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sansaorgana · 13 days

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— DAMAGED GOODS

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Rabban/Harkonnen!OC

SUMMARY — The servants have been telling Baron Harkonnen many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his twin sister is close. Very close. Too close. The Baron only chuckles at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha is a warrior he wants him to be and his sister remains out of his sight.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The Reader is a Rabban/Harkonnen. I've described some of her looks – her skin is pale but not because she is *white* but because they're all pale (due to the pollution and lack of normal sunlight I guess). She has hair but it's white. I didn't describe the structure of her hair or anything and the colour is caused by the lack of pigment. Her facial features are not described in any way. Oh, and she has black teeth, too... 😁 It will be explained in the fic. I tried to make it an x Reader fic but, yeah, quite a lot about her looks is described. On the other hand, I hope it's understandable since she's Feyd's twin. I am very happy that I received this request because I've been itching to write something like that for a long time. 🤍

WARNINGS — INCEST, SMUT, non/dub-con, breeding

WORD COUNT — 6,610

�� THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DAMAGED GOODS

Baron Harkonnen was ready to leave Lankiveil with his two nephews – small Feyd-Rautha in one of the female servants’ arms and teenage Glossu on whose shoulder The Baron was keeping his hand on. He didn’t have any heirs of his own so one day he’d name one of the boys his Na-Baron and give them his Harkonnen surname.

They nearly reached the ship when one of the female servants of Lankiveil ran up to them with a small bundle in her arms.

“My Lord,” she called out and The Baron turned around, irritated. The woman was terrified of him but she still had her duties. “What about the girl, my Lord?” She asked.

The Baron squinted his eyes at the child in her arms. Feyd-Rautha’s twin sister (Y/N) Rabban – he had no use for her.

“Give her to the Bene Gesserit or kill her, I do not care,” he commented as Glossu’s muscles stiffened under his uncle’s touch.

“She is my sister,” his eyes widened at those words. “Please, let her come with us.”

“You will soon realise that women on Giedi Prime hold no significance. A girl…” Baron Vladimir winced. “I do not wish to raise her. She will be a burden.”

“Then I will raise her. I will take care of her,” Glossu pleaded. “And one day you will find her a match, someone to marry to create a powerful alliance. She will be useful,” he kept convincing.

The Baron wanted to be feared even amongst his family members. But he didn’t want to be hated by his older nephew from the first day. Irritated, he sighed and waved his hand at the maid.

“Fine, I shall take her,” he sighed.

Hesitantly, the maid handed the child to Glossu Rabban as his uncle gave him a scolding look.

“You’re responsible for her now,” he reminded.

“She is my sister. Her place is with me and Feyd,” Rabban nodded.

About this one thing he was stubborn and about this one thing he would fight even his own uncle. Baron Vladimir decided it would be for the best to let the boy have it his way.

(Y/N) and Feyd were raised differently – he was raised to be a strong warrior and his uncle’s pet. Relentless in combat, obedient to his Master, an enjoyer of pain. Inflicting it on others but also the pain being inflicted upon him. Psychotic and murderous. His twin sister was kept away from such an environment by her older brother. He wanted her to become a grand lady. Of course Glossu Rabban had no idea about women’s education but he made sure that his little sister had dozens of tutors. The smarter and more courteous she was, the easier it would be to sell her in a marriage union one day. It didn’t mean she was easy to manage. Ever since she was a little girl, she would cause trouble by following her twin brother everywhere and wanting to be as mischievous as him. He was given the Harkonnen surname and the title of na-baron. She was just Countess (Y/N) Rabban. Many thought she was actually Glossu Rabban’s daughter. Despite being raised differently, her and Feyd were inseparable.

They were not identical twins – she was a splitting image of her mother while he remained a mix of both parents. He was born bald like most of The Harkonnens, she was lucky to keep her hair even though it lacked pigment and was snowy white. The only thing in common they had was their sickly pale Harkonnen skin… and their blood.

The servants had been telling The Baron many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his sister was close. Very close. Too close. The Baron would only chuckle at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha was a warrior he wanted him to be and his sister remained out of his sight and out of big trouble that would require him to intervene.

(Y/N)’s chambers were connected to Feyd’s with the tall, black doors. In fact, they resided in the chambers of The Baron and The Baroness Harkonnen. These chambers had not been used in many years before Feyd was given them by his uncle in his teenage years. It was only natural that (Y/N) followed to the room attached to his. But most mornings, the servants would not find her in her bed. She was being found in her brother’s embrace, their legs intertwined, her hands wrapped around his muscular chest. As if they were still two embryos in their mother’s womb.

She could swear, she could feel pain when he was experiencing it. And out of them two, only he enjoyed it. It brought her no pleasure to see his scars from their uncle’s punishments. She would kiss them all better, every thin line of scarred flesh upon his back would be soothed with her lips. She loved to watch him train, following him around like a puppy at first but then she grew to be a fine woman herself and she no longer gave such innocent energy. All the years of trying to be invisible for her uncle had taught her how to slither around the fortress like a snake; always observant, always on guard, always quiet and unnoticeable.

(Y/N) focused so hard on not being a bother for her uncle that she forgot other people might notice her, too.

The Baron was staring at the veiled old woman in front of him with a contemptuous smirk. Of course he would follow the Bene Gesserit's order in the end whether he wanted it or not but he needed her to see that he was not as easy to control as most of the lesser lords.

“What are you asking of me, woman?” He asked as he looked her up and down.

The Bene Gesserit sighed. She knew perfectly well that he had heard her before.

“I want to put Countess Rabban to the test of Gom Jabbar to see if she’s fit for the marriage union that shall be arranged between her and Prince Paul Atreides,” she repeated her words.

“I am not fond of that girl but she is the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had,” The Baron shook his head. “What makes you think I would give her away to an Atreides?”

“Atreides was supposed to have a daughter who would be a match for your nephew Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. His concubine gave him a son instead but it doesn’t have to mean the match cannot be arranged. After all, Feyd-Rautha has a twin sister sharing his genetic material with him.”

“And what do I get of this union?” The Baron snorted.

“Control over your enemy; The Atreides family,” the Bene Gesserit nodded her head.

“Control over them? By sending that girl over there?” The Baron laughed at the idea. “She’s a weak woman. She won’t have control over anything.”

“Paul Atreides is a boy of a gentle nature, I have tested him already. Countess Rabban will easily push him in all the directions you will ask her to,” the woman tried to convince The Baron. He knew that if he’d argue even further she would just use The Voice.

“Alright then,” he shrugged his arms. “Put her to a test. If she dies, you’ll be the one breaking the news to her brothers. I won’t deal with their pathetic tears.”

Feyd didn’t know where his sister was. It was unusual for her not to wait in her chambers in the evening. Either way, he ordered the servants to fill the bathtub with water and then told them to leave as he sank into the warm liquid after a long day filled with combat training.

The doors opened after a while and (Y/N) entered the room. She had an odd expression on her face as if she was bothered with something and he spotted a few beads of sweat upon her forehead.

“Where were you?” Feyd squinted his eyes at her.

“The Bene Gesserit asked me to join her for a while. She did something weird to me,” she answered as she worked on her dress swiftly to take it off as quickly as possible.

“What do you mean weird?” Feyd tilted his head as he watched her undress. The folds of her skirt and bodice fell down to the floor and revealed her smooth skin and all the curves.

He had asked his older brother about their mother only once. His question had been about her looks. “What did she look like?”, young Feyd had asked. And all Glossu had answered was – “Just look at our sister”.

“She put me to a test. You’d like it,” (Y/N) smirked at him as she turned around to face him and join him in the bathtub. “It was painful,” she admitted and leaned her back on the edge, facing him. She let out a relaxed moan at the feeling of the warm water.

“She hurt you,” Feyd’s question was more of a statement as his jaw clenched.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) let out a laugh at his reaction. “Such a strong warrior you are and look at you, your older sister is your weakness,” she teased.

“Twenty minutes older,” Feyd scoffed as she chuckled at his annoyance. “Age does not matter, I could snap your neck in a second, dear sister. You have no idea how to defend yourself,” he pointed out angrily.

“Grumpy, grumpy, Feyd,” she giggled as she moved closer to him and sat astride him. Her hands caressed his muscular chest. “Don’t be so sure I’m that helpless… I’ve been watching you train my whole life. I’ve learnt a thing or two,” she lowered her face to whisper into his ear.

He felt his cock twitching at the feeling of her body on his; her sweet breath on his ear, her whisper sending shivers down his spine. He knew she didn’t mind. In fact, she was feeding off of his desire; teasing him mercilessly over and over. One thing Rabban had made very clear was that she could not be touched by any man before her wedding. But it did not mean that Feyd hadn’t been fantasising about it many times before.

She was an absolute perfection. She was like a reflection in the mirror. And who could be more beautiful and breathtaking than Feyd-Rautha himself? She was his missing part like he was hers. They completed each other in many ways but in other ways they were exactly the same. Their heartbeats and breaths were in sync, their desires were the same and he could not tell anymore whether he craved her because of the strong resemblance or had he been the one to spoil her. His childhood experience full of violence and cruelty turned him into a hypersexual predator who would fuck anything and anyone. He had been the first one to put the sexual context into their innocent touches and kisses. On the other hand, she had played along very quickly.

In the whole wide world, his twin sister was the only person who knew and understood him. They had no secrets with each other.

“You’re getting too excited, brother,” she pointed out with a smirk as she threw her arms around his neck. He looked up at her face looming over his. She was even more beautiful like that – on top of him, in control.

“You’re mine,” he let out a raspy whisper as she raised one of her white eyebrows at him. “You’re mine and only mine. Forever,” he breathed out.

“That’s an interesting concept, Feyd-Rautha,” she smiled, “but you do know that our brother is raising me to be another man’s lady.”

“You will be my Baroness and if our brother stands in the way of that happening, I will slay him,” Feyd threatened and his sister moved uncomfortably at his words.

“Stop talking nonsense,” she rose up to leave the bathtub already but Feyd grabbed her by her hair and pulled her down again as she hissed out of discomfort. He hated to inflict pain on her out of all the people but sometimes he just… had to.

“I do mean that,” he drawled as her eyes widened at him.

“I know,” she only said and he licked his lips at the sight of her chest rising up and down as she breathed heavily. He let go of her and watched her leave the bathtub and the bathroom without a word.

Feyd left the bathtub, too. He put on a simple black robe and went back to his room. His sister was laying on his bed, completely naked and playing with one of his short knives in her hands. He sighed with relief at the sight. He expected her to be offended and go to her room before locking the doors for the night.

“I’ll be back in a while,” he told her and approached the doors leading to the corridor. She snorted and he froze.

“You’re like a dog, dear brother. You men are so easy to control with your sexual urges and desires,” she commented and Feyd clenched his jaw as he turned his head around to look at her.

“I’m trying very hard not to violate you. Don’t tease,” he warned.

“Your own sister?” She grinned, showing off her black teeth.

As a child, she had insisted on dyeing them just like her twin brother. Glossu had refused – it would make her look less appealing for the future suitors. Even The Baron had told her it had not been the best idea. (Y/N) had not listened. She had sneaked into the medical wing and had done it herself. At twelve years old she had ruined herself for the first time for Feyd-Rautha.

That had been the only time when Glossu had actually punished her physically. Feyd still remembered because he had been waiting for her by the doors leading to his brother’s chambers. She had been screaming and kicking her feet while getting her arse spanked. After leaving the room, she had sniffled all the tears back and grinned at Feyd with her new black smile. “I’ve gotten my arse whooped,” she had told him proudly as if it was an achievement.

Some time later she had been caught wanting to shave her head off but it was Feyd this time who had stopped her – telling her how much he loved it, how it was making her look different than all the other women around. How much power that hair was giving her. It had made her hesitantly put the scissors down.

And now, Feyd did not answer her teasing accusation as he left the bedroom to go to his concubines, leaving his sister alone. He would join her later, when she would already be asleep. He’d pull her closer and she’d open her arms to welcome him. He’d fall asleep caressing the soft curves of her body and feeling her heartbeat pressed to his.

Two weeks later he trained as usual while (Y/N) sat nearby and watched. She would clap her hands excitedly each time he’d succeed and make a boo sound each time he’d lose. There was lots of mockery in her exaggerated reactions but he couldn’t imagine training without her around anymore.

At the sight of his brother entering the courtyard, Feyd lowered his blade and gave him an unpleasant look.

“What do you want? Why are you interrupting me?” He asked Glossu.

“I am not here for you,” his brother extended his hand towards their sister. “(Y/N), come with me. It is important,” he insisted and she whined. “Our uncle requires your presence.”

“Why?” Feyd barked. He did not like the idea of his uncle wanting something from his sister.

“It is none of your business, Feyd,” Glossu snapped at him and a second later he already had his brother’s knife pressed to his neck.

“Everything regarding (Y/N) is a business of mine,” Feyd hissed.

“Leave him alone,” she approached them as she ordered her twin brother. He took a step back and lowered the blade but only because it was her ordering him. She would always defend Glossu in all the arguments between the brothers. Feyd knew why – their older brother had been the closest thing to a father she had. He protected her, too. And that was the only thing Glossu and Feyd had in common. The love for their sister.

But only one of them loved her… so much.

She put her hands around Glossu’s arm and allowed him to lead her out of the courtyard. Feyd waved his hand dismissively at the servant he had been fighting with as he decided to follow them.

“Your presence was not requested,” his brother remarked.

“Don’t tease him so,” (Y/N) scolded him and he shut his mouth.

Glossu led them to the throne room where their uncle was sitting. But he was not alone. He had guests. Feyd and (Y/N) recognised them immediately from the pictures. The Atreides family – dignified and regally looking Duke Leto Atreides with his beautiful concubine Lady Jessica of The Bene Gesserit. Between them there was a young man standing – their son, Prince Paul Atreides. He was visibly trying to put on a brave face but he was scared and his eyes avoided the siblings who had just entered the room.

“Ah, here they are,” The Baron beckoned them over with his hand as he announced them. “My eldest nephew Count Glossu Rabban and his beloved younger sister, my niece, Countess (Y/N) Rabban.”

She let go of her older brother’s hand and stepped out to bow down slightly. Feyd sneered at that. He always would whenever she’d act like a lady – like their brother and uncle wanted her to. Like she had been taught to ever since she was a little girl.

“That insolent young man standing behind her is my heir and (Y/N)’s twin brother, Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” The Baron gave Feyd a scolding look.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lords, my Lady,” Duke Leto nodded his head at all of the siblings.

“(Y/N), child, come closer,” The Baron cooed to her unusually. He would often put on such a show in front of important guests as if he wasn’t treating her like air most of the time. But Feyd was glad that his uncle actually ignored his sister. Otherwise it would be more difficult to protect her.

She approached the guests with furrowed brows, visibly confused by this situation. Feyd’s heart already squeezed inside of his chest as he had a feeling what that was about.

“You will be married to Prince Paul Atreides,” The Baron informed her as if it was nothing.

Feyd looked at Glossu first but his brother did not look surprised at all. He had to know already and it made Feyd feel even angrier as he treated it as betrayal. He shot his uncle a furious glance and then he laid his eyes on his twin sister. To his surprise, she was smiling softly at the shy and gently looking young man.

“It is a great honour,” she bowed her head and Paul Atreides flinched a little. She noticed it. “Do not be scared of me, my Lord,” she chuckled delicately. “I am nothing like my brothers.”

Feyd gritted his teeth. Without a word – rudely and risking his uncle’s punishment – he turned around and left the room.

He saw her again in the evening. He had been training intensely for the past few hours, trying to let the frustration go. The doors leading to her bedroom were ajar and he peeked inside. (Y/N) was packing her things into black wooden chests.

“What are you doing?” Feyd asked her as his blood ran cold.

“I shall take a different room from now on. It is inappropriate for us to share one,” she muttered without even looking up at him.

“Since when do you care?” Feyd leaned on the wall and watched her carefully, trying not to show how much he was panicking on the inside.

“Since I am getting married soon,” she shrugged her arms and he snorted at her.

“You really think I’m going to allow this union, dear sister?” He asked and she turned her face around with her brows furrowed.

“You have nothing to say in that matter, brother,” she reminded him. “You are nothing but our uncle’s pet. The psychotic and fearsome Feyd-Rautha… If only they knew that you’re not scary at all,” she remarked as his jaw clenched.

“I will kill him if I must. That boy, Paul Atreides,” Feyd threatened.

“We both know you will not. It would have consequences greater than you and I can even imagine,” she smiled but he noticed the curls of her lips twitching. She was nervous.

“How can you not oppose this marriage?” Feyd let his guard down as he asked genuinely, expecting an answer just as honest.

His sister’s facial expression changed as well. She approached him and cupped his face in her delicate, soft hands.

“I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime eventually. I could only hope for a good husband and Paul Atreides is good. He is young and pretty and naive. My life as his Duchess will be easy and pleasant,” she explained softly. “I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime and I couldn’t wait for that day. I want to… No, I need to get away from here… from you,” she whispered as his eyes widened at her revelation. “You’re poisonous, Feyd-Rautha. You have spoiled me already, ruined me, stained me. And everywhere I go, our uncle’s sticky spiderweb surrounds me, suffocates me,” she finished before leaning in to place a gentle goodbye kiss upon his lips.

She wanted to move away but he grabbed her cheeks and aggressively pulled her closer once again, kissing her yet again but possessively and hungrily. She didn’t kiss him back this time.

When he finally let go of her, they were both breathing heavily but there was nothing but anger in their eyes.

“Stay away from me and stay away from Paul Atreides,” she warned her brother and he walked out of her room before slamming the doors behind him, furiously.

But Feyd did not stay away. Whenever he was not in the courtyard, training vigorously and slaying his opponents one after another with the ferocity he had not displayed before, he would follow (Y/N) and her husband-to-be around the fortress. He didn’t trust any servant to spy on them for him, no, he had to do it himself.

Paul Atreides was left alone for two weeks on Giedi Prime and after that time he would take the Countess with him to Caladan. He was scared of his betrothed’s planet as he was widening his eyes at everything as she explained to him gently. Usually Feyd was catching them in the maze of countlessly corridors as they walked together. Soft laughter of his sister occasionally filled the cold marble walls.

He was nearly always there; creeping in the shadows, watching, observing, gritting his teeth at her every smile or blush. Paul Atreides, visibly scared of her at first, was slowly starting to get used to her presence. And one day he dared to lean in and steal a delicate kiss from her lips.

Feyd clenched his fists at the sight as he was hiding behind the pillar. His sister’s lips had never been kissed before by any man other than him. His blood boiled when he realised that not only Paul Atreides would kiss her but also claim her as his own and put his weak and pathetic heirs inside her womb.

No, that could not happen. She was made for him, she was his other half. Feyd-Rautha would not let any other man take her away from him.

He turned around and quietly went to the living quarters where he found the room that now belonged to his sister. He barked at the servant girls to leave him and they ran away, startled by his anger. Once he was alone in (Y/N)’s bedroom, he patiently waited.

After a while, he heard her footsteps down the corridor. He would recognise them everywhere. He stood behind the doors as his heart pounded in his chest from the anticipation.

She pushed the doors open and walked inside, looking around for her servant girls. Feyd was standing behind her and observing her carefully, wondering when she’d notice him.

“I know you’re here,” she sighed without looking back. “I can recognise your stench,” she drawled.

He growled at her insolent words as he swiftly moved forward and grabbed her by her hair, pulling it by the roots and making her hiss out of pain. He pulled her closer to him, rested her body on his and smirked while pressing his cheek to hers.

“You’ve never seemed to complain about my scent before, dear sister,” he pointed out.

“I meant that you stink of sweat and blood at this very moment,” she fixed herself, still wincing out of pain he was inflicting upon her. “What do you want from me?”

“I saw you with him,” he breathed out.

“I know. I see you in the shadows every time,” she sneered. “I recommend finding a different hobby.”

“You’re mine. If you think I’m going to let you leave Giedi Prime, carry his surname and bear his filthy Atreides children in your womb, then you are mistaken, sister,” Feyd whispered angrily into her ear before biting on her earlobe.

She did not answer but in her eyes he spotted fear. Real fear, not her usual playful demeanour. For the first time in her life she was truly scared of her twin brother. Perhaps for the first time she understood why others feared him.

Still holding her by her white hair, he walked her to the bed and threw her on it. She immediately tried to crawl away and run away from him but he grabbed her ankle and watched her struggle with a smirk.

“Leave me alone,” she tried to command him. And usually he would listen to her orders but not now, too blinded by jealousy.

In one swift movement he brought her closer by her ankle and tore her dress and underwear open with his small knife. She looked up at him with anger, fear and a dose of excitement that made him smirk. Her body betrayed her – she wanted it, too.

He was rock hard already at the sight of her like that for him. She was like a prey on display for him to feast upon. Feyd licked his lips and turned her around. He took his cock out of his leather pants as she tried to stand up on her shaky hands and legs to get away. Before she’d move too far, he pulled her close once again with a laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he threatened and pressed his blade under her chin.

On her hands and knees with her beautiful white hair resting on her back – he had been dreaming of claiming her from behind this way for years now. She was trembling out of fear and anger but she couldn’t scream for help when his blade was so close to her larynx.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in closer to her ear. “You’re my other half.”

He felt her swallowing thickly under his blade as he smirked to himself and moved the knife away. Before she could scream, he pushed her head down into her pillow, muffling any sound that would leave her mouth.

“No Atreides will fuck you. No other man will at all, for that matter,” he barked at her, his cock twitching already at the sight of her exposed womanhood. “You’re mine,” he reminded her.

She tried to protest but he couldn’t understand the words she was saying. He pressed her head even deeper into the pillow and with his free hand he ran across her folds, finding her clit and pinching it as she squealed and kicked her feet.

She was so delicate and sensitive, his dear sister. He took a deep breath in as he was starting to get dizzy from the sight and smell alone. He worked his fingertips around her sweet spot and noticed her muscles relaxing as her will to fight him off started to subdue gradually. At the first feeling of her warm wetness, he gathered it and brought his fingers to his mouth. Feyd hummed at the taste.

“Do you know what you taste like?” He asked her angrily and pulled her hair again. She shook her head. “Like me,” he pointed out. “Because we belong together,” he reminded her and she whined.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her now. He pumped his hard cock a few times before lining it up with her tight hole. Feyd nearly felt bad for his sweet sister, for the pain she would experience now. But no feeling was stronger than his lust.

He entered her in one deep thrust while she yelped and writhed; even the pillow was not able to muffle the pathetic sound leaving her mouth. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her warm and tight walls spasming around his length. She was perfect, she was made for him and him only. They were finally complete again; one body, one soul.

“You will rule with me as my Baroness,” he hissed as his hips began to thrust into her. “We will bring back the old traditions, keep our bloodline pure. And you will give me heirs,” he crooned to her maliciously. “You were made to do that, sweet sister. Made for me. Me,” he kept repeating.

She drooled and sobbed into the soft silky pillow as her hands were clutching on the sheets. She was helpless under him but what she hated the most was that part of her that did not want him to stop. That part of her that felt the same way as her brother – complete at the feeling of him fucking her. Like she was finally connected to the long lost part of her body.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head with each of his thrust, filling her so thoroughly, making her feel full and overwhelmed as he was hitting all the right spots inside of her. She knew that sweet and gentle Paul Atreides would never claim her this way. No one would. Only her twin brother knew how to please her. He understood her more than anybody else.

He spoiled her, he ruined her, he was poisonous. But who said she didn’t want it? Her body betrayed her as it admitted that she craved it.

What she feared were the consequences of this act. The consequences of breaking the fragile truce with The Atreides, the consequences of breaking up the engagement that had been not only prepared by The Baron himself but also plotted by the dangerous Bene Gesserit.

None of it mattered, though. None of it was important with Feyd's cock buried so deep inside of her, his hand pushing her face into the pillow and making her suffocate slightly, which only enhanced the pleasure. His free hand was squeezing her hip and marking it as he grunted and cooed to her all those blasphemous promises about their shared life together, their compatibility, their bodies being made for one another.

She came first; suddenly and without a warning. Her body spasmed and trembled as her limbs went numb. At the feeling of her tight walls fluttering around his cock, Feyd reached his peak right after but he did not pull out for a long time, emptying himself as deep inside of her as he could; straight into her womb.

His sister whined at the feeling of his thick, black cum coating her walls but now, after his release, most of his anger was gone as well, so he just caressed her head and shushed her.

“Shh, dear sister, just take it like you were made to,” he cooed and she didn’t have any strength in her body to fight it anymore.

When he eventually pulled out, he watched her pussy twitching deliciously as a small streamlet of his black cum leaked out of it and stained her grey sheets, mixing with a few droplets of blood.

“Now, when you’ve been claimed by me,” Feyd smirked to himself proudly as he hid his cock back into his pants, “no other man will want you. Not when you’re surely carrying my spawn in your womb,” he added and left the room without a word.

He refused to watch her laying there and sobbing silently, trying to collect her breath and clumsily stand up to go to the bathroom. Some part of him regretted his act and seeing his beloved sister in such a state was bringing him no pleasure. He couldn’t take this back now, though, and he didn’t want to. It just had to be done.

The room was dead silent. Old Bene Gesserit woman was staring at Countess Rabban in disbelief and the young woman held her head down with her hands clasped around her abdomen as if she was protecting her spawn from The Reverend Mother’s gaze.

Both Baron Harkonnen and Duke Atreides looked displeased but only the second one was also visibly disgusted. His son was standing by his side; shocked and scared. Saddened. Disappointed.

Glossu Rabban’s face showed nothing but disappointment and disgust as well. His anger was aimed mostly at his younger brother. He refused to believe his sister could be as rotten as Feyd-Rautha – the only person in the room who actually looked proud as he straightened himself and smirked at everyone gathered inside.

“What are you smiling about, boy?” The Reverend Mother scolded him. “Have you got any idea what you have done?”

“I’ve claimed my sister as my own. It is an old tradition of the Great Houses to practise,” he reminded her.

“Which was abandoned a long time ago for a reason!” The Bene Gesserit snapped at him. “Your sister was supposed to give birth to Paul Atreides’ son and bring Kwisatz Haderach to life!”

“I do not care about your schemes,” Feyd rolled his eyes as he moved closer to his sister.

“Stay away from her,” Glossu barked.

“Or what? She’s already carrying my child inside of her, is she not?” Feyd asked, proudly as most of the room flinched with disgust.

“She can still bear Kwisatz Haderach,” The Baron tried to desperately save the situation. “We can get rid of that spawn inside of her and still give her to Paul Atreides. Obviously, not as a wife anymore,” he assured Duke Leto. “As a whore that she apparently is.”

Feyd clenched his jaw at his words as he took a step ahead of (Y/N) and covered her body with his from the sight.

“Over my dead body any of you will touch my sister or my child,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“Inbreeding your bloodline might have morbid consequences,” The Reverend Mother informed him. “She’s carrying a demon.”

Feyd snorted at her. Was he supposed to be scared of her words? They only made him even more proud.

At those words, Baron Harkonnen squinted his eyes at the Bene Gesserit woman. He visibly liked the idea of having demonic heirs as well.

“I've changed my mind. We will not get rid of the child,” he decided. “Feyd-Rautha is my na-baron. If he chooses to marry his twin sister, then that is his right,” he said.

“That is plain disrespect!” Duke Leto raised his voice. “We have agreed to this union despite the bride being… not of the best quality. We have brought our son here, to this poisoned planet and nothing but humiliation awaited him here.”

Duke Leto pushed his son lightly in the direction of the doors as they walked out, offended. The guards looked at The Baron Harkonnen questioningly.

“Let them go,” he chuckled. “Soon, their time will come anyway.”

“Not before we secure young Paul Atreides’ bloodline!” The Reverend Mother widened her eyes at him as she ran after Duke Leto. “My Lord, please wait, I have another brides to offer that will suit your son just right…!” Her voice disappeared when the heavy doors closed behind them all.

“So, it’s settled,” Baron Harkonnen took a look at his nephews and niece as he puffed on his pipe and sighed. “You owe me for that, Feyd,” he pointed out and his young nephew bowed down. “I knew that you children would bring me nothing but trouble.”

“I am sorry!” Glossu exclaimed all of sudden as everyone looked at him, surprised. “I am sorry for failing, uncle! I was supposed to look after her, to protect her, to make sure everything goes right…”

“But everything did go right,” Baron Harkonnen laughed contemptuously. “(Y/N), darling, come here…” He reached his hand out and the young woman nodded her head before approaching her uncle, obediently. “When you were a little baby, I wanted to get rid of you,” he admitted as he held her hand. “Your brother Glossu was the one to convince me you would be useful one day. He swore to raise you.”

(Y/N) didn’t react to those words. She only stood there and looked deep into her uncle’s eyes.

“Turns out he was right,” The Baron continued, “you are very useful for The House Harkonnen. You will bear us strong heirs that shall take over the whole Empire…” He hummed and she nodded. “From now on, even before your wedding to your brother, you will be known as Countess (Y/N) Harkonnen. I adopt you,” he announced as her eyes sparkled.

“Thank you, uncle,” she let go of his hand to take a step back and bow her head down.

Feyd stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Glossu was staring at them as if he wanted to kill them both at that moment. Even his baby sister whom he had raised was suddenly more important in the family hierarchy than him.

“You have my blessing,” The Baron told them and dismissed them all with a wave of his hand.

Feyd walked his sister out of the throne room with his hands still on her shoulders. He was as protective as ever with her now when she was in her delicate state.

He took her back to their shared chambers to which she had returned recently. He sat her down on the edge of his bed and approached the vanity table to get a brush before sitting behind her and taking care of her long, white hair. Delicately working on every small tangle, sniffing the scent of her favourite hair oils, smiling to himself at the thought he would have her for himself forever from now on.

“Are you happy, dear sister?” He asked as he gathered her hair to throw it out of her left shoulder and place a kiss on the exposed skin of her neck.

“We belong together,” she answered, her hands still clasped on her abdomen protectively as if that demonic spawn inside of her needed protection. “I was made for you,” she added.

She would not get away from Giedi Prime. She would not be given to any lord and run away from The Harkonnens. In fact, now she was a Harkonnen, too. Her fate was to rule alongside Feyd-Rautha as his sister-wife.

“I asked, are you happy, dear sister?” He repeated the question, squinting his eyes at her.

She took a deep breath in. She knew that he would know if she lied to him but she didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him. Therefore, she spoke the truth:

“I am.”

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #lilysfiction #austin butler x reader

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writingsofwesteros · 1 year

Note

Hey can you please do a yandere Daemon targaryen with a badass mistress reader that doesn't like Daemon's wife and reader just loves rubbing in her face that Daemon prefer her over his wife . Also love your Daemon x mistress reader 🤗🤗

AN: Hi, I hope you like it xx

NSFW

The voice of Daemon’s wife was boring and annoyingly seemed to go on forever. “Is this important?” The rogue Prince asked; leaning back into his chair with his legs spread out. Those bright eyes of his locked onto his wife whilst his hand more gently than he’d ever used on her moved into your locks.

You moaned around his throbbing cock as you ignored the conversation around you. Your gagging noises causing his wife to stumble angrily on her words whilst you only gave the dragon all the pleasure. His hold on you subtly tightened as you quickened the bobbing of your head on him.

Fuck, your mouth was so hot and tight. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing you further down on his cock. His stomach began to tighten in pleasure as he tried to focus on the words leaving his pathetic wife. “The council would like a word.” She whispered out; her eyes wide in near awe as she watched.

Daemon only raised an eyebrow. Was that it, he thought. “Fuck…”His moans easily fell from him without shame as he began to rock his hips. He began to face fuck you and you took it as well as you always did. “Good girl..so good.” The prince whispered his praises down to you as you looked up.

You only moaned happily; sending vibrations onto his fat cock as he guided you up and down. His eyes slowly rolled back as he completely ignored his wife. How she had not left the room already was beyond Daemon. She always was a bit thick, he thought to himself as the moans continued.

His free hand moved into your locks as well and pushed you further down; and kept you there. His own stomach was tightening in pleasure now. Your gagging sounds only had him more aroused as he moved his hips. “Fuck, that’s it…” The rogue Prince groaned as his release finally came over him.

You moaned as his cum began to flood your hot mouth. Gently, he began to move your head up and down. You hummed against him; vibrations brushing against his cock as you looked up to your Prince. You subtly rubbed your thighs together as your own arousal was building up with ease.

His fingers softly stroked your hair as you gracefully removed yourself from him. The silk shift you wore hardly covered anything. You hummed and leaned close; brushing your noses together for a short, soft moment. His smirk only widened as his hand moved towards your arse and began to palm you.

“I should go.” You whispered out and watched as a near pout came over his face, which you couldn’t help but giggle at. His face softened if only slightly before you leaned away fully and stepped back. “Return to me soon.” Daemon ordered as he placed a soft slap to your arse as you turned around.

“Oh, darling, do not think for a moment you could handle him.” You purred into her ear. Her face was flushed in embarrassment and anger. The ladies and Lords of the court easily moved around you both as the feast continued. You wore the colours of the dragon proudly with the bright rubies gifted to you by the Prince himself adorning your body.

“You are just a whore.” She spat out to you and you only could giggle; amusement dancing in your eyes. “Is there a problem Ladies?” Daemon purred from behind you. The movement only causes you to smirk some more. You ducked your head to hide the growing smirk coming across your face.

“I imagine your ladies in waiting are in need of you.” Daemon hummed; dismissing his wife without care. Your smirk only widened as you watched her shoes turn around with a huff escaping her. “Do you have to make a scene?” The rogue Prince whispered down to you as you gracefully turned to face him.

“Hmm, yes…” You whispered to him, keeping your distance only slightly in such a public arena. His smirk only grew; eyes dancing in amusement to match your own. “I am glad she’s gone.” Daemon whispered; his hand moving gently up and down your arm as you hummed. “Glad to be of assistance.”

Not so subtly you stepped closer; your soft breasts brushing against his chest whilst he only stared. “Shall we get out of here?” You purred up at him; fluttering those lashes of yours as you smirked. Your voice was soft and seductive; not that it took much effort for the rogue Prince to want to leave.

“Wherever you go.” Daemon purred down to you; his fingers nearly brushing against your own before he caught himself. “I believe Caraxes has missed you.” The rogue Prince whispered to you as you both turned towards the door. His fingers itching to touch as he watched your arse sway away.

“I believe you like that dragon more than I.” Daemon called after you as he sauntered from the feast; from his responsibilities once more. “I do..” You hummed in amusement; looking over your shoulder with a growing smirk. Oh, his little minx would be punished for that, he thought to himself.

TAGLIST

@aerangi

@casualheartadorable

@hotdreads@slutmeoutsworld

@janelongxox

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lettherebrelight

@i-killed-ramsey

@the-phantom-of-arda

@writerslove2403

@opheliax98

@bshelley322

@casualheartadorable @kittycatcait219 @lilyviolets

@multifndom@7minutes-tomidnight

@savage-aespa @heartysworld

@thekayarlene

@sandronebabyy

@ivanna6026

@bubblebuttwade

@rosesinmars

@believeinthefireflies95@kid-from-new-zealand @mypatrochilles @ladystardvsts

@vivalarevolution@my-dark-prince

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #requests #1k drabbles

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rubysunnday · 2 years

Text

Summer of '16

requested by @freyathehuntress: Hii I love your stories and I don't really have a specific request but can you do a Bridgerton sister story? Maybe her siblings being overprotective Because although she is not the youngest she's like the most "positive, believe in ppl type" happy ending tho...... I mean angst would be great too... anything really

requested by anon: Hi! Can i request a bridgerton!sis fic where reader met her love match and her siblings (esp the bros) immediately go in overprotective mode

requested by anon: Hiii!!! Can I request a piece with Violet comforting bridgerton!sis after a heartbreak? Just that mother warmth we could all use in our lives lol!! Maybe a soft Benedict could help, too 🤗 Love love love your writing!

requested by anon: can we pleaseeee have a benedict x bridgerton sibling reader fic???

a/n: four requests with one fic look at me go. ALSO, for the sake of storytelling everyone's name now begins with an E, alright

summary: the summer of 1816 was one of the best and worst of Y/N Bridgerton's life

Everything was incredibly sparkly. The dresses glittered in the candlelight and there were so many beautiful colours in one room. Y/N bit her lips, trying not to make her excitement obvious as she stepped into the room. She gripped Anthony's arm tightly, her eyes wide as she stared around in awe.

"This is beautiful," Y/N breathed, her mouth falling open. "The flowers, the food - oh my, is that an ice sculpture?"

Violet linked her arm with Y/N's. "You seem excited, dearest. One's first ball is always an exciting time. Daphne was much the same."

Anthony slid his arm out of his sister's, squeezing her hand as he did so. "We shall leave you two be, I do not want to ruin the fun."

Y/N beamed at him as he and Benedict walked away, heading straight for the refreshment table.

"So, what happens now? Do I just wait?" Y/N asked quietly, letting her mother slowly lead her around the room.

"You wait until someone comes over and asks you for a dance," Violet explained. "He will write his name on your card and then that dance will be his. It starts off slowly but once one man makes his move, the others will follow."

Y/N nodded, listening to her mother's every word. As excited as she was for her first official ball, there was a seed of doubt and anxiety beginning to bloom inside her. Being the diamond of the season came with expectations - expectations that Y/N wasn't sure she could live up to.

Violet nudged Y/N's arm gently and nodded at the other side of the room. Y/N followed her mother's gaze and felt the excitement return as Mr William walked across the room, towards her.

"Lady Bridgerton," Mr William greeted, bowing to Violet.

"Mr William, it is a delight to see you again," Violet said, smiling at him. This is my daughter, Y/N, as I'm sure you know."

Mr William straightened up and turned to Y/N. He took her hand in his, holding it gently. "Miss Bridgerton."

Y/N tried to keep her composure as he kissed her hand, feeling it through the silk material of her gloves. "Mr William."

"Miss Bridgerton, I would be honoured if I could be your first dance of the evening," Mr William said, releasing her hand.

Y/N took a deep breath in, trying not to show him how excited she truly was. "You may, my lord."

Mr William bowed to Violet and then held out his hand to Y/N. She placed her gloved hand in his and let him lead her onto the dance floor, trusting him to guide her every step.

"I must admit," Y/N said softly, "I am a little nervous."

"Don't be," Mr William said, placing his hand on her waist, his other on her elbow. "I've got you."

Y/N felt something shift down in her stomach and she fought to keep the grin off her face. The music began, the strings playing gently into the packed ballroom, and she took one step forward, allowing Mr William to take her where she needed to go.

Violet watched on with a fond smile. It was hard watching your children grow up, but the little moments made it all the better.

"Who is she dancing with?"

Violet glanced at her eldest son, an amused smile appearing. "Mr William - he's just returned from America."

"So, he is new in town?"

"Anthony, dearest, why do I feel as if you are going to interrogate him?"

Anthony straightened up, looking at his mother. "I have simply never heard of him before."

"His father is the Viscount Rochdale."

"Oh, I was not aware the old bastard had a son -"

"Anthony, watch your language."

"Apologies, mother." Anthony sighed, watching his baby sister dance. "When did she grow up?"

"I know, dearest," Violet said, putting her arm through his. "This is always the hardest part."

"Who is she dancing with?" Benedict asked, joining his brother.

Violet tried not to roll her eyes at the two sons. "Mr William - he is a very respectable gentleman and I will not have the two of you scaring him off."

Y/N was completely oblivious to her brother's watchful gaze, She was besotted with Mr William as he spun her around the dance floor, smiling at her the entire time.

"I do hope you don't mind me asking this but I was hoping to get to know your family a bit better," Mr William said.

Y/N looked slightly surprised. "May I ask why?"

"I have heard a lot about you and them through rumour and gossip sheet. Everyone seems to be in agreement that you are one of the most loving families in the ton."

"Well, I, mean, we just... like one another," Y/N replied. "I honestly do not know what I would do without my family. I understand that I am very privileged to have a family that cares for me as much as they do."

"I have met your brothers Benedict and Colin but not Lord Bridgerton -"

"Ah, well, good luck for when you do," Y/N said, chuckling. "He is very protective over all of us - understandably so. But he is lovely underneath his gruffness."

"And your sisters? I understand one is now a duchess. You will have to forgive me, time away in America means I missed a lot -"

"Oh, do not worry. Yes, my eldest sister Daphne is a duchess. She married the Duke of Hastings and they have one child, a son, Auggie, together. There was a lot of drama involved there - not that you needed to know that," Y/N added, cringing slightly as she rambled.

"I shall not ask, do not worry. What about your other sisters? I hear Miss Eloise also made her debut this year."

"Well, yes, since she is my twin - not many people realise that. They think we are simply eleven months apart, not sure why. Eloise is not too happy about being out - she thinks the whole idea of marriage is an outdated custom. She is quite happy to become a spinster."

Mr William laughed and Y/N ducked her head, trying to hide her stupid smile.

"She sounds fantastic," he said, no hint of a joke in his voice.

"Yes," Y/N said softly, "yes, she is. I adore her. Well, I adore all my sisters. Francesca and Hyacinth were delighted to help me get ready for tonight - they're my younger sisters."

"There are so many of you!"

"Well, if it helps, we are named alphabetically," Y/N said, stepping backwards. "From A to G with two E's in the middle."

Mr William chuckled, spinning Y/N around. "That does help, I thank you."

The music came to an end and Y/N curtsied to him as he bowed to her. She couldn't stop smiling, even as her heart raced from the dance.

"Miss Bridgerton, would I be able to call upon you tomorrow?" He asked as he walked her off the dance floor.

Y/N looked at him, her smile growing. "Of course, Mr William. I would be delighted."

"Oh, one more question, I do apologise," Mr William said, stopping Y/N as she turned to go. "Would your family appreciate flowers?"

"Everyone but Eloise would - I think she would rather prefer a new quill," Y/N said jokingly.

"I see," Mr William said quietly. He bowed again. "Miss Bridgerton."

"Lady Bridgerton, there is a Mr William here for Miss Y/N."

Violet nearly dropped her cup of tea. "Oh, let him up, Mrs Wilson." She turned to Y/N, who was innocently sewing next to Benedict. "You did not tell me he was going to call upon you."

"I am almost certain I did, mama," Y/N replied, setting her sewing aside as she stood up. She walked over to the other end of the room and sat down on the empty sofa, smoothing her dress out. "He asked, I accepted."

"Yes, but dearest -"

"Mr William, ma'am," Mrs Wilson said, cutting Violet off mid-sentence.

"Lady Bridgerton," Mr William said, bowing to her. He was holding a very impressive bouquet of flowers - all different shades of white and pink. "I thank you for accepting me into your home. These are for you."

The bouquet he was holding turned out to be smaller bouquets of flowers of roughly six of seven flowers. Violet took the offered flowers and smiled at him, instantly won over.

"Mr William, thank you, these are lovely," Violet said, welcoming him in.

"I also brought some more Miss Francesca and Miss Hyacinth," Mr William said, turning to the other side of the room where the two girls were sat, trying to look busy but failing.

"Oh, that is very generous of you, Mr WIlliam," Violet said, slightly stunned by the man's kindness.

"And for Miss Eloise, I bought a set of new quills since I heard you do not like flowers."

Eloise looked up from her book. "You bought me a present?"

"Eloise, what do we say?" Violet chided softly.

"I apologise, thank you, Mr William," Eloise said, standing up and accepting the quills. "These are beautiful, thank you."

"You are welcome to sit over there, Mr William," Violet said, gesturing to the empty sofa where Y/N was. "And please help yourself to tea."

Y/N sat down as Mr William joined her, sitting next to her, a small distance between them.

"When you asked about flowers last night, I did not realise what you were up to!" Y/N exclaimed, keeping her voice quiet.

"I have always felt it odd that suitors turn up with gifts for the lady they want to woo but nothing for anyone else. I have always tried to make a good impression with any lady's family."

"Well, I think it worked," Y/N said, leaning past him to see her sisters admiring their flowers and quills. "I do, however, think you will have a harder time impressing my brothers."

"I expect nothing less, Miss Bridgerton," Mr William said, smiling. "I would be concerned, otherwise."

Y/N found herself smiling back at him, her face heating up. "I was thinking of going on a promenade today... would you like to come with me? We would be chaperoned, of course."

"I think that a wonderful idea," Mr William replied.

"Mama, is it alright if Mr William and I go for a promenade? I can ask Rose to chaperone us," Y/N said, looking over at her mother hopefully.

"Of course, dearest."

Y/N looked back at Mr William with slight surprise. "You truly have won her over," she said, giggling.

Hyde Park was quiet. The colder weather was the main reason - it was an overcast, dark day and anyone with any reason was indoors, hiding away.

But Y/N and Mr William were enjoying a squirt stroll through the woods with Y/N's maid.

"I do apologise for being so absent," Y/N said, stepping over a branch. "See, Anthony decided to marry this season and everyone has been in a state trying to find a match for him. And then when he finally decided on a woman, her older sister did not approve -"

"It sounds very chaotic," Mr William said, laughing.

"I fear I have slipped through the cracks, slightly," Y/N admitted. "I am not likely to act out unlike Eloise, therefore I am left to my own devices. I could probably go rob a bank and no one would notice." She sighed. "I honestly do not know what I thought my season would look like, but I do not think it resembled this."

"I understand. My father does not even know I am in the country he cares so little."

"I do love my brother, honestly I do -"

"I never doubted that -"

" - but he just makes life so bloody difficult for himself!" Y/N exclaimed.

Mr William burst out laughing, throwing his head back. "Oh, Miss Bridgerton, you do amuse me."

Y/N grinned. "Please, call me Y/N. I think we're past titles."

Mr William nodded, looking back at her, his face serious. "Of course, Y/N. In that case, you should call me Kieron, please."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kieron."

"And you, Y/N."

Everything had suddenly gotten so confusing and chaotic. One moment Anthony was marrying Edwina and the next he was about to kiss Kate, the wedding was cancelled and they found themselves embroiled in scandal.

And then Eloise was hit with her own scandal. All Y/N wanted to do was fall in love.

"Room for one more?"

Y/N looked down from her spot up in the tree house. Benedict looked up at her, holding a lighter and a case of cigarettes.

"Always," she replied, shifting away from the ladder.

Benedict clambered up and sat down next to her, letting his legs dangle off the edge. He handed Y/N a cigarette and she took it, rolling it between her fingers.

"Is Eloise ok?" She asked quietly.

Benedict shrugged, putting his cigarette between his lips. "She has locked herself in her room. I was going to check on her tomorrow, to be honest." He lit his cigarette, watching her intently. "This is not your fault, sister."

"I know, I just... as her twin, I feel like I should have stopped it. Because obviously, I knew. Yet, I let it happen."

"There is no stopping Eloise when she wants something." Benedict handed the lighter to Y/N. "How are you?"

"I do not know," she admitted. "Worried for Anthony. Upset for Kate. Annoyed at Eloise and society in general." She sighed, tilting her head back. "I do not know what I thought this season was going to be but this was not it."

Benedict hummed in agreement. "Does anyone else know?"

"About Kieron? No, not fully. I mentioned it to Daphne and Simon but everyone else has been so busy with their own lives... sorry, that was really -"

"No, it is fine. You are allowed to be upset, Y/N. I know you always try and see the good in everything and everyone but, sometimes, there is no good. It's just all shit."

"I just, for once, wanted the attention on me," Y/N whispered. "Not all of it just... I wanted people to talk about whether I would marry Mr Wiliam or not and instead, all I have got is my twin sister sneaking out to see a newsboy."

Benedict nodded, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Do you think he will propose?"

Y/N smiled sadly, sniffing. "No. Because he is returning to America next week. The Featherington ball is the last time I will see him. We spoke at length the other day - he came around to check how we were all doing after Kate's accident - and he decided to return to America, away from his father. He has some more growing up to do, first. And I think I do too."

"That is a very mature response," Benedict said softly. "Knowing you are not yet ready."

"I know." Y/N inhaled shakily, rolling the cigarette between her fingers. "Yet that does not stop it hurting like hell."

Benedict smiled sadly, his eyes full of sympathy. He put an arm around Y/N's shoulders and she leaned into him, closing her eyes.

"It never stops it hurting," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "No matter how hard you try."

"Mr William."

"Miss Bridgerton."

The two stared at one another. Y/N knew this was going to happen - their final dance, together, for a long time. She had spent the season getting to know him better and falling in love with him more and more each day.

She had never been able to imagine herself as a wife before. But with Kieron, she knew she would be safe.

"Miss Bridgerton, may I have this dance?" Mr William, Kieron, asked, holding out a hand.

Y/N swallowed thickly. She glanced around the room, seeing her family all occupied with other people, paying her no attention.

"You may, Mr William."

Y/N took his hand and held on to it for dear life as he walked her to the centre of the room. They had not even danced yet and already her eyes were burning with unshed tears.

"I am sorry," Kieron said softly.

Y/N looked up at him, blinking furiously. "I understand, Kieron, truly, I do. We both need to grow up, first. And I admire you for knowing that and not forcing yourself into something you would regret."

Kieron smiled at her, his eyes sad. "Thank you for understanding. I know that doesn't make this easier -"

"It was never going to be easy," Y/N said quietly. "But we have this moment, to make a memory that will last us a lifetime."

Kieron stepped forward and took her in his arms - one hand on her waist, the other on her elbow.

Benedict was watching his sister the moment she stepped onto the dance floor - her hand in Mr Williams. He could see the longing in both their eyes - the need to hold one another close.

Deciding to leave must not have been an easy decision, but he admired them both for making it.

For Y/N, it was as if time had stopped entirely. Her entire focus was on Kieron. She didn't care that everyone was watching, she didn't care what anyone thought.

She just wanted five more minutes with him.

It was as if for the first time all season, the rest of the ton were finally noticing Miss Bridgerton and Mr William's connection. They had been so absorbed with the Sharma's, that they'd missed what was directly in front of them.

Y/N felt her chest begin to tighten as the song ended. She held onto Kieron's hand until she could no longer and let go, turning and walking away first.

The carriage ride back to Bridgerton House was quiet. Y/N sat next to her mother, staring wistfully out the window.

"Dearest, I have to ask... are you and Mr William -"

"No. Well, not anymore," Y/N said quietly, turning her head to face her mother. "Through the season we were courting one another. But we came to the conclusion that we both had some growing up to do before we went any further. He is returning to America."

Violet gasped softly, her face full of sympathy. "Oh, darling, I am sorry. If I had known, if I had paid attention -"

"Your attention was where it should have been, mama," Y/N said quietly, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "With Anthony. I will be fine." Y/N paused, the words catching in her throat. "I always am."

Y/N found herself in her mother's arms moments later, sobbing. She clung to her mother as she cried, letting every emotion and every bit of heartache out. It had been the best summer because she had spent every bit of it with someone she loved.

And even the pain she felt now wasn't going to ruin the memories of those perfect nights, dancing together in the candlelight.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton!sister #bridgerton sis #platonic #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton sister #bridgerton!sis imagine #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Text

Fireleaf (Part Twenty-Three)

Oh, @greeneyedivy and I are SO not ready for this 😭😭😭. The LAST PART. It has been such a pleasure having you readers come along this journey with us. Right from the very first conversations Ivy and I had, when Fireleaf was just a little idea, we knew it was going to be something special. We've enjoyed every second of working on this story, and we thank you all so, so much for the comments, the likes, the reblogs, the asks. We appreciate you and love you all, and we hope you enjoy this final chapter!

And Ivy, my love, my soulmate, my moon and stars, my braincells, I thank you for writing this with me, for sharing your brilliant brain and ideas and coming together with me to write the Lucien fic we so badly wanted in our lives. I love you wildly 💋.

Warnings: None.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Dion and Willow were officially, finally, mated.

Their bond, your sister had told you in an excited letter sent to Dayview Cottage, had snapped into place when they, too, had decided to take a vacation.

And though you and Lucien had taken an entire, much-needed month to just be together, you were looking forward to seeing everyone. To celebrating. To see what the new era of the Autumn Court was like.

“Hold still.” You murmured to Lucien, your faces inches apart. He’d watched your reflection in the mirror applying gold shimmer to your face, and had decided that he wanted to match.

“I couldn’t get any more still if I tried.” Your mate snorted back.

“You’re a fidget.” You dabbed at his cheeks, the gold absolutely resplendent against the tone of his skin. You leaned in to plant a quick kiss to his lips. “But a very pretty one.”

You couldn’t be more excited for Dion and Willow’s mating ceremony. A night of eating and drinking and dancing and just enjoying that the worst was behind you all. And after that, you were ready — ready to throw yourself into whatever the future held.

With both you and Lucien dressed up to the nines, the two of you stepped back to survey yourselves, side-by-side in the mirror. Your dress was of the same burgundy shade as the tailored jacket he wore. You’d both left your hair flowing down around your shoulders, little flowers pinned within — which Lucien had also insisted on joining in with. And with the shimmering gold on your faces, the sunlight streaming through the window, the love that radiated off of you both…

“We look…” you blinked, lost for words.

“Like a king and queen.” Lucien finished with a smile. “Or a High Lord and High Lady. Perhaps we should start our own court.”

You snorted. “A court of chaos.”

“A court of flowers and gold.”

You reached out, touching that gold that lined his cheeks, his outer eyes. “A court of poems and sonnets.”

And those russet eyes…emotion filled them. Love. Happiness.

“A court of always and forever.” He grabbed your hand. “Come, my queen. We have a ceremony to attend.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

They’d opted for an evening ceremony, when the colours of the court were at their greatest. It was as though the day’s sunlight had lent its vibrancy to the various shades of autumn, painting a landscape that was simply breathtaking.

Almost as breathtaking as Willow in her gown.

Ivory and jewelled, every drop of light seemed coaxed towards her. And she — she was glowing. As was Dion.

They made an utterly stunning couple, and that feeling of rightness that radiated from them, their love…you knew that you and Lucien must give off the same feeling. And proudly so.

The ceremony felt intimate, despite the many people who had gathered to attend. The temple in which it was held was bathed in the buttery evening light, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows and seeming to cast a spotlight on Dion and Willow, and the priestess who had been selected to swear them officially mated. And gathered on the seats to watch the ceremony — your family.

Not the one you’d been born into. There was no sign of your mother or your other sisters, and it didn’t bother you one bit. Everyone you cared for was there, in that room. Eris and Linden. Catrin and Helion. Members of the Vanserra household’s staff that you were all equally fond of. And to tie it all up — you finally had the pleasure of meeting the other two Vanserra brothers, Lux and Hale.

It said a lot that they hadn’t rushed back upon Beron’s death, but were here for the ceremony, wives and children in tow. It was a relief that your introductions hadn’t given off any negative feelings, not made any alarm bells ring. It seemed that Lux and Hale were another two decent Vanserras. And had absolutely no qualms about the fact that Beron had been killed, and by Eris, no less.

And so, Dion and Willow swore their eternal love and loyalty to each other, their hands joined as the priestess announced them Cauldron-blessed. And with a chorus of applause and well-wishes echoing through the temple as they sealed their vows with a kiss, you weren’t surprised to find your eyes tearing up.

Such a journey you’d all been on. So much you’d all had to withstand. And yet here you were — you with your love, and your sister with hers.

Beron Vanserra had tried to break you. Had tried to destroy what you’d dared to dream of having. And now you had it — the happy ending. You all did. And he would never again be around to ruin it.

You caught both Dion and Willow in a tight embrace, barely able to congratulate them around the lump in your throat. But when Lucien wrapped his arms around the three of you…when the four of you squeezed each other and truly stepped back to look at what you’d lived to experience—

You’d never felt happiness like it.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The true celebration began when the sun had set, and everyone had sat down for the feast.

The air held nothing but a sting of pure elation as you ate and drank and talked, the various voices of your loved ones all mingling together to create the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. There was nobody in that room that didn’t deserve to be there — that didn’t belong. And as you sat at a table with your mate and his brothers, getting to know Lux and Hale and their wives, their children running around excitedly whilst you talked, your sense of family only strengthened.

This was home. This was love.

Soon, the food was gone, making way for the best part of the evening — the music and the dancing. A live band of minstrels played fast, excited music amongst the beauty of the gardens, and it wasn’t long before most were gathered on the grass, their clothes a flurried flash of colour as they spun and danced and cheered, the flames of lit pyres casting such brilliant, intimate light. Every song was better than the last, every dance more freeing.

It was in the gardens that you found Linden — leaning against a wall, a wine glass in his hand as he watched the dancing.

Or rather — you realised, as you followed his line of sight — as he watched Eris dancing.

You sidled up to your friend, easing his chalice from his hand and finishing the drink off in one huge gulp. He gaped at you in comical outrage, reaching out to gently pinch your arm.

“Asshole.” He admonished playfully. “I was drinking that.”

Your eyebrows flicked up. “Were you? It seems to be that the wine went warm while you were busy ogling the High Lord.”

Linden scowled. “I wasn’t ogling, I was just…”

“Ogling.”

The two of you stared at each other, a beat passing—

And then threw your heads back in laughter at the same. Linden pulled you into his side, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“Okay. Perhaps I was ogling a little. He’s a very pretty High Lord.” A smirk played on his lips. “Where is your lover boy?”

“Right now?” Your eyes flicked around the huge gardens, looking for any sign of where Lucien had got to. “I believe he’s happily being chased by a group of children. I don’t have the heart to break it up.”

You felt the chuckle that rumbled through Linden as he continued to hold you against him. And you contentedly sunk into the embrace, savouring his warmth, his scent.

You’d lost so much time with him when he’d been sent away. Never again would you lose that contact.

It was as though he’d read your thoughts as he pulled back, angling himself to study you. And despite the comfort and ease you’d always felt with him, in that moment, you felt strangely…self-conscious, under the intensity of his gaze.

“…What?” You asked, running a hand over the tight, hugging fabric of your dress.

“You’ve been through so much.” Linden murmured, rare emotion sparking in his eyes that instantly replaced the humour. “So much in that time I was away. All those years I spent training you…strengthening you…I never could have imagined what you’d have to eventually face. What you’d have to use that strength for.”

Pink dusted your cheeks as you dipped your head. “You taught me well. It was the strength that you gave me…thoughts of you…that got me through it. I never forgot what you said when you gave me that braid.”

He smiled — though it soon dropped. “I’m just—sorry, Y/N. That I didn’t come sooner. That I—”

“Enough of that.” Your hand flew up to cup over his mouth, halting his words in their tracks. “We were both victims of circumstance. Of my father’s schemes. But looking back on it now, I think…I think I needed to face it on my own. To learn what strength I truly had.”

Your dear, closest friend stared at you, the regret in his eyes eddying and shifting into warmth. Softness. Pride.

“I firmly believe,” you said, removing your hand from his mouth, “that everything happened exactly the way it needed to. Even the painful, lonely parts. The parts when I wasn’t sure I could get through it. I think…I think I had to face those things to get where I am now, Linden. And I couldn’t be happier—”

Your words cut off with a whoosh of air escaping you as he yanked you closer to him, wrapping his broad, muscled arms around you and squeezing you tight. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and he pressed your face against his chest. Pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I am so fucking proud of you.” He said quietly — just loud enough for only you to hear over the music. “So proud. You are brave, Y/N, and you are strong. And I cannot think of anyone more worthy of this happy ending.”

Tears warmed your eyes, and you pulled back to look at him, your arms still wrapped around him. “And what of you? What’s your happy ending?”

You didn’t think he was even aware that his gaze immediately made its way over to Eris, still dancing and showing no signs of stopping. Linden seemed to consider your words for a moment, his head cocked slightly.

“I’m not at all sure.” He admitted softly. “The future is always uncertain, no? But…but for now, I have a reason to stay here. And I feel excited to explore that.”

You could already see it — Eris, High Lord of the Autumn Court, and Linden at his side. The two made a stunning pair. And perhaps Eris was the home that Linden had spent over two centuries searching for.

At the mere thought of it, you almost succumbed to your emotions again — until a burst of excited giggles sounded nearby, and both you and Linden looked up to watch Lucien happily zipping through the hedges, his nephews and nieces hot on his trail.

Linden chuckled, loosening his hold on you slightly. “What’s next for the two of you, then? Children?”

You blinked. “Cauldron, no. I’d like…I’d like to live first. To just…be with my mate. And to see what the world is like when I’m not watching it through the bars of a golden cage.”

His smile was so utterly brilliant as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t wait to see what you do with the world.”

Before you could think of a reply, Eris was suddenly flouncing over to you, his cheeks flushed and his hair tousled. He met Linden’s eyes briefly, sharing a heated smile that was too intimate for your eyes, before he turned to you.

“Care to dance with me, sister?” He held out a hand.

Your heart immediately warmed — not just at that word, but…but at the memory. All that time ago, now, at the Harvest Festival, when Eris had asked you the same then, too.

Neither of you had known, at that time, the bond that would be built between you.

One that you knew you would never, ever let go of.

It was with a great, unguarded smile that you placed your hand in his and squeezed.

“It would be my pleasure.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You didn’t know how long you and Eris spent dancing, your feet eventually beginning to ache and the heat of the nearby pyres causing sweat to roll down your neck and back. But eventually, the fast-paced music slowed into something gentler, and you smiled as the two of you followed its lead, falling into a more languid dance that offered you the space to talk as you moved around the other dancing bodies.

“You look beautiful.” Eris told you earnestly, fond eyes flicking over you. “I hope my brother told you that.”

You laughed softly. “He tells me multiple times a day.”

“Ah — you’ve trained him well.”

The two of you shared a grin, yours shifting into a softer smile as you stared back at him. “You look beautiful, too.”

Indeed, he looked every bit the honourable High Lord he’d always been. A tailored suit of the deepest red and gold brocade, a crown of twining autumn leaves atop his head, and the strength and pride that shone in his amber eyes—

Magnificent. Eris Vanserra — your High Lord, your friend, your brother — was truly magnificent.

“And how is it?” You squeezed his hand. “Being the most important person in the entire court, and all.”

He snorted. “It’s a fucking chore. I’ve never drowned in so much paperwork. I’ve almost lost my voice multiple times, from the sheer amount of people I have to talk to. Sometimes, I’m so tired that I fall asleep sitting up — eating dinner.” He paused, his eyes glancing over your head…to Linden. “But I find that I’m actually enjoying it. Perhaps because of who I get to do it with.”

Something squeezed tightly in your heart. The realisation, perhaps, that things couldn’t have turned out more perfectly for your close unit than it had.

There had been pain. Tragedies. A senseless loss of three innocent lives.

But together, you would all live for them. Together, you would make your court into something everyone could be proud of.

Eris suddenly pinched your side, and you raised an eyebrow. “And what of you?” He asked.

“What of me?” You shot back.

“How is it being a wife?”

Your feet stuttered in their movements, causing you to stumble so clumsily that Eris had to right your stance. You blinked up at him to find him smirking at you, mischief shining in his eyes.

“You little shit, how did you know?” You asked.

You’d deliberately kept the news a secret and surprise, not wanting to steal the thunder of Dion and Willow’s ceremony.

But it had been that same night that you’d officially accepted your mating bond that Lucien had gazed at you, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin — and asked you to marry him.

And you, of course, had accepted.

You didn’t want a big ceremony. Not after all the planning you’d had to sit through for your wedding with Dion. The thought of months of planning a big event, just for the satisfaction of those you’d have to invite, made you recoil.

You just…wanted to be Lucien’s mate. And his wife. And so it was that very next morning that the two of you had gone to a temple alone, dressed in nothing but casual, everyday clothes, and had a priestess swear you not only mated, but wed.

Lucien Vanserra — your mate and husband. You still couldn’t get your head around how lucky you were.

But the two of you had hidden your rings for the duration of Dion and Willow’s ceremony. You gaped at Eris—

“How did you know?” You asked again.

“One of the first tasks I wanted to face as High Lord,” Eris answered, “was to visit the various temples across the courts and begin discussions of repairs and renovations that my father neglected for years to arrange. He held no regard for the priestesses and their beliefs — and he allowed a lot of their temples to waste away over the centuries. It was during one of these visits that a priestess enthusiastically offered me congratulations on yours and Lucien’s nuptials — not realising, of course, that the two of you had kept it to yourselves.”

You snorted, hiding your face against his shoulder as your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. We didn’t want a big ceremony…after everything.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” He paused, pulling back to stare at you. “After all the two of you have been through, it seemed only right that you had something just for yourselves. Weddings are a chore, anyway. I’m happy for you.”

You swallowed hard, sure your eyes were glistening again. “Thank you.”

“And I’m absolutely honoured to officially welcome you to the family.” He grinned. “Mrs.Vanserra.”

You blinked, still not entirely used to the title. You’d not found yourself in a situation, yet, where you’d needed to be referred to by your new surname.

It sounded…strange. Wonderfully so. And right.

“You know,” you cleared the lump from your throat, “there was a time when I dreaded the day I would be called that. Now…now I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Because you married the right Vanserra.” He squeezed your hand. “And you’re going to have a sickeningly happy life together, just as you deserve to.”

Never, under the heat of a thousand fucking suns, could you have predicted such an outcome. On that first night that you’d been at the estate, when you’d stumbled upon Lucien reading in the forest…never would you have thought that he would be the one to become your husband. Or your mate.

Perhaps you should have had an inkling — with how drawn you’d been to him, right from that first encounter.

Be it fate or the Cauldron or the Mother…the path you’d journeyed, even at its toughest, deepest cracks in the road, had been the one you’d needed to traverse to get where you were now.

You had no regrets. Not a single one.

“And you and Linden…” You smiled up at him — your brother-in-law. “Perhaps one day, we’ll be revisiting this conversation, and you’ll be calling yourself Eris—”

“Y/N!”

Upon the interruption, the two of you glanced up…just in time to see Lucien hurrying over to you, hands firmly steadying the little girl who was perched on his shoulders…and who was sprinkling daisies in his hair.

“Look.” Your mate beamed at you, entirely in his element. “Hana and I made daisy chains.”

You stared at your mate.

And then turned to meet Eris’s gaze.

And you knew — you damn well knew, as the two of you threw your heads back and laughed loud enough to drown out the music, that you were both thinking the same thing.

Thinking back to that conversation you’d had with Eris all that time ago, not long after you and Lucien had first slept together.

To what Eris had said to you: we don’t have the luxury or freedom to go gallivanting around fields and making daisy chains, or whatever it is that Lucien does in his spare time—

The two of you laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed until your stomachs hurt, until tears were escaping your eyes.

And Lucien just blinked at you. “What did I say?”

Eris snorted, shaking his head. His laughter was still choking him slightly as he let go of you, pushing you towards your mate.

“Dance with your wife, brother.” He said. “And stop hogging our niece. I want to dance with Hana.”

Poor Lucien still looked bewildered as Eris reached up, plucking his niece from his brother’s shoulders and setting her gently on the ground. And the sight of him tenderly leading her into a dance, holding onto her little hands and guiding her feet whilst she spun around in her dress — your heart damn near burst out of your chest at the sight.

But then Lucien was spinning you around to face him, planting his hands on your waist. You grinned up at him, holding back another laugh at the smattering of daisies in his hair.

He pushed his lips into a playful pout. “Why are you laughing at me, mate?”

Because you were happy. Elated. Because you could finally breathe and imagine a future. One that you’d chosen for yourself.

But you merely pushed up onto the tips of your toes, a smile still on your lips as you kissed the love of your life.

“I’m not.” You said softly. “I just love you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours upon hours passed, with no signs of the celebrations slowing.

You enjoyed every second of it. Dancing with Lucien, and then Dion, and then Willow. Sitting down on the blanket that Catrin and Helion occupied and enthusiastically speaking to them, drinking down their stories. Getting to know even more about your other brothers-in-law and their lives, their histories. And you and Linden chasing the children through the wildflowers and joining their hands to dance in a circle whilst the sweet sound of childlike laughter mingled with the ongoing music.

It was easily one of the happiest nights of your life.

And when the sky began to lighten…when things finally began to wind down, and the children had curled up around Catrin and Helion and fallen asleep, and guests had begun to return home, and Linden and Eris and Dion and Willow each broke away from the group to go off in their couples…you grabbed Lucien by the hand and tugged him away with you.

The two of you settled atop a knoll covered in vibrant wildflowers, and it was there that Lucien slotted you between his legs and you happily, quietly, watched the sun rise over the court, painting the sky in peachy hues.

A new day for all of you. A new era. The rising of the sun felt beautifully symbolic, and for a long, long while, you and Lucien didn’t need to speak a word. You were content to just lie in the grass and flowers together, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Day had truly broken by the time he angled you to look at him. And his russet eyes were brilliant and unguarded as he gazed at you.

“The book,” he said — the first words he’d spoken since you’d nestled down on that knoll, “the book of poems and sonnets.”

You reached out, idly playing with the braid he now wore every day. “What of it?”

For a moment, he seemed to ponder his words. And then he smiled…somewhat coyly. “I don’t know…it sounds a little silly, but…I began to wonder if that book was a prophecy, somehow. Of our story. Each of my favourite poems from that book — that I knew by heart before I even met you — seem strangely…accurate…to us.”

Your head fell into a tilt. “How so?”

He laid back, pulling you down with him. And his fingers slid into the strands of your hair as he stared up at the morning sky.

“The tempered glow of moonlit skies, sketched waltzes in his lover’s eyes, and no immortal heart did dance, the way his did so thoroughly.” He recited, the words smooth like silk. “That one reminds me of the masquerade ball — when we first kissed.”

You smiled, perching your chin on his chest. Gazing up at him. “And what else?”

“And in the storm, however brief, he bared himself for soil and leaf, and skin-to-skin he branded her deep, with all his flames that burned beneath — that one reminds me of the hunting trip. When we bedded down in that cave for the night and…kept each other warm.” He squeezed you. “And it goes on…a mossy cave that swallowed light, was where they bedded down that night, and as she slept, her face to his, he knew he’d never win their fight. And it’s strange…because I remember watching you sleep that night…looking so soft and gentle…and thinking that there was no way I was going to be able to fight off my feelings.”

Slowly, your fingers inched up to his face, dancing over his jaw, his lips. The words sent a shiver down your spine…such beautifully accurate words.

It was almost as though that ancient, beaten-up copy of Poems and Sonnets Volume II had, indeed, prophesied the journey that you and Lucien would be taken on.

“I love that book.” You hummed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It makes me think of that first time I saw you…reading it against that tree, and looking effortlessly beautiful while doing so. I found you breathtaking.”

His lips twitched beneath yours. “Even though I was terribly rude to you?”

“I think it intrigued me even more.”

The two of you laughed, your eyes meeting and just…staring. Drinking each other in, bathed in that early morning light. Your happiness glowed even brighter than the sun.

“There was one more poem…” Lucien murmured, his breath fanning your face. “One more that always stuck in my mind.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheek. “Tell me.”

He paused, eyes scanning your face. And then he sucked in a slow breath, as though he was…nervous. “…For she was love, and lust, and hate. The lightning storm that souls create. And what chased him nightly from his sleep — the truth. She was, in fact, his mate.”

You stared at him, a lump rising in your throat.

And Lucien stared back at you.

And you only became aware of your tears as your vision blurred, and Lucien was reaching out to wipe the teardrops from your cheeks. Reaching out to kiss them away with his lips.

It was your story. Poems and Sonnets Volume II was, somehow, your story.

It had all been there, perched in Lucien’s hands, from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him. A beautiful telling of what was to come.

And you were thankful for it all — even the bad parts, the hard parts. The parts that had seen you curling yourself up to cry yourself to sleep at night.

Because every bit of it had lent itself to this outcome — you and Lucien here, now. In love. Mates. Husband and wife.

Lucien Vanserra. He was yours, and you were his.

It was a purely happy sob that choked you as you told him, “I love you so much.”

And those beautiful russet eyes shone brighter than any sun possibly could.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. A promise of forever.

“I love you, too, my fireling.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

lucien tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95 @draguta @pee-stachio @rem-ie @mateobneun-rattattui

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leclercskiesahead · 7 months

Text

When Charles heard the promotional idea for the Ferrari fashion show, he said yes immediately. He enjoys fashion. Maybe not as much as some other drivers, but it is always exciting to see the designs people come up with, how much twist they can put on an ordinary clothing item. He has friends who work in the industry, so he hears a lot too.

There are plenty of reds and yellows in the costume room, predictably. It is a spring and summer collection after all, so bright colours always feature, and the colours of Ferrari are naturally so bold and bright. One stylist tousles his hair while another mixes and matches a few different items before they settle on a large red shirt and some equally large black pants. He is a little disappointed they didn't use a pair of cream pants, just so he can have more Monaco colours as well, but the stylists are happy with the pants matching a black stripe on the back of the shirt.

He feels like a character in a TV show set in a historical time, but the strong colours are definitely very modern.

The shooting is smooth, save for one part where he misses his marker and ends up standing off camera. The director asks him to hold longer at the end of the runway, but praises his walk (thank you Doni, he has learnt from watching the shows). They only need a few retakes to get different camera angles. It is one of his fastest media shoots.

The chatter in the costume room lets him know Carlos has arrived to do his scene. Something stirs inside him as he approaches the room, thinking of all the ways he can tease Carlos and embarrass him as he tries on his different outfits.

They are picking from amongst the yellow pieces for Carlos, which makes sense, since Charles has already taken the rosso corsa. Carlos' hair is already styled - although by himself or by the stylist Charles can't be sure, because Carlos' hair always looks styled.

Carlos spots him and his face breaks into a sly grin. "Oh wow, look at this guy. A most beautiful model."

Charles can't help the laugh that escapes him. They are always like this, him and Carlos. He is not sure who started it, but they have been teasing each other like this ever since they became teammates.

A very beautiful couple, they'd said of their poster in the garage.

Very good looking. You mean that guy? they'd joked, pointing to a poster of Charles during the Monaco GP.

Driver, fast...and beautiful, they had said to describe Carlos for a TV bit.

It was harmless and they were both confident in their appearance.

Carlos' eyes are scanning him, studying his outfit. "It has a...olden vibe, no, yours?" he notes, echoing Charles' thoughts from earlier. Then, "Like you are really Lord Perceval."

Charles can only laugh again, an exasperated one through his nose. The nickname should be annoying, really, and if it was anyone other than Carlos he might have protested against it. But Carlos had a way of saying it that just sounded so natural and not at all like a ribbing. And he used it just sparingly enough that Charles wouldn't get sick of it.

Still, Charles needs to return the banter.

Just to be annoying, he whistles as the stylist finally hands over a yellow long-sleeved shirt that looks two sizes too small.

"I think it's good, no?" Carlos says. "Give people something to talk about. I hope the fans make so many meme videos of me."

"You are going to look ridiculous, mate," Charles assures him. Carlos just waggles his eyebrows as he heads towards the changing screen.

The first thing Charles says when Carlos emerges is - "Oh, mate!"

It is one thing to see the shirt on its hanger. It's another to see Carlos in it, the highlighter colour practically molded to his skin. It is so unlike Carlos' usual style that Charles can't help but laugh.

Carlos too is grinning like a maniac, taking it all in his stride.

"I look like a footballer when they take off their shirt to celebrate a goal but they have the undershirt," he states proudly. He turns and swings his hands downwards. Charles recognises the 'siu' celebration. He can see Carlos' muscles flexing under the tight fabric.

It takes a moment for the thought to catch up to him.

Charles blinks again. The stylist is asking Carlos about another pair of pants. Carlos is just chatting as per usual, but his shoulders and arms suddenly look more defined. His skin is looking very tan against the bright colour of the shirt, even though they haven't had summer break.

He is under no illusions. Carlos is a very good-looking guy with a nice body. Charles has seen him in the gym at Fiorano, in the ice baths before sessions, in his fireproof. And sometimes he let himself look longer than he really had to.

But he's usually surrounded by just Andrea when he lets himself indulge. Not a whole film crew.

Carlos has to change his pants, and when he reappears, all the joking and teasing evaporates in Charles' mind. The stylist has given him a pair of heather grey sweats that hang low on his hips. They are more casual than the previous pair he tried, but somehow emphasise his silhouette more - the taper of his waist, the sway of his hips as he walks. Carlos is goofing off in front of the mirror, doing some cliche poses and then a turn and stare in what Charles just about recognises as a Zoolander reference. When the light hits just right, he thinks he can make out the tips of Carlos' hip bones.

Suddenly, his throat is very dry.

And then Carlos is strolling out onto set, Charles' gaze magnetised to the back of his hips as he goes, watching them sway with his natural stride.

Oh. The fans are definitely going to be making videos. Although Charles isn't sure they are going to be memes.

#charlos #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #clairwrites

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you-taste-likewhiskey · 7 months

Note

hi,

random question, what are your top five favorite regina looks in the entirety of ouat?

Oh my goodness where to begin?! I've done a similar list for Evil Queen looks so I'll list strictly Regina (Mayor) Mills looks. Other wise we'll be here for an eternity (because lord knows how good Regina looks in every dammed thing she puts on).

So let's begin at number 5. I simply cannot create a list of fave Regina outfits without paying tribute to season 3 blue blazer Neverland Regina. That silk blouse underneath, coupled with her "I'm so done with everyone's crap" attitude...*chefs kiss*

Next up at number 4 (while on the topic of silk blouses), we have Regina in a silk blouse with a little side boob coming for us 😏 I just love how little she tried to cover that up.

Next up at 3 is this spiffy little number she wore in season 6. Regina in any hint of red deserves a spot on this top 5 but I think this one takes the cake. I mean just look at how perfect she looks???

At number 2, we have Regina echoing Emma in this lovely yellow trench. Not to mention the way it matches her umbrella. And the fact that she wears this after Emma reveals she likes the colour...coincidence? I think not. This whole look just brings out the doe-eyed lil' bean that Regina truly is. I mean just look at how she looks at Emma here😭

And finally at number 1, we have what I consider the sexiest outfit Regina (mayor) has ever worn (please don't attack me I just love it so much). This dress made me the raging homosexual I am today. I saw her wearing this and immediately questioned my sexuality.

Also here are some bonus underrated looks 🤓

Now I'm SURE I'm missing some killer outfits because like I said, Regina could make my knees weak in quite literally anything she puts on, but these are some of my faves and the first ones that come to mind!!

Please add on to this list so we can honour the beauty of Regina Mills.

#i could go on #we could be here for ages #regina mills #once upon a time #reginamillsedit #swan queen #lana parrilla

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shunsuiken · 1 year

Text

cw. gn!reader + subby!ayato + office handjob + some edging + i wrote this with nothing but lust in my eyes

ayato leans his back against his table as your hand languidly slides up and down his leaky cock. you can't even believe you're doing this in his office, where thoma could walk in at any moment or where literally any of the other retainers could. but your mind throws your worries to the corner for the moment. because the sight in front of you right now is so much more worth it than that.

his gloved hands grip on nothing, so the tips of his fingers scrape against the floorboard while his head tips back in ecstasy as your fingers play with his cock. ayato whines with every stroke you grant him, and you yourself could whine at the image of your lover behaving such a way when you're so used to seeing him act composed and collected.

which is why you think he deserves this. where he can cool off and enjoy your lithe fingers that prod at his wet tip, slippery and shining in just his precum. you're not letting him cum. you can't let yourself if it means ayato gazes at you with those half-lidded eyes accompanied with hushed whimpers that tell you to go faster please, darling, please i beg... oh no, you rather enjoy him like this instead.

his legs are spread wide open, pants just hanging on his knees with the delicate skin of his thighs on display. your hungry gaze reaches every inch of your lover, and he can definitely see the way you look at him. so you're not surprised when a delightful crimson colours his cheeks, matching the colour of his lips from the times he's tried biting in his sounds.

suddenly the pace of your wrist snaps, quickening, the distinct sounds of fwop, fwop, fwop echo in ayato's office. his hips follow your pace, thrusting himself up into your hand and you let him, watching his brows crease and jaw loosen at the pleasure that rides through his veins.

"sweeheart, please, it's too much, shit, i can't hold it in, let me cum sweetheart, oh fuck, archons-" he babbles brainlessly, lavender eyes stare into yours, searching for the yes in them despite how self-conscious the eye-contact makes him feel. a shiver runs up his spine when you give him a lopsided smile. he just needs an answer from you. don't smile at him! oh the poor commissioner... that only does more things to his cock if anything.

"my lord, your face is so red... whatever can i do to help you?" you place your lips right by his ear and he cutely tilts his head to the sound of your voice, wanting to be closer to you. when your free hand rises to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, he purses his lips, licks them then huffs desperately with creased brows, "y/n, darling, don't do that to me," whimpering, he continues, "just say yes and i'll cum please, please-"

a chuckle leaves your lips, "then cum for me, ayato."

milky strings of cum decorate your arm and wrist immediately at your words. ayato lets out the most high-pitched moan as you milk his balls of whatever's left, his back arches and he throws his face into the crook of your neck as he releases onto your palm.

"o- oh fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n i love you, i love you, you feel so good." his hot breath against your skin makes you coo. your free hand caresses his head as his body, now limp, relies on yours to support his figure.

you slowly bring ayato into your arms, letting him lean on your chest while he comes down from his high. you whisper good things into his ear, telling him how good he is and how well he listens to his lover, cooing and petting him affectionately whenever he twitches from any aftershocks.

when ayato catches his breath, he stares up at you with a coy smile. "you should do that to me more often."

you grab tissues from the side to wipe yourselves up before replying, "what the commissioner wants, the commissioner will have." you place a chaste kiss on his forehead, earning a delighted noise from him.

#i decided that i was bored of my assignments and wrote this instead 🤷🏻‍♀️#ayato smut #kamisato ayato smut #ayato x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact smut

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goferwashere · 2 months

Text

PUNCH-OUT!! (Wii) MONSTER AU 🗣️💥

FIGHTING FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE IN THIS RING. LETS GO 🔥🔥

It’s a bit long so I added a cut 😭 I spent the past three days on this

THIS IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE BUT OH LORD I FORGOT HOW MUCH FUN MAKING AU’S IS

ALSO PLEASE PLEASE ADD MORE HC’S AND STUFF IF YOU HAVE ANY

Please just assume that just about every monster on this list comes with super strength unless stated otherwise.

Glass Joe:

Human - Monster Hunter/Boxer

- Wants to retire, but knows that without him some of the more unruly and dangerous monsters would dominate the circuit.

- Not everybody knows that *he’s* the infamous monster killer within the WBVA. Some do, but he doesn’t want it to be common knowledge. He needs the edge of “Poor, weak Glass Joe” to get the jump on his opponents.

- He doesn’t kill often, only if things get extremely out of hand. He’s basically the only thing keeping the humans and monsters from starting a full out war in the WVBA.

- Despite his job, He’s friends with a couple of the other boxers. Some knowing that they were monsters, some that he assumed were human and were actually monsters, and some that were just human.

- He doesn’t have anything against monsters, only those who try to take advantage of their power.

- He still trains and goes into the ring, trying to enjoy himself. To be fair, he does still enjoy boxing despite everything else he’s doing. Even if his record does stand at 1-99.

- On that note, his one win wasn’t an accident. He fully intended to win that fight, lacing Nick Bruisers gloves with Garlic so he’d be fighting with his hands essentially on fire.

- Even though he’s got a serious job, he far from a serious guy most of the time. He’s friendly with just about everybody, and tries to be civil with the people who treat him like shit.

- He’s also still clumsy. Almost died a few times as a result.

Von Kaiser:

Vampire - Boxer

- Being turned during his military service, he’s gotten good at hiding the obvious signs. He covers his bite mark and eye bags, and excessively dyes his skin using turmeric. (It fades fast though, leaving his skin looking a healthy colour.)

- Claims he has a garlic allergy, which makes him sad because he quite enjoyed garlic before turning.

- Enjoys the perks of being a vampire, but just can’t seem to keep up with the amount of blood his body demands. So he often twitches and looses focus, being sluggish and tired quite often.

- He enjoys the chase when tracking down his prey. It makes him feel powerful.

- Is 100% on the monster’s side. He believes that they’re superior, and will often be snarky with the human boxers (even if they’re ranked higher than him).

Disco Kid

Human (Possessed by Kid Quick) - Dancer/Boxer

- Disco is being possessed by the ghost of a boxer that was killed during one of his matches (yes that’s his unfinished business)

- Whenever he’s doing anything involving boxing, that’s Quick’s doing, but personality wise that’s always been Disco

- Disco is surprisingly chill with it, always wanting to try boxing but never having patience to train (so Quick does it for him lol)

- His personality leaks into Quicks movements and taunts, since despite liking boxing he’s got ‘no flair’ (As Disco puts it)

- Doesn’t have any super strength, but if they work together they can pull of some nasty combos, with Quick grabbing them and pushing them into Disco’s attacks (Disco isn’t a huge fan of that though, so it’s only really a last resort.)

- He’s honestly nervous when he finds out about the monsters in the WVBA. Quick assures him that they’ll be fine as long as they keep their heads down.

-…Which of course, Disco would never do. So when he gets mixed up in the drama he doesn’t really have anyone to blame but himself.

- He knows that he should *technically* count as a monster, but him and Quick are in support of the humans.

King Hippo

Tulpa - Boxer

- He was created by a little boy who loved boxing, and created him. Giving him a backstory and a cool design. He thought about him so much that he just. Spawned one day.

- The only thing on his mind was boxing, so that’s what he did. He has no idea that he was just a figment of some random kid’s imagination, but I doubt he’d care (or believe it) if he was told. His only goal is to box.

- Not really involved in any of the WVBA human/monster drama. He’s rather quiet outside of the ring.

- Nobody is really clear what he is, but everyone has mutually agreed that he’s not human. No way.

Piston Hondo

Human - Boxer

- Everyone who knows him has a lot of respect for Hondo. He fights fair, and his technique was able to beat actual superhumans (granted, some of those wins may have circumstantial).

- Some of the other boxers are really confused as to how he can keep his ranking, and make speculations as to how he does it, but no one can come up with a solid theory.

- Unless he’s exposed to be a dirty trickster like Ryan, or doped up like Soda, everyone just has to respect the insane effort he puts in.

- Hondo is oblivious to the fact that the WVBA is infested with monsters, and has always thought that international boxing would naturally have more difficult opponents. Nobody knows what would happen if he found out, but nobody wants him give up if he did. Just about everyone (regardless about what side they’re on) will band together to keep Hondo in the dark.

Bear Hugger

Werewolf - Boxer

- He’s more or less happy with being a werewolf. Obviously he’s mad when he has to lock himself up during the full moon, but otherwise he’s chill.

- Essentially a Disney princess with how well he gets along with wildlife. Like. It’s actually insane.

- Thought he’d do well in boxing, so quite literally trained with bears before going to NY. He thinks it’s noisy and polluted, but stays to hopefully bring down the champion and take the belt home to show his friends.

- Cheers on everyone, regardless of what they are. He doesn’t really care about the fate of the WVBA and is just there for a good time.

Great Tiger

Human - Informant/Boxer

- A skilled magic user. He’s been learning since he was a little kid, and the jewel on his turban gives him a good chunk of extra power.

- Uses his tricks to get intel and feed it to Joe.

- He *LOVES* to stir the pot. He knows that he’s safe, and may even stick out his neck for Joe, but will never do anything that’ll put himself in harms way.

- In the same vein he’s always listening to drama. He will gossip like a high schooler, and he knows everything about everyone. He loves being cheeky and keeping other boxers in the dark about what he knows.

- Literally the personification of “🎶I know something that you don’t know~🎵”

- He’s basically on an even playing field, so has no trouble keeping his place in the major league. Honestly, he’s more in it to see how this drama will play out, and who’ll come out on top.

Don Flamenco:

Siren - Matador/Boxer

- He very much using his ability to charm people all the time.

- This includes getting the ref to give him decision wins (even if he doesn’t deserve it), and always to leave a good first impression on just about everyone he meets.

- Yes, sometimes it’s also to pick up ladies (and men? Sometimes? Depends on his mood…) but will never go too far with it.

NOTE: While I think it would be totally in character for him to sleep with them, I don’t want that for him since that’s not consensual. so let’s say that despite seeing humans as lesser he doesn’t want to cross that line. (For his *own* sake of course. The last thing he would do is use tricks to woo “lesser creatures” to bed with him.)

- He’ll whisper under his breath after taunting, convincing the opponent to throw the match. But he’s not great at it, and will sometimes encounter someone who doesn’t have great hearing. He usually loses those matches.

- Wants an all-monster WVBA. He can manipulate just about anybody, and generally sees humans as lesser (Unless they’ve proven to him otherwise, like Joe and Hondo) so he wants them out.

- He’s very charming and friendly, but if you get on his bad side he is NASTY. Like ruin all your relationships and steal yo girl/man nasty. (He keeps all that under wraps though, he can’t have his image be tarnished.)

Aran Ryan:

Human - Boxer

- To everyone’s surprise, he’s actually human. But for all the craziness he projects out in the ring, he’s a smart guy.

- He taunts boxers by trying to get them to hit him because he knows that one wrong move and they’d expose themselves. If they hit him too hard (he figures that one punch would be enough to kill him with their strength) he might die but knows that it’ll be hell to pay for their opponent as well.

- Same with the headbutts, it throws them off their rhythm because they need to react, even if they didn’t feel it.

- That’s why he cheats, because he knows that without it he’d stand no chance.

- But still, you can’t be asking people you know could kill you easily to hit you and be mentally stable. He’s still eccentric about making it as a boxer, this is just an extra challenge to him.

- Has a disdain for monsters, and will do just about anything he can to gain in upper hand in those fights. That flail has gotten him out of a few sticky situations.

Soda Popinski:

Human - Boxer

- He can only compete fairly (at world circuit level at least) because he’s doped up to hell and back.

- Way into the idea of the ‘indomitable human spirit’. He truly believes that human ingenuity can overcome any challenge, and this is no exception.

- He 100% wants to get monsters out of the WVBA. But because he knows that he’s already got a big enough target on his back for cheating he can’t make a big fuss publicly.

Bald Bull:

Minotaur - Boxer

- Nobody’s really sure where he came from, but some people have seen him in his Minotaur form and that’s been enough for the others to accept them onto their side.

- He’s close with a lot of the other monsters, and follows along with their plan to have monsters take over the WVBA circuits. He only does so for them, he doesn’t have a personal agenda.

- This is the first place he’s really felt accepted, so will do what his friends ask of him even if he isn’t entirely on board with it.

- That said, he does belittle the human competitors quite often. To their face and while they aren’t present.

Super Macho Man:

Dragon - Supermodel/Bodybuilder/Boxer

- Got tired of living in a cave, and made it to LA to see what had become of humanity.

- By god, he loved it. He’d chosen a particularly handsome form (even though he didn’t know it at the time) and loved the attention he got from the ladies. He quickly picked up on our customs and had plenty of gold to sell (after years of hoarding it up in a mountain somewhere, he figured that now was the time to use it).

- Always wears enchanted golden jewellery, because the last thing he wants is for his facade to slip. He doesn’t need all of it, but to him it’s a necessary precaution.

- He can breathe fire. He does it often as a party trick, and has even figured out how to change its colour.

- His skin is also very hot to the touch. You’d think he was always just finishing with an intense workout.

Mr. Sandman:

??? - Boxer

- Nobody knows, and nobody is brave enough to ask. He seems to beat monsters with relative ease, so everyone assumes he must be one as well, but nobody can figure him out.

- Everyone wants to keep him out of what’s happening, because he’s a loose canon. Nobody knows who’s side he belongs to and nobody wants to find out they’re his enemy.

PLEASE HELP ADD ONTO THIS IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS BECAUSE IM EXPLODING OVER THIS

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otomefiend · 9 months

Text

Alfons Sylvatica

Story Event: I want to steal you

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Are you trying to be considerate, sir? Perish the thought. If only I had time to draw and depict Kate tiptoeing behind Al, holding the hem of his coat. 🤭

~~Part 1~~

Kate: "It doesn't have to be your hand... Can I hold the hem of your clothes?"

(I'm definitely going to be teased...)

Alfons: "Please, go ahead. Do as you wish."

Surprised by the unexpected words, I raised my eyes and saw him looking at me with a gentle expression on his face.

Alfons: "Did you get a little startled just now?"

Alfons: "You can grab anywhere you like, not just the hem. Here you are."

Kate: "Mhm, this will do. Thank you."

Alfons: "Is that so? You're too modest. You should try to be more selfish."

He continued acting flippant as usual, but --

(What...?)

(Is he perhaps trying to match his walking pace to mine?)

Insolent and dishonest - nightmare of a guy. If that was all, I should have just kept my distance.

(But he won't let me do that. It's not fair...)

I was still pondering over this when our search for stolen goods began.

Alfons: "Oh dear, there's so much stuff. It's like Lord El's room."

(This is what Elbert's room looks like..?)

Surrounded by darkness, it was comforting to fill the silence with trivial conversation.

To hide the fear that was creeping inside me, I said the first thing that came to my mind.

Kate: "Oh, come to think of it, Liam told me before --"

Kate: "That you often go out together in the middle of the night."

Kate: "What on earth are you two doing?"

~~Part 2~~

Alfons: "Are you curious about Liam? Or me?"

(Since you're trying to tease me like that right away...)

Kate: "As a fairytale writer, I want to know about both of you."

Alfons: "That's an extremely boring, convenient answer. Well, it's fine I guess..."

Alfons: "Liam has to satisfy his curiosity on a regular basis because of the curse."

Alfons: "As for me, being a hedonist and a fun lover, our interests coincide..."

Alfons: "Before we knew it, we were playing around together, looking for ways to satisfy our needs."

Kate: "Curiosity, huh..."

Alfons: "Yes, jumping from roof to roof while drunk in a game where if you fall, you're out."

Alfons: "Then there's ... a chicken race, where you ride your horse to the very edge of a cliff."

Kate: "I had a hunch of what it might entail, but it went way beyond that..."

Alfons: "I'm glad to see I've exceeded your expectations."

Alfons: "There are also things that shouldn't be shared with others. Oh, would you like to accompany me sometime?"

Kate: ".... regretfully, I must decline."

Alfons: "Oh, well, that's a shame."

With a chuckle, he picked up a dusty marble lying at his feet.

Kate: "...?"

~~Part 3~~

When Alfons held it up, the marble glowed faintly.

Alfons: "That man needs to forget reality."

Alfons: "You're starting to realise that, aren't you?"

Kate: "... Yes. Somehow."

Liam's curiosity wasn't just due to his curse.

He was always the first to come to me when I was having a hard time or feeling sad.

He generously offered me his time and tried to make me feel at ease.

Just as someone could understand people's suffering because they've been hurt before,

I was sure Liam knew a lot of pain and sorrow.

That's why, in order to breathe, he was forced to colour his dark and gloomy existence with curiosity and excitement.

At that moment, I remembered the words Alfons had casually uttered to me before.

(That was the first time when he used his ability to `change one's perception` on me)

*flashback starts*

Alfons: "Life is a tragedy. The painful reality is that even if you struggle, you can't change it."

Alfons: "Then what's wrong with escaping into a dream?"

*flashback ends*

(I didn't think about the meaning of his words at the time, confused by the fact I was being toyed with)

Yet those words lingered in my heart ever since.

Alfons was a fun-loving hedonist who enjoyed showing people illusions.

But now he told me that while spending time with Liam, he realized there was something this man desperately wanted to forget.

(In a way, this seems like a good idea. Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself)

(What if Alfons...)

(What if he's showing illusions to various people in order to escape his own painful reality?)

Suddenly we heard a noise from the end of the corridor and looked at each other.

Kate: "... Is it the culprit?"

Alfons: "Hmm, I wonder. Kate, stay behind me."

We walked down the hallway towards the source of the noise -- only to find someone we weren't expecting.

~~Part 4~~

Old man: "...Who are you people?"

Nestled in a deep armchair was an elderly grey-haired man.

(Could this be the culprit? I can't imagine it)

It was as if the building recognized him as its master, the way he blended in with his surroundings.

Alfons: "My cat wandered in. I sincerely apologize for trespassing on your property."

Old man: "Oh yeah? I thought you were the bunch of idiots who had once again come here uninvited."

Alfons: "`Again`... you say?"

Old man: "Lately, a group of men have been sneaking in at night."

Old man: "They take advantage of empty rooms and turned the house into their hangout."

(I wonder... why did they leave this old man alive?)

The man lived here alone and most likely given up on stopping the criminals from using the property without permission.

His presence posed a threat to them.

If by some chance the rumours reached the police, they would raid this place... and that would be the end of the story.

It was hard to believe that people who committed murder to steal something of value hesitated to kill.

Old man: "...Oh, I'm sorry. I got carried away with my guests and neglected you."

(Huh? Is there anyone else in this room?)

I looked around but, as far as I could see, only the three of us were present there.

Soon, I realised that he was talking to a portrait of a woman placed next to him.

Old man: "Will you forgive me? Yes, you've always liked guests."

As I stood there perplexed, Alfons whispered softly in my ear.

Alfons: "…Ah, I see. The culprits must have decided that it'd be more troublesome to kill someone who wasn't in their right mind."

Alfons: "What do you think we should do with this man, Kate?"

Kate: "What do you mean...?"

Alfons: "With my ability, I may be able to wake him up from the dream he's having."

Alfons: "This way we will gain his testimony and our mission will become easier."

We didn't know what the man sitting in front of us could see.

But the expression on his face as he gazed at the painting was one of happiness...

Kate: "I --."

~~Part 5~~

In the end, we seized the stolen goods as evidence and decided to carry out the sentence at a later date.

In a way that would not cause any harm to the man living in the house.

Alfons: "Why didn't you bring him out of his dream into reality?"

At that time, I asked Alfons to leave things as they were.

Kate: "That man needed a dream to live, and... I didn't see anything wrong with that."

Kate: "Regardless of whether the dream was convenient or not."

Kate: "Besides..."

Kate: "I thought that's what you'd have done."

Alfons: "...."

The moment I finished saying that, Alfons grabbed me and pulled me to his chest.

The sound of gunfire echoed near my ears, and potted plants strewn across the garden were shattered by bullets.

(What...?)

Man with a stubble: "...so, you decided to enter our place uninvited?"

The man's gaze was fixed on the stolen goods we had confiscated.

(This man is one of the culprits...)

Man with a stubble: "I can't let you live now that you've seen too much... go to hell!"

Alfons: "Now, now. Aren't you the one who's trespassing in this house?"

Alfons immediately rushed behind the man and twisted his neck, knocking him out in the blink of an eye.

Alfons: "Oops, I guess I forgot to mention we were his fellow trespassers."

Alfons: "Shall we make him our prized `confiscated item`?"

~~~

Having secured the stolen goods, we walked through the city at night.

(Ah...)

Only then did I realise that my hands were shaking slightly.

--- The sound of gunshots in my ears was enough to remind me of the scene from last night I was trying to forget.

(...I hate it. I want to forget last night and the fear that remains in my heart)

(I don't want to be held in its grasp forever)

As I clenched my hands so that no one would notice my distress, I felt Alfons tap me on the shoulder.

Alfons: "Kate, Kate. Do you have a little more time to spare?"

Kate: "...? Yes, I don't have anything planned for tonight..."

Alfons: "Splendid. Then I'd like you to stay with me for a while longer."

Kate: "Eh...?"

Alfons: "Since Liam is not around, I don't want to waste this rare opportunity to do all sorts of shameless, dirty things to you."

Alfons: "Now that our mission is complete, let's extend our date. It's going to be a fun, fun night, am I right?"

Chapter 3 Premium

#ikemen villains #ikevil #alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons #ikevil story event #fan translation

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dat-bruv-person · 1 year

Text

ıllı it's the most wonderful time of the year~

a/n: how we feeling about the holidays??? Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it <3 Also I did mean pre-Scaramouche for Kuni's one, I prefer the soft, innocent one. Fight me 😡

gn!reader, poc!reader friendly, god of gods!reader in Zhongli's section

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Kunikuzushi is very new to the festive season, so you're obviously gonna have to teach him a thing or two. He very much enjoys the hot chocolate and marshmallows though, they're probably his favourite. During the next few days up till the actual holiday, he tries to be on his best behaviour so he doesn't get coal in his stocking. Speaking of which, you both have matching purple ones, his lighter, yours darker.

You and Ganyu make her office a little bit more festive by hanging tinsel around the corners of the ceiling. It's a nice white and blue colour scheme, nothing too much, but it still manages to feel festive. She takes peppermint tea with her to work for the holiday season, and wraps up warm because of the snow <3

Ayato and Ayaka are yet again seeking out your attention, both of them bickering about who you want to spend Christmas with the most. Of course, they can't duke it out like normal siblings and beg for you to choose because that would spoil their image. Bribery is the next best option. Ayaka wears little red scrunchies in her hair and asks for you to help her pick an outfit so that she can match with your scarf. Uh oh: does Lord Kamisato see competition? Oh well, he needs some help making cookies because Lords being humble is the new trend these days, care to try his millionaire shortbread?

Zhongli has seen many seasons go by with you, but this one seems to be a lot more memorable. He has stepped down from his godly position whilst you have not. You, the god of gods: aka the god babysitter, used to play with Guizhong in the snow, not caring about a single thing, your job was to make sure that another war didn't break out and that there was peace after all. Building snowmen with her was the best, and watching you two from afar was amusing. Alas, those were good times. Now was the time to huddle over the hearth and drink eggnog with you and Barbatos.

Out of spite, you spend Christmas with The Raiden Shogun, not Ei. You two have a great time, sure she's kinda dry, but she's good company. In my past works, I make you and Raiden besties and leave Ei out just because it's funny but I'd genuinely like to be the puppet's friend, you know? Well, Ei does not like this. She enjoys the sweets and everything, yeah, but when she sees you dressing up her puppet in a Santa hat and pretty earrings, she starts thinking that you want her puppet more than her. Hmmm, maybe you're just bonding. That's right! Bonding. Raiden seems to enjoy this though, the attention she's receiving is so much better than just setting out tasks for people to do. She thanked you by giving you a stiff hug. The poor thing's trying, okay?

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genz420 · 1 year

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Beauty of Scars & Flowers - Chapter 3: The Spark of Love.

Master List

Pervious Part - Next Part

It had taken some time to get used to the rancid smell that admits from Blackwater Bay, but Lyanna would happily deal with the smell if she got to spend some time with the lovely Princess Helaena. The two girls had more in common than they had been expecting, and it seems that the Targaryen princesses get along rather well with the members of House Strong.

Finding a match had proven harder than she thought it would be. There were a few suitable men she could see herself spending the rest of her life with and having children with. But for the most part, the men of the court were staying clear of her, no doubt the curse of her castle streaming them away. One that stood out amongst the rest was Ser Alan Tarly, the first-born son of the current Lord of Horn Hill, so not only would he be the lord of his own home, but also Harrenhal and Lyanna would stand to a rather handsome husband that has a long history of sons and also becoming the lady of Horn Hill. Alan had shown great interest in her, giving her flowers, and no doubt he would soon ask her uncle to begin the courting process formally.

But there was one man that, unfortunately, Lyanna could not get out of her mind. Since the few words they had spoken to each other in the castle Godswood, Prince Aemond had secured a place in her mind. She knows that her thoughts are improper and are something that she should get under control before it gets out of control, but she can not deny the quicking of her heart when she spots him in the halls or the throne hall. Her hands become sweaty, and heat rises up her neck when she tries secretly to steal glances at him.

Lyanna is fortunate that no one has spotted her doing so yet, but no doubt if they did, they would just chop it up to another lady of court fawning over the handsome prince.

Lyanna and Helaena would often spend their free time outdoors, whether in the gardens open to the people of the court or even the royal gardens that Helaena would ramble on about. The gardens had proven to be Lyanna's favourite place in Kings Landing so far, the smell of nature that remedies her of her home, of nature.

The small and cozy seating area in the royal gardens is an excellent getaway for them both, for them to enjoy each other's company in silence or talk about the latest gossip that is making its way through the castle.

“I heard the Lady Westerling swooned when Ser Randyll passed her in the hall today. That she did so because she was trying to make Ser Jason jealous. After all, he has been negligent in courting her,” Lyanna informs Helaena as she watches the princess before her.

No doubt, if Larys could see Lyanna now, he would scold her for being so relaxed in front of the princess. Lyanna had made herself comfortable on the small couch, leaning back with her hands resting on her stomach.

“I find it rather sweet, the dance of courting,” Helaena says, focusing more on the embroidery wheel and the firefly she is stitching. “I wished that I could have gotten that, to have someone express interest in me like that,”

Helaena never got to experience a proper courtship; betrothed to her older brother Aegon and quickly married him. She enjoys watching the soon-to-be Lords and Ladies of the Court as they steal quick glances at each other, wearing their soon-to-be partners' Houses' colours or even the latest fashion from their region.

But the part the Helaena yarns for the most is the look that they have in their eyes. Something that she had only seen from Aegon when he came to her chambers late at night after one too many cups of wine. The look she does not know the name of but wishes oh so badly to experience herself.

“If you want someone to give you flowers, My Princess, you could have asked. I would happily fill your room with flowers of love and beauty,” Lyanna tells Helaena; it is true. Lyanna would do anything to see a smile on her princess's face, and if filling her room with flowers would do it, then so be it.

“Like Ser Tarly has done for you?” Helaena asks, noting how Lyanna more aggressively flattens the skirt of her dress. The princess watches as Lyanna's eyebrows pull together and her lips form a small line, her eyes video of the spark that many Ladies have when mentioning their possible future husband.

But just as quickly as Lyannas's face tensed, it relaxed.

“Exactly,” Lyanna answers, smiling as her hands flatten her dress. She must admit that it does feel nice to have someone interested in her, even if it was to gain the once-great Harrenhal. Lyanna can also admit that talking to someone so freely is nice.

“Haven’t even been here for long, and already is there someone interested in your hand,” Helaena comments as she pulls her needle through her embroidery wheel. “I was hoping that you would stay longer here,”

It was nice to have someone outside her small family to spend time with. To have someone listen to her without judgement as she discussed her interest and have a response. Sometimes Helaena even thinks that her own mother doesn’t truly enjoy her company, but Lyanna is different; she does not yet wish to part with her.

“Ser Tarly and I have spoken a few words with each other, and I don’t even know if my uncle would approve of the match,” Lyanna tells Helaena, her words more directed towards herself than the princess.

Lyanna's sole duty in this life is to produce the next generation of House Strong.

“House Tarly is from the first men like my family, so that is a positive,” Lyanna tells Helaena, trying to sell the idea more to herself. It was a good point and one she would bring up with her uncle if he disapproved of the match.

“I think someone of Valyrian descent would be much better suited for you,” Helaena tells her, not noticing how Lyanna's head snaps towards her.

“Like Ser Vaemond Velaryon son?” She asks, unsure what Helaena means. There are only two houses she would even consider marrying that came from Valyrian descent. Her house was already a strong ally of house Targaryen, leaving only house Velaryon.

Helaena doesn’t answer Lyanna, looking away from her stitch and behind Lyanna, standing as straight as her needle is Aemond, his one eye trained on the back of Lyanna's head. The lady, unaware of Aemond, waiting for Helaena to answer, but once she realises that something behind her has captured her friend's attention, she turns around to see what it is.

Lyanna has never stood up from a seated position so fast. Her mind races with everything that she had previously been doing, if the prince had heard their conversation, and if he did, how much had he heard. It was in the princess's every right to be in these gardens, these were the royal gardens, and Helaena had assured her that it would be okay that they would keep company there.

Aemond had been there long, only catching the end of the conversation between his sister and Lyanna; he must admit that he is rather curious about what they had been discussing beforehand.

He had been told that Helaena was in the gardens, and after stopping by the Godswood, he thought he might spend some time with her. Aemond had not been expecting Lyanna to be keeping his sister company, even if his mother had mentioned that the two were spending time together. If he had known that he would be seeing Lyanna today, he would have brought a book that he had found in the library for her.

Ever since the two had made company together, he began to notice Lyanna more and more. Whenever attending court; he would notice as she takes small glances at him, or how she would potentially wait and listen to other ladies of the court, or whenever she walked with her uncle; her steps would be slower than her usual pace. Aemond blames the soft yellow dresses she would wear; of course, she would stick out amongst the Green and Targaryen Reds and Blacks crowd. But Aemond still notices her when she wears the few darker shades of dresses she owns.

“Brother, please sit,” Helaena tells Aemond, her attention going back to her work as Lyanna bows her head down to Helaena and Aemond.

Lyanna is more than happy to leave the prince and princess alone, thinking she might inform her uncle of the news of a possible suitor and future betrothment. The fact that she doesn’t seem to be in control of her thoughts when around the prince is also a factor in her eagerness to leave.

“My Lady Strong, no one has asked you to leave,” Aemond stops Lyanna as he sits on the bench she was sitting on. “Sit,”

The tone is commanding, and Lyanna knows she should listen to the prince before he has to repeat himself. She highly doubts her gods could save her from the flames of the mighty Vhagar.

“I just thought that I would leave you two. I wouldn’t want to intrude, My Prince,” Lyanna tells Aemond, her hands folded together in front of her. Everything she had learned about proper adequate is running through her head, and she can’t help but silently pray that she does nothing to upset the prince before her.

Aemond keeps his gaze on Lyanna. Today, her hair was pulled back into a bun with framing strands. A more Southern style and the other ladies of the court were starting to influence her fashion choices. Aemond can’t help but wonder if she will soon wear Hightower Green like many other ladies or if her beautiful yellow dresses will continue to bless his day.

“I am the one intruding; I simply wish to enjoy the company of you two,” Aemond tells Lyanna, his hand motioning to the spot she was once in.

Lyanna nods and brushes past Aemonds legs, sitting down, but unlike before, she is not relaxed. Her back is straight, her hands folded in her lap as she holds her head high. She can’t help but feel like prey under Aemond's gaze, like if she makes any slight movement, he will snap.

But Lyanna couldn’t be further from the truth; yes, Aemond's gaze is intense as he takes note of the lady sitting beside him, his thoughts consumed with what Lyanna put into her bath water to make her smell so good.

“We were talking about Ser Alan Tarly,” Helaena tells her brother, not noticing Lyanns pleading eyes, not to mention what they had been previously talking about. “He has begun to court Lyanna,”

Aemond isn’t surprised to hear about Ser Alan's intentions. Every new lady of the court gets greeted by Ser Alan. But this time, he can’t help but wonder if this lady would be different if Ser Alan had also been taken with the beauty of Lyanna.

“Flowers are a common gift, and they don’t mean that we have started to court each other,” Lyanna says, gently rubbing against the stitchwork on her dress. She doesn’t know why she is trying to justify that Ser Alan and her are not courting; even if these were the beginning steps, she feels the need to deny any such relationship in the prince's presence.

“Not just any flowers, Dusty Roses with Pink Lilies. Tell me, what do they mean again?” Helaena asks her friend, not caring to take note that Aemond has looked away from Lyanna and towards her.

“Dusty roses can represent affection, and lilies have many meanings that change with the colour. But pink lilies are often associated with love,” Lyanna informs Aemond, Helaena nodding with her words. “But there are so many different meanings, so who knows what his true meanings are,”

“He has also asked her to accompany him to the Kingswood,” Helaena tells Aemond, not caring that such things were said to her in confidence.

“An invitation that I will be turning down,” Lyanna reminds Helaena, not daring to look to the prince at her side.

“Why?” Helaena asks, setting down her work as she looks at Lyanna.

“There is no one to escort us, my uncle wouldn’t be able to keep up with us, and I don’t think he will allow anyone else to chaperone us,” Lyanna answers; she knows that Larys trusts few in the Keep and would not want her reputation to be put into question.

“Ser Tarly's sword fighting skills match that of a Kraven,” Aemond's voice sharply contrasts Lyannas and Helaenas. His sentence is rushed, as if he didn’t get them out fast enough, then they would harm him.

Both Helaena and Lyanna look towards the prince, Lyanna with a confused face as to why the prince would be insulting a knight, and Helaena is fascinated with the sourness in Aemonds voice.

“I thought he did very well in the last tourney,” Helaena says before returning to her stitch work.

“A tourney isn’t a good judge of a man's skill,” Aemond responds; he had seen Ser Alan Tarly train many times in the training yard, and he can’t help but wonder how such an unskilled fighter could start to court the likes of Lyanna.

“So what is it? Should I hire someone to fight him in the street, My Prince?” Lyanna asks with a smile as she tries to imagine Ser Alan fighting a hired sword in Flea Bottom.

Aemond looks to Lyanna; any tension there when she first sat down is gone as she had her conversation with his sister, and now a smile graced her freckled face, and her shoulders were no longer tensed than they were when she first sat down. Part of Aemond had thought he was wrong about Lyanna, that she, like many others, thought his scarred face was an ugly sight and made her scared. But for many, just being in the presence of two royals that made her slightly worried.

“Or you could accompany me to the training yard, and I can show you his true lack of skill,” Aemond offers, and Lyanna can’t help but drop her smile.

“A tempting offer, but I should return to my uncle,” Lyanna informs Aemond as she stands up, bowing her head to the siblings. “My Princess, My Prince,”

Lyanna is much faster leaving this time, leaving Aemond no time to tell her to stay and for them to continue their conversation. All the one-eyed prince can do is watch as the soon-to-be Lady of Harrenhal quickly leaves the scene. Perphase, he should not have been so formal with her or insulted Ser Tarly.

But he can change nothing now. Just wait for the two of them to have another moment together so that he might be able to apologise for his words and attitude. He could even chase after her now, but maybe enjoying the company of his favourite sister would change his mood.

Taglist: Reply if you wished to be added to the taglist!

@sahvlren @snh96

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druidx · 8 months

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Find the Word Tag - Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan - Part 2

I have a lot of Find the Word tag games. So I decided to put them all together to make me edit the Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan, a NaNoWriMo novel from 2012 based on the first TTRPG campaign I participated in the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan setting.

There was a total of 145 words to find so I've split these into batches of ~50. I've not removed any duplicates, and where there's not an exact match I've used synonyms instead.

I've grouped the words by the original tagger - though some of these are old enough the tagger has changed URLs...

Fair warning before you click:

I have tried to keep the snips short, but at ~8,320 words, this post is 'colour of the sky' long.

Well, if we're sitting comfortably, I'll begin.

➤ @autumnalwalker

Advice (Instruction)

The group once more reached the gates of Castle Dire “Ho there!” Richard hollered up at the guards stationed above. “We return on the instruction of Corporal Janz, bringing the gift from my lord, Zharradan Marr, to his Lordship Balthus Dire.” A cautious face popped up over the battlements. “Good Gods,” said Janz. “Is that it?” Alexis clenched her jaw at his tone. “Yes, it is,” Richard yelled back. “Now let us in, if you please.” “Alright, alright. Keep your pants on.” Janz vanished from view.

Alright

Alexis woke from where she’d curled up under a table. As she crawled out from under the table, she found Victor still drinking, helping himself to a barrel of ale with its top stoved in. “I’m going a-bed,” she declared, her words slurring together. “You should do the same.” Victor grinned, singing something unintelligible in an off-key warble. Alex waved a wagging finger at him. “You better pay for that barrel you’re draining.” “Course!” Victor beamed at her. “We were ordered t’see Yazty and the Cap’n. You better be at Townhall by noon. Got it?” “Aye, aye, sir!” Victor gave her a lazy salute. “Well, alright. I’m going t’bed,” she said and left him to it.

Bite

Back at the inn, Alexis hitched the horses outside and went in, finding Richard in the middle of breakfast. As soon as he saw her, he unfolded himself from the low seating, and they met in the middle of the carpeted space. “Alexis-” Brown hair flopped into his face as he bowed his head, his shoulders slumping with relief. “I… I thought you might have left us.” Awkwardly, he places a hand on her shoulder. “Psh. Never,” she said. “You’d trip the first trap you found and get yourself killed if I wasn’t here.” Despite her flippant words, Alexis squeezed his hand and grinned. He smiled back. “Probably.” “Definitely.” Together they returned to his table, and Richard took a bite from his flatbread. "I’ve sent Bast and Victor to get trail rations and other supplies. Um. I’m afraid Goregut won’t be joining us. He’s decided he’s quite fond of the desert and has joined a mercenary band. He left with a caravan at first light.” His brown eyes regarded her over the bread, lips pursed in a silent question. “Oh.” Alex’s hand found the necklace of bone Gorgut had given her. “A shame. I should have liked to have said goodbye. I guess this means we have an extra horse then.”

Connection

Victor turned away from where he’d been poking at the bottom of a wall and grinned. “Why, Rock to Mud, of course.” “And what is that?” Richard asked. “A spell. If I use it on the base of the walls, the unworked stone here, see? The foundations will collapse, the temple will fall in on itself, be swallowed by sand, and we can be on our merry way.” He dusted his hands off with a grimace. “I don’t know about you, but the heat and dust and significant lack of beer is becoming increasingly tedious.” "I don’t see any other options,” Alexis said. “All right then, let's do that.” Bastet stood, walking over to the tunnel connecting the chamber with the outside, and Alexis joined her. “Whenever you’re ready,” Richard said, motioning the other two up the tunnel to give Victor room to work.

Duck

Victor continued, unfazed, “It seems we were expected, presumably by Yaztromo’s mysterious source. The chappy over there said he would only speak to us together." "Let’s not leave him waiting then," Richard said, leading the way across the street towards the man in question. The man lifted his chin as he saw them cross and ducked down the alley behind him. He led them, keeping his distance, as the alley jinked back and forth, past the occasional body or sack of detritus. He stopped, finally, next to an unremarkable wooden door. Alexis squinted. In the gloom opposite the obvious door was another of dark metal, recessed into the dank brick.

Initially (Introduce)

"Where in the hell are we?" Alexis asked. Despite the guard, Bastet stood up and went to the bars to look around. "What are you doing? Get her back from there. Do you want to get us all in trouble?" came a new voice, hissing from the corner. Alexis turned. In the faint light of the torches, she could just pick out the pale, emaciated form of an elven woman. Her wide, fearful eyes were fixed on Bastet. “You’d better come away,” Alexis said, poking Bastet in the leg. “I’d guess we’re in some kind of drow-run mine,” Bastet said as they sat next to the woman. “Yes,” she said. “We’re on the outskirts of the Darkwood Forest. They have us mining for moonstones.” Alexis held out her hand, introducing herself and Bastet. "I’m Nassurae Talloth," the woman said, ignoring Alexis’ hand. "Now, please, you must get some sleep. Don’t make the guard come back.” Alexis and Bastet glanced at each other as Nassurae moved to the back of the cell, cuddling down with her fellows. “I can’t do anything without my tools,” Alexis said. “We may as well get some rest then,” Bastet said. “I was never stationed at a place like this, but I’ve heard the rumours. We’ll need all the strength we can muster to survive.” So saying, she laid down. Alexis followed suit, trying to get comfortable on the cold, stony ground.

Not

As Richard paid for their meal, Alexis rolled the map up, stuffing it into her pack. “Let’s see if we can drag those two away from their entertainment,” Richard said dryly. Alexis glanced out. The tiles had been put away in favour of a pack of cards and a bottle of pale golden liquor. Bastet now sat, engaging in a drinking contest with a burly half-orc woman. Alexis snorted, and they left the tent. Richard was ahead of her, striding over, no doubt with an admonishment on his lips, when Alexis felt the back of her neck prickle. She stopped, looking around, as twiclings shifted around her. The crowds parted, just for a moment, and she spotted people in what appeared to be clerical vestments. She squinted. Except, something wasn’t quite right… One of them twisted, looking straight at her. “Shit…” He nudged his companion and pointed. “Richard!” she yelled and ran. Today was a day when being small worked in her favour. Alexis shot through the crowds, darting this way and that, winding through the legs of people and animals alike. But though it might help her lose the cultists, she’d also lose her backup. Eventually she was going to run out of legs to hide behind and have to face the cultists on her own – a prospect she did not look forward to.

Once

The blanket of night was once more drawing over as the group approached the flickering lights of Castle Dire. A blanket was thrown over Three and coin exchanged with the duty guards to smuggle him through the gates and into the city. While Richard and Victor stayed in a shadowy nook with Three and their mounts, Alexis and Bastet ventured into the bustling city to find a place for the night. They followed the smells of late-night street food stalls to a place where the cobbled road turned to dirt and the pub signs creaked and flaked as they swung. Two men, in the midst of a fight, tumbled out of one of the myriad drinking houses, followed by a small cheering crowd. In Thieves Cant, Bastet signalled that it advertised stables as well as room and board. A female orc came blundering out after the two humans, grabbing them by the collar. As the pair watched, the orc slammed the two men together, dropping them in a lump at her feet. Their coin purses were removed, the orc yelling for them to never darken her door again. Alexis tilted her head towards the establishment, eyebrows raised in question. Bastet gave a shrugging nod. Silently, they split up – Bastet into the inn, and Alexis to retrieve their fellows.

Pass

“So, how are repairs going?" she asked as the barman began to draw their drinks. "Good. Very good," he replied. "We’ve been one of the first they’ve set to work on. Can’t think why.” He winked as he set Richard’s beer on the counter and moved to draw Alexis’. “Now the pub’s passed to me after old Finnley lost his life in all the troubles, I’m thinking to rename her. Fresh start and all.” He put Alexis’ drink down. “That’ll be a silver bit for the beers and meals then.” “Oh really?” Alexis gave a puckish smile and slid a gold piece over the counter. ”Are you taking name suggestions?” The bartender gawped. Then his hands flashed, hurrying to hide the coin. “You keep tipping like that, love, you can name her yourself.” Alexis grinned broadly, sending another gold after the first. “I think The Plot Hook has a nice ring to it myself. How about you?” “Aye, my lady, aye,” the barman said, eyes wide, pocketing the coin. “I’ll have the sign writers in first thing tomorrow.” “Excellent,” Alexis said, still grinning, and jumped from the counter. The barman passed down her beer. “Food’ll be out in a jiffy.”

Recommendation (Charge)

Richard came back in. He took one look at his empty plate and Alexis rubbing her full belly, and sighed. With a wave to the server for more food, he took his seat.

"Those are fine-looking beasts. Well kept and well trained," he said. "The trader must have charged you a fortune." Alexis gave a small, secretive smile. When Richard raised an eyebrow at her, she laughed, a rare tinkling sound. "Actually, no. We, ah…” Heat rose to her cheeks, and she glanced away, still smiling. “He enjoyed our conversation and cut the price on that account." Both of Richard’s eyebrows shot up and he gave her a long, incredulous look before laughing. “I’m glad you’re on my side,” he said with a grin.

Sat

Richard knocked on the Captain’s door From within came Hengar’s voice, "Come in." Inside the cramped office, Hengar was sorting slates on his desk, Yaztromo behind him, looking out of a window. Hengar looked up from his slates and grinned. "Ah, just the rabble-rousers I was hoping to see. You did a very thorough job of giving half the town a hangover. The other half seem to still be inebriated." Hengar gave them a smirk. "I trust that you, my elite squad, are feeling fit as fiddles, and are keen to continue your duties?" The group glanced at each other, sharing trepidation looks. Alexis nodded carefully. "Ye-es?" The Captain sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers and his expression sobered. "Good. Because I’m afraid I have some troubling news for you. The demon Myurr is as tenacious as he is evil. The Eye of Myurr cult has risen again, this time in its ancestral homeland – the swamps of Silur Cha. I’ve had word from the local militia in the area that there has been unusual activity concerning the lizardman population. This has been confirmed by Yaztromo’s colleagues, who’ve also provided intel about a temple in the depths of the swamp which may be used as another portal staging ground. I’ve agreed to send you down there as you’re the only ones in the militia network with the skill and experience to tackle this.” Hengar sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ve kept hold of that nifty little device that you told me about?"

Think

“I’ve not had chance to scout this level completely,” Alexis told the group as they gathered in the stairwell, “but I’m confident there’re no patrols. We should remain quiet and vigilant all the same.” “Agreed,” Ithanor said. With that, Alexis led the party out and along the long dim corridor. Here racks of equipment lined the walls. Alexis steered clear, but Victor, close to the back, paused next to one. “I could do with a sword," he muttered and tugged at a shortsword. The rack toppled and fell. Metal hit stone in a cacophonic tangle. Everyone froze, hands on weapons. The last sounds of spinning metal tapered off and their breath rasped harshly in the silence. Alexis strained her hearing. “I think we’re in the clear,” she whispered. Ithanor shot a glare at Victor. "Do not do that again.” Victor backed away from the rack, the sword still in his hand. "Sorry! Sorry," he said. “At least I got a weapon?” “Could we please continue?” Nathardrin asked, gesturing to Alexis. “Dalliance?” Alexis nodded. “C’mon.”

Under

Presently, the Captain was refreshed and began speaking. "I have a proposition for you all," he told them. "As you may know, we have started this recruitment drive on information that Firetop Mountain, a dwarven settlement a few leagues away, has become overrun by goblins under the leadership of an evil wizard named Zagor. However, I am reluctant to lay siege to this place or approach it under the banner of war without knowing what I am sending my troops into. "You four have recently come to my attention as potential candidates for a special mission, especially you, little one." He stopped and looked pointedly at Alexis before continuing. "The basic is this: I would like you four to infiltrate Firetop Mountain and gather reconnaissance. This is completely voluntary and if you wish, you may leave this room now."

Wake

Morning – or what Alexis presumed to be so; it was impossible for her to tell from underground – came, and Alexis was woken by Nassurae. As she came awake, scrubbing tiredly at her eyes, she saw that Bastet was being woken by another elven woman. "Come, little one. You need to wake up now," Nassurae said, encouraging Alexis to stand. "They will be bringing food soon. If we do not eat it quickly enough, they will take it before we have finished." Alexis nodded. "Will we be able to see our friends when they take us down to the mine?" "Yes," said Nassurae. "But you will not have any opportunity to talk to them. The work is gruelling. You won't have the breath for talking, if you can even get close enough without the guards seeing. They're very strict – if they see the slightest flagging, they will whip you" Alexis nodded. "I'll have to manage. My friends and I have to find a way to escape. We have people relying on us." Nassurae looked like she was about to say something else but then the guards banged on the bars of their cage.

➤ @oh-no-another-idea

Black (Blackguard)

"Why?" he asked. "What did I ever do to you? For that matter, what did the people of Toreguard do to you?" The Blackguard laughed. "In answer to your second question: nothing. But it got your attention, did it not?" He took another step towards them and Richard did the same, drawing his sword. "As to your first question," the Blackguard continued. "You killed my master and mentor. Twice no less! I should thank you for that, but there was still so much I had to learn. And you took that from me!" So saying, Alexis saw rage cloud his eyes and he launched himself at Richard. Their swords clashed and Alexis found herself moving. "Just because he’s here for Richard, doesn’t mean we can’t help our friend!" she yelled, reaching for her crossbow. Bastet put her hand on Alexis’ arm. "No, we shouldn’t interfere. This is a personal journey. Richard needs to do this by himself." "Screw that!" Alexis said, loading her bow.

Deep

"My lord," the steward said, dipping to one knee and bowing. "I present to you emissaries from your brother in wickedness, Zharradan Marr. They bring you a gift of Marr’s design." "Oh ho?" said Dire, standing to stride down the dais towards them. Where Zagor had been the husk of a man long since departed, and Zharradan covered in so many bodily modifications he was more machine than person, Dire was the direct opposite of his brothers. He wore a well-tailored and debonair robe of azure and gold, cinched at the waist with an exquisitely tooled belt; the robe skimmed the ground as he walked towards them. His neatly trimmed hair and beard were a deep, shimmering black, and the nails that traced his cheek in a thoughtful brush were even and manicured.

Hair

"Hail and well met, fair maiden," came a voice from her left. Alexis glanced over to see an elf come from a small, brightly coloured tent. For a moment, she could only stare, jaw slack. The elf was stunning. Hair like golden honey dripped down his back and shoulders, partly plaited and ornamented with beads of turquoise and lapis. Eyes, the deep green of herbs, smouldered from behind pale lashes. His chest was bare, water droplets caught in soft curls of hair shimmering like dewdrops across his tanned skin. Alexis sucked in a breath, biting her lip and the elf flicked a skein of hair over his shoulder, revealing solid biceps cross-crossed with scars. "Hail and well met," she managed to murmur.

Hands

"I shall be sending an extra man with you," Hengar said, waving forward a human with coppery hair. "Since you’re to make your final approach to the fort on foot, Corporal Durnin here will bring your mounts back to town." "We’d best get going then," Nathardrin said, swinging himself up onto a blue roan. Yaztromo stood next to a chestnut mare, speaking softly to her before mounting. Ithanor cupped his hands, helping Alexis to mount up in front of the wizard, before swinging himself onto a handsome grey charger. Richard stood in front of the mount assigned to him, looking at it with some distrust. The bay shook her mane at him. Richard nodded and, with some difficulty, mounted up. With everyone astride, they set out, leaving Toreguarde in the dust.

Ink

Mess

The clamour of the wake-up bells drilled into her skull. Cursing and groaning, Alexis dragged herself to the Mess Hall, wishing her mouth didn't taste like a desert. She dropped down onto an empty bench, resting her head on the rough wooden table. A cup of strong chicory coffee and a plate consisting mostly of grease, with a side of bread and meat, landed in her eyeline. She rocked her head, following the arm to the amused face of Richard. "How do you not have a hangover?" she asked, glaring up at him through one squinting eye. "Because I didn't drink nearly as much as you or the others," he said smugly. "But you were wasted!" Alexis said, wincing at the loudness of her own voice. "I saw you." "No, you only saw what your wobbling vision allowed you to see. Now, eat up. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us, and we still need to go and wake the other two."

Midnight

Once they were all seated, with a small glass of brandy each, he addressed them properly. "What has my elite squad been up to these past months?" Captain Hengar asked. “I send you off to gather intel about the Eye of Myurr cult, and hear nothing of you until you show up in High Creek.” Alexis took a breath, sharing a side glance with Richard. “It’s, ah. Been a… bit of a time, yes. Port Blacksands then…” she said, and between the four of them, they launched into the full tale. Food was brought as morning turned to afternoon, and again as the evening turned, along with fresh bottles of brandy. Each added their own words to the winding story, and even after the tale was done, Hengar asked follow-up questions, having them retell parts he wanted clarity on. By the time they finally finished, it was gone midnight. “Thank you,” Hengar said, “for your patience in explaining this extraordinary affair. I’ve got a lot to think about with this information. Please, get some rest. We’ll talk more about our next steps on the morrow.” With that, they were ushered from the office and back to the barracks, to collapse into deep and dreamless sleep.

Murmur

The sun had barely risen by the time Richard was waking Alexis. After breakfast, the cook handed them packets of prepared trail rations, and they made their way out to the courtyard, where they found the most unusual sight. Next to a pair of horses, there stood a large dog and an oxen. The stable hand saluted them, as Bastet and Victor came sauntering into the yard. "Sirs," said the stable hand, "I took the liberty of sending a runner to wake your friends and bring them here. I have also prepared mounts for you all." Alexis nodded. "Very good, Private… ah?" "Keld. Ceri Keld," said the stable hand. "Thank you, Private Keld." Alexis put her hands on her hips. "What I would like to know, however, is what the hell is that cow doing here?" "Ah…" Keld paled. "I’m not sure, ma’am. It just… sort of… trotted in, and lowed every time one of the other mounts was saddled. So we saddled it, and it went quiet." Alexis raised an eyebrow. "Richard…?" "Umm, yes. This may be my fault," he said. "I do seem to recall, fuzzily, that I left last night and, umm, called for it. I had a feeling, I needed a mount for my paladin-ness. And, well. Oxen are good strong beasts." He walked over. Cow and elf regarded each other, then Richard reached out and gave it a pat on the head. "I shall call him ‘Benevelor’ because he is a holy cow." Victor sniggered a bit before Bastet elbowed him in the ribs. Alexis sighed and shook her head. "Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ben," she said and patted the cow on the leg. it looked at her curiously and then turned away. Richard frowned at her, as she and the others took to their mounts. "It’s Benevalor," he murmured grumpily. "Shall we get this show on the road, lady and gents?" Alexis asked and with that, Richard mounted, with some difficulty, and the four of them set out to Trolltooth Pass.

Sass (cheek)

The pair made their way to the bar – a simple plank supported by several barrels – and were greeted by a rotund human with a thatch of whitening hair. “Ah! ‘Tis our heroes. Welcome home!” he greeted them with a beaming smile. “And what can I get for you fine folks this evening?” Alexis used Richard’s arm to bounce onto the counter. “Dinner and an ale each, if you please.” The barkeeper frowned, his gaze flicking between Alexis and Richard. “A bold little one you’ve here, sir, eh? Though she’s a mite-” He trailed off catching sight of Alexis’ deepening scowl and Richard’s frantic head shaking. His mouth worked as a tense air filled the pub. “I’ll just be getting that for you then.” “You do that,” Richard said, tapping the counter. Alexis blew out her cheeks as the barkeeper turned away.

Shark (Astute)

"Why don't we take this discussion into my tent?" he asked. "It seems so gauche to discuss business out here." "Ah… I would rather not. No offence, but one can never be too careful. You’re charming and beautiful. But so too is a dryad before it strikes." The elf pursed his lips and, with a small sigh, looked away. "Ah, so astute and practical." He turned back. "Very well. Four fine steeds and one fine pony to go to the Pagan Plains." The elf reached behind his head, putting his full chest on display, and bundled his hair into a bun as he walked to the corral. With an unnecessary leap, he vaulted inside, causing a horse to wicker and shy away.

Smile

In the silence, every displaced rock sounded like a boulder, and every tinkle of the picks in the lock sounded like the rattle of chains from the Pit. Alexis breathed slow and even as she felt her way around the inside of the crude lock. But as seconds seemed to stretch for hours she struggled to keep the wave of anxiety from overwhelming her. Bastet was keeping a lookout, but Alexis found little comfort in that fact. What if she missed a signal, what if she couldn’t move fast enough? Never before had so many relied on her skills. Never before had it meant the difference between life and death. The sudden clunk of the lock seemed to reverberate through the darkness. Alexis glanced over at where she knew Bastet stood. The drow flicked a skein of white hair as she turned, her hands flashing the all-clear. Alexis let out a controlled breath and pushed open the cell door, once again waiting for Bastet’s hand signals. When the corridor remained still and silent, the pair slipped out. Nassurea pulled the cell door closed behind them, and Alexis gave her a reassuring smile. Bastet nudged her arm, and Alexis nodded. With one last look at Nassurea’s wide eyes, Alexis took off down the corridor towards the other cells.

Son (child)

CW Slavery

"Bastet, what is the meaning of this?" Richard said, tone hard. "This is Brian. I bought him," Bastet said, preening with the satisfaction of a cat who’d gotten the best bit of fish. Alexis shot Richard a look, trying to convey with the out-jutting of her chin, Now do you believe me she’s Pit-spawn? Richard’s jaw tensed. “You bought him.” “I wasn’t, y’know, gonna keep him,” Bastet said with a derisive huff. She shot Alexis a cold look. “That would be evil.” She returned her attention to Richard. “I was gonna let him go.” Richard crossed his arms. “Alright. Do it now then.” Bastet opened her mouth. “I assume they gave you a key? Get him out of those chains.” “Fine,” Bastet whined like a petulant child. From her brassiere, she plucked a key. The man looked at her with unrestrained hate as she unlocked the heavy manacle around his neck.

Sprint (dart)

The main corridor of the fort was dark, filled with dancing shadows from the smoking torches. From the side passage, the corridor marched both left and right, sharply turning away from her at either end. With a glance, Alexis noted the corridor as empty. Cautiously she padded out to the left, passing under each puddle of light with quick, light steps. At the corner, raucous laughter drew her attention towards a door on the outside of the corridor. With another swift check that no patrols were about to discover her, she darted over, peeking through the wide keyhole. The room inside was well lit by large windows, filled with all manner of green-skins at banqueting tables, hurling food and sloshing ale, tormenting each other with good-natured abandon. Though she wrinkled her nose at the waste of good food and beer, Alexis was pleased to see they were off-duty, and thus less likely to chance on her or her companions.

➤ @spacetimewraithwrites-archive

Cord

Ithanor set to searching the body for Zagor’s phylactery, while the others investigated the room. "Do you think this is it?" he asked, holding up a tubular object on a leather cord. Victor set down the book he was flicking through and walked over. “May I?” Ithanor nodded, holding it out. Victor took it, holding it by the cord as he muttered something under his breath and snapped his fingers. “I think so," he said, handing it back. “It does have a magical aura. We should destroy it anyway. If it was around that abomination’s neck, it can’t be anything good.” “Right.” Ithanor scratched his chin. "How?" Victor opened his mouth, took a breath, and closed it again with a frown. He walked around Ithanor, stroking his chin. Eventually, he stopped and looked at Ithanor. "Hit it with your hammer," Victor said, tone faintly questioning.

Fail

Night was falling by the time they reached Coven, coating the squat buildings in shadows. People – humans and dwarves both – hurried past with suspicious eyes as they made their way up the main street towards the Inn, a tall edifice carved, like the other buildings, from the sharp rock face of the Moonstone Hills and advertised by a swaying sign of a long, greenish tooth. If the outside had been impressive, the inside failed to live up to the standard set. It stank of stale beer and stale bodies, the villagers speaking in hushed tones. Richard went straight to the counter, ordering them rooms and dinner, with Bastet and Victor trailing behind him to order beers. Alexis veered away to read the noticeboard, keeping her ears pricked for any conversation about the fort spanning the pass, or the monster therein. After they’d eaten, Victor took to wandering between the tables, showing off his prestidigitation and other parlour tricks. Alexis trailed behind him, collecting the odd coin and listening hard for any gossip they may help them, but all she heard was related to the daily lives of the villagers. Not long after Victor wrapped up his ‘show’, she headed to bed.

Fault

(Word edited out for better prose)

CW screen readers, unusual dialogue punctuation

Alexis and Bastet approached the door, swaddled in the armour of their enemy. Two goblins stood on either side. One was picking his nails, the other humming some kind of ditty. ⟨Hey up.⟩ The goblin picking his nails stopped, twitching his ears. ⟨What’re you doing here?⟩ Alexis puffed out her chest, summoning her courage from her boots, and prayed she didn’t forget a word or trip over her tongue speaking the goblin’s language. ⟨Whaddya mean, what are we doing here?⟩ she asked, as brazenly as she could. ⟨What’re you two still doing here? It’s your break, innit? Go on, skedaddle.⟩ The goblin lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes. ⟨You’re early.⟩ ⟨Yeah?⟩ Alexis put her hands on her hips. ⟨Dunno what to tell you, mate. Bigboss sent us up here. If he got the times wrong, then that’s on him, innit?⟩ The goblin titled his head, red eyes still narrowed, but the one humming the ditty had stopped, and was leaning forward, twitching his ears. ⟨You really wanna quibble a few extra hours free time? I was you, I’d just take it, mate. 'Specially since they cracked a cask just as we left.⟩ The ditty-singer smacked the nail-picker. ⟨C’mon, lad. S’better than standing around up here. Anyone asks, it ain’t us what’s gotta sort it out.⟩ The nail-picker sniffed, his long nose wobbling. ⟨Fine.⟩ The two left their station and headed down the stairs. Alexis almost felt sorry for what was waiting for them. Almost.

Favour

The ship lurched. Bastet looked up from where she was stowing her pack, gazing out of the porthole. "It looks like we’re on our way," she said. “I’m gonna go check on the boys.” Alexis hummed and Bastet left. Even though Alexis had always been a wanderer with no real home since she’d left the Forest of Night, she still felt a pang of sadness as she watched the quayside slip away. It was going to be a long time before she saw Toreguard or Allansia again. Alexis climbed up on the chest, pressing her hands on either side of the porthole and gazing down at the jumping white flecks caused by the boat’s movement. “Greg,” she whispered. “I’m finally travelling on your favoured domain. No, I know I’m not skating the waves as you would. But, since we’re here, please keep an eye on us during this long journey. Thank you, amen.”

Glow

Alexis and Nathardrin stepped forward, loosing off a round of arrows each, then fell back to let Richard and Ithanor charge forward. The fighters began to pound the hell out of the drow, dropping three before they moved out of the way to let Victor, his hands glowing ferociously and chanting like the wind, cast a sphere of flame that levelled the remaining two.

Make

The wind whistled through the cracks in the door. "A what?" asked Alexis. "A lich. It is an undead creature who has crafted unholy and powerful magics upon itself, removing its soul from the confines of its Titan-bound shell, and placing it inside another item. Until this ‘phylactery’ is broken, the lich can not be truly killed." The group looked at each other. "I had heard of these such beasts, but thought never to encounter one," Ithanor said. "How will we know what the phylactery is, what will it look like?" Alexis asked. "I do not know, I am afraid," Yaztromo said. "They come in many forms, often some item that is important to the owner. It should be on his body, however. All you must do is destroy it and we will be free of his tyranny. Come. There is much to do. We should make ready."

Mark

They waited in the late afternoon sun, Bastet leaning back in her saddle, and Victor playing with a pack of cards. The groaning of wood reached them, quietly at first, then louder as the great gate began to creak open. A platoon of guards appeared in the arch. One, his open helm decorated with curling markwork, stepped forward and saluted. “Ma’am. We’re here to escort you and the gift directly to the castle and Lord Dire.” He looked up at Three. “Is that it?” “It is,” Alexis said, her voice dripping with ice. “And it is to remain in my custody until we are met with Lord Dire. The guard nodded. “Very well, my Lady."

Minute

“You know, we could leave them here?” Alexis suggested. “They still give me the heebie-jeebies, and I just think that maybe-” “Alexis,” Richard snapped, his face creasing into a ferocious frown. “There is nothing wrong with either Victor or Bastet. They’re perfectly normal people. Besides, we need them and their blades. Don’t bring it up again.” “O-okay,” Alexis said, leaning back in her seat, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “Jeeze, I was only thinking out loud.” His hand landed on the table, rattling the crockery, as he leaned in, still scowling. “Don’t.” Alexis stared, open-mouthed, as he stood. “You have twenty minutes to finish your breakfast, then I expect to see you in the barracks.” With a sharp about-turn, Richard strode off, leaving Alexis hunched into her seat, and reaching for her coffee to calm her frayed nerves. She took a slug of the drink. It had to be the lack of sleep making him crotchety. She dug into her breakfast. Yeah, that had to be it…

Miss

Crackling stacks of papyrus, held down by painted stones, and rolls of parchment lay across the stall’s table. Idly, she picked up one of the rolls, peeking at its contents – a map, of some kind. “Can I help you, little miss?” Alexis looked up to see she was being addressed by an elf, skin and hair like roasted bark, dressed in a squat hat and brightly patterned robe “Yes. I’m looking for a map of the desert. I need to find a particular temple.” “Oh ho! Treasure seekers! Adventurers!” The man grinned widely, spreading his arms to gesture at the stall. “You have come to the right place, little miss. You will not find better maps of this dry and dusty land, than at Hassan’s World of Treasure!”

“It’s too powerful. There would be Titan-shattering consequences if it were to be destroyed. And I mean that in its most literal sense.” Victor wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “No. You keep it for now. We’ll give it to Yaztromo. He’ll know what to do with it.” Alexis looked down at the dagger in her hands, eyes widening, breath coming in little gasps, and slowly moved it away from herself. “Richard?” she said in a panicked voice. “It’s just an item,” he said soothingly. “Just... pop it in your pack for now.” Fighting the urge to drop the thing and run, Alexis shucked her pack and buried the dagger the furthest down she could manage. Once she was satisfied, Alexis rose, slinging her pack on, feeling as if it were a hundredweight heavier. “What now?” she asked. “Now, we need to get our mounts and get the hell out of here,” Richard said, moving to help Bastet bring Victor to his feet. “There’s bound to be more dirty rotten cultists running around this place, and I do not want to run into them.”

Morning

Over breakfast the next morning, Richard set down his mug and cleared his throat. “Um. I heard a worrying rumour about my home village last night,” he said. “Would anyone mind if, before reporting back to Captain Hengar, we took a trip to High Creek. I found someone with a bit more information about the rumour, and I’m very worried that something isn’t right there.” Alexis shook her head. “That’s fine with me,” Victor said. Bastet nodded. “Me too.” "Thank you," Richard said with a smile.

Old

When Richard, Bastet, and Goregut showed up at the stables, Victor explained what Bloodbeard had told them about their mounts. Goregut had walked, and Bastet sold hers the moment she could find the stable master. Richard stood stroking the neck of his ox. “Benevelor, my faithful friend, I must send you away for a little bit.” The ox lowed disconsolately, butting it's snout into Richard’s shoulder. “I know old friend, I know. I will call for you as soon as I can. It won’t feel like any time has passed at all, I promise.” The oxen lowed again, and with a heavy sigh, Richard stepped back. He straightened his back, and held his hand out, palm up. “Benevalor,” he said, “I bid thee away to the celestial realms, until a time when I can call for you again." The ox was surrounded by a suffusion of golden light, and with one last dismal moo vanished in a flash of light.

Out

(Edited the word out for better prose)

The pub was looking a lot better than the last time Alex had seen it. The charred wooden pillars had been sanded down, patched up, and varnished. The barrels and haybales masquerading as furniture had been replaced by sturdy chairs and tables. The floor was now stone flags, and the counter was a lovingly crafted piece of art. "Roderick!" she called to the barman as she vaulted up onto a freshly upholstered stool. "Beer me up, man!" Roderick grinned and pulled her a jar of the house special. "Well now, if it isn’t our very own hero. How have you been, milady Dalliance?" he asked, handing her her beer. "Oh, you know.” Alexis flipped a hand. “Running around, saving the world, drinking substandard ale." She took a sip of her beer and smacked her lips. “Damn, but it’s good to be home.” Roderick blushed. “Thankee kindly, m’lady.” Alexis winked. "And you, my friend? How has business been? Did you find a lass to let you be her husband yet?" "Oi you," he said with a blushing smile. Over his shoulder to called into the kitchens, “Nadia-Rose? Are you free a spell?” A woman appeared at the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes, love?” She had coppery skin and shining eyes under a cloud of wispy brown hair. “I’d like you to meet someone,” Roderick said, waving her over. Nadia-Rose smiled as she came to the counter, her cheeks dimpling, bringing with her the smell of bread and stew. "Alexis, this is my lovely new bride Nadia-Rose. My darling, this is Alexis Dalliance. When she can, she’s one of my best regulars."

Salt

“Don’t just stand there, ye daffies!” Bloodbeard called, waving them up the gangplank “Come aboard, my lovelies.” Richard led the way, carrying the heavy pouch of money they’d pooled together. “Your payment, as promised, Captin.” “Thankee kindly, lad,” Bloodbeard said, making the vast pouch vanish into his greatcoat. “Mate Arts!” A man with bronzed skin bringing with him the scent of salt and tar appeared with a snappy salute. “Aye, Cap’n?” “Arts, show these lubbers to their quarters, then report back to deck. We’ll be setting the sails in half a turn of the clock."

Scream

Once more Merickson coughed, breath rattling now. “Ah, child. If only it were that easy.” He cupped her face. “I betrayed everything for my own selfish need. That can never be forgiven.” “It can. It can!” Alexis cried, twisting to look at Richard. “Tell him!” Richard looked down at them, face impassive as a stone, eyes like gimlets, trained on Merickson. "You are forgiven, if you want to be," he said, voice flat. "I am beyond forgiveness," Merickson said, and before she could do anything, he put his hands over Richard’s and plunged the sword deeper within himself. "No!" Alexis screamed. "No!" She shook the Blackguard. "No…" Richard withdrew his weapon and wiped the blade. Gently he pulled Alexis away from the body. "It was his choice," he said softly. "But it was wrong and you could have stopped it!" Alexis sobbed. The rain mingled with her tears. She swiped at her face, pushing wet strands of hair away. "It may not seem like it," Richard told her, "but he returned to himself in the end. You had a part in that. In your own way, your forgiveness of his terrible acts let his spirit move on. You should be proud."

Sing (Song)

Richard stood and clasped Ithanor’s free hand. "Of course we’re not upset! I wish you all the best with your new life. We shall see each other again, I am sure of it." Richard grinned, clapping Ithanor on the back. Alexis stood up on her stool and walked along the bar counter to Ithanor. "Fair fortune, my friend," she said and hugged him. "Now finish the goddamn speech!" Laughter rippled through the assembled townspeople. Ithanor guffawed and raised his glass again. "To Toreguard! Fair fortune attend her and her people!" he cried. "Fair fortune!" the crowd called back. The room settled back into laughter and eating, snatches of song stirring as the beer flowed.

Sink (sunk)

"I hit my head as I fell," Victor said, indicating the poorly wrapped gash. "I don’t remember anything." Richard nodded. "I found him unconscious, draped over a bit of wood. He’s lucky though – a moment later and he would have sunk. I managed to drape him over a lost barrel, and swim us both away from the ship."

Smile (Beam)

Alexis blushed and bowed back. "The pleasure is mine, I can assure you. How’s business, Roderick? While I was out shopping earlier, I noticed the town’s starting to look like its old self again.” “Oh aye, things are booming,” Roderick said. “I’d dare say that fire did us a world of good. Everyone has been getting upgrades. You may’ve noticed the town hall and library are stone-clad and tile-roofed now.” “I did indeed. And there’s so many more shops and services.” “There’s been many folks moving in from the villages around, lots of new talents too. Your mate Ithanor’s been struggling to get housing up fast enough. Nadia and I have been helping out with getting the new folks settled, and all this cash flow means we’ve been able to expand the pub too. Your investment’s doing the town right well, milady.” Alex beamed. “I’m so pleased to hear that. From what I can see, everything is working out great. I’m really happy our home is doing so well.” “Oh aye,” Roderick lifted his chin behind her. “Looks like we’re not the only ones who want a chinwag.” Alexis turned to see Ithanor waving. “Ah, yeah. I’d better go say hi,” she said to the couple. "Congratulations again on your marriage.” “Thank you, milady.” Nadia reached across the counter to clasp Alexis’ hands. “You've done a world of good for our town. I hope your luck stays just as strong.” Alexis ducked her head. “Thank you. I try my best.” With that, she slid off the stool and went over to see Ithanor.

Soak

Mid-way into the journey, the clouds covered over and the Captain looked anxiously at the sky all the long day. The seamen were jittery too, making distracted mistakes, and dropping their tools. Mid-afternoon Bloodbeard ordered everything to be tied down and the sails to be furled, except for the main mast. It wasn’t until evening chow when the winds picked up, large globs of rain hammering into the deck and soaking anyone foolish enough to not have an oilcloth.

Sour (Acidic)

(Edited the word out for better prose)

“Those who would come to Atlantis need to prove themselves worthy of our time,” the apparition said. “Ahead you will find three tests: one of your wits, one of your knowledge, and one of your courage.” “Oh, great,” Alexis muttered. “They bring us here and they still make us fight our way to them.” Richard shot her a look, but they carried on. Alexis went ahead followed by Richard and Victor, then Bastet and Goregut. Their going was slow, as Alexis paused them several times, studying the path and disarming traps. They were so close to the end of the Test of Wits when Alexis made a mistake. The trap she was disarming instead triggered, sending an enchanted arrow to strike her down. Alexis staggered to her feet. “I think I’m-” The arrow dripped a viscous green slime, the leather cuirass smoking where the slime touched. “I’m… Ung!” Alexis doubled over and dropped to the floor.

Tree

They stood on the edge of the swamp, gazing into its shadowed depths. The stench from the mire rose high in the air, followed by clouds of tiny biting insects. “We’ve got to go in that?” Bastet asked, grimacing. “Unfortunately so,” Richard said. “Does anyone have any ideas?” Alexis wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t like it here,” she said. “But it’s full of trees,” Victor said from where he was investigating a large fallen log with Gorgut. “Aren’t those kinda your thing?” “It doesn’t feel right,” Alexis said with a shake of her head. “It’s a swamp. What were you expecting?” Bastet said. “There’re swamps back home. They didn’t feel like this. This feels… sick. Like it’s being poisoned.” “Indeed it is, little maid.” The group jumped at the voice, soft and sad. The treetops rustled and from a low branch jumped a gnome in a pale green robe.

Trick

The next day went the same. The drow woke them early, they received their slop and were taken down to the mine in chains, the menfolk not long behind. Richard was stationed several people down from where Alexis stood at the end of the women’s chain. Through a game of whispers, she shared the plan with him. “It could work,” he sent back. “If she can distract them long enough for you to get our weapons, Ithanor and I can deal with the rest.” “The tricky part will be finding our equipment,” she sent back. The line went quiet as the guards made their patrols. Once they’d left, a message came back, “The men have prepared shivs. They know the guards' rotations. We strike in the early hours, before feeding time. Just get us out – we’ll manage until we have our weapons.” “How will I know when that is?” Alexis asked. The man in line next to her smiled. “Ask Nassurae. She’ll be able to help you with that.” “Right. One last thing – Bastet will need a shiv. She needs to be able to protect herself while ‘entertaining’.” The man nodded, sending the message up the line. A few moments later he said, “We’ll get one to her.” Alexis nodded. Perhaps they’d pull this off after all.

Try

(Word edited out for better prose)

"We need to get everyone out now," Ithanor said, panting. "Before they send more troops." "Nathardrin, Bast and Victor,” Richard said, “go retrieve the rest of our equipment." “Aye,” Nathardin said, and the three of them took off. "All the cages are open," Alexis said. "I’ll go on ahead, make sure the way is clear." “Be careful!” Ithanor said as she set off.

Behind her, Alexis could hear the murmurs of her friends encouraging the other prisoners out of their cells. She ignored them, putting all her efforts toward finding the way out. So far their jailbreak had gone unnoticed, but it couldn’t remain so for long. She kept her ears open listening to the corridors ahead for sounds of discovery, and a watchful eye for the glint of metal from a guard’s blade.

Young

(Avoiding the 'red shirt' issue)

"This acolyte will transport you back to the temple, and assist you in sealing this portal forever." A young man stepped forward. He wore dusky rose robes which stood out starkly against his dark skin and dark hair. His eyes were like birchwood, and he smelt, incongruously to Alexis’ newly-remade nose, like fresh snow. "What’s your name, Acolyte?" Bastet asked. The boy stuttered. “I don’t have one, Miss. Acolytes give up their names on admission to the order.” “What was your name, then?” “I do not recall it. Our names are returned when we reach a high enough proficiency to be worthy of them.” “Well, we have to call you something. In my culture, not having a name is bad luck. If you don’t have a name then you’ll die a gruesome death the moment you’re in peril. Such as,” she flipped a hand, “entering a temple to a demon filled with murderous cultists.” The boy paled. "It’s fine. We won’t let that happen," Bastet said. "We shall call you… Cee Jay." The young man sighed. "Very well, miss. To you and your friends, I shall be Cee Jay.”

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pigeonwhumps · 1 year

Text

Wulfric returns

Out of the Frying Pan masterlist

Whumptober masterlist

Day 21: FAMOUS LAST WORDS | coughing up blood | "you're safe now" | "take me instead"

Taglist: @annablogsposts

After five years of relative peace, Elis' whumper returns.

3.3k

CWs: conditioned whumpee, past abuse, attempted murder

Elis ducks into an alcove at the sound of footsteps and voices. He’s not supposed to be in this corridor, not now, but he is and he’s just thinking of running when the voices come into hearing range and he freezes. There’s King Leofric, yes, there’s always the King, it’s his castle after all, but his companion sends a shiver down Elis’ spine. At the sight of him Elis lets out a small whimper, hastily-stifled, fighting not to drop to his knees and bow as he once had to do.

“I was sorry to hear about the loss of your ward.”

“Yes, it was unfortunate. He was... powerful. I was saddened by his loss. But it was five years ago now.”

“Nevertheless, is there anything I can do? I wasn’t able to be there for you at the time, but I’m here now.”

“No, no. Just your company is good enough. Although I find myself under greater threat over the past few years, since I lost him.”

“Perhaps some protection?”

“Well, if you insist.”

“Of course, my friend.” Neither of them are looking his way but Elis presses himself closer to the wall anyway, squeezing his eyes shut, desperate not to be seen. “Now, let us discuss...”

The conversation dies away after the two turn a corner away from him, but Elis doesn’t move. He can’t.

Lord Wulfric’s back.

It feels like hours later and yet no time at all when someone shakes Elis out of his daze.

“Elis? Elis can you hear me?”

Elis opens his eyes to see a man with long brown hair and a painted black band across his face crouched in front of him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Sæwin?”

“Oh thank the gods. What happened? You were completely out of it.”

“Wulfric,” he whispers, every muscle tensing at the name. Sæwin frowns.

“Lord Wulfric? He’s visiting, yes, but... what’s he got to do with you?”

“He’s the one who made me fight and kill and I didn’t want to but he made me and I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Elis. You don’t need to apologise. Can you get up, do you think?”

“I–” Elis looks around, noticing their surroundings for the first time. He’s on the floor of the alcove, sitting on his heels, everything locked up tight. “I think so.”

Sæwin holds out a hand and Elis flinches slightly, then places his own hand in the physician’s and lets Sæwin pull him to his feet. He wobbles as his muscles unlock.

“Easy, Elis, I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

Elis pulls away before they start walking, it’s weak for him to lean on someone and they’re not allowed to be weak, it’s bad to be weak, he’ll be punished if he’s weak, but Sæwin catches his hand and squeezes it.

“You’re drifting again.”

“Sorry, sir.” Elis blinks away the illusion of the estate, feeling a warm, calloused palm. It’s Sæwin beside them. Sæwin Sæwin Sæwin. No-one else.

“It’s all right.”

They make their way through the castle and the bustling citadel to the townhouse, Elis struggling to keep his head high despite wanting to duck down and hide. Col says he should take pride in himself despite everything he’s done.

Elis pulls off his boots as a large black cat trots up to him and winds around his legs, purring loudly. He scratches her on the head, marvelling at how much she’s grown over the last few years. Mabel fit into the palm of his hand when they took her in, but not anymore. He picks her up and drapes her front paws over his shoulder, supporting her with his left hand.

“Hello Mabes. You been a good girl today?”

“Col?” Sæwin calls. “Are you home?”

Col appears at the end of the hallway, wiping his hands on his apron, the red colour of his hair ribbon matching the painted band on his face. A knight’s band, as opposed to Sæwin’s black physician’s one. Elis tries to keep the facts in his mind to distract himself from his thoughts. “I was just baking, since we gave the servants a holiday. Can’t you smell it?”

“I can smell burning,” remarks Sæwin. Col makes a face, before striding forward and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Why are you back so early? Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you were both working today.”

At this reminder Elis gasps. “The messages!”

“It’s all right, I have the bag here. I’ll deliver them on my way back to the castle.”

“Thank you.”

Sæwin nods. “As to what happened, Lord Wulfric is a worse man than we thought.”

Elis shudders and Col turns to him, looking him over, concerned. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

Elis swallows. No no he’s not all right but he can’t just say that, he’s not allowed to be emotional.

“Breathe, Elis. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He holds Mabel tightly, her thick fur grounding him. “Wulfric hurt me. Not now I don’t mean now, before.”

Col’s eyes darken and Elis flinches. “Was Wulfric the one who tried to turn you into a weapon?” Elis nods. “That bastard.”

“Col, you can’t kill him,” says Sæwin dryly. Col scowls.

“I know that. Do you have a plan then?”

“I want to bandage Elis’ brand and then I need to get back to work. If that’s all right with you, Elis.” Elis nods. He needs to hide it, he can’t risk Wulfric or his entourage seeing it, and he doesn’t like bandages no but he likes even less what will happen if Wulfric realises who he is.

What he is.

A monster. A killer. Wulfric’s trained killer, and Wulfric will recognise him and beat him or lock him in the basement or force him to–

Something touches his arm and he jumps, raising his arms to shield himself. Something heavy falls off him with a meow.

“Sweetheart. Elis. Breathe. You’re safe. It’s just Col and Sæwin and Mabel with you.” Elis looks up into Wulfric’s concerned face.

No, Col’s. Elis shakes his head to clear it. Wulfric would be angry, not concerned, it’s Col. Col Col Col.

“You back with us?” Elis blinks a yes. “Good. That’s good. Can you stand?”

Oh. Elis didn’t even notice he was on the floor again. He tries to push himself upright but his mind rebels, in fear of punishment. He blinks twice.

“All right. I’ll carry you. You’re safe, sweetheart. Safe.”

Col rubs his back and he gasps, movement coming back in a rush. He loops his arms around Col’s neck, clinging on, burying his head in Col’s shoulder, because he’s allowed to do that now, with Col and Sæwin, he doesn’t have to be strong and alone anymore.

Col carries him into the kitchen and sets him down on a chair while Sæwin fetches some bandages. “Tunic up then.” Elis lifts his tunic and holds it around his shoulders as Sæwin crouches in front of him, winding the thick white bandages around his torso, up and up until they cover the brand thoroughly, fairly tight so they don’t show but not too tight, the slightly rough linen very familiar. “There you go. That covers the brand. More than just that actually, but we don’t want anyone catching a glimpse at the edge of it and getting suspicious.”

Elis nods. “Thank you.”

Sæwin smiles and gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re welcome. I need to get back to work, will you be all right?”

Elis nods and Col, catching this from over by the stove, says lightly, “We’ll be fine, love. Get out of here.”

“Not until I’ve tried some of that honey I can smell. You must have some to spare.”

Col grins wickedly and eats a small spoonful out of the pot, smearing a little on his lips as he does so. “Sorry, that was the last bit. De-licious.”

“Oh is that so?” Sæwin chases Col around the kitchen, finally backing him against the sink, and Elis watches with a smile as he kisses the living daylights out of Col, tasting the honey from his lips. Finally he pulls back, looking like the cat who got the cream. “You were right. Delicious.”

“Absolutely,” murmurs Col, slightly dazed. Sæwin winks at Elis and pulls him into a tight hug.

“Look after yourself. And Col. I’ll be back for dinner.”

Elis nods, leaning into Sæwin slightly for a moment. “Stay safe.”

It’s a ridiculous comment to make (it’s only the castle, and Sæwin isn’t foolish), but Sæwin just smiled, uncondemning. “I will.” He waves goodbye to Col (who raises a hand slowly in return, still a little out of it) and strolls out the room. A few moments later, Elis hears the front door shut behind him, and Col jerks back to himself.

“What was I doing?” he murmurs, and Elis smirks as deeply as he dares.

“Kissing Sæwin.”

Col blushes, and Elis’ smile turns softer. Wulfric would’ve called Col and Sæwin’s display ‘disgustingly intimate’, but Elis just finds it sweet. For some reason, Col and Sæwin being so sweet together always helps Elis settle.

“I was baking, that’s right. Do you want to read to me for a bit while I get this in the oven?”

Elis nods eagerly and takes the book from Col, flipping to where they left off that morning. “When the great became aware of Gawain’s arrival,

There was general jubilation at the joyful news.

The King kissed the knight, and the Queen likewise,

And so did many a staunch noble who sought to salute him.

They all asked him about his expedition,

And he truthfully told them of his trilu– tribu– um–”

Col slides the tray into the oven and crosses over to Elis. “Tribulations. You’re improving.”

“You really think so?” asks Elis hopefully, before remembering himself and adding quickly, “Not that I think you’re lying or wrong, I don’t I promise, I just–”

“You just don’t believe in yourself enough,” says Col, putting an arm around Elis and pulling him close. Elis nods – he doesn’t believe in himself because he shouldn’t, but Col doesn’t think so. Col lets him have his own opinions but he doesn’t like that one. “Your reading’s improved a lot since we met. You could barely string two words on a page together then, and now look at you. Not long now until we finish this story.”

Elis blushes, looking down at the cat that’s just jumped into his lap. He’s still not used to compliments. And he’s not so good.

“Hey, sweetheart. You really are getting good at reading. You’re improving. Recovering. I’m proud of you.”

Elis frowns. Col’s tone increases the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Col?”

Col sighs. “I have a bad feeling. It’s probably nothing more than the fact that Wulfric’s here, but... if something happens, ever, promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to survive. And I don’t just mean if it’s Wulfric.”

Elis nods vigorously. “I promise.” He’s promised before, he has, and he doesn’t think he needs to promise again no but Col needs it, Elis can tell.

“Good. And don’t forget that Sæwin and I will always, always come for you. I’m sure this feeling’s nothing, but I want you to remember that, sweetheart. All right?” Elis nods again, and Col pulls him into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head as Mabel scrambles away. “You’re safe. You’re going to stay safe, I’m sure of it, sweetheart. I’m sure.”

That doesn’t reassure Elis one bit.

A few days later, Elis is standing at the edge of the field, watching the knights train. He knows it annoys the head knight when he does this and he doesn’t like annoying people no but he can’t stay home on his own, not even with Mabel. That’s what he usually does on days like this, when he’s unable to stay still but unable to make himself move without orders. He can usually stay with Mabel and it’s not too bad, but today is worse than usual for some reason (Wulfric, probably, who Elis hasn’t seen again yet but even knowing he’s here is making him nervous), and he can’t stay by himself. Can’t stay with Sæwin either and get in the way of him saving people, he has to stay somewhere more out of the way. With Col. And even though people are annoyed Col says they just have to put up with it.

It seems an odd way to deal with Elis being an inconvenience.

Elis likes watching the knights, lots of young men and women do and if he lets himself become absorbed in the training he can almost pretend he’s normal, but today his attention keeps drifting. He can’t focus on anything.

And then he freezes entirely.

There’s a familiar set of footsteps coming this way. One heavier than the other, slightly muffled by the boots he’s wearing. Dark brown leather boots with a fur lining and intricate patterns sewn into the outside that Elis can picture like he’s actually looking up at them when he closes his eyes.

It’s Wulfric. Elis’ heart pounds. He couldn’t flee even if he wanted to, he’s completely frozen, it’s a fight not to drop to his knees as his former master comes into view. Col inches closer to Elis under the guise of fetching water and murmurs, “Go home if you want to.”

But Elis can’t.

He takes a shaky breath as Wulfric and King Leofric stop in front of the training field. The knights and spectators bow and curtsy as the King turns his attention to them.

“Knights of the realm. Lord Wulfric has requested to lead you all in a few drills, and I have agreed.” Surprised glances are shared around the group of knights - King Leofric is known for being possessive, he doesn’t normally let anyone else do anything with his men - and the head knight looks indignant, before smoothing his expression over before the King can see. “I will be observing, of course.”

As Wulfric strides onto the field, taking the head knight’s place, Elis thinks his gaze lingers on him. But Col doesn’t seem to have noticed, so please let him be wrong. He’s just paranoid yes that’s it. That must be it.

Elis is worried about what his body will do when Wulfric starts barking orders, but he can’t do anything about that now. He curls his toes tightly inside his boots and clenches his fists. He can do this he can, and then Col will be there to help him after.

“Show me your guards,” calls Wulfric, and Elis grips his arms tightly. That’s not an order he knows well, luckily, but he’s just waiting for one he does.

“Very good. Now, show me your best move...”

He says more, but Elis’ mind goes blank. His best move is taking out the target. Master is looking at the head knight, and the weapon focuses on him, pinpointing the best targets, he’s wearing chainmail but there’s still open targets. His eye maybe. The weapon starts to bend over and reach into his boot–

“Halt!”

Something hits him and he falls to the ground with a thump, something heavy landing on top of him. He blinks, pushing his hands up, as the blankness slowly filters from his mind.

“Elis. Elis it’s me, Col, you’re in Sorestan. Listen to me, Elis. You’re Elis, remember?”

“Col,” breathes Elis, his memory and thoughts returning. “I’m Elis. Elis. You’re Col.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Will you drop the dagger please?”

Elis lets his hand loosen and the dagger drops to the ground with a dull thud. He tangles his now-empty hand in Col’s chainmail to stop himself picking it back up automatically.

“I dropped it,” he whispers. Col rolls off him, pulling Elis’ hand off his chainmail gently and folding it in his own, helping Elis to his feet.

“Easy, sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re Elis, you’re okay.”

Elis nods shakily. He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s not a weapon anymore. Col pulls him into a quick hug, kissing the top of his head.

“Shhh.”

“You!”

They both jump at the sound of Wulfric’s voice and Elis spins around to face him. He looks angry, glowering, and oh– no no no–

“You’re my weapon, aren’t you? I thought I recognised you. My little weapon, who ran away and hid from me. Or did he hide you?”

“I didn’t–” mutters Elis, backing away, nearly inaudible, “no no no no no–”

His voice breaks. He can’t speak in front of his master, he’s not allowed to.

Col glances at him, squeezes his hand. “He didn’t run. You left him to die. He was nearly dead when we found him, you–” Col’s voice hardens, the way it always does when he’s trying to stop his emotions from showing, and Elis flinches, which he always does. “You nearly killed him. He was bleeding out and about to burn to death, and you would’ve known he couldn’t move without your permission. Don’t lie and pretend you care, you don’t, you never have, you’re just regretting discarding of your best weapon.” He pulls Elis to him and squeezes him tight. “And you’re not having him. Never again, you abusive brute. Sir.”

Wulfric’s face has gone red, a vein popping in his temple. Elis shrinks, not moving, he’s not allowed no but his mind shrinks, hiding from his punishment.

“How dare you insult me like that? I am Lord of Magance, far more important than the likes of you. Certainly more important than that.” He looks at Elis in disgust and draws his sword, slashing it downwards, oh gods he’s going to kill Col and there’s nothing Elis can do, he’s not permitted to move–

Clang.

His master’s sword is stopped inches from Col’s neck, pushing against... Sæwin’s. Sæwin’s? What’s Sæwin doing with a sword? There’s a low hum as the metal vibrates against each other.

“I don’t often use a sword, but I suggest you stop trying to kill my family,” says Sæwin warningly, panting slightly. “Trust me, you don’t want to be cut open by an expert in human anatomy.”

Wulfric scowls but he doesn’t get a chance to retort as an authoritative royal voice rings out across the training ground.

“Guards! Arrest Lord Wulfric for attacking one of my knights.”

Wulfric is dragged away by guards, protesting at the top of his voice, and Sæwin drops the sword, turning to Elis and Col.

“Are you two all right?”

Col nods. “I’m well, thank you. That bastard just... got to me.”

“You got to him too, I’d say. Elis? What about you?”

Elis squeezes his eyes shut and nods. It’s the best he can do.

“Well, I’m not sure I believe either of you, I can hear that deliberate lack of emotions in your voice, Col, but... you’re both alive and in one piece. That’s something, at least.” Elis feels Sæwin’s arm snake his back, the physician’s solid warmth shoring up his other side, and he feels more secure. Col and Sæwin wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Not if they could help it.

“The guards have taken Wulfric away, Elis,” murmurs Sæwin, “you’re safe now.”

He’s safe. Safe safe safe safe safe.

So why doesn’t he quite feel it?

In all the fuss and distraction as the three of them stand there, looking after each other, as the knights’ training breaks up into murmurs and whispers and stares, as the head knight almost forgets to dismiss them in his discomfort, amidst all that, everyone misses the greedy, considering look the King gives Elis.

Looking him up and down like a sacrificial lamb at the next spring festival.

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lotti-lyric · 2 years

Note

Hiii!! Can I have a Bnha match up, it would be nice if it was romantic! Don't feel pressured tho!! I'll wait AND I'M SO SORRY, I LIKE TO INFODUMP ABOUT MYSELF

I'm a isfp 6w5 641 so/sp cancer (cancer moon aquarius rising)

In appareances I have my hair short and dyed red just like the 2017 markiplier (literally my most recent hyperfixation) blue glasses, brown eyes, tan-yellowish skin since I'm latino but As a kid I never went outside and I now live in a cold area, triangle body type, sadly 5'3 (IT'S AVERAGE I SWEAR)

Im the kind of guy that never talks unless is to say something nice! Or sassy if it's with my friends

With strangers I act really distant and I rather finish whatever it's going on fast and go (in school mostly) but with people I care about like friends and family I'm really loud and easygoing, very impulsive and warm

also, I'm a really sensitive person, don't be mean to me back I will cry

I enjoy writing, drawing, signing, doing sports and playing videogames!

And I LOVE LOVE ANIMATIONS AND MUSIC!!! AND STUFF ANIMALS, I HAVE A DOG PLUSH, A HOLLOW KNIGHT PLUSH ETC!!

Aesthetics and stuff

Retro and colour full stuff to peaky blinders type of stuff

Since im like two complete personalities in one, my closet is full of colourful sweathers and the most dreadful and fancy looking suit...

And that's it!! Take ur time, drink water and have a nice day or night! ♡

(Sorry if it's hard to understand, it's 1am and I speak Spanish as a first language)

charlotte’s interlude 💗- hi!! sorry this is so late, you’re totally fine!! i hope you enjoy this and have a great day, you seem so fun!!

warnings; some swearing

i match you with…

Keigo Takami!! (aka Hawks)

IM SORRY FOR THE PUN BUT THIS ^

he loves your hair so much oh my GOD

he’d def want to help you when you touch up the red color!! he tried his best but you prob have to do more of the work 💀💀😭

he loves how sweet you are but also loves your attitude!!

he definitely doesn’t give up when you’re distant at first and when you open up, he’s literally over the moon with happiness!

lord have mercy on anyone who makes you cry holy shit 🧍🏼‍♀️

he loves your writing and art so much!! if you make animations, expect him to have them favorited on this phone!!

listening to music together and dancing around the room like the whole world disappeared together 💗

he gets you a new stuffed animal on a random day each week!! more than one if he spots one you’ll love!!

^^ they all have names ofc and they are your children 😩💀

he loves your aesthetics!! he’ll try to match you if you let him know before hand what you plan to wear

UGH YALL SO CUTE

#bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #bnha hcs #bnha x self insert #mha x reader #bnha matchups #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha fanfic #mha fanfiction #mha hcs #bnha matchup #mha matchups #mha matchup #bnha hawks #keigo takami

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 2 months

Text

Sweet serenade (part 1)

Bunty Windermere x reader. This is part one of two.

My first Father Brown fic! The Polish resettlement camp mentioned here is the one Suzie lived in, even though it hasn’t been mentioned since season 1. I usually watch Father Brown dubbed in my language, which is why I’m not sure I can faithfully portray the “voice” of the characters, with the appropriate 1950s lingo and all that; any suggestion is appreciated!

Warning: mentions of homophobia.

*****

Ten years ago

Bunty Windermere, sixteen years, three months and four days old, weeps silently, cuddled up on the spacious bed, in her family’s stately home; the walls have been recently repainted in a pretty peach colour her mother has chosen, and Bunty dislikes. She has put on her nightgown to cover the chemise that was everything she had on when her parents arrived, and tears keep flowing down her face; tears of pain, and regret, and most of all, of shame.

Oh, Merry, Bunty thinks; that’s all she can do, since the person those apologies are directed to is gone, thrown out of the house she has worked faithfully in for more than a year, and she’ll probably never see her again. I am so sorry. It’s all my fault…

Bunty’s bedroom is on the first floor, and her parents have decided to retire to the living room before starting to argue, which is why their voices arrive muffled to her ears - not so much, though, to make it impossible for Bunty to decipher their words, especially her father’s, since he’s the one who is almost shouting. A blasted invert… against nature… under my roof… disgusting…

Her tears have all but washed away Bunty’s make-up, which she tried to copy from a ladies’ magazine to look nice for her date. Hands pressed to her ears, she wills herself to become deaf to those terrible insults and accusations, and so misses the soft noise of the door opening, and realises she’s not alone in the room anymore only when, lying on her stomach with her arms hiding her face, she catches a glimpse of a pair of elegant, high-heeled shoes approaching the bed.

“May I come in, Bunty?” Aunt Fliss asks softly, and after a moment of confusion the girl quickly remembers that of course, her aunt had been invited to that soirée -that blasted soirée, Bunty thinks resentfully; what adult people party ends before eleven at night?!- at the home of a friend of her parents, so it’s not surprising that she came home with them, maybe for a nightcap or something of the sort.

Felicia, newly engaged to lord Montague -a man Bunty doesn’t necessarily dislike, but she thinks her aunt deserves much better, or at least more than a man who is already losing his hair before turning forty- as usual impeccably dressed, stylish and just a little more daring that would normally be acceptable, doesn’t wait for an answer to her question, but goes sit on the bed next to her niece. She takes a look around -the clothes abandoned on the chair and chest of drawers, the books and magazines piled on the desk, a record by Édith Piaf Bunty had put on her phonograph to create what she hoped was the right atmosphere for the evening- comments that the room is as messy as her own was when she was her niece’s age and she likes it very much, and then, circling Bunty’s shoulders with her arm, she sweetly inquires: “You want to tell me what has happened?”

Bunty is pretty sure her aunt already knows -after all the shouting match has been going on for fifteen minutes already, that is since Felicia and her brother and sister-in-law have returned from the party- but since her aunt is the only real ally she has ever had within the family, Bunty decides to indulge her, no matter how ashamed she feels - not of the fact itself, but of the pain and trouble she has caused to someone who didn’t deserve any of it.

“It… it’s about Merry - Meredith, I mean, our maid; she’s a year older than me, she lives in the attic.” she begins, without the courage to look her aunt in the eyes; with a pang of guilt, she realises she should now use the past tense “Mom and dad came back earlier than expected, and… and they found her here with me.”

A pause.

“We were in bed together.”

“I had gathered that much, Penelope.” her aunt sighs, without breaking her hug; the revelation seems to have surprised her, but there is no trace of disgust or horror on her elegant face, which comforts Bunty more than she could explain in words. She can still hear her parents fight; she can hear her mother crying, which is something she is not used to, and that makes her feel as if a whole building were weighing on her back, crushing her to the ground.

“Dad is very angry, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so, darling; and I fear Meredith will be forced to leave. But don’t worry, I’ll speak to your father and I’ll convince him to give her good references, so that she can find a new job.”

“If he refuses you could threaten to tell mum he is having an affair with that woman working at his club.” Bunty suggests, and smiles weakly at her aunt’s surprise; her brother’s infidelity is old news for Felicia, and this club woman is the latest of a long list, but she had no idea her niece was aware of the fact “I’m not the only one in the family with a secret, aren’t I?”

“You clearly aren’t. How do you feel?”

Bunty sobs as she turns on her side, looking helplessly at her aunt; she has never felt so alone, and she has never looked so young and helpless. “I feel wretched. It’s all my fault, now Merry will lose her job, while I’ll be forbidden to leave the house for a while at worst. It was my idea, I invited Merry to come here, and now I ruined her life…”

Felicia softly points out that she clearly didn’t mean to cause so much trouble for her friend, who in any case will easily find another job, and Bunty answers that doesn’t make her feel better at all. Merry may not be her soulmate, she’s already mature enough to know, but Bunty liked her very much, and while she meant well when she started flirting with the young maid and knows Merry reciprocated the interest in full, she never stopped to think about what their difference in status may mean should they be discovered.

“Aunt Fliss?”

“Yes, darling?” Felicia asks kindly, and Bunty looks at her. Felicia Windermere is no saint, and her niece knows what is being said about her, about her friends and those parties she attends where most of the attendees arrive with a partner and leave with another, but she doesn’t care; her aunt is a clever, resourceful woman, one who has always gone her own way without letting herself being influenced by critics and disapproval. Bunty trusts Felicia, she actually wishes she were a lot like her, and because of this she finds the courage to ask for… what? Absolution? Or maybe simply understanding…

“Is what Merry and I were doing so wrong? I am… very fond of her, and she of me, no one had been forced…”

Felicia sighs as she looks at her niece, not unkindly, as she thinks back to when she was Bunty’s age and questions like that still made sense. A melancholic smile brushes against her rouged lips; she is decidedly not the most appropriate person to teach a young girl what is right or wrong concerning matters of the heart and she knows. “I wish I could tell you that as long as you hurt no one you can be free to live your life as you please.” she murmurs in the end “Unfortunately that is not how things work, and you are old enough to understand this. But there is one thing I want you to remember: don’t let anyone, especially not a person as close-minded as your father, make you feel ashamed about yourself, and tell you who to be fond of - who to love.”

Bunty’s smile is bitter as she dries her tears on the back of her hand - too bitter for her age, and for a person whose only sin has been to follow the desires of her heart. “If he catches me with a girl again I think dad would kill me; or even worse, put me in a convent.” she points out softly, only partially exaggerating, and her aunt admits that yes, her brother may accept a daughter who flirts with boys, but finding her with a person of her own gender…in that case the consequences could very well be catastrophic.

Felicia takes her niece’s face in her hands. “Try looking after yourself, Penelope” she advises, her eyes full of affection and concern, and Bunty promises she will.

Bunty Windermere, twenty-five years, seven months and twelve days old, walks leisurely through the streets of Kembleford, an odd feeling, both resignation and hope, filling her heart. She is obviously happy to have escaped the latest row with her parents -her father especially- and since aunt Fliss had spoken so well about the village in her letters she is sure she’ll feel right at ease as well, but this place is so tiny… there is no night club or bar, the shops are so few she can count them on one hand and the most exciting event of the year must be the parish bingo at Christmas. She has met Father Brown only yesterday and she knows he is an exceptional person already, and mrs McCarthy, who she has heard so much about from her aunt it is almost as if they knew each other already, has been very kind to her as well, but people here go to bed with the sun and there is really nothing to do, nothing a person her age could do to pass the time and have some fun…

Six months ago

She’s walking along an empty unpaved road at the edge of the village, not far from the Polish resettlement camp, a gentle wind making the hem of her skirt twirl around her calves, her blue handbag hanging from her elbow. Bunty is so deep in her thoughts she doesn’t realise she’s no longer alone on the path until it’s too late; one moment the roar of an approaching engine behind her reaches her ears…

… and the next a moped, coming down the road at full speed, reaches her, and as the vehicle passes her the driver reaches towards Bunty, grabs the strap of her handbag and snatches it off her.

A strangled cry, due more to surprise than fear or pain, escapes Bunty’s lips; she stumbles, already vaguely aware of what has happened but too shaken to react, and a moment later she has lost her balance, and she is falling, face forward onto the ground, and she knows it’s going to hurt, a lot, but she can’t do anything to stop it…

She hits the ground hard, and pain explodes inside her; Bunty remains still for a minute, dizzy and still partially uncomprehending, before cautiously checking herself for damages; her face is miraculously uninjured, but she has hit both her right elbow and knee, and she can feel blood trickling down her leg.

Those few seconds were enough to allow the moped, and the person driving it, to get away, the engine noise already disappearing in the distance. Bunty swears (something she had ordered herself never to do when in Father Brown’s company, or mrs McCarthy’s) under her breath. She had never been mugged in her life, a positive streak she’d rather not have broken. It’s really absurd, nothing ever happened to her when she lived in London, and then, after she moves to a tiny, sleepy village…!

“Oh, my God…!”

An alarmed, female voice fills the air, and then the sound of an hurried walk. Bunty blinks and, still lying on her stomach, sees a pair of sturdy brown boots enter her field of vision, and then a pair of knees, as their owner squats in front of her. “Are you alright? Did you hurt your head?”

“No, I… I’m fine, I think.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Give me your hand; can you stand?”

She can, and she does, the other woman ready to intervene should she stumble or lose balance again. “I saw what happened, but I was too far to intervene.” she explains, as if Bunty could accuse her otherwise; the moped has disappeared in the countryside surrounding the village, and the two women, being on foot, have no way to reach it “Did you see who it was?”

Bunty shakes her head as she checks herself; fortunately the one on her elbow is just a scratch, but her left leg is bleeding. She gratefully accepts the handkerchief the other woman quickly retrieves from her own handbag and offers her, and she reflects that she has to adjust her opinion on Kembleford, the village is not as sleepy and boring as she expected at all! Lovely, I’ve been here for less than a day and I have been mugged already…

“Unfortunately no; it was a man, of that I’m pretty sure, but I couldn’t see his face.” she explains “And in any case I don’t know anyone yet, here in the village, so…”

The woman beams at her; she has a lovely smile, Bunty can’t help noticing.

“Ah! You must be lady Felicia’s niece; Father Brown mentioned you had moved here. Your name is Penelope, yes?”

It is; but she has not thought of herself as a Penelope since she was six. “I’m Bunty, Bunty Windermere.”

“It’s very nice to meet you; I’m (name), (full name).”

They shake hands, and Bunty finds herself looking curiously at the other woman: she’s the first person her own age she meets after her arrival in Kembleford. (name) smiles at her, but a moment later her cheeks turn pink. “Oh, I’m so sorry; you have just been robbed, and I waste time making small talk…”

Bunty shakes her head; she’s still upset, but (name)’s presence is having a positive, reassuring effect on her… as if she couldn’t help feeling better, even though her handbag is lost and the other woman can’t do anything to help her.

“It’s no problem, really; it was good of you to come assist me.”

“Don’t mention it, I just wish I were close enough to intervene. I’m sorry for your handbag; did you have… something important in it…?”

Bunty shrugs; fortunately she didn’t expect to have a reason to carry money with her in Kembleford, since there are no clothing shops or restaurants. “Not much, but it had my favourite lipstick inside, and my documents… Well, I can ask for a new copy of those. I’m mainly sorry about the handbag, it was a gift from my aunt…”

(name) frowns, her hands in her skirt’s pockets. She couldn’t look more vexed if she had been mugged herself, Bunty thinks with a sudden surge of affection, an unexpected feeling given the fact they have just met.

“I’m so sorry for what happened, and just a day after your arrival in Kembleford, I don’t even want to know what you must be thinking about the people here…”

“Well, unfortunately I know there are muggers everywhere, as well as good people.” Bunty points out; the idea of a person feeling sorry for another’s opinion on her town is a bit odd… but sweet “Are you… part of the village’s welcoming committee, by any chance?”

The question makes (name) blush adorably. “Well, no; but I’ve lived in Kembleford since I was born, and I’d like newcomers to feel at ease and welcome as well. Also, your aunt has always been kind to me.”

“You know her?”

“I’ve worked as a maid at Montague Manor when I was younger; I’m starting my own business now, or at least I’m trying, but she helped me a lot for years. You want to come to my place? I live down the road, you’re welcome to have some tea, if you want, or if you need to clean that wound on your leg.”

It is sweet of her, Bunty thinks, to worry about a person she has just met; (name) seems nice… and she’s also very pretty, she thinks without actually considering the fact - for now. “I think I’ll survive, thank you.” she says; she looks at (name), and (name) looks at her, and suddenly both of them are smiling “But I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea, if it’s not too much of a bother.”

The other woman’s response is quick, and sincere; even impassioned. “It’s no bother at all; quite the opposite.” she says; even so, there is something shy in the way she bites her lip, as if fearing her new acquaintance won’t find her company interesting enough to justify accepting her offer “Come with me, then.”

Side by side, the two women start down the road, the sun slowly setting down behind them and the theft of the handbag all but forgotten.

Bunty Windermere, twenty-six years, one month and nineteen days old, stopped dusting one of the round tables arranged around the room’s perimeter and grinned as (name) bent over the table and kissed her nose.

Three days ago

“To what do I owe this display of affection?” she inquired, and the other woman winked as she smiled, that open, sunny smile that, six months after their first meeting, still had the power to make Bunty’s heart tremble.

“To the fact that you are so adorable I simply couldn’t resist; and as a thank you for all the help you’re giving me, obviously.”

Bunty, who like her partner was wearing old trousers and a blouse already stained with green paint after the two of them had spent an hour preparing the sign to hang above the shop’s door, admitted that sweeping the floor and unpacking boxes of supplies was not exactly her idea of a fun morning. “Which is why I expect to be paid, mind you.”

(name), who looked happier and more excited than ever even though she had never been so busy, or running on so little sleep, pretended to think about it. “That can be arranged. Do you accept payments in kind?”

“From you? I might as well…”

The two women exchanged a smile, and then (name) turned to look all around her, equally proud and nervous for her shop. The room had a circular shape, the walls painted teal, her favourite colour; comfortable stools and chairs surrounded the round tables, while the counter was still empty, ready to be filled with fruit or cream-flavoured desserts. A second large banner, that Bunty had prepared herself since she couldn’t find one she deemed appropriate in the shops, hung from the ceiling. “SWEET SERENADE ICE CREAM PARLOUR - GRAND OPENING TODAY” it said in large, bright letters.

Bunty smiled; she reached (name) and circled her shoulders with an arm. “Are you excited?”

“Excited? I haven’t slept for a week!” (name) exclaimed; she bit her lip, suddenly unsure “What if no one comes?”

“I’m sure they’ll all come. Yours will be the first ice cream parlour in Kembleford, and the whole village has been talking about it for weeks. I’m sure you’ll have an incredible success.”

“I hope so! I’ve worked in six restaurants or cafés since I was maybe twelve, and I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but this place is my own, and an ice cream parlour…” (name) bit her lip, as if not daring to believe her lifelong dream was finally about to become reality “I can’t wait for the shop to open! I really hope people like it.”

“I’m sure they will; it’ll go splendidly, since you have devoted so much time and effort to it. You should be proud of yourself, (name).” Bunty urged her; she remained silent for a moment before adding: “I am, in case you want to know.”

For a moment they simply stared at each other, wordlessly, two practically dressed young women -they planned on changing before the grand opening; as the shop’s owner (name) was determined to look her best for her new clients, while Bunty had always taken a leaf out of her aunt’s book and never appeared in public looking less than fabulous- a little weary after a whole morning spent cleaning the ice cream parlour and preparing it for its debut, and breathless for a completely different reason. Bunty felt suddenly shy, even a little self-conscious, which was absurd, since she had not uttered a love declaration, not at all, she had simply made an observation, even though for her standards -the standards of a woman who had had many flings and special friendships, but could count the real relationships of her life on one hand… and still have a couple of fingers to spare- that was no small matters, and she felt deeply close to the woman in front of her, a woman she had been fond of since their first meeting, when (name)’s sincere concern and earnest offer for help had won her over without either of them realising. It was difficult to give a name to, to define, that relationship, that was friendship and passion and trust and affection and empathy all in one, and yet so much more, a feeling she wasn’t used to and that, truth to be told, scared her a little, but Bunty knew she could never give up on…

She remained waiting, almost holding her breath, for a reaction, and thank God (name) did not disappoint; the other woman took her hands in her own, and smiled in that special way she had, happy and beautiful. “Of course I want to know; I care about your opinion more than anyone else’s.”

“... really?”

“You know it, Bunty. You know how much I care for you… and I don’t want to brag, but I know you care about me as well.” (name) said; she grinned, her eyebrow raised “Or am I wrong?”

A moment later they were in each other’s arms, joined in a kiss so intense it made both of their heads spin; it was a sweet moment, intense beyond words, but Bunty felt stupid -worse, she felt a coward- because she knew what was between her and (name) was special, almost magical, and she would have wanted nothing better than to shout it to the whole world, but she couldn’t, and the fault was her father’s, and the threats that had remained with her for ten years’, but still…

Cowardly. Cowardly and mean.

… still, she knew it was unfair, and that the other woman deserved better.

“Is everything all right?” (name) inquired; she broke their kiss, and placed her hand against Bunty’s cheek; she was wearing a simple ring - her greatest treasure, she had explained to the other woman, not because of the jewel’s intrinsic value but because it had belonged to her mother “Bunty, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Bunty reassured her, forcing herself to smile; she felt guilty, as if she had cruelly hurt (name), and it pained her enormously. She was searching for a way to change the subject when, to her immense relief, she realised they were not alone in the shop anymore, which gave her a pretext to let the conversation drop.

“Are you quite sure you have made the right decision? What I mean to say is, he seems like a proper boy, polite, but you know what sort of family he was born in…”

“Hello, Father.” she said, looking towards the door and missing the disappointment on (name)’s face “Hello, mrs McCarthy. You’re more than a little early.”

“As I said already, the fact that Maksym’s father has made some mistakes, and that perhaps he will make some more in the future, doesn’t matter; the boy needs a job to help support his family, while we need someone to do the cleaning at St Mary’s. And in any case, what are you so afraid of? He can’t very well steal a confessional, can he?”

On that clear, sunny morning, Father Brown and his parish secretary had decided to take the long way to reach St Mary’s church, enjoying a brief walk before checking on the new cleaner’s first day of work. Mrs McCarthy sighed, still unsure the object of their discussion was up to the task. “It is true that there are no objects of value in the church.” she admitted; she waited for the priest to stop and greet a parishioner walking past them, and then added, her voice lowered to a whisper: “But even so, I’d feel more at ease if we waited a week before hiring him on a permanent basis.”

“That sounds reasonable. I’m sure Maksym will not disappoint.”

The priest and his faithful companion went through the church’s front door, and even the fastidious (she would have said particular) mrs McCarthy had to admit the wide room, bathed in the late morning’s light, looked way better than the day before; the single aisle’s floor had been swept meticulously, and the old wooden pews, each with two prayers’ books neatly placed on the seat, looked freshly dusted. The new cleaner had also replaced the flowers in the vase next to the altar, a gift from a parishioner’s garden, and polished the brass candle-holders on the sides of the door. “Well, he clearly didn’t inherit his father’s slacking tendencies.” she admitted.

Her approval made Father Brown smile. “Good morning, Maksym.” he said then, noticing the newly-hired cleaner, walking towards them from the other end of the church, and who smiled broadly in response. Maksym Czarniecki had recently turned fifteen, and lived in Kemblefold’s Polish resettlement camp; he was a sandy-haired, tall and slender boy, serious and polite when he wasn’t too shy to express himself. Father Brown was quite fond of him, and had been happy to give him a job. “We were just saying you’re doing a very good job.”

“Good morning, Father; good morning, mrs McCarthy.” the boy replied politely, the handle of a broom grasped in his hands; like many of the Polish camp’s residents, he spoke with a heavy accent, but his English was better than most “Thank you. I have just finished sweeping the floors here, and now I’ll do the same in the sacristy. I think I’ll be done by lunch time.”

“There is no rush, the afternoon mass is at five. Do you have everything you need?”

Maksym thought about it for a moment, more focused on the matter than many would have been in his place. “Now that you mention it I could need some more detergent for the floors; do you mind if I go check?”

Father Brown answered that they didn’t mind waiting and Maksym left, hurrying towards the sacristy, connected to the church’s main room through a small door behind the confessional. “Are you sure you want to visit (name)’s shop before the opening ceremony?” mrs McCarthy asked as she examined the church’s floor in search of remaining dust grains “It is not exactly along the way home.”

“Of course. (name) has worked so much to make her dream of opening an ice cream parlour come true, and I think she needs all the support she can get; I want to wish her good luck.”

“You’re only saying that because you hope she’ll give you some extra ice cream.”

The priest simply smiled in response, without denying; gluttony was a deadly sin, but he was confident a cup of chocolate and lemon ice cream wouldn’t lead him to perdition.

Mrs McCarthy, whose floor inspection had yielded satisfactory results, hesitated for a moment before changing the subject… to one she didn’t feel quite comfortable discussing.

“You know that after Bunty moved here in Kembleford she and (name) have become… great friends.” she started in the end; Father Brown, who knew her well enough to perceive where his parish’s secretary was getting at, pretended not to.

“Of course, they have been joined at the hip since they first met; it’s almost impossible to meet one of them without the other.”

“Exactly, about that…”

Mrs McCarthy looked quickly all around herself, as if fearing the walls or the wooden pews could listen… and chide her for discussing such scandalous matters; her voice dropped even lower. “You know as well as I do that for years there have been rumours in the village about (name)’s… inclinations.” she explained “And we know that Bunty is not exactly shy when… relationships are concerned. Besides, either she has finally started making her own bed after getting up, or in the last few weeks she has started sleeping out regularly… including last night.”

All of a sudden, Father Brown looked very focused on a damp spot on the nearest wall.

“So I was wondering… if there was something between them; something that went beyond friendship. If they were… I mean, together. What do you think?”

“I think it is very nice that two young, adult, unmarried women, one of whom knew no one when she moved here in the village and the other who lost her only family when she was little more than a child, have become close and able to find companionship and comfort in each other. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, yes, of course.” mrs McCarthy admitted, impatient; the truth was, she was fond of both (name) and Bunty, even though she didn’t quite know what to make of their relationship. If only Father Brown would meet her halfway, instead of playing dumb! “They are both good girls, that’s for sure, but…”

“I found it!” Maksym announced, joining the two once more and inadvertently putting an end to their conversation; part of mrs McCarthy was vaguely annoyed, but the other was almost thankful “Sorry if I kept you waiting, Father, I have two bottles of floor detergent, it will be enough for two weeks at least.”

“That is good to hear. Tell me, Maksym, do you know a woman named (full name)?” Father Brown inquired, who had just gotten an idea.

“Of course, she’s that lady who lives near the greengrocer; sometimes I meet her on my way to school.”

“Well, perhaps you know already, but in the afternoon there will be the opening of (name)’s new ice cream parlour. Why don’t you come? It should be fun.”

Maksym looked interested, even thrilled, for a moment, but then his expression changed to one of regret, and he said he’d better not come. “It’s not because I don’t like ice cream.” he explained when Father Brown asked him “I do, even though I have only eaten it once. It’s just… Well, at the moment I have no money, so…”

Father Brown kindly pointed out that he wouldn’t need to pay, since for the opening the ice cream would be offered for free, in order to attract the attention of potential clients. “So you can simply go and ask for a cone the flavour you prefer.”

“Yes, but… won’t miss (name) mind that I scrounge off her? We at the camp don’t have much, I doubt we’ll be able to buy ice cream from her.”

“I’m sure (name) won’t mind,” mrs McCarthy reassured him; she wasn’t sure yet Father Brown had made the right decision hiring a person of not proven experience to take care of the church’s cleaning, but she couldn’t help appreciating the boy’s integrity “And if you want to be sure of it, you can come with us and ask her… and then return here to finish cleaning up.”

Maksym, happy and with his conscience clear, accepted; as the boy went to put away his broom, Father Brown smiled gratefully at his parish secretary, who simply smiled in return. A minute later, the trio was leaving St Mary’s and, walking unhurriedly in the early spring’s warmth, reached the still un-inaugurated ice cream parlour. The small building, not far from Kemblefold’s main square, had hosted a barbershop until the previous year, and when the owner had retired (name) had taken the opportunity to buy it for a reasonable sum and repurpose it.

As they entered, Maksym looked around, openly curious. “This is a nice place; I had never been in an ice cream shop.” he mentioned, while Father Brown and mrs McCarthy’s eyes immediately darted to (name) and Bunty, standing in the middle of the room… holding each other in an embrace, just a little too tight to be purely friendly.

They both instantly decided to pretend nothing happened… and they weren’t the only ones.

“Hello, Father.” Bunty said, smiling, a bit forcefully, at both; she was still wearing the same clothes as the previous evening and she was sure both the priest and his parish secretary had noticed “Hello, mrs McCarthy. You’re more than a little early.”

“We thought we would come to see how you are managing, and wish (name) good luck for her big day.” Father Brown explained, earning a large, grateful smile from the shop’s owner “And this is Maksym, our new cleaner… he had a question for you, (name).”

Clearly shy but politely, the boy explained his situation, and (name) told him he had no reason to worry. “This afternoon all residents of Kembleford will be my guests, and the more people will come, the happier I will be.” she reassured him; she had never spoken to Maksym before, since she had no friends at the Polish camp and the boy seemed to mainly hang around people his age, but he looked polite and well-mannered, and she appreciated his worrying about exploiting her “I’d really like you to come, and your friends from the camp as well.”

Maksym beamed at her, as if (name) had offered him a thousand pounds as a present. “Amazing! I’ll definitely come, miss (last name).”

(name) smiled, touched by his enthusiasm; no one better than her knew how a small treat, even a cheap ice cream, could make a person feel better, and offer a moment of joy even in the darkest of times. Her own parents had used to bring her to eat an ice cream at a café out of Kembleford every sunday after mass; she missed them more than the tasty dessert, of course, but she liked to think opening her own shop also meant honouring their memory.

“You’re more than welcome, precious. And you will come, will you, Father? It’d mean a lot if you wanted to bless the shop as well.”

Father Brown answered that he would be happy to.

“What about you, mrs McCarthy?” Bunty inquired with a smile; she was still holding (name)’s arm under hers “Fancy an ice cream come?”

“I wouldn’t know; actually I had decided to start dieting…”

“Oh, come on; you don’t need to lose weight.” (name) pointed out courteously “And fruity ice creams are lower in fat than creamy ones, so if you get one of those you will be safe.” Flattered by the compliment, mrs McCarthy replied that maybe she could indulge in a little treat, as long as it was just a small cup.

“Is there anything you need, (name)?”

“I think I’m all set, Father. The suppliers should be here in half an hour, and thanks to Bunty I am almost done with cleaning the place.”

“All right, then; I can’t wait to taste that dark chocolate you told me so much about.”

(name) promised she would save him a cup, and a moment later the shop’s door opened once more. Inspector Mallory, who wore a grey raincoat, marched in, sergeant Goodfellow following suit.

“Hello, inspector.” (name) greeted him; she didn’t particularly like the head of the local police and was pretty sure she was unloved in return, but in her days as a waitress and maid she had had her share of unpleasant clients and guests, and was used to put on a good face and treat politely people who didn’t deserve it “Hello, sergeant. If you’re here for the opening I’m afraid you’re a few hours early.”

“I’m not here to eat an ice cream.” the inspector answered brusquely, before turning his eyes to Father Brown “Why are you here, Padre?”

“I just came to wish (name) good luck for the opening of her shop.” the priest answered, imperturbable “What about you? What brings you here?”

“My job, obviously; and I probably shouldn’t be surprised to find you there, since you are in the habit of getting involved in matters that don’t concern you. Although this time you have missed the crime scene; starting to slacken, are you?”

Before any of those present could ask the meaning of those words, Mallory had Goodfellow pass him the handcuffs the sergeant carried at his belt… and then, to the shock of all, stood in front of Bunty to put them on her wrists. “Penelope Windermere, I’m arresting you for the murder of Tadeusz Chodakievicz.”

#Father Brown #Father Brown 2013 #Bunty Windermere #Bunty Windermere x reader #Emer Kenny #Bellona's stuff

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