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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

A Wolf in the Castle

Pairing: Charles Blackwood x fem!Reader

Words: 4110

Summary: You arrive at Blackwood Manor to find an unexpected visitor disrupting the sensitive ecosystem of the small family.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (f receiving), fingering unprotected vaginal sex), very minor violence (brief mention of blood), mention of committing crimes, SMUT, 18+ ONLY!

A/N: I’ve been binging a bunch of Seb Stan movies over the past few days as I finish my week off, and Charles Blackwood kind of struck me. I really enjoyed this fic and hope you do too!

Will reblog later with tags (join my taglist here!)

not my gif

Alright, what the hell? You thought to yourself as you pulled up to Blackwood manor.

There was a strange red convertible in the driveway. Constance and Merricat never had visitors aside from the Clarkes and you. You frowned to yourself as you climbed out of your sedan, picking up the books and flowers from the passenger seat as you went to knock on the front door.

Constance greeted you with one of her beaming smiles that always managed to break your heart a bit.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you! I know Merricat has been looking forward to you coming to visit. You’ll have to excuse us, our cousin Charles has come to stay with us unexpectedly, so we didn’t have enough time to prepare a room for you.”

“Constance, you don’t need to apologize!” You chided as you followed her into the receiving room. “You’re certain this visit won’t be a strain, now that you have another houseguest?”

“Oh, nonsense! Merricat would never forgive me if I sent you away! I see you brought her some new books. And are those lilies?”

“Lilies, cherry blossoms, and lilacs. I remembered they’re your favorites!” You gave her a warm smile as you handed her the bouquet and set the books on one of the end tables.

“Thank you so much! Oh! Y/N, this is our cousin, Charles Blackwood! Charles, this is Merricat’s tutor, and our very good friend, Y/N.”

You extended your hand to the man who had just entered the receiving room and he pressed his lips to your knuckles with a charming smile. His blue eyes took you in as he leaned back against the rear of the couch. You were a stark contrast to Constance’s proper and domestic appearance. You were wearing a pair of tight white capris and a gingham blouse that you had tied in a knot just above the waistline of your pants.

You gave him an appraising look of your own. He was relaxed in a cream linen suit. His soft chestnut waves slicked back from his face as he gave you a smirk. He had an air of easy allure about him that made you uneasy.

You didn’t trust him a bit.

“So nice to meet you, Charles.” You murmured as he stared at you.

“Y/N!” Merricat came tearing into the receiving room and leapt on you, wrapping her arms around you in a desperate embrace and making you laugh. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

“Mary, you’re being incredibly inappropriate.” Charles was no longer smiling as he watched your young student chatter at you giddily, her hands and knees smudged with dirt from the garden.

“Please, it’s fine.” You grinned at him as Merricat shot him a poisonous glare over her shoulder. “I’ve brought you some new books Merricat, ‘Transcendental Magic’ and several encyclopedias of poisonous plants of the United States and Canada.”

“Oh, thank you!” Merricat ran her fingers over the book covers lovingly when you handed them to her. “Will you join me in the woods to look for some of these?”

“Dear girl, I would love to. But first I need to bring in my suitcases and unpack.” Constance was still beaming between the two of you as her sister opened the book on magic and started to read. Charles looked incredibly disapproving though, and that made you smile for some reason. “I think it’s a little too late for us to venture out tonight anyways, so why don’t you help me bring in the rest of my things, and tomorrow we can make a whole day of it! We’ll bring a picnic and everything!”

Merricat grinned at you before she ran off to put away her new treasures, taking the steps two at a time.

“You shouldn’t encourage the girl.” Charles mumbled under his breath, scowling at you.

“I think it’s lovely how Merricat light’s up whenever Y/N is here.” Constance started to say, but her words died off and her smile took on a certain strain as Charles turned his disapproving gaze to her.

“Exactly what harm is she doing?” You asked, turning to the man with a tired expression. “The girl is exceptionally bright, and I refuse to stifle her. She could be turning that energy into something far more destructive if she isn’t given a proper outlet.” You murmured, shooting a knowing glance at Constance.

“Very well.” He grumbled. “Just make sure she’s washed up for dinner. Constance has made us a lovely meal, I won’t have the girl spoiling it.”

You considered questioning Constance about her cousin once he left to work his way up to his room, but she just gave you another smile and turned to head to the kitchen and finish her preparations. Merricat came bursting through the front door then, looking slightly comical as she tried to maneuver your two cases at once. You hurried to assist her and the two of you headed up to the guest room.

Once you reached the guest room, the two of you set to unpacking your things.

“When did your cousin arrive, Merricat?” You asked as you hung up some of your dresses and she arranged your makeup and perfumes on the vanity.

You saw her shoulders tense when you mentioned Charles. Jonas had followed the two of you and was winding his way through Merricat’s legs. She picked him up and held him close to her chest.

“He came here unbidden and is most unwelcome.” She whispered harshly as she avoided making eye contact with you. “I believe he is making Uncle Julian sicker, and he intends to take Constance from me.”

You stood up to embrace the girl, hoping to soothe her. You smoothed your hands over her hair as she buried her face in your chest.

“Dear girl. Are you sure about these things?” She was incredibly overprotective of her remaining family members, but you couldn’t deny the man made you uncomfortable too.

She just nodded into your shoulder.

“Well, we’ll just have to do our best to make sure he leaves then, won’t we?” You tipped her chin up to face you and she gave a small smile of relief. “Now, I’m going to take a bath before dinner, you should get cleaned up as well. We don’t want to arouse any suspicions.”

She gave you a serious nod and scurried off to her room as you went to run yourself a bath. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously as you began to undress, considering the best way to go forward.

You joined the family downstairs an hour later, and again felt Charles’ eyes lock onto you. He was considering the differences between you and Constance, once more. Constance had changed into a lovely pale blue chiffon dress for the meal, while you had again chosen an outfit that could well be considered scandalous; a long-sleeved black satin cape-cod sheath that hugged you tightly. He was leering at you over his glass of wine as you entered the dining room.

You heard Merricat hiss when she pushed her Uncle Julian into the room, and deduced that her cousin was wearing one of her father’s suits. He had also placed himself at the head of the table. You gave a heavy sigh as you took your seat across from Constance, in between Charles and Julian. You gave the girls’ uncle a smile and polite greeting as Constance poured you a glass of wine.

“This looks wonderful as always, Constance.” You tipped your glass to her and gave her a small smile of appreciation before raising it to your lips. The poor woman was doing her best to ignore the excessive tension in the room, beaming at everyone seated around the table.

“I’m so glad you like it, Y/N. I made sure to make you some green beans amandine, I remembered that it’s your favorite.”

“It is, it’s so sweet that you remembered.” You praised her, sending her into a fit of tittering. “So, Julian, how are the memoirs coming?”

You smirked into your drink as the man started going on about the night of the murders. You could sense Charles tense up once he started talking and turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of the muscles in his jaw tense up as he took a swig of wine.

“That’s enough.” He seethed, slamming his glass back down on the table and taking a deep breath to recenter himself. His smile had a certain strain to it when he lifted his head again. “Let’s talk about happier things.”

“Oh, of course.” You murmured. “Merricat, how are your studies going?”

You saw his knuckles grow white as he gripped the edge of the table.

“Oh, I’ve learned six new spells since I last saw you, the first…”

“No.” He looked at you frustratedly as you threw a wink to Merricat, making her giggle. “How about we just, enjoy our meal, hmm?”

You shrugged at him and took another sip of wine before tucking into your dinner. Constance was such a wonderful cook, it was easy to lose yourself in the food. Everyone had a clean plate before long, and you stood to help Constance and Merricat clear the table.

“No, Y/N, you’re our guest, I don’t want you doing any work during your visit with us. It wouldn’t feel right.” Constance scolded you. “Please go join Charles and Julian in the lounge for some after-dinner drinks, oh, and maybe some dancing later, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“That does sound lovely.” You turned to walk to the lounge but when you arrived, only Charles was there, pouring himself a glass of sherry. “Where’s Julian?”

“Julian decided to turn in for the night.” He told you as he focused on pouring his drink. “Did you want a sherry?”

“Yes, please.” He handed you a small glass and you took a sip, giving a hum of appreciation when the sweet liquor hit your tongue. “Constance is such a wonderful cook, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, Connie’s great.” He chuckled, turning to face you. You felt your hackles rising as he leered at you, his eyes roaming over your body with no reservations as he gave you a wolfish grin. “So what’s your story sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes at him but Constance chose that moment to enter the study, and he put up his charming façade again.

“My goodness, I didn’t realize how late it was.” She said, grinning at the two of you. “Will you think any less of me if I retire early? I feel like such a bad hostess.”

“Constance, please.” You gave her a soft look of reproach. “You need to take care of yourself, darling. Please rest, I’m sure Charles and I can find some way to entertain ourselves.”

“Yeah, go to bed, Connie.” Charles gave her a grin as he moved to refill his drink.

You shifted yourself as Constance turned to go, moving towards the desk slowly as you listened to her footsteps going up the stairs. You shifted a letter opener under your palm as you leaned back, waiting to hear the click of Constance’s bedroom door before you started talking again. You heard the click and turned to face Charles, tossing back all of your drink as a look of malice came over your face.

“Alright asshole, what’s your fucking game?” You seethed at Blackwood, sneering at the look of surprise that came over his face.

“Excuse me?” His accent slipped as he tried to recover, and you knew you had him.

“You come in here, zero prep, and manage to raise the hackles of these morons in what, a week?” You were furious, this man must be some kind of special idiot. “I’ve been working these fools for 2 years, asshole, I swear to god, if you ruin this for me…”

“Listen, bitch, I didn’t realize someone was already latched onto this teat.” You could tell he was pissed now, too, but you didn’t care. “But maybe, the fact that you haven’t gotten anywhere in 2 years means this just isn’t for you. I’ll do you a favor and cut you in for 10 percent once I get access to the safe.”

“The safe?” You covered your mouth so that your laughter wouldn’t carry. “You idiot. No wonder that stupid fucking kid is so worked up. You’re working a short-con on them? This is not going to go your way.” You were shaking with mirth.

He growled and slammed his glass on the bar cart, jostling the bottles dangerously. He was snarling as he closed the distance between you and wrapped a hand around your throat, pressing himself into you so hard the desk rattled. You brought up the letter opener and pressed it against his neck in warning, making him hiss.

The two of you stilled when you heard footsteps above you. You just stared at each other, panting heavily as you waited. The footsteps stopped suddenly, and you sighed in relief as you heard the creak of Constance finally climbing into bed.

“Listen dumbass,” You whispered at him, digging the blade into his neck to accentuate your point. “This is my score. I actually did my research, I ingrained myself to that brat, I fucked the damn simpleton, you think you can just waltz in here with that shit-eating grin and take it all away from me, you are very mistaken.”

He snorted at you, “Jesus, why would you fuck Julian?” he had slotted one of his knees between your thighs and started to edge up the hem of your skirt as he moved even closer to you.

“What?” You were doing your best to ignore the way your body was reacting to being in such close proximity to him. “No, the other simpleton, Connie. What, you haven’t?”

The look of surprise on his face was satisfying and annoying at the same time. You rolled your eyes as he released your throat and gave you an appreciative look.

“Well, fuck, sweetheart. You’re full of surprises.”

“Yeah, right.” You were tired of this. “Alright. We’re both to far into this now for either one to back out without arousing any suspicion. So, we’ll split it.” You pressed the letter opener into his neck when he scoffed at you. “Or, I could just cut your throat now, tell those two gals you assaulted me, and keep it all to myself. Which would you prefer?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Fine.” He spat at you. You had the upper hand for now, but he could find a way to get rid of you eventually, he was sure. His face split in a grin suddenly. “Y’know, we should consummate our little agreement in some way. Make it official.” He moved his hands behind you and pressed you into him roughly, making you gasp when you felt him grind his erection into your hip. “I can make you feel better than that stupid bitch did.” He moved a hand up the inside of your thigh until he was cupping your heat through your panties, groaning when he found you soaked.

You bit your lip as he ran his fingers over the sopping fabric of your panties, teasing them against your throbbing clit. You kept the blade against his throat as you rocked into his hand, begging for more friction.

“You wanna consummate it?” You gave him a wicked grin as you slowly withdrew the letter opener, tutting softly as a thin line of blood rose from his skin when it left. “Get on your knees.”

He pouted at you, that wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for. You shook your head and brought the blade back up to his neck swiftly, with a click of your tongue.

“Look at that, already not holding up your end.” You scolded as he eyed you warily.

He just grumbled at you as he sank to his knees, digging his fingers into your thighs and drawing them apart slowly. He hooked his fingers underneath the sides of your panties and drew them slowly down your legs. You withdrew the blade from his neck and set it aside as he latched his palms under your hips and pulled you to the end of the desk, running his freshly shaven cheek over the smooth skin of your inner thigh and inhaling your scent.

You broke eye contact when you felt him breathe against your entrance, thrusting your hips forward to drive yourself into his mouth as his tongue flicked out to taste you. He dragged it over your slit in a heavy stripe that had you panting with need. You ran your fingers through Charles’ hair and gripped tightly, drawing him closer to you as he moaned against your core.

“Fuck.” You murmured as you fell back on your elbow, screwing your eyes shut as he thrust his tongue into you, curling it inside your canal. “Charles.”

His fingers were gripping your thighs so hard above your stockings you were sure there were going to be bruises tomorrow. His lips brushed softly against your folds as his tongue lapped up the evidence of your arousal greedily, making you moan.

You felt him release one thigh and bring his fingers to stroke over your slit as he disconnected his mouth to give you a wicked grin. “You need to be quiet, doll. All we need is you blowing the whole thing when I make you cum.” He plunged two fingers into you and curled them in a beckoning motion and you collapsed against the desk with a thud, writhing into his hand and whining softly.

You shoved your fist into your mouth and bit down on your knuckles when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently, making your back arch off the desk. He chuckled as he felt you clench around his fingers and he increased the pressure on your tiny bud, sucking even harder as your body rolled underneath him.

“That’s right sweetheart, cum for me.” He curled his fingers one more time as he latched onto you and that was that. You sobbed into your hand as your spine curled, every muscle in your body going rigid for just a beat before you were trembling in bliss, your release gushing over Charles’ chin as he kept fucking his fingers into you while you rode it out.

“God, darling, that was something.” He grinned down at you as he rose to stand between your legs, watching you shiver as aftershocks wracked your body. You looked sinful with your skirt bunched around your waist and your cunt on full display. One of your stockings had come loose from your garter belt and was starting to slide down your thigh. “If we’re gonna have an even partnership though, I think you owe me something.”

He bent over you and pressed his mouth to yours possessively, shoving his tongue between your swollen lips and probing the warm cavern of your mouth as he wrapped one hand around the back of your neck. His other hand started traveling underneath your back, searching for the buttons to undo your dress.

“Alright, fuck this.” He withdrew his hand from beneath you and started fumbling it around the desk searching for something. You gasped into his mouth when you felt the cool silver of the letter opener press against your chest, but he just drew in down in a quick slash, tearing open your dress and the thin lace of your bra until your breasts were exposed.

Charles watched the rise and fall of your chest hungrily as he rose above you, wrenching his tie and jacket off before starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. You reached down to undo his belt and whipped it off through the loops before working on the buttons of his pants. He stepped back when you had finished your work to slip out of his shoes before sliding his slacks down his legs and tossing his shirt aside.

He started tracing his fingers over your thighs lightly as he stepped closer, nudging his tip against your pussy and making you whine. Charles just chuckled as he teased you, one of his thumbs rubbing right next to your slit before withdrawing it again.

“Maybe we should renegotiate, doll.” He pressed the head of his cock into you slowly before dragging it out again. “I bet you’d give me anything right now just to get me to fuck this sweet little cunt.”

“Fuck you, Blackwood.” You hissed at him before it devolved into a moan as he brought up a hand to palm at your breast and you felt the sensation echo in your core as you clenched around nothing.

He lined himself up and clapped his palm over your mouth before spearing into you violently. You screamed into his hand and felt tears leak down your cheeks as another orgasm ripped through you and your shuddered as he began to fuck into you like a madman.

“God, this pussy is so tight, doll. So fucking warm and ready for me.” He kept his hand over your mouth as he bent to trace a bead of sweat that was trailing through the valley of your breasts with his tongue, moaning at the salty taste of you before mouthing softly over the slope of one breast to lave his tongue over your nipple. He laughed against your skin as he felt you clamp around him, your hips thrusting to match his as you neared another release. “You gonna be quiet if I move my hand, darling?” You nodded and sucked in a ragged breath when he removed his hand.

His hand moved underneath your hips and tilted you just slightly as he buried his face in your neck, sucking softly at the hollow behind your ear. You dug your nails into the muscles of his back when he brought his hand between the two of you to rub his fingers against your clit.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum again.” You whispered, tossing your head back and arching into Charles as you felt a warm coil tightening in your stomach.

“Be quiet about it.” He hissed at you, pressing his cheek to yours as he continued rutting into you.

You dipped your head and sank your teeth into his shoulder as your pleasure took hold of you and you heard him swallow a shout as you fluttered around him, your legs holding him to you tightly.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He growled in your ear, bringing up one hand to brace himself against the desk and stare into your eyes. “God, I’m close, darling. You got one more for me?��

You smirked and shoved him off you roughly, making him stumble back and land heavily on the settee. You crawled into his lap and sank onto him with a hiss, grinding into him slowly before you started fucking yourself on his cock.

Charles leaned back and gripped your hips tightly, guiding you as you impaled yourself on his length over and over. You picked up the pace and he groaned as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust of his hips. You braced a hand on his chest as your eyes fluttered closed and you bit at your bruised lips. One more drive of his hips had you collapsing on top of him, your pussy strangling his cock as he fucked you through it. Your body rolled against him as he turned your head to kiss you deeply.

You felt his hips stutter and suddenly you were flooded with warmth as his seed shot into you, thick hot ropes of his spend filling you up and leaking out around his cock as he groaned into your mouth.

The two of you laid there for a bit, panting as you waited for your breathing to regulate. You were the first to move, standing over him and trying to think of some way to cover yourself long enough to make it to your room, eventually deciding to just pull the ruins of your dress over your shoulders and hope for the best. You smirked down at Charles as he started to sit up, his cock coated in a mix of your releases and his skin flushed. His perfectly coifed hair was now falling into his eyes in sweat-soaked curls as he gazed up at you through his thick lashes.

“I think this is the start of a pretty great partnership, darling.” You teased him over your shoulder as you headed back up to your room, leaving him to clean up the lounge on his own.

Not my gif

A/N: Surprise!! Our reader is a bad, bad girl! We’ll see what sort of other trouble she and Charles get up to!

#natalie writes #fanfic #fanfiction #charles blackwood #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood x you #charles blackwood x y/n #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #seb stan #we have always lived in the castle #twist ending #smut #seb stan smut #eighteen plus

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punishandenslavesuckers · 5 years

Photo

Sometimes your life gets ruined over a ham sandwich and that’s just how the fuck it goes. Outtake from our home game because this part made us all lose our shit.

So a triton and a tiefling walk into a bar.

It’s cramped, kind of dark, and there are three reanimated skeletons sitting around one of the tables. They look super dead and super sad about being dead, just peering mournfully into empty drink glasses. There is also a bugbear drinking ale. (Alarming.) And a straight up fiend of some variety peering eagerly at them from behind the bar. (Also alarming.) The triton – who is generally ignorant about the interplanar ecosystems of the surface world – still kens that animated skeletons must be unusual and tightens her dainty and lady-like vice-grip on the tiefling’s arm.

“Ahh! New customers,” says the fiend in a voice that slopes strangely from word to word. “Welcome to the Salted Lich. I am the proprietor of this place—Dornias Voth. Please. Make yourselves at home and purchase a beverage.”

He puts a little flourish on the word ‘beverage’ for no apparent reason.

Blue smiles. Blue has a politician’s smile. She smiles like she smiled at the city guards she hoodwinked with her husband two days earlier. She smiles like it’s pageantry and carefully pulls her taller tiefling compatriot to the privacy of a far table where they sit and she – still smiling and talking somewhat strained through her teeth – says:

“I’ve been on the surface long enough that even I know that’s not normal.”

Rime could tell her, just straight up, that the thing standing behind the bar is probably the most dangerously malevolent thing he’s encountered in his whole life – a life that includes, in no particular order, mind flayers, murderers, and hobgoblin berserkers – but feels like she might wrench his arm off if he does.

So he just flags the proprietor down, casual as anything.

The fiend, upon closer inspection, is wearing a tiny pair of spectacles, perched on the end of a very long, dark, jackal-like snout. Rime nearly misses the nightly price for a room (three gold) because he’s staring at them. The fiend has very fine red robes, stands bi-pedal somewhere over six and half feet and whenever he – Dorias – speaks, the mouth certainly opens and Common tongue comes out, but jackal jaws shouldn’t be able to form consonants properly and he’s puzzled what magic it is that’s doing the work there.

Rime nods… then glances somewhat meaningfully at the pack of skeletons.

Dornias flaps a lazy hand.

“Friends of the previous owner. Sadly he cannot command them anymore, so I just let them hang around. They did not cause any harm. They simply sit there and remember when they were alive.” He straightens the tiny spectacles. “Sad. But… it is their fate.”

Rime hands over the three gold, casts Thaumaturgy, and a fabrication of his regular speaking voice originates from a point somewhere near his head.

“Do you have anything strong and… fun to drink?”

Dornias remains unflapped by the spell usage. “Of course! Of course! I can offer you the Glabrezu Brew. Made from the blood of fallen soldiers in the Blood War?”

A pause.

Blue’s head tilts exactly one inch to the right.

“That… sounds violent,” says Rime, like you turn down a garnish on a side-salad.

“Ah. Then I can also offer Devas’ Tears.” Dornias beams with pride. “Made from the sorrows of one-thousand celestials.”

Another pause.

“Can I have a shot of rum?” says Blue.

“Maybe just a shot of whiskey,” says Rime.

“Do you have anything to eat?” Blue adds when the drinks arrive.

“I have been told that my sandwiches are worth killing someone over,” says Dornias happily, fingers steepled, ears pricked forward. “Not that you would need to. It is merely two silver…”

They order food. (Though Blue confirms no one did, in fact, die for a ham sandwich.)

Dornias stalks smoothly away on long digitigrade legs and goes behind the bar where he very rapidly puts together the ingredients for the sandwiches; he slices fresh bread from a fragrant loaf, lays thick slabs of ham, cheese, and lettuce, lovingly assembling and securing the layers with an olive-garnished toothpick each. Rime props his chin in two hands and absorbs Devil sandwich design with rapt detail.

Dornias reaches for a large glass jar on a shelf behind him. It glows somewhat ominously as he unscrews the lid… and from the briny depths of the jar a screeching voice issues forth, howling, “A THOUSAND CURSES UPON YOUR BLOODLINE. MAY THE DAMNED TEAR AT YOUR SOUL FOR ALL ETERNITY! I SHALL DROWN YOU IN THE RIVER –!”

Dornias pulls out two pickles from the jar, puts the lid back on, and sets both on the sandwich plates.

Blue, upon receiving her plate, kind of unsubtly bats the pickle away from the rest of her sandwich.

Rime casts Thaumaturgy and through it says, “Can I ask what the screaming pickle jar is all about?”

“Oh, is the previous owner.” Dornias fetches the jar and sets it down on the table where Rime and Blue can observe a human skull with jeweled eyes tumbling angrily around inside the jar.

In Infernal Rime says, “What the fuck?”

Dornias, also in Infernal, eagerly explains. “The previous owner bound me to this place as part of a convoluted plot to take over the city, kill the Masked Lords, murder the Open Lord in front of his children, then rule from here as part of his own dark fiefdom.” He says all this while drumming idle claws against the lid of the pickle jar and in the tone of someone recounting a fond anecdote. “Naturally, like someone who thinks of such a complicated scheme he forgot to assure the bindings that held me in place were secure. So, I tore the head from his body and put it in this enchanted jar.”

He pats the jar and the raging skull inside spins furiously and silently.

“But I have found I like customer service!” Dornias beams.“I like seeing the smiles on a patron’s face! So here I stay.”A beat. “Also the binding was good enough that I cannot leave.”

Rime glances at Blue who is smiling and nodding like people smile and nod when they don’t speak a lick of Infernal. Which, given the information just volunteered, is probably for the best. Rime goes on, brows arching upwardly.

“You stay because it’s fun?”

“Oh, well, I suppose with time, a bit of blood, some tears, a lot of sweat, I could probably get myself free but…” He sighs a happy sigh, gesturing widely to the bar around him. “Is easy life. You wipe the counter. You serve the drinks. A horde of pit fiends never bursts through and slaughters the people you are doing the accounting for.” Another sigh. “Is the good life.”

Blue, not understanding any of that, says, “Excuse me? One more shot.”

Rime kind of laughs, falling out of Thaumaturgy into spoken Common.

“So you don’t get a lot of customers, I assume?”

Beneath his question, the passive vocal aberration in his speaking voice puts a hissing reverb in each word. Like a second, softer voice whispering and rasping beneath Rime’s regular speaking voice. Rime’s grinning a little, visibly happy for an opportunity to speak aloud in strange but (weirdly) safe company. Dornias doesn’t bat an eye at the Infernal reverb, just nods thoughtfully.

“Ah, we do not get many clientele, but we are up and coming business. I am certain the chamber of commerce will welcome me soon.” Dornias nods. “It has only been fifty years.”

Rime grins wider, feeling a little of the tension winding out of his shoulders for the first time in a few days actually because, again rather unexpectedly, being a visible weirdo is creating an unprecedented bubble of safety. Who, even the Xanathar gang on their most irritated, is going to start trouble in a bar owned by a barely bound demonic entity with the skull of his summoner in a pickle jar?

The city watch was right -- this is the perfect place to lie low.

“Sounds like you’re winning an uphill battle,” Rime enthuses.

“Yes. As for your other question,” continues Dornias, “Yes, but not in seven centuries.”

Blue glances at Rime and Rime blinks, puzzled, “My other question?”

Your other question,” Dornias insists brightly.

An awkward beat followes. Long enough for Rime to suddenly question their own recollection of a conversation less than five seconds past and say, “Wait, what other question?”

“The one you asked in your other voice.”

Dead silence then.

Rime hears absolutely nothing except the sudden thunderous crush of his own heartbeat roaring through his ears. He stares up at the jackal-headed fiend standing over him. He can feel Blue looking back and forth between them, enough context clues suddenly tossed out in a shared language to imply things. Then, after a long, confused, then horrifying stretch of silence, Rime whispers:

“What?”

“You asked how long it had been since I saw the fires of Ivernas,” says Dornias. “Seven centuries.”

Rime switches back to Infernal. “You can understand my subvocals?”

“Yes?”

“What? I – I don’t— I’ve never met anyone who could –”Rime sputters for a moment then, doubles down. “I didn’t know it was SAYING anything.”

Dornias nods as though this is not surprising. “Difficult to understand if you weren’t part of a few small platoons of Glabrezu soldiers who crossed the River Styx to make their way into Ivernas, storm the Nine Hells, and destroy the multi verse.” He shrugs a little. “Uncommon tongue.”

Blue, becoming bored of Infernal conversations she’s not part of, pokes Rime in the arm. “Rime. RIME.”

“Hmm? Hmm?!”

She pouts. “What are you saying?”

“Uhh,” Rime says, glancing Dornias. “It’s an Infernal thing?”

“Are you okay? Blink twice if you need me.”

Rime’s tone softens a little. “I am okay.”

“Are the shots going to kill me?” Blue demands, face serious and inebriated. “Is he poisoning me?”

“Absolutely not.”

Blue immediately holds up one finger in Dorias’ direction. “Third shot sir! Thank you, Mister Friend.” Then she whispers to Rime. “Is he a whowolf too?”

Rime supposes she means ‘werewolf’ but just says, “No.”

And at that moment the main door to the bar opens and both William and Bian – returned from their second meeting today with shady and unscrupulous criminals for profit – enter the bar. They immediately and understandably freeze upon seeing the clientele. Bian’s large tabaxi eyes dart around the room, one fluffy triangular ear twitching a little bit, her tail flipping back and forth as she squints particularly at Dornis and the bugbear and the rage skull pickle jar. Then she’s looking at Rime the way you look to any bellweather for direction, and takes his relative calm as cue to be regular in here.

Will, meanwhile, goes for his sword.

“Ah,” says Dornias, holding up a hand. “Please no violence on the premise. I would hate to eject you.”

Blue begins to wave down her alarmed life partner, flapping a blue web-finned hand at him. “HUBBY. HUBBYYYY.” She might be drunker than Rime first picked up on. “Come sit down and talk to our friend.”

Will nervously drops his hand from his rapier, holding his palms open as he moves toward the table. He eyes Dornias the entire way there. “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry I… sorry?” Then in a lower voice to Blue,“What have we missed?”

Bian strides (unflapped by skeletons, bugbears, or demons) across the room. She yanks a chair over to the table beside Rime, then takes a seat backwards straddling it. Properly settled, she then promptly steals and eats the pickle off Rime’s plate. Rime stares. The pickle crunches satisfactorily between sharp feline jaws and she smacks, small pink nose wrinkling slightly but otherwise shows no ill affect from eating the pickle from the cursed skull jar. Rime, somewhat warily, slides her his whiskey shot as a chaser and turns back to Dornias.

Still in Infernal, he presses, “It’s a Glabrezu dialect—?”

Blue, whispering loudly to Will, demands, “Did you know he speaks Angry Tongue?”

Will glances at Rime, then back to Blue. “No. Did you?”

“No. But I didn’t ask.”

Bian keeps gnawing on the pickle, one ear rotating toward the voices, but otherwise appears to ignore everyone. Will and Blue continue to discuss Rime just loudly enough it kind of involves Rime, despite his being in another conversation entirely. Dornias is pondering his question, however, so in the meanwhile he hears:

“I didn’t know you spoke Fishy-Fish.”

Will sounds resentful.

Blue looks offended. “I am a fish. You speak in Ely-Elf don’t you?”

Rime, loudly, butts in at this point. “It’s Infernal, by the way. All tieflings speak Infernal.”

Blue lunges up dramatically in her seat, pointing at Rime. “YOU TEACH ME INFERNAL. I’LL TEACH YOU AQUAN.”

Rime, rather taken off guard by her volume goes, “Okay. Fair?”

“Anyway,”Dornias breaks in finally, still speaking Infernal. “Most Glabrezu speak Abyssal but a few were trained in other tongues. A bastarization of Infernal, Abyssal, lil bit of Celestial, some of the language of the Modrin but not much. Aaand I had to do their accounting for a few centuries.”

Rime likewise speaking Infernal, says, “Accounting? What? You said they stormed the Nine Hells?”

Dornias switches to Common then, sounding confused. “Yes! Have you—? Oh! I forget! Material Plane. I am sorry. I am so used to the Lower Planes where everyone knows!”

Blue raises her hand like she’s in class. “I’m not from this plane either!”

Dornias looks at her, eagerly, leaning across the table a little to grin at her. It’s toothy and worrisome. “I know! I have bought and sold some of your kind!”

Then he switches to Aquan and with a voice like a man drowning, launches into some kind of extended conversation with Blue in her native “fishy-fish” tongue. To her credit, her face remains a perfect, hospitable mask of rapt glee the entire time. Will, meanwhile, steals Blue’s ham sandwich from her plate and starts eating it. He gets about halfway through one bite before a kind of involuntary rapturous look of bliss crosses his handsome half-elf features and he kind of zones out. Both Rime and Bian stare.

“You okay over there, bud?” says Bian, shooting Rime’s whiskey.

“It’s a really good sandwich,” Will whispers.

Dornias suddenly swaps back to Common. “I’m sorry. I forget people of the Central Planes are not used to conversing about the Blood War. It’s struggles and strategies.” He looks around the table. “How much do you know about the Creation of the Universe?”

There’s a pause. Before Rime or Blue can volunteer something vague, Will – a man who only a few days ago called Bian a ‘cat-person’ and Rime ‘basically a demon’ and then failed to correctly identify his wife’s native tongue – immediately lifts his head and says (mouth full of sandwich), “Well, one time, in a bar…”

And proceeds to recount in detail the broad strokes of how the universe was created. At least, as told to him once by a raging drunk wizard in a tavern somewhere. While this is happening, Bian elbows Rime slightly, leveling a weighted sidelong glance at him that Rime interprets as a generalized, ‘Are we okay? Or should I be worried?’

Because she must notice, if nothing else, the anxious tail-lashing that Rime’s got going on around his boots beneath the table. A tell that other species with tails generally ken to more quickly than other races. Rime glances at her, allowing a slight nervous uncertainty knit his brow, then wobbles one hand back and forth.

Blue, staring at Will, says loudly, “I’m so into you right now. Wow. You know so much for a surface walker.”

And while Will looks pleased with himself, Dornias addresses the table again saying, “Anyway, in war there is always the middle Neutral ground yes? The No Mans’ Land as it were? Where all must cross and blood and mud and stabbing each other and bone sticking out of the dirt? There is where I live. On the River Styx. Or at least that’s where I used to.” Proudly he adds, “Now I live in Waterdeep. I am Waterdaviancitizen.” He beams. “I won the court case.”

The whole party stares a little.

“Anyway,” Dornias says, speaking to Rime suddenly, “your weird vocal tic sounds like Glabrezu shouting orders from other room, basically.” If he notices Rime’s horror that he’s saying this to the whole table, he doesn’t act on it, but goes on knowingly. “Facility with all languages means, uh, well, I speak all languages.”

Blue looks at Rime. “So… are you like… possessed? Is it like a possession thing? Do your weird voice whispers tell you to kill people?”

Rime, horrified, completely forgets Thaumaturgy and sputters, “No! I don’t even understand it.”

Blue nods sagely. “Good to know.”

Dornias adds, “Sounds like you have direct connection to Abyss.”

Rime chokes. “What?!”

Blue slams her palms excitedly on the table. “THAT’S SO COOL, RIME!”

“Wait. I’m sorry. Sorry,” says Dornias while Rime’s body goes cold all over. “I mean Nine Hells. Occasionally you get Glabrezu across both sides. Big mess. So yes, you have direct connection to Nine Hells in your vocal cords.

Blue is now drunkenly yelling, “THAT’S AWESOOOOME.”

Rime’s frozen, gripping the table edge. “I don’t know if that’s awesome.”

Blue giggles. “What’s up with the demon possession?”

“I am not possessed!”

“Oh… so it just kind of piggybacking on you?” Blue props her chin in her hand, frowning, puzzled at him. “Like it sits on your shoulder and says shitty things?”

Rime’s cantrip keeps half falling apart in his head so he just keeps, unable to stop himself, speaking aloud out of pure instinctive panic. “I don’t— I don’t know what – Dornias, as I’m talking is it speaking to YOU? And like… as I talk can it hear you and the conversations I’m having?”

Dornias says, “Uhhhhhh.”

And then there is a very, very, very long pause. Rime can visibly see the ancient fiendish hesitate as if uncertain what to do. He’s trying to decide what to say. By the time Dornias finally moves again, Rime’s fingers are aching where he’s gripping the table. Dornias surreptitiously produces a piece of paper. Then he picks up a pen and writes something on the paper. That done, he flips the paper around for them to read:

IT SAID NOT TO TELL YOU.

Dead silence follows.

Bian breaks it by asking, deadpan, “So is it gonna kill us in our sleep?”

For a moment, Rime kind of fades out in a long buzzing silence where Rime is vaguely aware of Blue saying things and Dornias saying things and, weirdly, the thing he is most aware of is his own fingernails, blunt and digging into the wood beneath his palms. He can feel Bian kind of side-eyeing him, but can’t bring himself to look at her. The buzzing in his ears fades in time to hear Dornias promising to teach Blue a demonic dialect, but only after they kill a lantern archon and climb Mount Celestial on another plane of existence.

Rime plants a hand on Blue’s shoulder and says, “Blue. No.”

Blue doesn’t hear though, and is eagerly wooting, “Alright. Let’s go!” Just in time for Will to also grab her other shoulder and pull her back into her seat.

Rime brings up his hands and in deliberate Sign, he says, Do you understand me?

Dornias also brings his hands up and signs, Yes. I understand you.

Rime holds his gaze.

Have you ever encountered anyone else who has this affliction?

Yes. But specifically only those with powerful connections to the lower planes.

Can you elaborate?

Typically direct descendants of archfiends or demon princes.

So what would your theory be about me?

Dornias glances sidelong and Rime realizes Blue is pouting dramatically, glaring at their fast-moving hand-signs with the resentment of someone being left out of a conversation.

“Hmm, well let’s see,” he says aloud, moving suddenly toward Rime. “Red skin, horns…” He reaches up and taps one of Rime’s horns with a claw. “You have strong connection to Minaros. You might be distant child of Mamon. The Arch Devil of Greed. He through whose hands pass all coin and who sits unchallenged upon a throne of stolen wealth from all the multi-verse.”

Again. Dead silence for a moment.

Then Will, beaming over his sandwich plate says, “Hey! My kinda guy! I don’t have a faith, but I can get behind that.”

Then from the far end of the bar, the bugbear drinking from a bucket-like tankard wobbles around in his seat and burps, “Uh. Respect.” Then slurps his beer.

Rime jerks physically. “No!”

Blue is already shouting. “Shots for the four of us! And the bugbeaaaaaar!”

Cheering ensues.

Rime fumbling his Sign, tries to say something to Dornias who is eagerly pouring out more shots all around.

Dornias. Do you ��?

Blue lays a hand on his wrist to get his attention, suddenly concerned and mildly wounded. “Are you not doing your shot?”

Rime stares wildly at her, then the shot glass, then her again.

He slams the shot mostly of pure Lliiran instinct and the sudden realization he’s not drunk enough for this and has not been for some time.

Blue somewhat fuzzily to Dornias, says, “Can I have another sandwich? My dog ate mine.”

Will shoots her a look, but she ignores him.

Dornias whizzes away to prepare another screaming pickle and sandwich while Bian and Will shoot their respective drinks and Bian steals Rime’s untouched sandwich. Rime sits, hands braced against the sides of his head, staring vacantly into the middle of the table until the new sandwich lands on their table and Dornias loiters again benignly by their table, delighted apparently by their general patronage.

Rime takes the opportunity to Sign to him.

So… the vocal tick is basically that someone has a two-way connection between me and this realm of hell and someone is speaking through it whenever I speak?

Dornias studies his hands, then says aloud, “Effectively, yes.”

“Fuck!” Rime cries, pressing one palm against his forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Donias waves a hand. “Is slightly incorrect phrasing. Someones.” A beat. “At this point I have detected six distinct voices.”

Bian levels a cool look in Rime’s direction. “You got major problems.”

Rime snaps his fingers, his cantrip rebutting, “I’m fine!”

Blue folds her hands on the table, leaning forward with a knowing inebriation. “You know… Tritons respectour ancestors. Just saying…”

“I don’t know that’s what this is!”

Blue just eats her new cursed pickle while Will somewhat desperately flicks sandwich crust at her in an effort to stop her declarations about Rime’s suddenly deeply strange vocal affliction.

Rime turns to Dornias and through the spell, asks, “Is there anyway to stop it?”

“Hmm, is difficult process. But yes. I could probably stop connection.” Then, before anyone can get excited about his, he adds, “But you would have to die.”

Blue, still very drunk, flaps a hand at the fiend while Rime stares, speechless in every sense of the word.

“Do you just mean killhim?” She makes a kind of psssh/gargling noise of unimpressed-ness and jerks a thumb at Rime. “Because I can do that too.” She seems to realize how that sounds once said aloud, then mumbles, “I wouldn’tdo that… but I could.”

Dornias, trying very hard to be helpful, explains, “Process would specifically involving killing, removing heart, filling with lead, removing vocal cords, stretching them around an axe, and using it to chop up rest of body before burning in a fire from the Nine Hells.”

Blue is getting paper out of her bag. “Should we be taking notes?

Rime, very softly says, “No.”

Dornias is still explaining things. “Even after you die, connection will probably persist and eventually tear where devil soldiers will pour through into this plane of existence.”

Blue is scribbling on her piece of paper. “So definitely take notes. Can you go through that process one more time?”

Rime tries again, just once more, with shaking hands to Sign: Are you saying that I could be a portal? You said monsters could come through? What?

Dornias nods absently. “Yes, but will probably take long time. Unless you suddenly experience an enormous amount of negative energy passing through your body or alternatively someone held you down and ritually sacrificed you make it happen.” A little shrug then and a wave of the hand. “Buuut rare occurrence.”

Blue looks sincerely at Rime. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” she promises with liquor-muzzy fondness. She pats him on the arm. “But if you ever die, don’t worry, Imma un-portal you.”

Rime gets up. Rime can’t hear anything but a low roar. It might be his speech cantrip going out of wack. It might be his pulse in his brain. It might be the panic overriding every other process for receiving sensory data to his higher order thoughts.

Either way, he can’t hear a damn thing. He just kind of… stands up at the table, looks around… then runs. Bolts straight out the front doors, slamming his palms against the wood and knocking them wide open into the street outside. He hooks around the door on the right so he can fetch up hard against the tavern wall and, for just a moment, fall apart. He stacks both hands over his mouth and just… smothers the noise that tries to rush out of him. He strangles that like a kitten in a bucket and leans, breathing hard, against the wall.

Around him, people are passing idly by. Overhead, the sky is cold, autumnal, and clear. He closes his eyes and for the first time since leaving home, he regrets not leaving the other half of his sending stones in Secomber because more than anything, anything, anything right now… he’d bleed just to hear something familiar. He mouths over and over silently against his fingers, “It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s okay,” until the shape of the lie is like braille against his palms.

Rime opens his eyes. He won’t speak aloud again for a while.

#homegame #rae plays dnd #homegame fiction #long post #this was NOT supposed to come out for like 4 levels or something #but we tripped over the one guy #in the city #who would actually know #lol #rae writes #raewrites

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