, wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders. He moaned when you dragged your fingernails across his back, just hard enough that they might leave a mark for Ellaria to find in the morning.

“Do you hunger for more?” he whispered against your lips, drawing you up with him as he sat upright.

“Yes, always more of you,” you replied.

“First you must eat a bit more, to sustain yourself for the night,” Oberyn explained as he plucked a large plum from the bowl. He stared at you as he bit into the purple-hued fruit before offering you the next taste. He shook his head when you reached for it.

“Like this,” he instructed, tilting your chin up gently and leaving your neck exposed. You bit into the fruit as it was offered to you and immediately felt the sweet juice cascade down your chin and into the hollow of your throat. No harvest could ever compare to that of the stone fruits grown just for the palace in Dorne; they were more magnificent than any you had ever tasted before.

Alternating between wet kisses and soft licks, Oberyn followed the tracks of juice across your skin. You tangled your hands in his hair and tugged gently.

“Tell me something,” you began.

“Yes, my starlight?”

“What did Ellaria whisper to you as she left?”

Oberyn helped you settle back into the pillows and stood up, untying the strings at the front of his pants. “She told me to make a mess of you, and that dress.”

Your core ached at Ellaria’s words and you watched with bated breath as he quickly relieved himself of the rest of his clothes. He took his half-hard cock into his hand and languidly stroked as he tilted his head in thought.

“That garment leaves little to the imagination,” he said.

You arched your back slightly, showing off the press of your tits against the fabric. “Do you wish for me to be more covered?” you asked coyly.

“Hardly. I am fighting the urge to lean down and rip it off of your perfect body myself.” He joined you on the luxuriously soft bed.

Oberyn might be known as the Red Viper to the rest of the world, but his actions in the bedroom were more akin to that of a lion. He moved with an effortless fluidity that served him well both in the arena and in the bedroom, and while the two had very different outcomes, both involved him stalking his prey with precision. Even when Oberyn occasionally submitted himself to his amorous partners, he still exuded a cunning command of every toned muscle in his body.

“Oberyn,” you purred into his ear, replacing his hand on his cock with your own, “I want to ride you.”

“By all means, make me your stallion.”

Oberyn kept you steady as you straddled him, pushing the flimsy material of your dress out of the way so that you could slowly sink down on his thick cock. It was always an adjustment to take all of him, and he mercifully kept his body still until he felt your walls relax. You let out a deep sigh and closed your eyes, relishing in the fullness that slowly drifted from discomfort to contentment.

“You are so tight for me, always so tight. Take whatever you need from me, my starlight, when you are ready,” he told you, squeezing your thighs in encouragement. Balancing your hands on his chest, you started rocking your hips back and forth.

“Gods, Oberyn. You are so…so big,” you moaned.

“Do you feel me deeply, starlight?” he asked, guiding your hips in their movement. He must be able to feel that your skin is seconds away from combusting into a thousand embers.

“So…so…gods, Oberyn,” you gasped as he thrust up into you, making your hips stutter. You fell forward, desperate for his mouth on yours as though he were the only source of oxygen in the room. In a way, he was. You are not sure when it happened, either, this gradual pull towards him and Ellaria becoming stronger and stronger. A moth to two flames, they were all you craved.

They were in every piece of art you created. Every fleck of paint, every splash of ink in every poem, every soft curve of every sculpture. They were music and sunshine and the taste of decadent wine on your tongue. They were safety, exploration, and love.

You thought that they might love you back.

The way Oberyn was looking at you at this moment, you believed it as well.

“You look so beautiful like this.” His hands roamed your thighs and up to your hips. “How beautiful you would look round with my child, should you ever choose.”

Your hips faltered as desire shot through your veins. He had never spoken of this before. “R-really?”

In a flash, Oberyn flipped you onto your back and thrust into you with vigor. “If you wanted, I would give you a dozen of my children to carry. Fill you up every night until the maester declares you with child.”

“Now,” you gasped. “I want it now. Please, please.”

Pleasure coursed through your body. He knew every angle to hit and took delight in watching you fall apart under him when he adjusted his hips just so. Every drag of his cock brought you closer to the edge, and when he licked his fingers and reached down to rub your clit- you were gone.

The world exploded behind your eyes as you cried out his name, squeezing down tightly on him. He followed right after, belly tight and eyes closed, as he filled up your warm pussy with his cum. Maybe it would produce a child and maybe it wouldn’t, but you didn’t care. All you knew is that you were his now, forever and completely.

Oberyn collapsed with his leg slung over yours, lazily kissing you through the afterglow of each other’s orgasms.

Even in your blissful state, there was still a bit of uncertainty eating you up inside, a relic of a past that had not been kind to you before you arrived in Dorne. “My Prince, I-”

“You still call me that even after we give each other such pleasure?”

“Sorry. Oberyn. I’m…my worry sometimes gets the best of me.”

He gathered you up in his arms so that you could rest your cheek upon his chest. “You can call me anything you want, my starlight, so long as you never do it in fear.”

You snuggled against him and inhaled the scent of his spicy, sweaty skin. “I meant it when I said I want everything with you, Oberyn.”

“I want everything with you, too. And everything from you. Every last moment of pleasure I can wring from that gorgeous body. Lie on your back, starlight,” he commanded, grabbing the jar from the table before kneeling between your open legs. “Time to make a mess of this pretty dress as I promised.”

You gasped when Oberyn grabbed at your neckline and gently pulled apart the dress. It tore like it was made of the oldest, thinnest paper. He let it pool around you and gazed at you as though you were one of his favorite paintings. The night breeze wafted past the curtains and tickled your exposed skin. Oberyn couldn’t resist trailing a finger across the goosebumps that blossomed across your belly and chest, smiling at the noises you made when he pinched your nipple.

“Have you tasted the honey from the royal apiary? Only a handful of bottles are produced a year, and it is the most exquisite color.” He dipped his index finger into the jar and scooped out the glistening, dark amber honey.

“It’s gorgeous, Oberyn,” you said, transfixed as he let it slide down his hand and across your stomach. It felt warm against your skin.

“It tastes even better, you must try it,” he replied, slowly letting it drizzle across your breasts. When only a tiny bit remained on his finger, he brushed the honey across your lips. “Open.”

You sucked hard on his finger, cheeks hollowing out and never breaking eye contact. “So sweet.”

He grinned. “I think you would find something even more delicious.” He dragged his wet finger back through the honey that had dripped down your tits and across your stomach, gathering the sweet nectar before gently pushing his finger into your cunt. You wanted him to stay there, to keep that thickness inside of you. But instead, he collected the remnants of your combined spend and brought it back up to your lips.

Your tongue was tentative at first, darting out to taste the mixture of cum and honey. To your own surprise, it tasted divine. You sucked greedily on his finger and relished in the taste of him and of your own arousal. It was a debaucherous sensation and you loved every bit of it.

Oberyn had shown some measure of restraint until this moment, but seeing how much you loved the taste made him become dangerously close to feral. He pulled his finger out of your mouth and kissed you deeply, letting his tongue tangle with your own.

He kissed down your body as though he meant to clean you himself, swirling around your honey-soaked nipples and down across your soft belly. Between the honey and his saliva, it was sticky. But the gods both new and old couldn’t have pulled him off of you even if they tried-not that you would let them. He settled between your legs, pushing your thighs wide.

“Beautiful,” he murmured before licking your cunt as though he meant to devour it.

“O-oberyn...my...love…right there,” you called out, holding him against you. It didn’t take long for his tongue to bring you swiftly to your orgasm. He drank up every bit of it.

Finally, when you couldn’t take another exquisite moment, you pulled him back up to you. His chin was sticky and wet; he had never looked more pleased with himself. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure that you could move your legs if you tried.

“You made a mess,” you said as you caught your breath.

“We made a mess,” he countered.

“Fine, we made a mess. The sheets are all but ruined,” you bemoaned.

Oberyn chuckled. “Hardly the first time. It will be taken care of while we are in the bath.”

Your ears perked up. “Bath?”

Oberyn kissed your forehead. “Of course. We must clean ourselves before we indulge further, and certainly before Ellaria returns.”

You looked at him with hope shining in your eyes. “Maybe we can have a bit more fun while we are bathing?” Another first that you and Oberyn would have together. You felt a little silly, asking if he would have you as though he didn’t just make you climax with his face buried between your legs. But it wasn’t just about a bath- it was about having more. A future.

He propped you up on a stack of pillows before reaching for the two remaining goblets of sweet wine. You both clinked them together before taking a welcomed sip.

“Of course, my starlight. Anything you want, today and every day.”

#Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #oberyn x ellaria x you #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn has my whole heart ok #we don't believe in ellaria erasure here #happy birthday kaylie!!!!

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atinylittlepain · 3 months

Text

Me Too

college!steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy series

18+ references to smut, idiots in love, emotional constipation, strep throat, lovey doveys in general

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“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s kind of interesting, don’t you think?”

“The colors are nice.”

“Nice.”

“What? They are. And hey, Robin told me to tell you to stop putting your name down on every silent auction sheet. She said people are noticing that one Andy Broder is trying to sweep the whole show.”

“Oh please, Steve, I can’t help it. The sad student artists look at me with their sad student artist eyes and I feel bad if I don’t put my name down, sue me for having a heart.”

“Can you afford to have a heart?” She scoffs, a little tug back when he tries to take the wine glass out of her hand, though she relents, her smile simpering while he finishes off the last sip.

“I’m only getting things started. Ten dollars, tops. I doubt I’ll win any of the pieces.” He’s hoping she’s right, because he’s not sure how they’ll get even one of the pottery sets she bid on back to her place if she does win. Sets of plates and bowls and goblets, because apparently this semester’s pottery class was really, really into making goblets. Robin has a set of two bowls and two goblets up for auction. Steve put down twenty dollars on it, to which Robin scoffed and told him you don’t count, you’re family.

“I guess we’ll see if your logic works.” Maybe he’s being a little much, his hand curling around the plush of her waist, wrapped up in a dark knit dress that’s scattering his mind just a little, pulling her into his side and soft murmuring want another glass? And her humming no, long walk home and all, her palm smoothing out beneath his sternum, warm brown nail polish that he watched her put on in a curl on her couch. Maybe a little much when he tips his chin to press a kiss just beneath her ear, warm rasp of did I tell you how good you look? She sighs, laughs a little, how very male gaze of you, baby, but thank you, and that thank you is soft, slight, a secret that makes his heart feather and fret against his ribs for a breath.

He gets to be a little much now, because they’re official now, a thing now. Had the conversation last weekend and he nearly pulled his hair out working up the nerve to tell her yes, old fashioned, yes, he wants that old fashioned thing with her, wants to be hers, and wants her to be his. And her eyes had widened, a slight blanching, before he realized that he was making it sound like the ring and the dress and the suit thing, quick back pedal, not quite that, at least not yet. But he left the not yet part out. And she had smiled, softened, collected his wrists in her hands to stop him from tugging at his hair, her thumbs stroking the quick jump of pulse beneath his skin. Yes, she told him, she had been wanting the same thing too, with him. So yeah, he gets to be a little much, his palm lingering on the hilt of her spine as they walk around the gallery, both of them tucking into the other. And when she ends up winning three of the bowl, plate, goblet sets she bid on for a grand total of thirty dollars, they take turns hauling the recycled moving box full of ceramics, switching off at every block and laughing at themselves, breaths puffing out like curled smoke in the cold night air.

“Eddie wouldn’t want a goblet, would he?”

“Actually, considering he takes his diet coke in a coffee mug, I think he’d probably be into it.”

“Great, he can have three of them.” They leave the box next to her front door, shrugging out of coats and shoes, intent on sleep after a late night that really shouldn’t have been a late night for either of them. Finals, the end of the semester, and it’s certainly feeling like it. He doesn’t mind though, all but setting up permanent shop with her in her apartment. Has a few hangers in her closet, and a drawer in her dresser, and Sylvia doesn’t even pay him any mind these days, padding right past him up to the box and sniffing a bit disinterestedly at a bowl.

No classes for the last week, just prep for exams and deadlines. They’ve spent the majority of their time in a quiet comfort on her couch studying and working on their respective coursework, only breaking for light touches and meals and the occasional walk amongst melting and refreezing snow.

All this time with her is making him a little giddy, a little greedy, already feeling an anticipatory ache for when he leaves on Friday with Eddie and Robin to drive back to Hawkins for the holidays. He had thought about it, he had, but he’d firmly decided it’d be too much to ask. Only just a thing, only just official, and he didn’t want to overstep, come on too strong, too bold. Learned that somewhere along the way, and he can’t remember whose bed he was warming when he did.

So he’ll go back to Hawkins, and Andy will go back to Boston, but not for another week because the less time I spend there, the better. He can understand that.

“What do you have tomorrow?”

“Oral exam for my global inequality class, and a paper to turn in for mental health policy. You?”

“Business policy and strategy paper, and a calc exam.”

“Hmm, better you than me, babe.” Steam starting to rise and fog in her bathroom and both of them stripped down to threadbare underwear, not trying to impress each other any more. She presses a quick kiss to the round of his shoulder and murmurs something that sounds like almost done into his skin. And he feels pathetic, pitiful over the fact that almost done makes his heart pinch and pull into a sort of nauseous swoop. It’s ridiculous, he knows, only a few weeks, he knows that too. But still, but still, he doesn’t want to be almost done.

Moving over and around each other in the bathroom, skin still damp from their shower, that oatmeal and chamomile soap she uses flooding his senses, and it feels like the most natural thing, like it has been like this all along. He lets his palm run up and down the track of her spine, feeling the notches through the thin fabric of her t-shirt while she sits up in bed, proofing her paper one final time, printed, with red pen poised. She won’t find anything to fix, he knows, worked hard on it all of yesterday and then they both trudged to the library to type up their respective work and print it out. And when she has decided that she is content with her work, she gets up and tucks it into a folder that she tucks into her bag. He watches the plush shake of her thighs, one-track mind and he’ll admit it, his hands finding bare skin when she comes back to bed, back to him. Curling close under the covers and maybe, maybe, he holds her a little closer, tucks his face into the stitching of her throat and breathes, and breathes to keep himself from saying words that wouldn’t be fair to say right now, not when he’s leaving tomorrow night.

They both sleep hard and late, and he’s pretty sure she meant to be up earlier, little snit, little snap when he wakes her up, her shoulders hiking up to her ears and she’s already out of bed and out of his hands before he can say anything. And he’s not sure what this is, a cool prickle of worry simmering and slipping up his spine as they both move through getting dressed, distant and silent and her hardly looking at him, and he doesn’t know what happened in the last twelve hours for her to change so much. Stress, he tells himself, she’s stressed, and frankly so is he, and they’re both tired, and they’re both running late, and that must be it.

“Are you gonna be around this afternoon?” She asks it light as air as she’s wrapping a scarf around her throat, more business associate than anything else and it almost makes him laugh.

“I, well, yeah, unless you don’t want me to be? But I’m leaving tonight, so.” The so feels lame even as he says it, maybe even a bit bitchy, her brows pulling together and then smoothing out all over again, unreadable.

“Okay, I know. So I’ll see you later then?” And there’s little room for an answer, already out the door, and ushering him out too, and he feels like he’s going to throw up even as his body does all the necessary things, down the stairs and out the door and it’s too late to say anything other than mmhmm because she’s already walking in the other direction to her exam that’s on that side of campus, away from his exam on this side of campus.

No, not how it went yesterday. Yesterday, he had almost been late to his accounting exam because they just couldn’t quite seem to let go of each other, slipping and skidding over icy sidewalks all wrapped up and laughing and whispering little luck to each other between kisses. Not like today, not how it went today. And maybe, he thinks, maybe this is just that thing that seems to happen to him every time. Maybe this is the getting tired of him. Maybe this is the leaving.

He sits for his exam, turns in his paper, goes back to his apartment to pack a bag for home, and he’s grateful that neither Robin nor Eddie are around so that they can’t clock the strange fugue state he’s sifting through. But he still returns to her apartment, that want to feel whatever this wound is ache a little more. And plainly, he still wants to see her.

There’s no answer when he knocks on her door, calls out her name, her real name, and it feels weird in his mouth because these days she’s honey, sometimes baby, but always honey. And it feels weird too, using the key she gave him for the first time, but there’s an admitted pang of worry flickering in his chest because she should definitely be back by now.

He’s greeted with the curl of her back, tucked into herself on the couch and perfectly unmoving. She still has her coat on and he’s never seen her like this before. He kneels down next to the couch, rests his palm on her shoulder and runs a soft track down to her elbow and back up again. And this time it is honey, quiet and almost cracking with how he whispers it, though she stirs, makes a noise that he thinks sounds a little like Sylvia, mmm?

She turns to look at him, eyes held in dark shadows, a little red, a little weepy, and he has to resist the urge to brush the back of his hand over her forehead because he’s pretty sure he knows what this is, pretty sure he’d find a little too much heat beneath her skin.

“I thought you’d already left.” And yeah, definitely what this is, her voice somehow dissolving and splitting into a gravelly rasp since this morning. She winces a little with the sound.

“You really think I’d leave without coming to see you first?”

“I don’t know, I was a dick to you this morning.”

“Yeah, you kinda were.” She sits up, and he has to resist the urge to help her, his hands settling instead on her knees, and there’s a guilty tuck to her chin, the fan of her lashes dropped down to her cheeks. His thumbs rub circles into her joints, something soothing, coaxing.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I was being stupid.” Her coat has shrugged down to hook around her elbows, a little pitiful, her palm curling at her throat like she could feel the ache through her skin.

“You’re sick.”

“Well that’s a little uncalled for, I think.”

“No, I mean like, you’re not feeling well, are you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m just tired, need to sleep exams off for a few days.” Her eyes close when he cups her cheek in his palm, little lean into the touch while his fingers creep up to her temple, and his suspicions are confirmed, a thick wash of heat.

“Have you taken anything?”

“I took some advil when I got home.”

“Did it help?” She shrugs, a little, while he’s already made a decision. He asks if he can use her phone, really quick, honey, and she shrugs again, already slipping back in between asleep and awake with her head tipped back on the couch cushion. He calls his apartment and Eddie picks up, tells him that he and Robin are going to have to leave without him because he’s needed here. Eddie makes a joke about Lord and Lady Harrington throwing a fit and Steve sighs, not really caring about that. He’ll deal with them when he has to. And then he’s back in front of the couch and coaxing Andy up despite her quiet protests because he’s pretty sure they need to go to Urgent Care. And they go to Urgent Care, and she’s apologizing the whole time and asking doesn’t he need to go? No, he says, not going anywhere.

Strep throat, and he’s not surprised, and they catch another cab to stop at the pharmacy for her antibiotics. She keeps saying that she doesn’t want him to catch it before he goes home and he has to laugh because honey, if you have it I definitely have it, just a matter of time before I go down. And by the time they get back to her apartment, she seems to have accepted that he’s staying with a sort of sheepish acquiescence, lets him boss her around a little into a shower and then into bed, meds taken with a glass of water and her socked feet slipping against his ankles. She says sorry again into his chest, quiet and small, and he asks her what she’s saying sorry for.

“You should be with your family.”

“Nah, I like being here better.”

“Even though I sound like I have smoker’s lung?”

“It’s kinda hot, actually.”

“Sure, okay.” The slightest laugh that’s more like a caught breath, and then a long enough span of silence for him to think that she’s fallen asleep, but then.

“I really am sorry about this morning.”

“You weren’t feeling well.”

“I mean, yeah, but, I guess I thought it’d be easier.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna think this sounds dumb.”

“Not with that sexy smoker’s lung rasp I’m not.” Trying to lighten it, lift it, but she scoffs, Steve, serious, not kidding, her eyes unwavering, mouth tucked in the slightest frown, washed thin and pale in the slants of moonlight.

“You weren’t even gone yet, and I was already missing you, and I felt insane for it.” He’s silent, a thick heat curling in his chest and blooming up and up and up, only feeling a little like an asshole when she says his name like a question, her hand curling in the fabric of his t-shirt. He has to clear his throat before he speaks.

“It’s the same for me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, except I wasn’t a dick about it.” Not serious, and she knows it, nose scrunched and a roll of her eyes.

“You can make it up to me by taking me to Urgent Care in about two days when I start sounding like you.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“You should sleep, honey.”

“So should you.” She tucks back into his chest, easy, and he just hopes she can’t hear the catch and jolt of his heartbeat, because it’s the same for her as it is for him.

They don’t leave her apartment for three days, and when they finally do, it is, as he predicted, so that they can take him to the Urgent Care for the exact same thing she had. And by the time he’s halfway finished with his round of antibiotics and she’s done with hers, and they’re both starting to feel like actual real people again, it’s December 24th, and it’s become very clear that neither one of them is going home for the holidays.

He calls his mom, and his voice is still hoarse enough that she’s only mildly disappointed he won’t be home to make his requisite appearance at the family Christmas party. Meanwhile, Andy can hardly hold in a laugh at oh Steven, it’s not one of those, you know, sexually transmitted things, is it? No, mom, it’s not, yes, mom, merry Christmas. Andy’s conversation with her dad is even shorter, even curter, something about shipping presents, and her sisters asking questions. The youngest of five, she told him, more afterthought than anything else. And when they’ve both hung up there’s a giddy realization of their shared freedom, smiling at each other in her kitchen, crowded around the receiver hooked next to her fridge.

“Are we bad people for doing that?” Trying to be cute in his lean against the fridge, taking the phone out of her hand and hanging it back up on the wall, but he can’t quite fight off the urge to cough first, tucking his face into his elbow before looking at her again, smiling small.

“We’re sick, honey. Our hands are tied, nothing we can do.”

“Right, uh-huh. In that case, what do you want to do for dinner, my darling invalid?”

And so there is no tree, and there are no presents, and there is no family this Christmas. They order takeout from a Chinese place a few blocks away, hot and sour soup and fried rice and crab rangoons that Steve offers one of to Sylvia, curled up on the arm of the couch where they have their holiday meal. She sniffs it, holds it briefly between her teeth, then spits it out on the carpet, though she seems to thank him for his consideration with a slow twine between his legs when he gets up to throw it away.

They don’t get out of bed until the middle of the afternoon on Christmas day, Andy coaxing both of them into a shower, and then into real clothes, and they leave her apartment as the sun is starting to set, catch the train going toward Navy Pier, and brave the cold to walk around beneath the blossoming lights display. Both a good and bad idea, they return with a kicked-up cough shared between them, rattling lungs, rattling ribs, warmed up and smoothed out with tea and buttered toast for dinner. They go back to bed full and content, and sleep off what remains of their sickness.

The rest of that liminal time before the new year is spent simply, sweetly. They do a deep clean of everything, haul all their laundry down to her complex’s basement, him in a pair of her sweats and his own t-shirt, and her in an old flannel and a pair of his basketball shorts that are only just a little obscene because they’re too tight, you and your slutty waist are trying to kill me, nonsense, no sense. Afterward, when there’s a stack of fresh and folded clothes on her newly made bed, and the apartment smells like lemon and cold air from the window they left cracked, she kisses him again, and again, and again, in the kitchen until they’re both slumping down onto the checkerboard linoleum, sweet want, sweet melt, left panting and giggling in the aftermath.

And when New Year’s Eve arrives, neither of them make it to midnight, dead to the world in a tangle on her couch, both of them still a little snotty, a little sleep-worn. He wakes up early in the first morning of 1991 with a stiff neck and pins and needles in his foot where he’s pretty sure Sylvia is sleeping. Andy, still asleep, with her leg slung over his and her shoulder tucked in beneath his, and he decides now would be the perfect time to try those words out. So he does, words that have only been offered to Robin, or Eddie when he’s really drunk, for many years. He whispers them like he’s getting away with something, and she doesn’t even stir, and he’s grateful for that as heat blooms and buoys in his chest.

The next time, he’ll say those words a little louder. He’s pretty sure she’ll say them back.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington au #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #girl boy

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diacripticcomplex · 5 months

Note

SHU X YUI ( but yui in maid dress , thank you)❤️❤️

Yui’s POV:

I woke up and I wasn’t in my room, I wasn’t in any room that looked familiar to me, walking over to the window I noticed that I was still in the Sakamaki estate…how strange. I noticed there weren’t any light switches in this room, I looked over at the table and noticed a candle barely lit, so I took it and opened the door peering into the hallway, it looked so strange, usually it was more macabre but it just looked so different. I swear this was the same hallway I ran down when I first came to this manor…

I peered down and noticed I was wearing a maid uniform..maybe this was a prank or something? This was so weird, more than usual, what was actually going on? I creep into the hallway and notice a woman wearing a maid outfit as well “what are you doing? The masters are coming back for dinner we have to set the table let’s go” she said in a rushing manner, I wonder what she meant by masters? I had no choice in the matter and had to follow her.

We hurry into the kitchen and then set up the table, I basically just copied everything she did. “Um who are the masters?” I ask her after we finish setting up, she stares at me with such confusion then laughs a bit “ahh perhaps you’re the new maid, I wasn’t sure you work so diligently, the masters are the Sakamaki brothers, they have recently started living in this estate” she explains, now I was more confused. “I thought they have been here for quite a while…” I say, “well they have been here for a few months” she replies, “no way, they made it seem like centuries” I comment back. “Haha, no no it’s only 1799” she says..1799 like the year?! I traveled back in time?? This must be a dream…

The door swings open and all the Sakamaki brothers assemble in their seats, they all looked the same just different attire, I noticed Shu specifically..he looked like a prince. “Do not stare at them, rumor has it they have unsatisfiable appetites.” The maid whispers to me, believe me I knew that. “We must begin to serve them, follow my lead” she tells me and I do as she says. I couldn’t help it but I kept looking at Shu, it was so strange to see him without his headphones. He still seemed very cold. The maid handed me a bottle filled with deep red liquid I don’t think this was wine…but anyway I started to fill up each of their goblets, “and who’s this cute little maid? I haven’t seen you before” Laito stated he snaked his hand around my waist and pulled me into his lap. “Laito, this isn’t appropriate behavior.” Reiji scolded, I quickly got off of him and thanked Reiji. Then continued pouring into their goblets, when I got to Shu I don’t know why but I got very nervous and spilled a bit on him. “I’m so sorry” I began apologizing and bowing, he just stared at me with his cold eyes…”um Shu your shirt is stained…” I say, and everyone gasped and starred at me. The maid ran to me and apologized “I’m so sorry master she’s new she did not mean to address you so causally..” she began to say bowing, I was confused what did I say? “She’s rather insolent…not that I care but I do need a new linen, come with me” he ordered, I did as he wished.

We went upstairs to his room, he ordered me to go through his closet and take out a fresh linen shirt, I handed it to him and he scoffed. “I understand you’re new but you can’t be that stupid…” he says, I think Shu has always been the same it seems. He told me he wanted me to undress, so I did as he wished. I couldn’t help but blush, his torso looked so nice and strong. “You’ve got wandering eyes..like what you see?” He says, smirking slightly, then closes his eyes. “I’m tired…don’t want to go back there…if I discipline you it would be an excuse not to go back…” he expresses, I look at him and tilt my head a bit, confused. His hand shoots and grabs my neck. “Shu please..let go” I gasp out, he squeezes harder.

“Are you purposefully ignoring the formalities..? Are you trying to become intimate with me..?” He questions. In our normal time period I call him shu all the time, he’s kissed me and done other things to me before, I guess since I time traveled it made sense that none of those things would matter. “No..I’m just confused is all” I tell him honestly. “I’ll give you some clarification..take off your clothes” he says, his voice was deadly serious. I hesitated, “shouldn’t we go back to dinner..everyone’s wai-“ I began to say but he cut me off by tugging at the hemline of the uniform, tearing it off completely, I was fully nude..did people in the 1700s not wear underwear?? How embarrassing. I tried covering myself but he laughed.

“Your chest truly is pathetic…but your bottom is quite nice, yes your legs too..” he comments and cups my butt cheek. Rubbing it, then slapping it hard. The sting felt nice…I looked back to see the redness from his handprint. “Looking back like that…you do want to get intimate, you’re a slutty maid…alright I’ll give you what you want, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fucked you low class humans” his insults seem to be even more offensive in this time period. “I don’t want to..” I tell him, he chuckles at this. “You’re in no position to make any demands of me..I’m your master” he states, then proceeds to push me down on my stomach, he parts my legs and I feel his hard member go inside of me..Shu would usually kiss me or finger me beforehand…this was so strange, he still felt the same, his rhyme was more fast, he seemed to have a little more energy now. He pulled my hair back, leaning forward he licked my shoulder blade then bit it, I moaned out I missed Shu’s fangs…”aah..shu I love your fangs” I say it was a habit at this point I couldn’t help it…his fangs made me lose my mind completely, when he bit into me like this it feels like no other feelings matter, just his fangs sinking deeply into me. He pulls out and lays down on the bed then motions his hands for me to come on top and ride him, I gladly did so, riding him slowly the way he loves it.

His hands went down from my chest to my waist. He held onto my waist and started to push up and rode him, I kept moaning out his name and how much I desired him, I wanted shu to call out my name and hold me the way he usually does but I knew this wasn’t the shu that knew me. And so once we finished he threw me off of him, literally kicking me out of his room, if this was my time period Shu, we would lay down and cuddle against each other, I know I shouldn’t be crying but I can’t help it, I need to go back or wake up from this strange dream…

#diabolik lovers #diabolik boys #dialovers #yui komori #diabolik brothers #diahell #shu sakamaki #smut #ayato sakamaki #shu x yui #laito sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #sakamaki subaru #kanato sakamaki #smut diabolik lovers #smut fiction #time travel #1700s #master x maid

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steviestits · 3 months

Note

I hope you don't have a limit

1 changeling steve

2 omega transmigration

3 upside down transformation

4 warlock Eddie AU

5 dark vampire AU

6 cannon real DnD

Nope, no limit! I'm just glad to see people are interested in my work! And sorry for taking so long. I know it's silly, but I wanted to round out the snippets a bit to make them equal to the other ones I posted. I hope you like them.

CW: Feminization and Mpreg

Changeling Steve: So, Steve doesn't know it, but he was switch at birth and is actually a changeling abandoned by his fae parents in the human world. As fate would have it, Steve wanders into a fairy circle and is transported to a party being hosted by fae king Eddie.

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When the song ended, Steve drew away from Eddie, even though their eyes remained locked. He’d never met anyone who commanded the room like Eddie did, not even Steve’s father could carry himself with so much confidence that everyone else in the room was forced to pay attention to the fae king. That’s why Steve was still shocked that the other had come up to him and chose to dance with him through most of the night.

Steve didn’t want this moment to end, but he knew that he had to get back to his home. His dad would chew him out if he was late, which he’d been doing more since Steve turned eighteen. Sometimes, it felt as if all Steve had to do was breathe to set his dad off on him about how much of a screw-up Steve was and how he hadn’t lived up to their expectations at all. So, even though Steve wanted to stay with Eddie, he didn’t want to incur his dad’s wrath any more than he already had by merely existing.

It was then with a heavy heart that he broke eye contact with the fae king and took a step back. At least he tried to, but Eddie caught Steve by the wrist to hold him in place. The grip of the fae king was stronger than Steve expected, effectively preventing Steve from leaving as he wanted. Steve tried to struggle free, but he found he was unable to budge the hand even an inch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Eddie asked domineeringly.

“I’m heading home,” Steve said, still struggling a bit in the tight grip. “I’m sure my parents are worried about me.”

The fae king snorted in amusement. “You are home. This is where the fae belong.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, but I’m not fae. I stumbled into a fairy circle on accident. I’m human. I’m from the human world.”

“Sweetheart, even if you were human, once someone enters the fae realm, they can’t leave. They become property of the fae king, which is me.”

“Eddie, it’s been fun, but I really do have to go. My dad will kill me if I don’t get home in time.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, because as I said, you’re my property. He can’t touch my property, which you are.”

Then with a wave of Eddie’s hand, a silver collar with a thin chain that matched the baubles that adorned his hair. Steve tugged at the collar, but it wouldn’t budge, and when he traced his fingers along the rim, he couldn’t find a clasp. It was as if the collar had been welded together, trapping Steve in it permanently. The chain then lengthened and wrapped around Eddie’s hand, clearly denoting his ownership.

“Until you learn,” Eddie said while giving the chain a tug, drawing Steve closer. “Because you’re mine, and no one else can have you.”

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Omega Transmigration: Decided to post a piece from Eddie's perspective in the second piece. I really like how this one is turning out, especially since I get to make Eddie an elf in it.

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Eddie leaned back in his chair and took a sip from his goblet of wine while his eyes were locked onto the chrysalis holding his omega. Taking up most of the bedroom, jagged, sky-blue shards that protruded out from the cluster it had formed to serve as the base of the chrysalis, and though the shards were transparent, each shard refracted an eerie glow that prevented anyone from observing the transformation happening within it. No one had ever preformed the ritual for at least a hundred years, so Eddie couldn’t help but worry, especially given that he couldn’t see Steve to give himself some assures that the omega was fine.

The door behind Eddie opened, but he didn’t turn his head to look. He already knew who it was since this wouldn’t be the first time his uncle has come to visit him as he waited for Steve to emerge from his chrysalis. Wayne was worried about him, so Eddie couldn’t blame him for his constant check-ins, but Eddie stood by his decision, and he wouldn’t leave Steve’s side until the two of them could officially be together as mates.

“Now, you know I don’t like meddling in other people’s business,” Wayne began.

“Then why are you here?” Eddie snapped testily. “I’m not leaving until I know Steve is alright.”

“I understand that, but another day has passed and you still haven’t left the house.”

“The clan will be fine without me for a few days.”

“I’m not talking as your clan leader, but as your uncle. It’s unhealthy, Eddie, to be so attached to an omega in this way.”

“The moment he comes out, he’s going to begin his first heat. I want to be there when it happens. I want to mate him as soon as possible, so I can watch him round with my pup.”

“Omegas aren’t as fertile during their first heat. I just don’t want you to be disappointed when it takes a few heats for Steve to start rounding with your pup. It’s best to let Joyce and the other omegas help him through his first heat.”

Eddie growled. “No one else, not even another omega, gets to see my mate during his heats.”

“When did you get to be so stubborn?” Wayne asked with a put-upon sigh.

“Like you’re one to talk, old man. You’re just as stubborn, maybe even more so.”

Wayne snorted in amusement and ruffled Eddie’s hair. He stayed for a few more moments, but ultimately left like he’d done each of the previous days to get something for Eddie to eat so he wouldn’t starve as he waited for his mate to emerge from the chrysalis. And maybe Eddie was being silly, getting hung up on an omega as he was, but he could feel it in his bones that Steve was his true mate and that he would get pregnant, even on his first heat, with their pups, which would be strong and beautiful, just like their mother.

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Upside Down Transformation: This one, after the battle in the Upside Down, Eddie and Steve start to go through some changes because of the bat bites. Eddie becomes similar to an alpha while Steve becomes similar to an omega and develops a pussy. Obviously, they end up fucking in the end, but not before Steve is a little humiliated at the fact that Eddie is getting bigger while he's getting smaller.

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“Are you getting shorter?” Eddie heard Dustin ask.

Glancing up from his notes, Eddie saw Dustin hadn’t followed the rest of the kids to Steve’s living room but stood with Steve near the door to the kitchen. Eddie stared at the two, and now that Dustin had mentioned it, Steve did seem shorter. Not by an extremely noticeable amount, but Dustin and Steve were almost the same height now when previously Steve still had a few inches on the other boy.

And maybe it was only Eddie’s imagination, but Steve seemed prettier somehow. While Steve had always been handsome, there was some extra details that Eddie couldn’t help noticing now that he was looking. Steve’s lips seemed fuller and hair was a little longer, maybe silkier, too. Also, though Steve was wearing layers, Eddie thought that Steve was a bit curvier, especially in the area around his hips.

“You’re imaging things,” Steve insisted, crossing his hands over chest. “And why does how tall I am concern you? You the height police or something?”

Dustin held up his hands defensively. “I was just asking. Didn’t know it was a touchy subject.”

“It’s not a touchy subject!”

“I don’t know, Steve! It’s starting to seem like it is!”

The two continued to bitch at each other, forgetting their original argument as Steve adeptly distracted Dustin by getting them further off-topic. Eddie didn’t, however, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Steve was going through the same changes as him but only slightly different. Even though it wasn’t as extensively, Steve had been bitten by the Demo-bats, too. If their venom was changing Eddie as he theorized then there was a chance that the same thing could be happening to Steve, though making him smaller rather than bigger.

Eddie wanted to ask but decided now wasn’t the time. It’d be better to mention it when they were alone, out of earshot of the younger kids since some of the changes were of a sexual manner. At least he hoped some of Steve’s changes were like that given that, while Eddie wouldn’t call it a crush, he did find Steve attractive and desired to have this conversation to lead to more as they both explored the sexual side of their transformation.

And maybe Steve sensed Eddie’s sexual desire, because he glanced over from where he was arguing with Dustin to catch Eddie’s eye line. A subtle blush appeared on Steve’s cheeks, and he quickly turned away, retreating into the kitchen while Dustin followed, unaware of the electricity that had passed between his babysitter and DM. Eddie was honestly liking his chances that something would happen between them if Eddie brought up the changes, and he couldn’t wait until he could wrap up the game so they could talk.

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Warlock Eddie AU: Sort of an extremely, EXTREMELY loose Sabrina the Teenage Witch au. Eddie and Steve are dating, but Eddie wants more, so he preforms different rituals on Steve to make him into everything he could ever want in a boyfriend/wife.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie watched as Steve stepped out from behind the coffee counter, revealing a slight swell in his stomach, signaling that the ritual had worked. He’d effectively made his mortal boyfriend pregnant. The other man didn’t seem to notice that anything was unusual about this fact, and instead had a loving hand on the bump as he continued to approach Eddie to happily place a quick kiss on his cheek.

“How’s my sweethearts doing?” Eddie asked, while drawing Steve closer, making certain to place his hand on the bump. “Smell of coffee isn’t making you sick?”

“A little,” Steve replied as he put his hand over Eddie’s. “But, it’s not like I can just quit and leave Robin alone now that I’m pregnant, especially given that I’ll need to take maternity leave in a few months. Have to build the hours now.”

It pleased Eddie to hear Steve talk this way, as if him being pregnant and suddenly having a womb was completely normal. He even seemed excited about the baby that he was carrying, unaware that the child was place inside him with the use of magic. On top of that, none of the mortals around the shop were giving Steve a second glance either, acting as if they were used to seeing Steve pregnant when previously he hadn’t had that capability.

“You can always quit. That way you can stay home with the baby when they’re born,” Eddie suggested. “Wayne wouldn’t mine if you moved in, too.”

“I really do want to stay home with the baby, but I’d feel terrible if I left all the financial burden on you and your uncle.”

“You wouldn’t be, Stevie. Wayne would love having his grandniece or nephew living with him. And you could help around the house.”

Steve bit his lip. “I’ll think on it, alright?”

While Steve said that, Eddie could feel that he wouldn’t as Steve had already made up his mind. Steve always worried about being a bother because of how his parents treated him like a burden back when he used to live with them. He never let Eddie take care of him, even when it wouldn’t be inconvenience him at all.

Eddie pressed a kiss into Steve’s lips then rubbed the bump, when an idea stuck him. Why did he have to stop with getting Steve pregnant? There were other rituals and magics that he could use to change Steve’s mind about moving in with him and quitting his job. He didn’t have to stop there either since with magic, he could change Steve even further into the perfect wife and mother, who would also be approved by the Witch’s Council.

The only problem was, like the pregnancy ritual, these changes would be above Eddie’s skill level. He’d have to ask Wayne for help again if he wanted to complete these. His uncle had come to view Steve as a second son, however, so Eddie hoped that meant that he’d want to help Eddie remove the obstacles that were standing in the way of their relationship.

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Dark Vampire AU: This is set after s4 and is similar to the HoLN except that it happens in canon. Also, Eddie doesn't have an army except for the few Demogorgons that he controls due to being a general of Vecna's. He captures Steve and turns him into his wife through different brainwashing methods from HoLN as it's much more subtle in this one given the lack of magical means.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I promise I won’t touch you unless you ask me, baby.” The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticked up slightly. “I’m not a complete monster, after all.”

“This cup locked to my junk says otherwise.”

“That’s for your own protection. I had a feeling you wouldn’t like my wardrobe choice, so I placed that on you for safety. Once you meet them, I think you’ll agree that it’s best not to dangle loose meat in front of my pets.”

Chittering filled the air, freezing Steve’s blood as he recognized the chilling sound. Soon, three demodogs stalked their way towards Eddie, circling around him like sharks. Eddie reached down, stroking their backs gently as if they were average puppies instead of horrific flesh-eating monsters from another dimension.

“Stevie, I’d like to introduce you to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Raised them myself from when they just wee slugs. Aren’t they precious?”

“A pack of angels,” Steve muttered sarcastically.

Eddie smirked, reaching down to scratch the largest one, Aragorn, underneath its chin. Legolas, the lithe and spindly demodog, nuzzled up against Eddie’s leg to await its turn, while the runt, Gimli, turned its attention to Steve, staring up at him knowingly despite it not having any eyes. The scene might’ve been considered cute if they were actual dogs instead of the things that haunted Steve’s nightmares.

After another moment, Eddie said, “I’m glad you feel that way since they’re going to be the ones guarding you while I’m away doing business for the boss.” He paused then glanced up at Steve. “And don’t worry, I keep them well fed, so unless you do something stupid like trying to remove your lovely accessories or whatever, there won’t be any accidents. Got it?”

Steve knew he was a prisoner. He knew that, but for some reason, finding out that he would be guarded by the creatures that had almost killed him a few years back was what really made the situation feel real. This wasn’t a dream or some prank that Eddie had cooked up to mess with him. Steve was a prisoner. It was a fact, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to escape.

“There’s a balcony,” Steve warned. “I could jump, and I’d be out the door before they could catch me. I’ve outrun demodogs before. I can do it again.”

“Go ahead, sweetheart. See what happens.”

With a cocky smile, Eddie put his hands in his pocket, making no move to stop him. It gave Steve pause, feeling that Eddie had concocted a way to keep him on the grounds of the mansion. He then remembered the collar that was around his neck, so he raised his hands to feel for the mechanism attached to it.

“This is a shock collar,” Steve said flatly. “You put a shock collar on me.”

Eddie grinned. “Have to make sure you behave somehow, princess. I’ll take it off once I know you’ll behave, though. Cross my undead heart.”

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Canon Real DnD: Set pre-s4, Eddie discovers that what he makes happen in his campaigns comes true. He, of course, abuses this power in order to make Steve his. This was a prompt, but it also mixes the idea that Eddie caused s4 to happen because he introduced Vecna in his campaign.

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Pausing at the door, Steve seemed to be considering something. Then, instead of following the kids out, he turned around and made his way back inside the drama room to where Eddie stood. He sucked in breath, clearly nervous about whatever it was that he was going to say. In turn, Eddie felt anxious as he recalled what he made Prince Stefan do in the game this session.

“I just-” Steve said while licking his lips. “I’ve never- I need you- I want- Eddie, I want you to- After I drop off the kids...”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “What exactly do you want me to do? You’re not being very clear.”

“I want you to fuck me! On your throne! I want you to fuck me on your throne!”

The phrase was much cruder than Eddie had put it in the session, but it was generally the same idea that he’d put forth. Eddie hadn’t believed Dustin when he’d said that what was happening in his sessions had been coming true, but here was Steve coming up to him, asking to be fucked on the throne just like how Prince Stefan had asked Demon Lord Dee to fuck him.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, deciding to play it cool, as if he wasn’t interested. “Why should I? How do I know that this isn’t some kind of trick?”

“It’s not,” he replied, brow furrowing. “I just want you to fuck me on the throne. Want your- your cum in my ass! Eddie, please. I’ll do anything. Just fill me.”

Eddie smirked at how desperate Steve sounded to be fucked, exactly how he had imagined Prince Stefan had been when he had begged the demon lord. Even if Steve suspected that Eddie had a character based off him, there was no way he’d know how desperate the prince was to be fucked. He doubted that would be something that Dustin would mention to Steve, not that any of the kids understood what Eddie mean to be able to tell Steve that’s what he wanted.

“Well, if that’s what you want, Stevie, I aim to please. But after you drop off the sheepies. Don’t want them to suspect that I’m railing their favorite babysitter in here.”

Red colored Steve’s cheeks, and he nodded bashfully then said, “I’ll be right back then.”

“Don’t take too long, or I’ll start without you.”

Then Eddie added a wink, which caused the blush on Steve’s cheeks to deepen even further. It was honestly unreal that he had Steve “the Hair” Harrington in front of him acting as bashful as a virgin all because that’s how Eddie had described his counterpart during the session. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how far he could push this newfound power, if it was limited to simply altering perceptions or if he could push it further into the physical realm. To be honest, he already had several storylines swirling in his head, as he was eager to find out more about his capabilities.

#show: stranger things #steddie #alex answers #my fics #wip wednesday #but on a thursday #really sorry for posting these so late!

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cherry-goth · 6 months

Text

Written in Blood Pt.1

Tav x Astarion

Note: I'm just writing for fun, so no proof read. Inspired by my current playlist. Takes place somewhere between Act 1 and Act 2. Kind of switches back and forth from Tav POV to Astarion POV. This will be a series based off the song Written In Blood by She Wants Revenge. Mature Content.

~~~

The loud bolstering sound of music clashing with tabled conversations fill the the already tightly packed inn. Tav and her traveling companions stopped for the night to rest and reward themselves with real beds for once after a grueling afternoon.

Majority had agreed to meet back at the inn's bar downstairs after putting away their belongings in their respective rooms-all but one. Their pale companion had been in a terrible mood all day, and had quickly secluded himself behind the door of his room as soon as they had arrived-much to Tav's disappointment.

The traveling party hadn't been on the road together very long, but enough to have built some camaraderie with each other. And the warm sanctuary of the inn seemed like the perfect place to take a brief respite and relax. Tav was going to take this opportunity to get their brooding vampire companion to open up a little more.

With a sigh at the thought, she walks over to the bar and leans against it to get the busy bartender's attention for an ale. Her mind drifts as she waits, thinking back to the last actual conversation she had with Astarion. It must have been when they had their first late night encounter...Her face heats and her cheeks dust with a shade of pink at the memory, but it fades just as quickly. He had been rather distant since that night, and Tav continued to rack her brain for something she had done or said to the elf to make him shy away and act so cold.

A frown appears on her face-when she can't think of anything. She solemnly picks up the mug of ale the bartender finally placed in front of her and pulls away from the bar. Her eyes scan over the many patrons of the inn, as she takes a sip of her drink. Some dancing, some laughing with friends, others toasting with mugs in joy, but then she sees it and nearly chokes on the ale. A pair of those unmistakable crimson eyes staring her down with the same feral intent of a predator stalking its prey.

Blood red lips traced with a tongue they shine, Cut through a crowded room.

Her smell was obscenely intoxicating, and it was taking every ounce of his willpower to not pounce on Tav in front of the entire inn. Which was part of the reason Astarion was so quick to seclude himself in his room for the night. He had tried to stay away, acting cold and indifferent after the night him and Tav shared in the woods. He had first tried to take his mind off of things by reading, but the words blurred together as his mind drifted to the first night she allowed him to feed on her. What a mouthwatering, red bouquet Tav had hidden under her soft and delicate skin.

His gnawing hunger worsens at the memory, and he shakes his head to lose the thought. Astarion throws the book on his bed, and stalks over to the table with the basin of water to splash his face. The refreshment does nothing to distract him, and only serves to wake him from his hunger induced haze. He grips the sides of the table to ground himself-hearing the wood groan in protest at his vampiric strength.

"Enough is enough, no more games, no more hiding." He repeats this mantra as he makes his way to the door of his room, before finally sneaking downstairs to find Tav.

At first glance he doesn't see her with how crowded the first floor of the inn was, but spots a somewhat secluded booth in the back and empty of patrons. With his rouge-like dexterity, he is able to easily slip through the crowd to claim it, but not before 'borrowing' two silver goblets and bottle of red wine when the bartender wasn't looking.

Astarion makes it to the table with ease, and finally catches the sweet innocent eyes of Tav. He knows he has her attention now, and leans back in the booth with the grace of prince, yet exuding the very definition of sex with his perfected disheveled appearance. His white frilled camp shirt opens up even more to show off his pale skin, and just like a magnet Tav drifts over to him through the crowd.

A look can say a lot sometimes So, I take all my past attractions and project on you

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion romance

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nonalie · 1 year

Text

Is This What You Wanted: Part 4 | Aemond Targaryen

Summary: You are wed to Aemond Targaryen, but you swore to yourself that you would never love him. Inspired by the song Is This What You Wanted, by The Last Shadow Puppets (and ofc episode 8 of House of the Dragon!)

Words: 2.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Masterlist

AO3

A/N: Part 4 is finally here, I apologize for the delay! I’m gonna be writing daily for NaNoWriMo through the entirety of November so expect more updates weekly (I have some ideas for one-shots)! Thank you so much for reading!!!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Relaxing on a pile of pillows on the ground, you warmed the soles of your now bare feet close to the dying fire. Uncomfortable shoes scattered across the room when you managed to lose them somehow as you were walking across the chamber, and the decorative headpiece discarded, slowly falling off the back of a nearby chair. The only sounds that seemed to echo through the now dormant castle was your laughter, amplified by the goblet of wine that had been filled and refilled multiple times over the past few hours.

Aemond stood up from his spot next to you, and you watched the pillows that had sunken into the stone floor under his weight slowly start to rise again. The fire roared up into the chimney as he added an extra two logs, wiping his hands on his trousers to clean off the shavings. He picked up the almost empty flagon of wine before making his way back over to you.

You reached your arm out to accept the wine being poured into your goblet, then waited for him to sit back down.

“Oh—oh,” you jumped up from your spot on the ground. “Do you remember when Helaena found that green beetle that couldn’t fly and Ser Criston stepped on it? I never heard her shout at someone like that before.”

“Good,” he smirked. “He deserves to be told off.”

Wine spilled over the edge of your goblet as you laughed loudly, causing you to gasp, but then switched back to laughter once more when you saw that Aemond still had the smirk on his face. You placed the goblet down momentarily and wiped your fingers on your gown, not worrying about stains since both were the same shade of red.

Refilling your cup once again, the flagon now empty, Aemond leaned over until both of your goblets were within an inch of each other.

“To our successful marriage,” he said. “And to my beautiful wife.”

“Thank you, my Prince.” You felt your cheeks redden as you clinked your goblet against his.

“Princess,” he said and put the goblet up to his lips.

You tried to hide the blush by bringing the goblet up to your lips, smiling as you sipped the maroon liquid.

The silence was calming as you both drank your wine. The fire crackled next to you, and the soft sounds of the city entered your ears. Aemond’s chamber faced the majority of the city of King’s Landing, and you heard the distant sounds of music echoing through the sandstone streets.

“Sounds like we're not the only ones celebrating tonight.” You instinctively turned your head towards the open windows as Aemond spoke. Feeling him shift next to you, you turned back around to see him standing up, his hand extended outwards. “Come on,” he said. “I'm sure we can do much better this time.”

You cringed slightly at his remark, remembering how you stepped on his toes not once but three times during your first dance. “I'm not the one who didn’t remember the steps,” you joked back but accepted his hand anyway.

Aemond led you closer towards the open window. While the sounds of the city were louder here, you still tried to stay as silent as possible just to be able to hear the music. Pulling you closer towards him this time, you felt his grip on your right hand tighten momentarily before he started moving. He had no problems remembering the steps this time as he delicately maneuvered you around the room, and you were able to avoid his toes without having to look down. The music outside started to quicken, and he obliged, spinning you around faster and making you giggle as you relished in him leading the dance. It made you wonder if his talents came from his expert swordsmanship; that was similar to dancing, right?

Though your thoughts of his elegance and poise made you lose your own balance, and on the third spin in the sequence, your back suddenly hit his chest, the impact causing you to take a quick breath. But before you could turn around to apologize, you realized that his arms had firmly encircled you.

The music still played outside but you could barely hear it over the beating of your own heart that echoed in your ears. You felt his breath on the back of your neck as he angled his head down towards you, and for a second you thought that maybe it wasn’t your own heart beating that you could hear, but his own. Leaning your head back further against his chest, you looked up through your lashes to see how close he was. His eye was closed, and you felt his breath against your parted lips now.

You hovered there for what felt like an eternity, lips barely a centimeter from each other, before he slowly started moving again.

The music playing outside did not matter anymore as the two of you were now dancing to your own melody. Swaying gently along with the breeze that entered the chamber through the open window, your back was still up against his chest, and you were sure now that you could feel his heart beating through the soft black fabric of his shirt.

You finally turned to face him after some time. His eye now open and staring deep into yours, you continued to dance as the wind picked up. You heard the fire crackle as it hit the stones surrounding it, and the same gust of wind lifted the bottom hem of your skirts. A shiver ran through you, and you instinctively moved closer towards Aemond’s body, tightening your grip on his shoulder.

“Are you cold, My Lady?” A small smile decorated the corners of his lips.

“Yes, My Prince,” you responded. “The wind seems to have picked up.”

Aemond stopped moving, and you assumed he would step away from you. Releasing you from the warm embrace in order to walk towards the grand windows and close them. But instead he brought his hand up to your chin, still holding onto you with his other hand, and tilted your head back to look up at him. The smirk on his face never faltered as he looked lovingly into your eyes.

He took a step forward, forcing you to take a step back—and then another, and another—until you felt yourself nearing the decorative half wall that separated his large oak bed from the rest of his chambers. He had dropped his hand from your chin by that point, but you were still looking up at him, not daring to break eye contact. At that moment you wanted to burn every inch of his face into your memory, as the look he was giving you was something that you had never seen before in anyone's eyes.

As you passed the threshold that divided the two rooms you instantly felt the cold wind cease. He led you backwards until you felt the solid oak hit the back of your legs, causing you to sit down at the foot of the bed.

The heavy black and red curtains that decorated the four poster bed were tied to the posts intricately, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he would close them for what happens next. You wondered if he would prefer to shroud the both of you in darkness, or if he’d rather look upon your face; a part of you wishing it was the latter.

His hand ventured across the side of your face, caressing your cheek before dropping back down to where the three clasps held your shawl in place. He unfastened each individual clasp slowly, not breaking eye contact. But you noticed that the smirk was now completely gone, replaced by a similar look to the one he gave you before he kissed you earlier that night. As soon as the third clasp was released, the shawl slipped from your frame and onto the feather mattress.

“Stand up.” Aemond commanded as he reached his hand out towards you once again. Obeying, you stood from your spot on the bed, not wanting to challenge the look that he was giving you. Your bare shoulders hit the cold air as you rose, and you watched as his good eye scanned down the length of your body, only now being able to truly take in the intricacy of your gown.

“Do you like the gown I chose, My Prince?” You asked.

His piercing blue eye shot back up to your face. “Yes,” he said. The smirk appearing again as he leaned down to your ear. “But what interests me more is how long it will take for me to remove it.”

There was no way to hide the deep red blush that instantly spread across your face this time, and he made sure of that. As soon as you tried to drop your head, his hand went to the side of your face, running his thumb over the redness on your cheek.

“My Lady,” he waited to continue speaking until you looked up at him. “Do you know what happens between a man and a woman on their wedding night?” He asked gently.

You nodded your head quickly, muttered a quiet ‘yes,’ and attempted to turn your face away again, but he stopped you.

He tucked a stray hair behind your ear carefully before speaking again, his words falling to a whisper. “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”

You looked back up into his eye. “I know.” Your voice sounded, barely a whisper too.

But that was all that he needed, and soon both of his hands dropped down to the ties on the front of your gown. He pulled on the ornate ribbons, releasing them slowly, and watching as the silky fabric began to slide off your shoulders, before it finally slipped to the ground, revealing the pearl white gown underneath. One hand caressing your face as he slipped the other hand in between both of you, weaving his fingers through the thin white cord which held the gown tight to your body. You felt it loosen with every tug until he pulled his hand away completely, holding the cord in his hand, now separated from the fabric. The last thing holding the soft tulle to your body was the red ribbon at the nape of your neck.

Taking one last look at you, Aemond leaned down and smashed his lips to yours. You felt his fingers pull on the ribbon, and soon after felt your gown pooling at your feet.

Deepening the kiss, a sigh escaped your lips as you reached up to run your fingers through his long white hair.

• • • • • •

The flickering candlelights of darkness were replaced by a soft warm hue that glowed on the outside of your eyelids. Peeling open your eyes, you realized that the warmth you felt on your face was actually the light of the morning sun entering through the still open eastern windows.

You looked around to find that you were laying down in an unfamiliar chamber, the light of the candles on the walls still quivering, melted almost entirely down to the metal spike holding them up. Blinded by the light, your attempt to take in your surroundings through blurry vision was thwarted. Shifting over slightly, you pulled the heavy covers up and over your eyes, trying your best to recall why exactly you were waking up in a strange bed.

Then the memories of the night before slowly started flooding back in, and the other party responsible for you waking up in the dragon’s den stirred beside you.

You were nervous to turn around, unsure if he was awake yet or not. And to be honest, you didn’t know which you would prefer. But you were starting to lose oxygen hiding your face under the covers, and you knew you’d have to come out sooner or later.

Peeling back the heavy sheet covering your face, you slowly moved it down to your nose—then down even further to your chin. Slowly turning your head over to the side once you felt him stop moving.

Aemond was splayed out next to you on his stomach, arm span covering at least two thirds of the bed. Only then you realized that you were cuddled up right on the edge. His white hair seemed to have wrapped its long strands across his face and neck, the hair by his nose gently lifting up and down to signify that he was in fact still breathing. You noticed that the black eyepatch was missing from his eye, but the left side of his face was buried deep in the pillow. He must have removed it at some point in the night.

Turning around to face him, you noticed that the calmness of sleep on his face erased all the signs of stress and tension that normally resided there. Reluctantly, you reached out your hand to move the stray hairs away, but as soon as your fingertips brushed over his cheek, he awoke with a start. Jumping up from where his face was planted in the pillow, he turned the left side of his face quickly away from you. But you had caught a glimpse of the blue sapphire that resided in the empty gap of where his left eye used to be, reflecting blue in the sunlight that was hitting the both of you.

“Please.” Sitting up, you reached out your hand toward him. “It doesn’t frighten me, Aemond.”

You watched him take a deep breath, and you realized how long it’s been since you’ve actually called him by his name. He closed his right eye, and turned slowly towards you, the sapphire catching the light once again. Placing your hand on his cheek just as you did the night before, you thought you could feel the deep blue color burning into your own eyes, reflecting the color back to him.

“You don’t frighten me, Aemond.” You said as soon as you saw his right eye look up at you.

You felt his jaw clench under your palm, and this time you leaned in to kiss him. The awkward positions of your bodies forcing you to adjust yourself until you were almost sitting on his lap, causing the heavy covers to drop from the tight cocoon against you. You weren’t expecting the chill that suddenly hit your body, reaching down with your other hand to lift the covers back up. But Aemond’s hand grabbed your wrist.

You felt the blush forming on your cheeks when Aemond’s eyes dropped down to scan over your body. The smirk that you had missed for the past few hours creeping up to the corners of his lips yet again.

“I don’t think anyone will be expecting us at breakfast.” Aemond said before leaning back into the kiss.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Taglist: @tea-effect ; @missusnora ; @tachibubu ; @moonmaiden1996 ; @harrylines ; @nomugglesallowed ; @dragonismo ; @makaramosss ; @ephemeralninon ; @m1ndbrand ; @kyrieshoka ; @criesinsagitarius ; @tswiftsthings ; @merakiaes ; @betelrus ; @schnilipsel ; @fultimefangirl ; @rainazinha ; @elegantwoes ; @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz ; @cullenswife

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yummygender · 5 months

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Beyond the Timelines 7: The Grand Plan

The Loki variants hatch a plan to save Mobius

(Warnings: Comic and Movie Spoilers)

Every powerful Loki variant sat in the war room, the most powerful…that being Necrogod Loki, sat at the head of the table with his right hand man, President Loki. Every Loki variant that lived within the palace Iokl created began to argue.

“There’s no way that psycho is working with Thanos!!”

“That poor variant…”

“Yes, but he can’t stay. That Loki could lead Thanos straight to us.”

“Why yes, let’s kick out one of the possibly newer most powerful variant we have had since Iokl…no offense.”

Iokl sighed softly as they rubbed their forehead.

“He’s similar to me, being the god of stories…but that’s about it, other then the obvious appearance and green coloration…”

“I see…”

The meeting was originally scheduled to discuss how they could help Loki find Mobius, but the topics quickly switched from Mobius to Thanos to Old King Loki’s betrayal, Loki and back to Thanos with even OG Loki commenting that he didn’t fully trust Old King Loki to not betray them all and work with Thanos. No one could agree on anything at all. Many variants began to attempt to point blame on each other as Iokl and OG Loki stared at each other out of exhaustion. With OG being the very very first Loki being born and Iokl being the most op of the group with his Story Creation powers that he gained from Now and Then. Everything was just absolute chaos.

“FOR ALL WE KNOW, THIS NEW LOKI COULD BE A THREAT!!”

“EVERY LOKI COULD ME A THREAT, YOU IDIOT! WE’RE LOKIS!!!”

“ENOUGH!!!”

Classic Loki stared in amazement at Iokl’s outburst. He knew Iokl was usually calm and quiet, reading some sorta book during their meetings as they listened carefully to the others’ conversation…so for them to shout at everyone to be quiet was very out of character…even if he was the god of stories.

“We need to be more careful with this variant…he’s still very fragile. The only thing on his mind is his little TVA Agent boyfriend…”

Necrogod Loki chuckled as he gently lifted his goblet of wine and began to sip as he kept quiet.

“We need a plan.”

“Agreed.”

“So let’s get right to it.”

Iokl smirked as they used their magic to make a war map of Asgard, displaying Mobius with Thanos’ arm wrapped around his neck. The others looked over at Iokl as they smiled and watched them stare at the display.

“Now…Thanos is a very strong titan, he’s not gonna let anyone get past him…”

“So we need to sneak up behind him.”

“Mhm…sounds easy.”

“So what’s next?”

“…we need to make him let go of Mobius.”

“Sounds easy.” Iokl blurted out.

“Uhh…no, no it’s not.”

“We’re Lokis, damnit!” OG Loki interrupted.

The room fell silent for a moment as Loki entered, noticing the map as he looked over the table.

“Loki…”

“I-I know. I know…”

He reached out to the Mobius figure before pulling it away.

“…I want to find him.”

“We need a plan first.”

Loki pulled up a chair and sat between OG Loki and Iokl as he looked down at the scene.

“We can sneak up behind him.”

He nodded.

“How?”

“We fly behind him and push him forward.”

“Like he’ll actually fall for that.”

“We have multiple Lokis on our side…”

Loki shrugged as he continued to look down at the war plans.

“…so what do we do?”

“Sneak up behind him and have someone distract him.”

“And?”

“And trip him.”

Loki stood up.

“But he’ll crush Mobius!”

Iokl summoned a piece of string.

“Not if we make him drop Mobius.”

He swept the string under the figure’s legs, making the magical hologram trip on the strings as the figure flung Mobius up in the air and fall forward.

“Then I’ll catch Mobius…”

Iokl created a Loki figure as the illusion caught Mobius as Thanos fell flat on his face. OG smiled as he began to talk.

“Next we’ll pull Thanos off the bridge and make him fall, the titan will fall and…”

“Mobius will be safe.”

OG nodded, but everyone began to worry. It just felt easy…far too easy.

“Thanos is a strong man…”

Iokl scoffed.

“So are we…we’re strong too.”

OG nodded as he smiled, adjusting his helmet as he stared at the map.

“Yes…we are.”

Loki kept quiet as he looked down at his hands. He was a powerful sorcerer…but it wasn’t enough. Loki didn’t feel strong, he felt like he was…in hiding. He never got a satisfactory ending to his story. Finding out he was adopted, being mind controlled, imprisoned, losing Frigga to the dark elves and Odin after he said that he loved Loki, dying at Thanos’ hand, finding what he thought was love, losing said pathetic love, being abandoned once again, and now…he’s the lone God of Stories, holding the timelines together as he watched over Mobius. The memories began to anger Loki as everything began to line up…and all the blame was pointed at Thanos. Thanos caused his agony.

“So now what?”

“We go back in time.”

“But we all can’t go back…”

Iokl cleared his throat.

“Am I invisible?”

The variants smiled softly.

“Go on…”

Iokl summoned a portal as they muttered something under their breath as everyone geared up. Loki smiled softly he swallowed.

“Ready, Loki?”

Loki kept quiet.

“…genderfluid…”

“Hmm?”

“…I…I think I’m genderfluid. No I…I know I’m genderfluid.”

Iokl smiled brightly, his missing tooth adding charm to his smile.

“What made you decide to tell us?”

Loki chuckled as they flashed their signature smile.

“Thanos and Odin would always tell me that I shouldn’t say such things and keep it to myself…but…Thanos can’t control me anymore. I’m not going to let him control me anymore…I’m not going to let anyone control me anymore.”

Iokl nodded as the group decided on their weapons and choice of magic, Loki deciding to go with his usual daggers. Classic seemed a little annoyed that Loki didn’t seem to have learned anything, but he decided to just ignore this as they all focused on their mission.

“…I’m coming Mobius…”

“I’ll save you.”

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #genderfluid loki #fanfic #fanfiction

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incorrect-hs-quotes · 2 years

Text

Terezi: IF TH3R3 C4N B3 NO 4RR4NG3M3NT, TH3N W3 4R3 4T 4N 1MP4SS3

Vriska: I'm afraid so. I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my 8rains.

Terezi: YOUR3 TH4T SM4RT?

Vriska: Let me put it this way: Have you ever heard of Troll Plato, Troll Aristotle, Troll Socr8es?

Terezi: Y3S

Vriska: Morons!

Terezi: R34LLY! IN TH4T C4S3, I CH4LL3NG3 YOU TO 4 B4TTL3 OF W1TS

Vriska: To the death? I accept!

Terezi: GOOD, TH3N POUR TH3 F4YGO

Vriska: *pours the faygo*

Terezi: INH4LE TH1S, BUT DO NOT TOUCH

Vriska, taking a vial from Terezi: I smell nothing.

Terezi: WH4T YOU DO NOT SM3LL 1S 1OC41N3 POWD3R. 1T 1S ODORL3SS, T4ST3L3SS, D1SSOLV3S 1NST4NTLY 1N L1QU1D 4ND 1S 4MONG TH3 MOR3 D34DLY PO1SONS KNOWN TO TROLL

Vriska: Hmmmmmmmm.

Terezi: *turns her back and adds the poison to one of the goblets*

Terezi: 4LR1GHT, WH3R3 1S TH3 PO1SON? TH3 B4TTL3 OF W1TS H4S B3GUN; 1T 3NDS WH3N YOU D3C1DE 4ND W3 BOTH DR1NK -- 4ND F1ND OUT WHO 1S R1GHT, 4ND WHO 1S D34D

Vriska: 8ut it's so simple! All I have to do is divine it from what I know of you. Are you the sort of troll who would put the poison into her own go8let or her enemy's? Now, a clever troll would put the poison into her own go8let 8ecause she would know that only a gr8 fool would reach for what she was given. I am not a gr8 fool so I can clearly not choose the soda in front of you... 8ut you must have known I was not a gr8 fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the pop in front of me.

Terezi: YOUV3 M4D3 YOUR D3C1S1ON TH3N?

Vriska: Not remotely! 8ecause Iocaine comes from Derse. As everyone knows, Derse is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted 8y me. So, I can clearly not choose the faygo in front of you.

Terezi: TRULY, YOU H4V3 4 D1ZZY1NG 1NT3LL3CT

Vriska: Wait 'till I get going!!!!!!!!

Vriska: ........

Vriska: ...where was I?

Terezi: D3RS3

Vriska: Yes! Derse! And you must have suspected I would have known the powder's origin, so I can clearly not choose the fizz in front of me.

Terezi: YOUR3 JUST ST4LL1NG NOW

Vriska: You'd like to think that, wouldn't you! You've 8eaten my 8leu8lood, which means you're exceptionally strong... so you could have put the poison in your own go8let trusting on your strength to save you, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. 8ut you've also 8ested my Dersite, which means you must have studied... and in studying you must have learned that troll is for the most part mortal and so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possi8le, so I can clearly not choose the drink in front of me!

Terezi: YOUR3 TRY1NG TO TR1CK M3 1NTO G1V1NG 4W4Y SOM3TH1NG; 1T WONT WORK

Vriska: It h8s worked!!!!!!!! You've given 8rything away!!!!!!!! I know where the poison is!!!!!!!!

Terezi: TH3N M4K3 YOUR CHO1CE!

Vriska: I will, and I choose...

Vriska, pointing behind Terezi: Wh8 in the world can that 8e???????

Terezi, turning around while Vriska switches the goblets: WH4T? WH3R3? 1 DONT S33 4NYTH1NG

Vriska: Oh, well, I... I could have sworn I saw something. No matter. >::::D

Terezi: WH4TS SO FUNNY?

Vriska: I... I'll tell you in a minute. First, let's drink, me from my glass and you from yours.

*TH3Y 8OTH DR1NK*

Terezi: YOU GU3SS3D WRONG

Vriska: You only th8nk I guessed wrong!!!!!!!! That's wh8t's so funny!!!!!!!! I switched gl8sses when your 8ack was turned!!!!!!!! Ha ha, you fool!!!!!!!! You fell victim to one of the classic 8lunders. The most f8mous is never get involved in a land war in Alternia; and only slightly less well known is this: never go in ag8st a Gam8lignant when death is on the line!!!!!!!!

Vriska: *continues to laugh hysterically, 8ut suddenly, she stops and falls over dead*

John: and to think, all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.

Terezi: TH3Y W3R3 BOTH PO1SON3D. I SP3NT TH3 L4ST F3W Y34RS BU1LD1NG UP 1MMUN1TY TO 1OCA1N3 POWD3R

#submission #homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #terezi pyrope #vriska serket #john egbert #johnrezi #mod terezi #source: the princess bride #i think this is the second time i've done this quote on this channel and it's just as delightful as the first time #though i gotta say vriska #you really tried to pull the 'look over there!' trick on a blind girl?

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krystal-prisms · 1 year

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Never go in against a Sicilian, when death is on the line!

#submission #my bs #poll #polls #tumblr polls #the princess bride #the man in black #dread pirate roberts #vizzini #iocane powder #i think im hilarious

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theelvenhaven · 10 months

Text

Not So Secret

Vanifinwe x Family

2.1k words

Request: Hey is there any possibility to do a request about your Original character Vanifinwe and their family discovering she is dating an elf during the days of peace in Valinor? Maybe a Vanyar elf from the house of Ingwe? 🤪

A/N: Absolutely you can! I always take requests for Vani! :) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Vanifinwë was quiet as her brothers all chattered along to one another around the dinner table. Her fork gently pushing around her food as she wore a faint smile on her lips as she recounted her morning with Ingwion. It had been sweet and tender, the way he held her hand and kissed it. Even better was the sweet poem he had written her to take home with her, and she read it over and over again.

Practically memorizing the poem he had written to her, now the issue was just trying to find a way to break the news of courtship to her father. Ingwion had been confident that his father would see no issue with their courtship and that their union would be welcomed. But there was her father to contest with… Seeing as he shirked off every blond that wasn’t the same shade as his mother’s and Tyelkormo.

It made her hesitate, she had been trying all week as she told Ingwion she would tell him this week so they could make a formal announcement. As he said he’d tell his father this week too, but Vanifinwë found it harder and harder the longer time went on and she was quickly running out of time.

But she tried not to dwell on that as she pushed her food around some more before picking up the glass of wine to sip on. Still lost completely in her thoughts,

“What’s on your mind anelya? You’ve been awfully quiet.” Fëanaro’s voice suddenly spoke up over the hustle and bustle at the table, that didn’t stop just because he was talking to her now. Vanifinwë began to blush some, figuring she would be overlooked by her father and what was going on with her. Like he had for the past week or so, but no… This time he was paying too much attention to her.

Unbeknownst to her, Fëanaro had noticed her change in behavior and had been carefully watching her all week. Someone had come into her life and she wasn’t being very forthcoming with the information. He wanted to support his daughter, but couldn’t if she didn’t give him the opportunity too. He loved her and if this ner or nis made her happy who was he to be upset otherwise?

“Oh-I-Uh nothing Atya.” Vanifinwë lied with a stutter trying not to look so wide eyed, catching Tyelkormo’s attention who began to grin as he looked at her. Vanifinwë turned her head away from their father to look at him and immediately she paled, oh no. He knew.

Eru damn him, she thought to herself because now their father was going to know for certain who she was courting. Or at least trying to court.

“Oh I know what’s on her mind.” Tyelkormo said, and Vanifinwë shot him a glare, grateful the rest of their brothers were still distracted with one another. Too busy to notice the chaos that was about to ensue… But she supposed they’d be roped into it then. She set her goblet down on the table as Fëanaro opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh? Do you now? I did not realize you were well acquainted with Vanifinwë’s mind to know better.” Fëanaro said, skewing a sharp black eyebrow as he looked down at his son and Nerdanel sighed out knowing an argument was bound to ensue if she didn’t intervene now.

“Tyelko, it is not your place to be telling Vanifinwë’s business.” But the ner just grinned out mischievously, and Nerdanel dead panned her son. Giving him a warning look, but Tyelkormo was not deterred by any of his parents- let alone his sister- trying to deter him from spilling the proverbial beans.

“She’s thinking about kissing- OW!” Tyelkormo switched to a growl as there was a thud against his shin from Vanifinwë’s foot. Her glare was even more fierce than his, rubbing his shin he stuck his tongue out at her as if that would stick it to her.

“Ingwion! She’s thinking about Ingwion!” Tyelkormo practically hollered out quickly before his sister could get in another shot at his shins or knees and Vanifinwë’s face began to blush a bright red. Her eyes went wide and she clenched her jaw tight as she stared at her brother,

“Traitor!” She responded in a hiss, and Fëanaro paused in his eating as Nerdanel began to choke on her drink and all eyes fell on Vanifinwë. Oftentimes she was used to the dead pan of her brothers all staring at her. But not when it came to matters of the heart, Vanifinwë kept those things under lock and key until she was ready to share them.

But clearly Tyelkormo was going to do it anyways, regardless of her attempts to try and top him from telling the whole world. Vanifinwë was usually brave and courageous, but she wished to sink to the floor and under the table away from Fëanaro’s prying eyes that stared intensely at her.

“Why is Vanifinwë thinking about Ingwion?” There was an edge to his voice, one that spelled out disapproval for Vanifinwë. But it didn’t stop Tyelkormo now that he got the attention he was wholly desiring to get in telling his sisters business,

“Tyelko, not another word.” Nerdanel said firmly, but Fëanaro moved his eyes from Vanifinwë who was hiding her face in her hands, to Nerdanel.

“No, I want to know. Why is Vanifinwë thinking about someone who is related to Indis?” Indis came out in a hiss, and the scowl on her fathers face had grown tenfold. Nerdanel looked to Fëanaro and then to Vanifinwë, gently bringing her hand to hold Vanifinwë’s arm as she kept her face hidden in her hands. Nerdanel knew precisely why Vanifinwë was thinking of Ingwion, Tyelkormo didn’t need to explain any further.

“Because they were k-i-s-s-i-n-g.” Tyelkormo said teasingly, singing ‘kissing’ like one would do in the rhymes. Fëanaro’s face went from frustration to shock and then right back to frustration,

“Tyelkormo that is enough.” Nerdanel retorted out sharply, but Tyelkormo only smiled at his mother innocently,

“Anelya, look at me. Were you kissing that ner? While you aren’t courting for starts!?” He said in exasperation, as if it were some great surprise that his daughter would have a romantic interest in someone. Though Vanifinwë knew it was mostly because of her choice of ner, who wasn’t from a good Noldorin background.

But a Vanyarin one instead.

Like Indis. Related to Indis.

Finally Vanifinwë took a deep breath and lifted her head up from her hands and looked at her father, blinking back the tears of embarrassment. She could strangle Tyelkormo right about now, but she wasn’t going too. It wouldn’t change that the cat was virtually out of the bag now. Nerdanel only moved to gently start rubbing herback.

“Why were you kissing him?” There was a note of disgust in his voice at the idea of her kissing a family member of Indis.

“Because… We are… courting, Atya.” Vanifinwë faltered, usually not afraid to stand up to her father but for the moment she was. Knowing how big of a no no this was, he despised Indis and that included the family she came from despite how cordial he might be to Ingwe when he had to interact with them.

The whole room was silent and everyone looked between one another save Vanifinwë and Fëanaro who stared at one another. The blush was still evident on her face, rivaling the color of her gown she wore. She could see her father run through a myriad of emotions as he sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair and resting his chin on his hand, clenching his jaw and his brows were furrowed.

No one knew whether to give Vanifinwë congratulations or their condolences at the moment, seeing the predicament she was in. For once the youngest was in some kind of trouble- needlessly so in all of her brothers eyes. But Tyelkormo was reveling in the chaos he had caused, knowing as always their father would come around for her. Though Vanifinwë wasn’t so sure that he would this time.

“Why? Why in Eru’s name are you courting him?” He asked trying not to hiss it out to her, keeping his scowl and not moving from his spot,

“Naro, you are being far too harsh.” Nerdanel chimed in, but Fëanaro didn’t budge. Vanifinwë swallowed thickly for a moment, as she sat back in her chair shooting Tyelkormo a glare. She supposed it was better they got it over with now, but not quite in this manner. Damn him.

“Atya we are courting because we have feelings for another, I care for Ingwion regardless of who he shares relation with.” Vanifinwë answered a little more firmly and with confidence about her decision and why she was courting Ingwion. The bandage was ripped off now, so there was no turning back. But Fëanaro still didn’t seem too pleased by her answer, he knew he should’ve kept her somewhere else while Ingwion was visiting on business…

“For the love of Eru Vanifinwë, you know how I feel about that family.” Fëanaro said to her in exasperation,

“Feel that way about Indis if you will Atya, but I don’t see what Ingwion has to do with her. They are simply related distantly and has nothing to do with me and Ingwion’s feelings for one another.” Vanifinwë said arguing back,

“Atya, Vanifinwë should be able to court whom she pleases, Ingwion is a good ner.” Nelyafinwë spoke up garnering Fëanaro’s attention, who quietly thunk over his eldest sons words. Which were true, she bit her tongue as Makalaurë seemed to open his mouth to speak,

“Yes I agree with Nelyo, he is a good and respectable ner and Atya he’s Prince, which I am sure you know since he has been around the Palace.” Makalaurë added, and Vanifinwë watched as Carnistir hummed and so did Curufinwë. She quietly hoped that they too would come to her rescue on this matter and not give their father a chance to argue with her further and force her to end the courtship.

“He is agreeable… Too kind if you want my opinion on the matter.” Curufinwë grumbled as if it were reprehensible that Ingwion have such a good heart, the only people who wouldn’t have an opinion on Ingwion were Tyelkormo and Ambarussa. Carnistir simply didn’t look like he was in the mood to say something on the subject knowing it would just be crass retaliation.

“So all of you are just going to supersede me on this matter?” Fëanaro asked in an offended tone as he looked between them all, all of them made a face and began to nod at their fathers words and Vanifinwë sighed in relief.

“I mean she could do worse.” Tyelkormo finally added with a shining smile, Vanifinwë still wanted to strangle him for even opening up this can of worms. Though it was finally out in the open and this time she seemed to have her brothers backing her, even Tyelkormo despite him opening this mess up for her father.

Fëanaro on the other hand was fuming that his whole family would turn on him so quickly and not in defense of his hatred of Indis and her family. He ground his teeth and his face began to turn red, this time it was Nerdanel’s turn to put a hand on her husband to try and comfort him.

“Naro.. This is the only ner Vanifinwë has shown interest in, we should be supportive.” Nerdanel said sweetly, softening Fëanaro only a little bit. He looked to Nerdanel before taking a big huff out of his nose,

“I need time to think…” He grumbled out, scooting out his chair and moving to leave before he stormed off from the room.

“I could kill you.” Vanifinwë said to Tyelkormo immediately, and he began to laugh giving her his most charming smile.

“But you won’t. Plus thank me for it, now you and Ingwion can do your official announcement or whatever.” Tyelkormo said to her, and there was a collective sigh in frustration,

“There were better ways to do it than doing that Tyelko.” Nerdanel chastised, and Tyelkormo simply shrugged before he too began to leave the table. Vanifinwë simply sat backin her chair taking a deep breath.

“He’ll come around, Vani.” Maitimo said, though he hid the uncertainty that was in his voice, not wishing to worry her. But Vanifinwë herself seemed skeptical of that, regardless she gave him a small smile.

“I sure hope so.”

“Now that everything is not so secret anymore, when do we meet him?” Makalaurë asked and Vanifinwë smiled.

“Soon I hope, once Atya has calmed down.” She responded,

“Perfect, in the meantime I think you owe us details on how this courtship came about.” Maitimo answered with a smile.

* * *

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @anunexpectedsideblog @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

#Vanifinwe #Anamartinde #Eluneth #Failendis #jrr tolkien #tolkien #the silm #the silmarillion #silm #silmarillion #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #imagines #one shot #one shots #headcanon #headcanons

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bluenpinkcastle · 3 months

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20240121: the History of LEGO Castle day 021. 6067-1 / 10000-1 Guarded Inn (1986 / 2001, 256 pieces, 85 different parts) The Guarded Inn is a red and black building with blue, red, and yellow flowers around red corner walls with black lattice work, a sloped black roof, a blue door, and an attached light gray stable and a light gray guard tower. In front of the building, a black sign with two cups and cluster of grapes hangs next to the stable opening. The open back of the building has a yellow table with a bundle of yellow, red, and blue flowers and a blue wine goblet. The four minifigures in this set include two guards with red torsos and blue arms and the gold and black crossed axe pattern and black legs with red belts, a knight with a blue torso and black arms with a silver breastplate pattern and a black plastic cape with blue legs and a black belt, and an innkeeper with a blue plastic cape, red "princess cone hat", a white torso with two red string necklaces and a blue v-neck, and plain blue legs labelled as "maiden". The set also features a white horse with a yellow saddle. This set has a LOT of firsts and a lot of unique parts. The three most unique parts of this set are the black 2x2 hard plastic inn sign with two cups and a bunch of grapes, the red 3x3x6 corner wall with a lattice pattern, and the red 2x5x6 lattice panel castle wall. The blue door is also only found in four other LEGO sets, which makes it less easy to find "in the wild". While the original 6067-1 was released in 1986, the LEGO Group decided to re-release it as part of the Legends theme in 2001. The only real differences between the sets are: the shiny dark gary sword becomes dark gray swords, switching out the 1x1 plates with thin U clips to thick U clips, and switching out the one clip yellow saddle for a two clip. This set is the very first truly civilian scene in the History of LEGO Castle so far, as it features an inn. It really is too bad the knight got a little drunk and then a little handsy with the inn's "maiden" owner, and he really did have it coming when she hit him over the head with her frying pan and then had to drag him into the back while the guards yelled encouragement about what to do with the knight so he might wake up and learn from his mistakes. Insulting the inn's owner just because she was a woman? And then GRABBING her? He desperately needed to be taught some manners. His trusted white steed certainly had fantastic manners, happily munching on some flower petals and never being an arrogant, self-involved prick. Maybe they could convince the horse to drag him through the mud for a bit and then leave him at the local guard shack? The inn's owner definitely felt this plan had potential and the inn's guards offered to fill out the paperwork for local law enforcement. Parts lists for this set can either be found on BrickLink or Rebrickable, while scanned instructions can be found at ToysPeriod. If you want to know more about the designer, Daniel August Krentz, BrickSet did a really nice tribute and has a full list of everything he designed. Additionally, 10039-1 was included in a LEGO Legend Castle Collection (K10039) from 2003 alongside 10000-1 Guarded Inn (re-release from 2001) and 3739-1 Blacksmith Shop (from 2002).

#lego castles #lego #lego castle #lego castle history #history of lego castle #lego history #lego 6067 #lego 10000 #lego guarded inn #legoland system castle #legoland castle system #lego system castle #lego castle system #lego lion knights #lego black falcons

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im-someone-i-guess · 1 year

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jurdan snuggling

a jurdan fic written by ryhanna

word count: 1648

Between endless whining and enthralling escapades, the High King and High Queen of Elfhame barely get any sleep.

prompt: "Jude and Cardan snuggle" requested by anonymous ao3 user

There was something empowering about sitting on the throne, a golden crown of laurel leaves atop one's head and an overly bejewelled dress hugging one's figure. Jude sat with her shoulders straight, levelling a glare at the faerie before them. Her husband, Cardan, was the complete opposite. He lounged on his throne, his crown crooked on his head and a lazy smile painted on his face.

The faerie did not raise his gaze from the ground, his head bowed in respect. And yet Jude noticed hints of a concealed smile. Only bad would come from this audience.

“Why are you here?" Cardan asked. There are no flourished sentences now, no embellished words. Despite his jovial facade, Jude knew he was tired. Neither of them slept and although it had become a frequent occurrence, their weariness was starting to show.

“Your Majesties,” the faerie greeted. “I am Hattiere and I have ventured from my humble abode within the Isle of Insmoor to present to you a gift I had crafted.” He gestured to the guard at the door to come forward.

“My noble king, I present to you a goblet encrusted with rubies, enchanted to provide endless wine for the rest of your life. And as for my lovely queen, here is a sword that would slice through all; skin and bone, flesh and blood. Should Your Majesties accept my offer and all that come with it, I would be glad to bestow these gifts upon you.”

Every day, Jude was reminded that the people love showering royalty with gifts, in hopes to curry favour or to show off their expertise and impress their sovereign. But not all gifts were sincere, there are always hidden thorns within a rosebush. Jude had been smart then, clever to ask the right questions that would uncover the scheme.

But right now, no questions came to mind. Hattiere’s words were poorly composed, the tells blatantly displayed. Jude turned to Cardan, awaiting his reply. He was the one who gifted boons as a symbol of gratitude. He too was the one most well-versed in the slyness of their subjects. And yet Cardan offered no responses, his eyes staring blankly ahead as if he were asleep with his eyes opened.

Jude had seen him do it before, a clever way to hide his slumber during the long hours of meetings with the Living Council.

“And are there any tricks and riddles stitched within your offerings, do answer with utmost honesty,” Jude asked, leaning back on her throne, releasing some tension from her shoulders. She knew it was poorly done, Hattiere could easily deflect and avoid the question but Jude could not come up with anything better.

Already, she felt her eyelids droop with exhaustion, consequences of too many nights spent pouring over battle strategies and meetings with the Court of Shadows. The illicit escapades with Cardan did not help either.

“What are riddles and tricks but the last hurrah of a desperate fool? I, have been called desperate on certain occasions and foolish in many others but I do not think myself stupid. Just accept the gifts, Your Majesties. I promise you would not live to regret accepting my gifts.”

As she had expected, Hattiere only needed to speak worthless nonsense that although may offer the answer to her question, but does not provide the information that Jude had needed. Not bothering to be subtle, Jude kicked at Cardan’s foot, startling him awake.

He casted Jude a scowl, irritated at being awoken. His mood now sour, his earlier relaxed disposition switched into something more dismissing. Cardan eyed the gifts suspiciously, his lips twisted with impatience as if he was offended by their mere presence. “How pleasurable, to have such fine items be offered but I am afraid we cannot accept them. These are such finery that I insist you try out yourself, just to have the satisfaction to say you have.”

Hattiere’s iris-less eyes widened as if he did not expect this request to be asked of him.

“Although it may be amusing to see you choke on poisoned wine, I’d prefer to see the sword at use. You would need a person to test it on, yes?” Cardan asked, adjusting his doublet.

Finally seeing where he was going with this, Jude nodded along. “Guards, bring forth a prisoner from within the dungeons, one awaiting their execution date.” From the corner of her eye, Jude noticed a Court of Shadows member, perking with interest. Bomb, she assumed, she was on duty today.

It did not take long for the guards to find a prisoner to act as a pin cushion. Jude recognised the faerie from a few weeks ago, condemned to death after murdering her husband in cold blood and serving his chopped up remains to his bastard son. It was admirable how the thought had come to her one day and how she decided to go through with it. “Very well, pick the sword Hattiere. Display its superiority,” Cardan urged. He had changed his position, now lounging on his throne with his legs hanging from his right arm rest and his back leaning against the left one. The position did not look at all comfortable but Jude suspected his doublets were padded enough to act as a cushion.

Hattiere hesitated but there was already a crowd of courtiers collecting around to watch, eager to see the humiliation, excited to see the faerie make a fool of himself and anticipating the mysterious death that would soon befall the prisoner. They cheered once Hattiere’s clawed fingers wrapped around the hilt, whispering their jokes under murmured breaths and exchanging bets and dangerous promises.

The prisoner did not even flinch when the sword went straight through her, slicing cleanly through blood, skin, flesh and bone as Hattiere had promised. But she did not seem affected by it, as if she felt no pain. Hattiere pulled the blade from the prisoner’s stomach and yet no blood spilled to the ground.

Instead, there was blood staining the ragged robes Hattiere wore, a growing black that soon dripped to the floor. Horrified, Jude realised that Hattiere’s body crumbling to the ground would have been hers if not for Cardan’s intervention. Even tired, Cardan maintained his keen senses to sniff out faerie-like trouble, untangling the intricate words and uncovering the concealed scheme.

“Take his body away,” Cardan told the guard, grimacing at the growing puddle of inky blood. “And the prisoner should return back to her cell.”

The guards immediately obeyed, stoically following each order.

“Your Majesties, there is another faerie requesting an audience, Grewthorne from the mortal world and he is requesting release from exile,” a guard came forward. Jude fought a groan, already exhausted by the thought. She would have to endure more hours of desperate pleas and begging of mercy. “Shall I bring him in?”

“No, let him come after today’s sun rises and sets,” Jude tells the guard, grimacing at the wobbliness in her words. She did not sound as commanding as she would ordinarily prefer but this was as much authority as she could muster. “My king, we have other matters to attend to.” Jude rose from her throne, glad to stretch her legs.

“But Your Majesty, he has travelled far and he cannot stay over for a night, as his exile terms demand,” the guard insisted. Jude noticed the smug smile, as if this denial to accept this audience was proof of Jude’s incompetence. She could not stomach anymore people prodding at her worthiness, she did not think she could even stay on her feet, already feeling a wave of dizziness as the blood rushed to her head.

“Sir Fabli, you dare defy your queen?” Jude asked coldly. She felt Cardan hovering beside her, his scowl an impalpable aura of moodiness. “You are to obey and not question, or have you forgotten? Memories are short it must seem, the Tower of Forgetting seems like a suitable penalty.”

The guard tense, immediately bowing his head and meekly turning away, no longer interested in pushing the exiled faerie’s audience or proving incompatibility with the role of High Queen.

Steady hands clutched Jude’s shoulders, gently steering her out the throne room and into the royal chambers. She finally allowed herself to relax in Cardan’s grip, almost throwing herself on the bed once her eyes landed on it. Never had she been so ecstatic to see an inanimate object before. Like a habit that had stubbornly lingered, Jude heard Oriana chastising her in her mind. “A queen should stay composed, always elegant and perfect.”

She paid the whisper no heed, hurriedly burrowing herself beneath the heavy blankets, craving the warm embrace. Jude felt a weight settle beside her, feathers brushing against her back, arms wrapping around her waist, a chin nestling on her shoulder.

“Usually I quite adore my subjects but all I seem to hear in these audiences are endless whining and unclever tricks,” Cardan tells her, his voice muffled by Jude’s hair. “My sweet nemesis, I do not think it wise to sleep with needles and pins in your hair. You may poke an eye.”

“Then it is your eye, not mine. And therefore not a pressing concern of mine,” Jude smiled, her eyes already closed. “And do shut up, Cardan, I do not want to hear your voice disturbing the serenity of this quiet room and stealing away more hours of my sleep.”

“But is my voice not the sweetest melody?” he jested. “And if I were to steal your hours of sleep as you so aptly put it, I may have other suggestions of more thrilling activities.” He placed a kiss where Jude’s neck met her shoulders, his lips lingering.

“I think I’ve spent enough time on those exhilarating activities already, as I know you have to,” Jude argued. “Go to sleep, Cardan.”

“Very well, Jude.”

#fanfic #ry writes #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdan #books #booklover #booklr #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar

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ismelinor · 10 months

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A Dustland Fairytale (9/12)

Read on AO3 | tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 9: The Light Behind Your Eyes

Scully found a certain enjoyment in the grand feasts at Camelot, even after four years of pouring wine at them. She got to spend most of her time leaning against the wall, observing Camelot’s finest as they got progressively drunker and stupider. Each time she leaned over Mulder’s shoulder to clear a plate, they’d exchange pleasantries under their breath: his personal favourite was ‘kill me now, Scully’, and then she would point out an indiscretion taking place in the shadows to entertain him, or he would do his impression of Skinner sighing and rubbing his eyes and they’d both look over at the court physician and giggle. Skinner loved that.

Even better, Scully had recently learnt a spell that allowed her to switch two objects in physical space, which Mulder found endlessly entertaining. The trick was to wait until Mulder’s hand was obscured under the table, and then she could switch out one of his rings with whatever she could find: a goblet, peas from the plate she was supposed to be clearing – last week, she’d managed a whole bowl of sweetmeats. Then she got to watch as Mulder smothered a laugh, trying to figure out what the object could be without raising it above the table, before she switched it back. Skinner, of course, disapproved of such frivolous use of her magic, but after six years of these feasts, they had to make their own entertainment.

It was fun – usually.

Tonight was not shaping up to be a fun one. The king had made it very clear that Mulder was on the thinnest of thin ice: he’d missed training with the knights that morning (because the two of them had been bargaining with a man who was trying to rob the vaults of Camelot and his wife, who insisted that they were living the same day over and over and it always ended in disaster – it was a long story). Samantha had tried to cover for them, telling the king that Mulder was unwell in the apothecary – only Skinner had told a different story, saying that he needed a herb from the perilous lands and the prince had escorted Scully there to ensure it was returned safely. The result was that Spender was furious with everyone, Mulder most of all, and the lords and ladies were too frightened even to get drunk.

It was the most tense Scully had felt at a banquet, and she’d drunk poison at one of them (another long story). Spender sat flanked by his advisors, Kersh and Strughold, and they reminded Scully of a snarling three-headed dog she’d once fought off with Mulder (wow, Scully didn’t realise how many long stories she had in her). Mulder, for once, seemed to be taking the danger seriously – perhaps because this time Spender had threatened Scully’s job – and was picking at his food in sullen silence, hands remaining steadfastly above the surface of the table.

When the doors flung open, lords, ladies and servants alike looked up eagerly, hoping for some alleviation of the funereal air hanging dank in the banquet hall. It was a pair of knights, dragging something small and limp behind them. Scully first thought it was a puppet, so pale and lifeless did it seem, but no – it was her little girl. It was Emily.

Mulder was the first on his feet, leaping clear over the banquet table to get to Emily. She was just starting to wake up and gave a little laugh when she saw Mulder’s panic face. Even in the midst of the wordless, paralysing terror gripping her, the sound warmed Scully’s heart.

The knights were addressing the king and she tried to pay attention, though she couldn’t take her eyes off Emily – still so small, and battered and bruised all over.

“-found her in the forest, conjuring berries out of thin air. She didn’t deny using magic, sire, so we thought we’d best bring her to you right away.”

The king didn’t hesitate. “She will be executed.”

It felt like the air had been sucked from the room. Scully gripped onto the wall to steady herself. There were men who Scully had seen cheering at executions with horrified expressions on their faces. No child had ever been executed for magic, as long as Scully had lived in Camelot; in Mulder’s father’s time, she knew, even teenagers were pardoned on charges of sorcery. In the ensuing silence, several pale-faced ladies filed out of the room.

“She’s just a child. An innocent,” Mulder cried. Spender turned his eyes on the prince and twisted his mouth into his usual half-smile.

“There is no innocence in magic, boy. You’re too soft. You will kill her.” He unsheathed his dagger and held it out to Mulder.

Mulder stared at him incredulously. “I would sooner kill myself,” he said steadily.

The king narrowed his eyes. “I had hoped I’d taught you better than this. You will kill the child, or you will be tried as a sympathiser to magic.”

The queen averted her eyes, but she said nothing. Scully stepped forward but Mulder caught her eye and shook his head. Before he could say anything, Emily spoke, with her chin pushed out proudly.

“I am a high priestess. No mortal blade will harm me.” If Scully hadn’t figured out that was a bad thing to reveal, the colour draining from Skinner’s face would have told her.

Strughold whispered something to the king, who nodded. The royal advisor left the room hastily.

The king looked around the room. “You are all dismissed for the evening. Rest assured that no threat to Camelot will go unvanquished under my reign. We will forge a kingdom that is safe, peaceful, and prosperous.”

Scully did not move. Nor did Melissa. Strughold pushed his way back into the room through the tide of silent nobles flooding out. He handed a vial of something dark and viscous to the king, who coated his dagger in the liquid.

He made his way over to Emily, who was clinging onto Mulder’s hand and half-hidden behind him.

“Do you know what this is?” Spender asked her, holding up the dagger.

Emily said nothing, but she looked over at Scully with eyes filled with terror. It was wrong, seeing this strange little girl, this oracular figure from her dreams, shaking with fear. It was easy to forget that, despite her gifts of prophesy and magic, Emily was, above all else, a child.

“This is a dagger coated in the venom of a serket. Serkets, like you, are abominations, but their venom is remarkably useful. It can be used to kill any creature: even a high priestess.”

Emily’s bottom lip wobbled.

“I won’t let you touch her,” growled Mulder, pulling the girl behind him.

Spender waved his hand and three of the knights leapt on Mulder. He was putting up a fight, kicking and punching with all his might, but he was no match for three well-armed and well-trained men, and they had him on the ground in no time.

Standing in the centre of the banquet hall, almost comically mismatched, Spender and Emily stared at one another. She did not try to run, even as the king raised the dagger.

“If you kill me, you damn Camelot to ruin. Your legacy will die with you, and the only time your name will be spoken is when your children are cursing your name.” Emily spoke matter-of-factly, in a tone that was entirely at odds with her position, shaking like a leaf at the point of a dagger.

And then Emily turned to smile at Scully.

~~~

As soon as she met Emily’s eye, Scully knew what was going to happen. It was inevitable, she could see. Yes, it was always going to end this way, wasn’t it? That was what all the tests were for, all this talk of destiny; four years leading to this moment. Her life, to change the future of Camelot.

She looked at Mulder pinned to the ground but still shouting at the king, at Skinner hastily clearing the last of the onlookers from the room (Strughold, bloodthirsty as ever, was the last to leave), at Samantha and Missy, both surreptitiously reaching for carving knives on the banquet table.

She made her way to Samantha’s side as quietly as possible and grabbed her wrist to get her attention. “Samantha,” she whispered urgently, “I’m sorry, but I need you to do something for me. When I give the signal, I need you to grab Emily, and I need you to run with her, as fast as you can. Get to the forest. Take her to the druids; she’ll know which way to go. They’ll protect you until Camelot is safe.”

Scully could see from the sadness in Samantha’s eyes that she understood. “What’s the signal?” she asked.

Scully smiled. “You won’t miss it. I love you both,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Missy’s arm. “Tell Mulder…tell him I’m sorry, alright?”

She took a deep breath, summoned her magic to the surface, and waited for her moment. Spender took hold of Emily by the neck, raised the knife, and started to swing: now! Scully squeezed her eyes shut and muttered the switching spell – just in time to feel the dagger piercing her chest, she’d done it. She stood where Emily had, Spender’s hand tightening around her neck – and, yes, she looked over: Samantha had Emily in her arms and was running from the room. And then there was nothing but a pain so blinding it eclipsed her every sense.

Mulder had her in his arms before she hit the floor – he really did have remarkable reaction times. That was Scully’s last coherent thought before she was subsumed by the chaos.

~~~

When she awoke, she was, to her surprise, in her own bed. It couldn’t have all been a dream – the excruciating pain in her side told her that. The question, then, was how she was still alive.

She tried to sit up and the resulting grunt of pain summoned Mulder to her side. He didn’t look too well himself.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Not as bad as I ought. What the hell happened?”

“You got stabbed, Scully. With a blade dipped in serket venom.”

“Yes, I remember that part, Mulder. What happened after that? How am I still alive?”

“How are you still-?” Mulder choke and turned his head. “How can you say that like it’s nothing? It’s-it’s everything. Don’t you understand?”

Scully was speechless. She took hold of Mulder’s hand and felt it trembling. He looked down at her, eyes shining with tears. “Skinner says that the serket venom works by draining a being of magic. You’re powerful, so it’s taking longer than it usually does. The king let him take you here instead of the cells because he said you’ll be dead within the week anyway.”

Scully tried to swallow that thought – the idea that she would cease to be in a few short days. When she had offered her life for Emily’s, she hadn’t done it blindly. She knew that she would take Emily’s place, quite literally, in one of the most painful deaths known to man. She took that from Emily gladly, not because Emily was important to the future of Albion (though Scully knew she was), and not because it was written in the stars (though perhaps it was), but because she was only a little girl and she had so much life left to live.

But in making that decision, Scully had assumed that her death would at least be quick – like pulling a dagger from a wound, which Scully, unfortunately, had experience with. This slow draining of her life force was not what she had expected.

“I’m sorry, Mulder.” It was all she could think of to say.

“You’re not going to die. We’ll find a solution – don’t we always find a solution, Scully? Melissa and Skinner are looking over the books right now. You won’t die, Scully.” He sounded like he was pleading with her.

Scully could only shake her head. “You can’t mess with this kind of magic, Mulder. Haven’t I always told you that magic requires balance? A life for a life – I gave mine willingly for Emily’s. No one should be sacrificed for me, alright? There’s been enough blood shed.”

Mulder was crying now. She pulled his face to her shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair soothingly. There were things she knew she ought to say if she only had a limited time left – and not just to Mulder – but if she was going to face her death head-on, she figured she was owed a moment of weakness, and she stayed quiet.

When Mulder sat up, she found that she still hadn’t found the right words to say.

“Come on, Mulder, you were just fine before I came along and you’ll be fine without me.” She tried for a light tone, but it sounded flat even to her ears.

His eyes bored into hers, like he thought he could save her if he just looked at her hard enough.

“I wasn’t,” he said, finally. “And I won’t.”

~~~

Scully had been strictly forbidden from leaving the apothecary. Skinner was worried that if Spender saw her walking around, he’d have her executed on the spot. What no one was saying was that, since she was going to die anyway, it didn’t really matter. It might have been kinder, in fact, than this painful, drawn-out death.

After a few days, it didn’t matter anyway – Scully couldn’t have left the apothecary if she’d wanted to. It was too painful to move more than a few paces, and then it was too painful to get out of bed, and then it was too painful to even sit up.

She had visitors: every time she woke, someone was there – Skinner, Melissa, even Pendrell, though he didn’t know exactly what had happened. They all put on straight faces and brought her the latest court gossip or fruit pilfered from the kitchens or books to read, but Scully could see the sadness in their eyes. She watched, day by day, as the hope drained from her friends, and it became more and more of an effort to pretend they didn’t know what was coming.

~~~

It had been about ten days since she’d been stabbed – longer than Scully had thought she’d get – when she woke up and knew with absolute certainty that this was the day she was going to die. She couldn’t even summon enough magic to light the candle by her bed, something she’d mastered at four years old.

Mulder leaned over and lit it for her. She hadn’t seen him in days, and she understood why. He, most of all of their friends, could not face this reality. Every time she saw his face, she was more sorry for what she’d done, and more scared for what it would do to him. She’d begged Missy to take care of him, and of course she would do her best, but Scully understood that their souls were tied in a way that could not be severed, even in death. If it were the other way around – if she were losing Mulder – she was sure she would be half anchored to the grave for the rest of her life. She only hoped that he would fare better.

“Come here, Mulder,” she whispered, because it hurt to speak.

He nodded and crawled onto the bed with her. There was something different in his eyes today – something more settled than the sad, searching way he’d been looking at her since she’d damned herself. She hoped that meant that he’d accepted her fate, but she knew him well enough to doubt it.

She couldn’t think of anything to say to him, knowing that they might be her last words. That seemed like a great deal of pressure. She didn’t remember the last thing her father had said to her before he died – goodbye, most likely, given that she was fleeing Ealdor. Mulder’s father’s last words, about dragons and betrayal, had haunted him for fifteen years. What if she said the wrong thing? What if Mulder forgot them – or worse, what if he could never forget them? It was too late, now, anyway. She gasped and pressed her face into his chest when the pain became overwhelming, resigned to a silent departure.

Scully fell asleep with Mulder’s lips pressed to her forehead – not even a kiss; his lips were open and he was mouthing something onto her skin through stifled sobs. She supposed she’d never know what he was trying to say, but she had a good idea, at least.

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