#God bless this woman was meant to be a father

[mayaflowerxs]

BABY MAKING

Synopsis: What was meant to be a quick shopping trip to Target ends in you and your husband trying for a second baby.

Warning: Fluff / Humorish / Smut. Swear word usage, Est. Couple, Father!Jaehyun, pregnancy kink, daddy kink, and more!

A/N: Here’s a little something while I finish the requests sorry it’s taking a while, anyways enjoy! :)

Pairing: Jaehyun x fem reader

Your parents had insisted on looking over your daughter which you didn’t hesitate to agree. You had to admit, you love your daughter a blessing really but it’s gotten a point in your life where you just need that fresh breath of air. Even if it means your time be spent running errands. Much like you, your husband was on the same page. Endless nights from both work and parenting takes a toll on a person. The eye bags on both yours and his face have gotten visibly deeper along with the noticeable fatigue. And as you drop off your daughter with one last kiss to her adorable little head, the two of you were off.

Target. The store where there’s practically everything one could possibly need. You enter wearing baggy sweats and lose t-shirt. Hair in a messy bun as you start looking over your grocery list, for the lack of time the list has gotten rather long. Jaehyun by your side as he took the responsibility in maneuvering the cart. “Eggs, Milk, Diapers, Paper Towels…” as the two of you go aisle by aisle you felt yourself at ease for the time being. For a while it seemed like it was only you two. Just how it was only a year ago. It still feels odd to think you’re a mother now. Staring down at your hand and seeing the pearly white Diamond glimmering on your ring finger, shifting your eyes and seeing Jaehyun’s as well. Feeling his elbow nudge you, you look up at him. A soft smile on his face as he tilts his head at you. “You okay? You kinda spaced out on me.” Chuckling lightly you nod, “I’m good. You got the formula?” “Right here. Oh look they have my socks I wear.” Letting him walk off to inspect the aisle of socks, you check off the formula on your list. Waiting for your husband to choose a pair of socks took quite a while, too long you might say. And just before you’re about ready to hurry him up you hear the cry of a baby behind you.

Turning and seeing a mother had been strolling by, picking up her son as she consoles him. You can’t help but smile at the scene, until you stopped. With wide eyes, you turn to face your husband. “Jae gimme your hoodie.” Not turning to face you he responds, “Baby didn’t I say to bring a sweater? I told you it was gonna be cold.” He snorts wincing when you leave a rather hard smack on his bicep. Looking back, his eyes widen when he sees you clenching your chest. “Are you…?” “Yes Jae, I’m lactating!” The sound of a baby’s cry has left a wet patch on your through your shirt.

Yay on motherhood.

Quick to take his hoodie off, he covers you from any passerby’s. “Can’t believe this is happening.” Hearing Jaehyun chuckle, you send him a glare as you are left uncomfortably soaked. “Lets just get the rest of the groceries and get out of here.” You tell him annoyedly, and without another word he grabs his socks and quickly puts it in the cart.

With every passing second spent in Target was just another second your poor breasts were being filled with milk. And as the thought came in, the realization settled. “God I forgot the breast pump is broken.” You say, “It’s alright we can go grab another it’ll be the last thing before checking out.” Nodding the two of you make your way out. About to enter the aisle you’re forcibly knocked into another person walking out in a hurry. Clutching your chest in pain by the sudden pressure. “Excuse you!” Jaehyun shouts when he sees the woman simply walk by without even acknowledging your presence. Rolling his eyes at her, his irritated expression changes immediately of one of worry. “You okay baby?” Out of words to say from the pain you simply nod and wave him off. Instead you merely point at the breast pump. “Right.” Grabbing it and putting it in the cart, he wraps an arm around your waist and helps you move. By the time the two of you made it outside, you didn’t wait for Jaehyun and instead grabbed the box with the pump and ran straight to the passengers seat.

A grin on his face as he watched you, wearing slides and holding your chest as you struggled to open the door, looking up at him and seeing he had the keys held up for you to see. “Open it!” He hears you yell in which he snorts and does so. By the time he’s done filling the trunk with the grocery bags, he gets in and sees you almost filling a bottle full of breast milk. “Did not think it’d get swollen so quickly.” You moan in pain as you try to massage the tender breast. Sending you a sympathetic smile he leans in and kisses you. “Love you.” He mumbles on your lips. “Yeah yeah-“ You say trying to not put much attention to the obvious heat your face was getting from his words. Years later and still he had you a blushing mess. Hearing him laugh, he leans further and presses a kiss on your boob. Buckling in, he turns on the ignition and looks over at you. “Want Starbucks? Heard it’s okay to have a bit of caffeine while breast feeding…I can even get you a cake pop.” Looking at him, you contemplate it for a bit before nodding. Smiling, he rests a hand on your thigh and gives it a soft squeeze before backing out of the parking lot.

By the time you’re in the drive thru and waiting in the long line of cars, Jaehyun can’t help but revert his eyes over at you. The pumping is rather loud and after a while it’s gotten annoying with his hoodie constantly in the way so you pushed it up and now have your entire chest out in the open. Thank god for the tinted windows you managed to convince him to get. Swallowing as he bounces his leg quicker than ever. “Geez what’s gotten you so fidgety?” You joke at him, completely oblivious to the effect you have on him. Missing the hard gulp he takes, he doesn’t have time to respond to you before he’s having to drive forward and roll his window down. The man about to read him his bill, gets his words caught in his throat when he noticed you. Jaehyun whips his head around and grabs his hoodie and tugs it down. A whine escapes you as it caused the bottle to tip and have some of the milk spill.

“Jae-“ Face palming when you see the poor boy’s face red and hot you look down. Resting a hand on the arm rest covering your view of him. “Sorry about that.” Jaehyun can merely say before handing him his card. Clearing his throat awkwardly, the cashier mutters out a low, ‘it’s okay’ before swiping the card.

“You could have at least warned me.” You tell him the second the window is up and getting out of the drive thru. “I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking how could I?” “What, are you saying my breasts are too distracting?” You ask him as you take a bite out of your cake pop. He goes to respond but is cut off when you groan in pain again. “God I don’t understand how my girls can work so fast. I’m already full again!” Hearing the sound of the pump again, Jaehyun takes a quick glance over and seeing your breasts were out in the open again. Feeling the familiar tightness in his pants he shifts in his seat uncomfortably before clearing his throat. “Babe I know it’s something out of your control but-“ he barely manages to get out as his hand grips on the steering wheel, his other on your thigh riding higher up your leg.

“Oh my god are you seriously turned on right now?” You say surprisingly. “Can you blame me? You know I’m a titties man.” Slapping his chest, he smirks and glances over at you briefly. “Gosh when aren’t you horny?” “Hey I didn’t see you complaining the night our daughter was conceived.” Mouth slightly parted you squint your eyes at him. “My period was close to kicking in, my hormones were running high.” “Yeah,” he scoffs. “Hormones alright let’s blame it on that.” He finishes while trailing higher until they rest on top of your clothed cunt. Gasping, you grip his wrist. “Still sensitive as always, shall I blame that on the hormones as well?”

Smirking when he sees you spread your legs he begins to rub circles. A small moan falls off your lips, “Of course I’m sensitive, I did just shit out a baby a few months ago.” “Birthed babe, you birthed our daughter.”

“Yeah well when you’re in a state of pure agony you no longer give a shit if you were constipated or giving birth either way, you’re being ripped apart regardless.”

Lifting your hand, he takes it up to his lips and presses a kiss. “And I’m so proud of you for that. I don’t say it enough but you really are so strong and admirable, I could never and it’s why I love you so much.” Sending him a soft smile, you pick up your drink and take a sip of it. For a while it was silent the car ride home, and it isn’t until you’re only a block away does he speak up.

“I’m still horny by the way.”

The groceries go ignored the second Jaehyun parks in the drive way. Carrying you inside the empty house his focus is on you. Sliding his tongue in your mouth as you run your hands through his hair. Setting you on to the closest furniture, the couch. He begins to take off his shirt. Tossing it aside as he leans back in to attach his lips with yours. Large hands roaming up your stomach, lifting your shirt to trace the beautiful stretch marks he’s fallen in love with. A memory of when you were pregnant with his daughter. Finding his way to your breasts where you let out a loud moan the second he punches your nipples. Trailing gentle kisses on them and feeling himself get harder when he notices a small streak of your milk fall down your chest. The tightness in his jeans is painful, and his grunts are heard throughout the house the second your hand is placed on top of his bulge.

“Please baby.” “What is it my love?” He curls a finger underneath your chin and tilts his head. “Mhm?” “Let me make you feel good.” Pupils dark and dilated, he finds no reason to object. Standing up and unbuckling his belt, he hissed when the cool air hits his hard cock. Soft hands fisting him as you kitten lick him. Too slow for his taste, and so he grabs your chin and gets you to open. Grabbing his dick and propping it in your mouth. “Good girl.” He groans when he feels your tongue salivate him. Taking him deeper and quickening your pace. Bobbing your head as you gag every now and then. Music to his hears, enamored with your beautiful eyes that look up at him for approval. “Taking me so well, keep sucking pretty girl.” Fisting your hair in his hold his breathing becomes uneven the sloppier you suck him. Pulling away and a long stripe of your saliva connecting you to him. He’s red and veiny and it only makes you want to keep sucking him more. Until he’s completely empty. Jaehyun was right, hormones wasn’t the reason why you yearned for him so much. You being on your period wasn’t why you got pregnant. You got pregnant because you want him, everyday. A man so appealing like him is impossible to not be attracted.

The man standing before you yearns for you just as much. Seeing you on your knees taking his big cock is enough to fuck you with his babies any time of the day. With how sex craved the two of you are, he’s surprised it took you guys this long to finally get pregnant. The slurps and gargles are heard bouncing off the walls, grunts and groans coming from your husband add on to it. His abs are clenched when he feels the familiar feeling beginning to form. Throwing his head back, he starts fucking your throat. With need and desperation he’s trying to find his climax. “Shit!” He can’t help but swear when you suck in your cheeks. The tightness around his dick, your warm mouth and talented tongue is enough to throw him over the edge. He feels himself explode in your mouth, shooting it all down your throat. Shivers coursing throughout his skin when he feels you hum on his dick. Watching you swallow every single drop. A small twinkle in your eyes as a bit of his cum falls from the crevice of your mouth. Leaning in to kiss you, he tastes the saltiness of himself. “Not done with you yet.” He murmurs on top of your lips.

He was right. For the time your parents had your daughter, Jaehyun took it as an opportunity to get back some husband and wife bonding time. He missed your touch, and even though the cuddling and make outs are just as good he still craved you. Seeing you pumping milk did things to him and even though it pained him to see you in labor tired and in pain it only made him want to love you a thousand times more. Your round belly and the after glow of postpartum birth, he feels like a dog thinking this way but he can’t help but want to fuck another baby in you. So soon but he wants to, needs to.

The two of you always spoke of how many kids you’d want and even though Jaehyun was the one who wanted a big family in comparison to you, the two of you agreed you at least wanted the kids to be close in age. Which is why he has no problem getting you nice and spread on the kitchen counter. Not caring you were in the middle of putting away the milk you had just pumped, and instead focuses on making you come over and over again with his tongue. Get you nice and soak so you’re ready to take him for countless rounds it takes to get you nice and stuffed. “Jae!” You hiccup, he doesn’t remove his mouth. He doesn’t even flinch, instead he buries his face further into your pussy. Eating you like a starved man and grunting each time your nails tugged a little too hard on his hair. “Baby it’s too much!” You throw your head back on the table. Completely naked for him just the way he likes it, hickies left all over your skin trailing them down to your sensitive pussy where your legs are trying their hardest not to close. Your husband’s large hands keeping them spread as he spits on your clit before diving right back in.

Your breath hitches as you shake in his hold. Another orgasm is ripped out of you, tears falling down your face. Jaehyun can feel you throbbing on his tongue, your sweet juices hitting his tastebuds. Finally, he pulls away. A shimmer around his mouth as he pulls you closer to the edge of the table. Leaning in to press a firm kiss on your lips, muffling the loud moan of yours when he forced himself inside you. No matter how much scissoring and tongue fucking he’s done you simply refuse to get used to his size. Your husband’s too big and it’s what drives you into subspace. He knows that, which is why he fucks you for hours if he really wanted to. Until he sees your pretty tears and face lost in pure bliss does he let up. Your husband has insane stamina, he can go for so long without ever climaxing. That’s unless you blow him, then he turns putty for you.

“So big!” You gasp out, eyes shut but Jaehyun doesn’t like that. No, you can’t lose yourself right now. He needs your eyes on him, to see how beautifully connected you two are. How well you take him, tapping your cheek he presses a soft kiss on your cheekbone. “Open those pretty eyes for me mama.” Mewling, he doesn’t give you time to disobey him. Lightly slapping the side of your face to get you to look at him and when you do he can’t help but grin. You looked ethereal in your current position, seeing you shining in sweat, chest covered in his love marks and lips swollen he can practically go feral for you. So he does. Gripping your legs and hovering them over your hips he begins to ram into you. The claps much louder along with your moans. Breath hitching each time he hits your gspot, your hands quick to grab onto his forearm digging your nails into his skin. Giving him space to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck. His favorite place to stuff his face in second to stuffing it in your sopping pussy.

You feel his hot tongue running up your neck, shivering at the sensation especially when your husband doesn’t show signs in slowing down. Your walls gripping him tightly the harder he pounds into you. It felt good, so good your eyes began to tear up. Squelches were heard as your stomach kept clenching. When he pulls away, his hair is in the way. His eyes slightly covered, looking down he lets out a loud grunt upon seeing the prominent bump near your lower abdomen. “Where you feel me?” He huskily asks. “So deep!” Grabbing your hand, he leads it down to your stomach and has it lying on top of the print of his tip. “Feel me here baby?” “Yes!” Throwing your head back when he stops his movement to focus on thrusting further. “How about now?”

You couldn’t answer, you felt full and pure bliss. And as much as you’d like to indulge in the pleasure, your husband has a need for you to remind him how good he makes you feel. “Answer me.” “God I feel you in my stomach Jae!” It’s all he wanted to hear to get back to fucking you. Plunging in and out, quick motions before he pulls out and turns you around. Despite the insane amount lust he has, he takes the time to grab a pillow and rest it under your hip. Gentle to pull your hair away from your face and use it as leverage when he goes back to ramming inside you.

“I’m so close!” He’s gone silent, and you know once he is it means he too is close. And as the two of you are hitting your climax, you’ll soon come to find out this won’t be the last of it today.

Your parents are meant to drop your daughter off soon, in an hour precisely when the clock strikes 9 but Jaehyun wasn’t worried. He’s taken the initiative to have sex with you on all the surface inside the house. He can’t quite explain where this sudden horniness came from, maybe the breast pumping truly was a turn on for him and he just now acted upon it. It only took about half up to an hour before Jaehyun attached himself back on you. Wrapping his arms, pressing heated kisses to the nape of your neck, rubbing his groin up against your ass before he bends you over whatever surface nearest to you. By the time night came, your and his hair looked completely disheveled along with bruised lips. Necks covered in dark colors and both reeking of sex.

Couch, bed, kitchen counter, wall, door it was endless and he was sure he had gotten you pregnant by now. You guys went at it like a bunch of bunnies no way he didn’t knock you up. And as he lied on the bed watching you get ready to shower, the thought of you wet and naked had him getting hard again. Not even uttering a single word before he follows you in. “Excuse me?” Not responding, he closes the door and begins to take off his shirt. Revealing his toned chest to be covered in scratch marks, fainted lipstick and hickies. “One more won’t hurt right?” He raises a brow and smiles mischievously. “Are you trying to impregnate me with twins or something?” Shrugging, he picks you up and settles you on the counter. Pressing his lips on top of yours, he helps take off your oversized tee. “Would it be so bad?”

Giggling, you open your legs to let him fit right between them. Seeing his eyes darken as he leans in to start fondling with your breasts. Gasping when you feel yourself starting to lactate. “Jae!” Holding you still he continues to suck. Your tits were sensitive, you couldn’t hold still but this never faltered the man in front of you. Instead he grew determined and as he tastes your sweet milk he knew, there was absolutely no way he could wait who knows how many days before he can have you to himself again. Play with you as much as his heart desires. So, with reluctance he pulls away. Watching a few drops fall on your stomach. Leaning in to lick it up, you feel yourself begin to get excessively wet again. Playing with his soft hair, your intrusive thoughts wanting you to simply push his head a bit further to where you most need him.

“Be right back, need to make a call. Get in while I do that.” He says hurriedly. Curling a finger around your chin, he pulls you in for another wet sloppy kiss before walking out the bathroom. With a huff, you do as told and get into the shower. And while the bathroom steamed up, waiting impatiently for your husband to return and fuck you. Jaehyun quickly picked up his phone and dialed the familiar phone number. One ring, two rings and on the third they picked up.

“Afternoon Mrs. Y/l/n, so sorry to bother but something came up and I don’t think we’ll be home tonight. You wouldn’t mind if she stayed with you for the night right?”

#nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x y/n #nct 127 imagines #nct jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun smut #jaehyun smut #nct johnny #nct mark #nct taeyong #nct taeil #nct yuta #jungwoo nct #nct haechan #jung jaehyun

[olympushit]

ARES DOESN'T DESERVE THE HATE HE GETS. 10 REASONS WHY:

Apart from being the god of war, he was also the god of generalship, manliness and civil order, which means that he was the god responsible for the correct function of every ancient city in order of laws and politics.

As the god of manliness, he was considered to be the patron of a fine man that every man looked up to. He was a fighter, not only as a merit from being the god of war, but he always fought for his beliefs, just like at the Trojan War when he complained to Zeus about Athena's unfair action. Also, he was the best father to his children and always supported them and their mothers, just like Cycnus fighting with Heracles, or when Aeropos' mother died during childbirth and he made it possible for the baby to drink milk from his dead mother's body.

He was the only greek god that never raped a woman. All his sexual encounters were consensual and he always seemed to respect his lovers, because he kept his private life low key and none of them suffered or were subjected to tortures, unlike Zeus' or Poseidon's lovers did.

He was the god of dance. Legend has it that before he was taught how to fight, Priapos, his tutor, refused to teach him unless young Ares knew how to dance. Afterall, war is considered to be the ultimate dance a man could perform in ancient times. Also, he appeared to dance for his daughter's Armonia wedding with joy, leaving behind the animosity for her husband Cadmus. Finally, in the feasts of the Gods, it was said that Apollo played the lyre, while the Harites, Artemis, Hermes and Ares danced with great joy.

He was a forgiving god. Despite his enraged and bloodthirsty behavior, Ares knew how to forgive someone and appreciated what they were doing to gain his trust. After Cadmus slaughtered the Dragon, he was put 8 years under servitude to indulge Ares. Finally, Ares not only forgave Cadmus for his crime, but he also blessed his wedding with his own daughter Armonia. Cadmus, in order to gratify the god, built the city of Thebes and made Ares its patron god.

He wasn't a coward. Many greek myths refer to Ares' lack of courage to face danger. This is far from true. At the Trojan War, when he found out about Ascalaphus' death, he disobeyed Zeus' order with the risk of his immortal life in order to go to the battle amd avenge his son's death. He was later stopped by Zeus' thunderbolts. Also, when the Aloadai were about to take Olympus, he was the first god to interfere in battle in order to save Olympus. Afterall, one of his epithets was "Olympus' Protector".

He was sentimental. At the Trojan War he was seen greaving for his children's loss and always wanted to inervene for their safety. Also, he understood the rejection of his parents towards him and he was a lonely god that lacked love. But he found the love he was seeking to Aphrodite, and did not only lust her, but he loved her deeply. Together they had 8 children, and both of them were jealous about each other's affairs, because of Adonis and Eos. They also had an open relationship, because he never refrained Aphrodite from her nature, which was love and sex. Afterall love is not meant to be given to only one person.

He was the protector of women. When Hallirothios attempted to rape his daughter Alcippe, he flashed in the scene and brutally killed the rapist. From that moment on, a temple in Athens was built for Ares "Gynaikothoinas", which means the one feasted/worshipped by women.

He knew the feeling of loss. A war has two sides, the winners and the defeated. A war isn't always to be won, and everyone must learn what it is to lose. He lost many wars, but he also won many. That's why he is among the Olympians.

He was a god of justice. That is because he was referred to be "Themis' Ally", which means that he was a helper to the goddess of justice. One of his least famous daughters, Adrestia, was the goddess of balance, justice and retaliation. Also, "Areios Pagos" or aka "The hill of Ares" was named after him because he was the first man ever to be tried for substatial homicide, for slaughtering Alcippe' rapist.

DON'T TREAT MY BOY LIKE THAT! HE IS JUST ADORABLE!

#greek mythology #greek gods #ares #on this blog we love ares #ares greek mythology #ares x aphrodite

[hotchfiles]

↪ day four. sympathy for the devil — #marchhotchness — NSFW ; MDNI!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [last true mouthpiece] ❞

pairing: virgin!aaron hotchner x virgin!reader. summary:  "i would battle all nine circles of hell to feel like that again." content warnings: major catholic church disrespect going on. some making out. m! receiving oral. MDNI! word count: 1.3k

god was supposedly pure, free of all sin, free of everything evil that scattered the earth. free of carnal desires. free of hypocrisy. 

church was supposed to be the place to be blessed with his kindness, his love, his overpowering goodness. for aaron it was just another place to be a hotchner.

not aaron, not hotch, a hotchner.

it was a place to be proper, to look attentive, to have his fingers pass through the beads of his rosary as if it really meant something to him or to most of the people sitting there. 

it’s his first summer back home after he was unwillingly sent to boarding school.

if there’s a place he wish he wasn’t forced to be, it would be the place where everyone swore to be good, as good as god, but weren’t.

there’s at least three woman exchanging glances with his father, his baby brother is sleeping peacefully on his baby carrier, thanks to the nanny as their mother didn’t look at him for one second since they entered church, her eyes going from her friends to the priest only, making notes of what the ladies were wearing, how their kids were behaving. nothing good came out of his family. 

not even him, he had his knuckles hidden under white bandage, band-aid on his chin. the signs of his rebellion clear, still his mother would tell the neighbors how sports were tricky for clumsy aaron. 

the only thing close to the pureness and kindness of a god inside that luxurious place was you.

the warm smile you gave him, the way your fingers brushed his skin to ask what happened to him. the way your voice said his name sounded like an angel. it made him believe in angels. 

but the way you made him feel at times was pure sin. if you were an angel, you were a fallen one, beautiful, good, kind… sinful. aligned with the devil and its desires.

but if it meant being able to be closer to you, aaron would knee down and pray to god, or to satan, or to any deity that could make it happen. he would believe anything your lips told him to. 

he would sin in your behalf as you were the only true god he could believe, that’s why when you left your seat during sunday mass to get water, he followed you, captured by the way your hips moved, it had been six months since the last time you two spoke, the flirtatious looks and words leading to nothing of substance. 

“boarding school not treating you well?” you ask him teasingly, but he can see the worry in your eyes as you touch his chin. he winces at the touch, but holds your wrist before you can move. 

“their therapist say i need to learn how to manage my rage.” you chuckle, you’ve never seen him angry, not at you or with you, he was always the softest, most polite boy, the most beautiful soul you’ve ever met. he was bigger than church, his presence made you feel surrounded by good. it’s a shame he doesn’t feel that way about himself. 

you look around, knowing the cues by heart, most people have their eyes closed to pray, and you pull him by his hand quickly, knowing where the altar boys would change, he knew it as well, having been one for years as a child. you locked the two of you inside, breath heavy as you did so. 

at this point the only thing that has ever happened between you two was lingering hugs, suggestive conversations and a quick kiss during spin the bottle. you wanted more of him, you wanted to make him feel good. 

brushing your lips against his chin, you pinned him to the nearest wall, taking his hurt hand and placing soft kisses against the bandage as well, the way he left soft sighs at your touch made you feel invincible, still, you stop yourself for a minute, looking at him for approval, aaron slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you closer for a kiss years in the making, as hungry and needy as you. 

you’re both desperate to feel each other, to feel something real when you’ve been raised in a community where nothing was, his lips are chapped against your strawberry tasting soft ones, his hands are rough and on your waist under your shirt and he smiles at the thought of you having to fight off not wearing a dress to mass. 

aaron’s cheeks flush at how aroused he’s feeling, ashamed to be feeling like that in a place of adoration of everything non carnal, he feels sinful, but the way your body is glued to his, hardening his cock even more, makes him forget about it as he moans into your mouth.

his belt is unbuckled with ease by your hands, but he stops you before you can do anything else. 

“wh–what are you doing?” making out, having someone straddle him, feeling the friction over his clothed crotch–those were the most he had done with someone until now, and there you were with your godly eyes, your red bitten lips and your hands about to make him sin even more. 

“i–i want to make you feel good.” you don’t have much experience either, but still before he can protest to anything you shove your hand into his pants and boxers, feeling him fill your hand and twitch at your touch. 

he nods in a frenzy, helping you by pulling his bottom clothes down to his thighs as you lower yourself, taking him in your mouth delicately at first, feeling the different taste in your tongue as you bobbed your head slowly, your hand holding his cock at the base. 

touching your cheek with one of his hands to catch your attention, he gets you to glue your eyes to his instantly, your mouth still at work as you did so, his other hand guides yours, telling you to move it along with your mouth, showing you what felt good to him. 

aaron can faintly hear the priest citing scripture, telling children to respect their parents in the lord, and he almost feels bad for what he’s letting you do to him, but your mouth may be the closest he has felt to the divine and if god has a problem with that than maybe he wasn’t worth praying to. 

the confidence he gets from the lust in your eyes leads his hand to your hair, pushing you and softly, to the best of his ability, holding you down, it’s clear he doesn’t want to hurt you but he can feel his orgasm building up, he knows it well from the nights jerking off in his bedroom to the image of you, before he can warn you between the moaning mess he is trying to bite inside his lips, you feel his cock twitching inside your mouth, the warmth of his cum filling your mouth. 

you swallow it down in a reflex, the hollowing motion of your cheeks making him whine. you only let him go when he pulls you up by your hair, and it’s your turn to moan. 

his lips and yours feel like two magnets, glued together as soon as you balance yourself, sharing with him his own taste, his tongue meddling with yours made you tingle. 

“i just got us both a free ride to hell, right?” you laugh into his lips and he nods, dropping your arms only to pull his pants up. 

“i think i would battle all nine circles of hell to feel like that again.” his citation of dante’s inferno feels silly along with his teenage hormones filled attempt to flirt, you don’t mind it, his brain was the second most attractive thing about him after all, losing only to the eyes that didn’t leave you as you both got out, again taking advantage of a prayer to get back to your seats. 

#lari writes sometimes #marchhotchness #lari march hotchness #i dont proof read shit btw #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut

[yoursinfulurges]

House of Metals

Martell!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Some say the greatest battle a woman could ever face is motherhood, you on the other hand think that's bullshit... You're not so ready to trade your sword for an infant.

Your ethnicity is not specified and your features are never fully described, finally in this part we talk about your fucking giant snake.

Can be read as a oneshot but if you wish to read the previous parts my masterlist is pinned on my profile!

Word count: 4k

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Heaving a great sigh as you sat your place on the bed, you looked around the room in melancholy. The arid atmosphere was palpable, suffocating your skin and drying you out under the harsh environment. Furniture serving as more decor than anything else sat idly around your chambers, prompting a frown to befall on your face. You didn't know what caused such bitter feelings to blossom in the bellows of your stomach, but it all didn't feel right. 

Though honestly nothing truly did these days. Not your dress, not your hair, not the place you were supposed to call home. It all felt empty somehow, cold and lacking of comfort in every sense. The familiarity of the desert dunes no more as you come to recognize the Red Keep as your new definition of normal. It had been over a year now since you left the comforts of Sunspear, and despite having a hard time adjusting you were making it by. But with the constant pressure that oppressed you daily, living had been less than bearable. Preferring to spend your days in your chambers had become a constant routine now because of it.

You've always had a certain distaste for motherhood. The idea of spending nine long months carrying a child was something you never saw yourself enduring. Whilst you could never harboured animosity towards a defenseless child, you detest being so helpless, so debilitated. They say there is no greater battle than motherhood and childbirth, you begged to differ... 

Seeing yourself as a weapon shaped for combat, not a helpless maiden meant to spend her days locked up. The very idea of being bred never sat right with you. Opinions aside, you could bear the long months in wait of a child. At some point such fate was bound to happen but the gods have not blessed you yet. You knew it was your duty to provide the realm and Aemond with an heir, further carrying out the bloodlines of your great houses. And secretly, it would be rather nice to have a tiny version of the man you adored so much running around.

What a gift that would be. 

It was the societal pressure urging you to conceive children only for the good of the crown that you loathed so much. You would not bring innocent lives into the world just to have them be political vessels. Having experienced a life full of prejudice and misogynistic behaviors yourself because you were not born a male. That was a fate you did not want for your children. Growing up it had been hard to understand why you were treated so, but over the years the veil wore thin and people became more vocal for their distaste.

It was no secret that your mother had a difficult time conceiving, so with her healthy in mind your father thought it'd be best to stop trying for another. Leaving you as an only child, much to everyone's disappointment. You'd grown up with this treatment and have found your own ways of coping with it but as expected the Crownlands had their own ways of living. You knew this and have prepared yourself for it when you agreed to leave Dorne with Aemond. Though you had never expected them to have such backwards views on women. Had you have known you would have never left... 

Not that you'd reveal such thoughts to Aemond now, seeing that he was rather content and happy with being back home. So over the months you kept your mouth shut. You did not tell him how Queen Alicent already made preparations for a nursery, and never would you open your mouth about the rumours that circulated you both. How "battle had made you infertile" as the ladies in court claimed. Silly toothless assumptions with no backbone, you'd brush it off. But the callous words the men of the city watch whispered about you were seared onto the walls. Something along the lines of "the gods have finally punished the sand snake for her indulgence." You didn't know that meant but it bothered you... Regardless how the words annoyed you so, you'd endure it all just to see your love at ease... 

He was much happier here. Familiar and so well versed in the secrets of the palace and you cannot take that away from him. Despite the fact that this place was more of a hell hole than what meets the eye.

As it would seem, here in Kingslanding the only path for a woman is to be a highborn. A highborn meant to breed out heirs for their lord husband. And not everyone was rather pleased with your reputation. You've seen how they've mistreated women, powerful women like the princess and queen. And you've seen how they just stood there and took it. Whilst yes, you had no place to speak on how they ruled here you often found yourself shaking your head. If this was Sunspear you would never allow for such disrespect... however you were not in Sunspear... you were in Kingslanding and your duty, as said by many, was to produce Aemonds children. 

A duty you're not overly content with... Not ready to sacrifice your freedom just yet but it would seem that everyone expects it from you. Although it was not in your nature to go down without a fight. Deep down, you aren't opposed to having children, it was the idea of being just a mother that you hated so much. You wanted to be known for your glory and days in battle as the Queen of Dorne. Not Princess Y/n Martell, wife of Aemond Targaryen.... They used to call you the jewel of the desert and now you're known as nothing but the prince' barbaric wench. Your victories meant nothing here and without a child you meant nothing here... 

The thought made you uncomfortable in every sense, picking at the stray threads of your dress as you succumbed to the negative thoughts. You knew it wasn't wise to dwell on such ideas but it had been eating away at you for months on end now. All of it was so suffocating, you needed room to think, to breathe. Hence why you've chosen to lock yourself up in your chambers instead of facing the music. The overbearing sounds of gossip and chatter proving to be daggers in your ears. You know not how much longer you can endure the anxiety, having it consume your being till you're constantly on edge. 

You don't doubt that with the coming months, Queen Alicent's insistence on you producing a child would become rather imposing. And although you knew she meant well with the good of both houses in her heart, you felt like you were dying of asphyxiation. All of it was so smothering. The useless small talk with noble women, the constant need to uphold an illusion. You often found yourself biting back your tongue and making sure you acted appropriately for the sake of image. Perhaps in truth, the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself. Image was of great value here, so you've observed. The Targaryens were not perfect people, you never expected them to be but it was evident there was an underlining problem they tried to avoid desperately. Though you do not know what they were so afraid of, you stood in your place and did not get involved. 

It was rather puzzling to see a not-so-happy family try and act the part in front of the public. Back in Dorne the Martells never had to keep up such false illusions, you were peaceful people that truly loved one another. And despite your love for your dear husband, it was clear that the Targaryens were selfish people, all focused on themselves. You felt like a fish out of water and truthfully it was frightening. Your family had always been transparent with one another but here it would seem that everyone was divided in their own factions. All consumed in what they have to gain, moving in secret behind each other's backs. Was this the way of the dragon? Vulture and ophidian. Your father had always taught you that respect needed to be earned. Yet here in Kingslanding everyone demanded respect. And you weren't gifted with the patience to handle arrogance. 

Especially when it came from the mouths of the undeserving. How dare they speak such words about you. Your face twists into an ugly frown, suddenly turning angry and vengeful. Why were you the one hiding in your chambers like a meek prey? So caught up about frivolous gossip. Were you not the crowned heir. Suddenly you felt ridiculous, a myriad of emotions tackling you to the ground, constricting at your air ways like a boa. Malice, retribution, anger, spite. You felt it all, everything igniting the flames of your fury. They have no right to speak to you in such a way when they have not walked in your shoes. Perhaps all the suppressed emotions had finally over spilled but you suddenly couldn't find it yourself to give a fuck anymore. It was Aemond that truly worries you, what would he think of your newfound revelation. In his eye everything had been going so well, you were getting along with his mother and sister and in truth you were. But it came with the cost of losing yourself. 

"So deep in thought, my lovely wife... Helaena informed me that you weren't at breakfast today, may I ask why?" A voice calls out from behind you, causing you to turn and smile at the sight of your love. Making sure to do your best in erasing the remaining scowl on your face. 

"I didn't feel like eating this morning." Uttering the words plainly, you began walking towards him. It was true, your appetite had decreased tremendously these past coming weeks, only eating once or twice a day. 

"Again? That's the third time this week. Perhaps we should alert the Maesters..." Aemond says in concern, grabbing a hold of your hand to pull you out of the room. Immediately retracting your hand from him, you slap his grasp away when he tries to reach for you again, laughing at his silly behavior. 

"Nonsense! It's nothing truly." Shaking your head in a dismissive manner, you urge Aemond to sit by the fireplace. He lets you guide him, looking at you with a squinted eye as he tries to read your expression. You don't meet his gaze, finding it hard to for whatever reason. 

"I care about your well-being." He nods his head, finally yielding and taking his place on the armchair. Humming absent-mindedly to him, you brush a few stray hairs away from his face, taking the opportunity to observe his shape. He looks tired, more so emotionally than physically. It worried you to a certain degree as you knew he had a planchette for putting others needs first. Aemond pulls you down onto his lap by your waist, causing you to sit sideways on his thighs as you continue to fuss about his dishevelled shape. No doubt he just returned from dragonback. Your emotions from earlier dissipating.

"I am well." You say shortly, fixing the collar of his riding coat. 

"Hm...... I missed your old ways of dressing." Aemond hums in suspicion but says no more about it causing you to narrow your eyes at him. Looking down briefly to observe your gown, was there something wrong with it? You will admit it was unlike you, the dress thick in material compared to your fond silk and linens. The heat in Kingslanding was much more forgiving so you had decided on a dress with a high collar and long sleeves. 

"I thought it would be more proper if I adapted." Speaking the words simply. Not everyone cared for the way you dressed, deeming it as provocative. It was best to sacrifice your familiarity in exchange for sewed mouths. Although now you don't really give a fuck about others opinions, but Aemond grew up with these people and you can not have them thinking such crass things. It would tarnish his reputation and your honour. Gods forbid Aemond Targaryen beds with a snake. 

"Since when did you care about being proper?" His tone is much harsher now, the hostility directed at you foreign on his tongue. 

"Aemond...." You gave him a warning. You would not argue about this. 

"I do not want you to lose yourself, my jewel. Tell me, what troubles you?" You retreat within the confines of your mind at the mention of the name, my jewel. It’s hard to look him in the eye as the truth spills out, allowing yourself to be vulnerable to him. 

"It's just... I miss home.... I miss being treated like the heir, like the future Queen ---instead of a vessel meant to just produce. I know that makes me sound like a babe but I cannot stand being viewed as a property." 

All the worries, the fire, the hate, the insecurities it all comes spilling out from your mouth. You cannot do this anymore, you cannot keep pretending you are just his wife when you knew deep down you were meant for much more. Perhaps you had failed him in providing a child, but you cannot keep deceiving yourself that you were happy with the role you were given. Never would you question your love for Aemond but as the days drag on you begin to slip into depression. The darkness captivating you, swallowing your soul till you were nothing but a shell of the woman you were supposed to be. Your identity was not your own, feeling like a marionette dancing in the shoes of a doll. Being controlled by society and expectations. 

"Who prompted these emotions, my wife? Is it my mother? Is she bothering you?" Aemond panics for a moment, grabbing ahold of your hand to steady your shaking figure. You were visibly not well, for a while he's had speculations of your unhappiness and had tried his best to stand by you, but to hear the words from your mouth urges him into action. Aemond was aware of his mother's overbearing presumptions about you being of child, but he never thought it was to the point where you had begin to question your value. 

"No, no! Aemond it's not her, it's no one." Clarifying to him quickly, your heart melts at how protective he got immediately. 

"It's just... I am not ready to trade my sword for an infant... I would love to have your children! But I don't just want to be their mother. I want to be Queen of Dorne, I want to be remembered for me." Opening up to Aemond was no easy feat but you allow your walls to break down, revealing your inner most desires. 

"And you will be my sweet, regardless of whether or not we have children I never want to take away your weapons from you." The way he said weapons alluded to something much more, perhaps he was implying to power, you weren't certain. 

Aemond was aware how important it was for you to be in control of the dagger, and he would never make you give that up. You wield such great spirit and to see you so uncertain wounded him. He knows not who filled your head with such poison, extinguishing your fire but he would have their head for it. Aemond had never seen you like this, your once head strong persona gone and replaced with so much doubt. It hurts him, his heart aching as his mind searches for a way to make you feel better. 

"I truly do want to have your children...." The words came out as a whine without your intention but they were riddled with the absolute truth. 

"There is no rush, I do not blame you for drinking the tea." He looks at you with a soft gaze, now mirroring your gestures and tucking a few stray hairs away from your face. 

"Perhaps it is time to stop..." You have been drinking the moon tea for quite some time now. Not knowing when or why it started but it became a mutual understanding between you and Aemond. Or at least, if he had a problem with it not once did he speak on them and protested. 

"Perhaps it is time to go back to Sunspear. I've been thinking about it for quite some time and it would be better for us..." Eyes widening immediately at that, was he truly willing to sacrifice so much and make that decision for you? 

"Aemond I cannot ask that of you..." Shaking your head in protest, your eyes plead for him to think more carefully. 

"You aren't, I've decided on my own. You've sacrificed so much only for the people of the court to induce such poison in you, they do not deserve to have you. We'd be far better off at Sunspear." With a simple nod, he seemed so definitive about his decision. 

"What of your duties?" Raising a brow at him you question who would fill his role. 

"My duty is to be your husband, and if being here is hurting you then we can go at once. Aside from my mother I have no emotional ties with my family, unlike you. You left everything behind without question when you married me, you even left behind Nymeria... I can't even imagine if I had to leave Vhagar like that...." 

Your heart pounds at the mention of your beloved snake. Nymeria was previously deemed untamable, until she bowed to you... She was an old soul, having been around since the reign of her predecessor, Princess Nymeria herself. Over the years she moved unchallenged, growing large enough to circle kingdoms with her body. Nymeria was about the same size as Vhagar but three times longer, her skin black in colour serving as a warning to those that dared try her. 

They called her a monster, a great beast but she was neither of that. To you she was a dear friend, you were her first rider and it hurt to abandon her like that. But the journey to Kingslanding had its complications so it was best to leave her be. A bond with a snake was similar to a bond with a dragon, your souls interwoven with one another. Although Nymeria was intelligent she was an animal and she could not comprehend why you left her so. To feel her confusion and loneliness everyday had been agonising. 

The pain was almost enough to make you agree to Aemond's words, but you wanted him to understand the consequences of his absence. Yes, it filled you with great joy that he was so willing to leave at your command, his oblation not only comforting but also displaying his devotion to you. But he must be aware of what his hecatomb may bring. 

"Aemond." You warned once more. 

"There you go again, putting me first. I truly think this would be better for us, and who cares about princely duties when I will be king alongside you. We can fly back to Dorne at sunset and be there by morning on Vhagar, just say the word." His hands caress your waist, as if trying to persuade you and the more you think about it the more he made a point. Perhaps Kingslanding didn't need you both at all, Aegon and Helaena were here and although they were a little inadequate, Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon were just across the sea. You and Aemond would be better at Sunspear, and you were certain he would be treated right... 

"Maybe you're right... But tonight is too soon, we need to get our orders in affairs first and alert the king of our decision." Giving in to his proposal, you rose from his lap, beginning to pace the room as you continued your sentence. No doubt the king would want to give you guys a proper send off but you and Aemond would need to make it known that you'd prefer to leave silently. 

"That is best... And who knows, maybe once you're more comfortable we might actually start trying for a baby." Affirming your words, you turn to face  Aemond. The knowing look on his face implied that he wasn't just jesting, contrary to his tone. 

"Are you content with raising our children in the desert?" He smiles at your words, recognizing the woman he fell in love with. It had been a long while since you both had spoken to one another like this, the playful banter reminding him of your first meeting. 

"The desert made you lethal, they could use the life experience." Your husband held his head up high proud, certain that your children would be skilled in the ways of snakes with the roar of a dragon. 

"They'd be absolutely brutal, Aemond." 

"Perfect. The finest soldiers all of Westeros will ever see." He was rather sure of that fact, all this talk of raising children with you had made him yearn for a large family. Kids with your best aspects. And though he's never thought much of it since your wedding night, if you were willing to, he'd be more than happy to start a family with you. 

"Can you imagine it.... our children riding dragons and sand snakes." You whispered fondly, imagining a world you could build with Aemond. Giggling to yourself silently at the thought of little children having both a dragon and a giant snake by their side. By the gods, your offsprings will be terrorists... Though determining how that will be handled would have to come at a later date, for now you're content with just imagining. 

"I hope they have your hair..." Aemond spoke softly after a few moments, it was barely audible, the soft smile on his face prompted one to form on yours. 

"My hair?" It sounded so outrageous, why would he want your children to have your hair? You'd think he'd hold great pride in his silver mane. 

"Mhmm, it would be a change for once." You open your mouth to say something but the words get lost on you. Instead deciding to just look at him, oh how he was your entire world. You'd give your all just to make him happy. 

"Please do not say you hope they have my eyes." Aemond speaks, breaking you from your train of thought. 

"I wasn't!" You yell at him, laughing at his outrageous words. 

"The look on your face says otherwise, my dear." He's laughing with you now.

"hm... have you thought of names?" You prompt him as you start walking towards the bed. 

"Viserra and Vaelor." You think on it for a while, liking the way it rolled off your tongue. 

"Hmm.... Viserra and Vaelor, I love it..." Turning to face him, you catch your husband breaking into a grin. 

Finally settling in on an emotion you haven't felt for many moons, peace, as you watched the man you love so much get lost on the thought of kids. There was something rather touching about how open you both were to one another right now, and it makes you think. How did we get to here? Yes your marriage was entirely political but over time you had come to be grateful for what you and Aemond had.

To uncertain partners raised on different sides of the coin, to acquaintances greedy for one another's body. Eventually betrotheds figuring out the idea of love, and now this... Lovers planning a family. Maybe this was love, the imprint someone makes inside of your soul, the happiness they evoke from within you, how your whole world revolves around one another. Your story with Aemond was great and you couldn't have asked for a better tale. The promise of the future lingered in the air as you welcomed mirth with open arms. 

So he was not prince charming, but you did not care. Aemond Targaryen was a paradox made up of all the good and bad in his family. And it had been an honour to walk alongside him. Suddenly the fears of what hardships your children would have to face becomes irrelevant. It would not matter because you knew that you and Aemond will always be there to care for them and protect them. You were certain he would kill a hundred men that dared disrespect you or your daughter. Even take up the title kingslayer if your dignity was challenged.

To you Aemond was much more than a man with grey morals. He was your other half, he was your heart. And you were his jewel, you were the sapphire of his eye. A dragon and his snake. Although the future was uncertain it was clear that you were meant to burn together. A man inflamed with the abuse he experienced and a woman scorched from the fire she inflicted. Destiny had its plans for you both, a vortex of fate cradling your love as if it was the universe itself. You would create a safe haven for your children to come and burn any that tries to hurt them. Though they would not need the protection for long seeing as though they will be yours and Aemond's kids.

How your children would be absolute nightmares to the crown. You pray for the entire realm...

Part 1 Part 2 | More to come in the future....

Authors note:

Sorry for the late update, my best friend and her boyfriend broke up and I had to emotionally support the both of them until he showed up at her house and got kicked out for trespassing 🥺 Jokes aside, that's a true story, anyways if this flops I'm throwing eggs at old people. I'm not overly proud of this part but this opens up a gateway for me to write about yours and Aemond's kids.

- Armoni

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond one eye #aemond scenario #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond oneshot #aemond fluff #aemond fic #aemond targaryen angst #aemond angst #aemond the kinslayer #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon aemond #house targaryen #hotd fanfic #team green #house martell

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter five

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 6,3k

❱ summary: a hot summer day & two conversations

❱ warnings: mature language + jokes, Legolas being a nuisance

❱ an: third attempt to post this.. man I hate tumblr sometimes. I just want to bless you all with this juicy chapter. I'll try to add the pictures in later

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER FIVE: POOL

Time, as it often does whenever you want to hold on to it, passed in a rush of essays that needed to be written, lectures demanding attention, and the ever-present need to work as many shifts to be able to make rent.

Which, in fairness, were a lot less than many other students though it irked you all the same to stand behind the counter at the small yet overfurnitured café on campus and relish the the summer sun through a window.

"Could you be a dear and fill up the coffee beans?"

You looked away from a couple dozing on a bench to your co-worker Tauriel and nodded. She was a pretty woman, red-haired just like Gimli, and smart as hell.

She was funny too, and made the shifts you got paired together manageable and bearable.

You used the towel over your shoulder to wipe over your forehead, patting some of the sweat away that accumulated within seconds.

The sunshine and warm temperatures had been fun at first for they meant longer nights and earlier mornings, lounging around with sunglasses and opening the windows of lecture halls to fill the rooms with soft breezes and the chatter of the students hanging around on the lawn in groups and pairs.

The temperatures hadn't dropped though, they kept on rising and rising, the air got warm and stuffy and every breeze was like a soothing balm on sweat-coated legs, arms and faces.

You were thankful that the café had AC, a wonder of technology compared to the unbearable lecture halls and, to your pain, your dorm as well.

A week ago it suddenly stopped working and ever since then, you dreaded coming home and spent even more time at Legolas' and Thranduil's.

There were more overnight stays, starting with long nights watching movies between Legolas and Thranduil, or cooking dinner for when Thranduil came home from work and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you humming a song, flipping eggs and Legolas setting the table, snorting and rolling his eyes over the "disgustingly heart eyes" that his father supposedly threw at you.

Those stays ended with breakfast on the patio, fresh orange juice in jugs, coffee in mugs, the old radio that crackled every then and again and filled the warm air with the sounds of Queen, Oasis and The Cranberries as you snacked on apple slices and watched Thranduil read the newspaper, casting soft smiles over the edge of the paper whenever he caught you looking or let his hand brush your ankle as you popped your foot on the empty seat between you two.

If it hadn't been before, it was now established that you were wandering in and out of their house as if it were your own.

There was a pair of slippers next to Thranduils' "old man" Birkenstocks (Legolas' words), a second toothbrush next to Legolas' bamboo one, and the pillow you always cuddled on what now was your space on the couch.

Neither Legolas nor Thranduil minded.

That much was clear by Legolas' pure enthusiasm of having someone to spend the entire night gossiping under the canopy of his bed, chatting you an ear off over something.. no anything that Aragorn had done and said and my god, you even learned about the times your ruggedly handsome best friend had so much as breathed in Legolas direction.

And well for Thranduil you couldn't say that whatever was there blossomed into more than those looks and soft touches.

Nothing like that moment a few weeks ago happened again, and although the memory of that car ride and the teasing and tension as he had you pressed against the painting in the halfway was still fresh and sent thrills through you, there was a much more subtle string connecting you.

You always meant to confront him, to pull him aside and ask why the hell he wouldn't just tell you what exactly was happening.

Still, every time you were ready, Thranduil would disappear into his office or cease all touches and go back to that infuriating look of yearning all across the room without actually stepping into it.

You nearly lost yourself in this conflicting back and forth, and came close to overfilling the coffee machine with beans that would have been a pain to clean up so the jingle of the bell came right on time to snap you out of the little trance.

"Hi, could I please get one Grande Triple Sugar-Free Cinnamon Frappuccino at 100 degrees with Honey and one extra shot of Caramel and cream?"

"Oh my god," you whipped around to the counter and nearly threw your towel at the new customer, hand already balling the wet fabric into your fist.

"That's literally the worst fucking order I've ever heard," Tauriel barked out, slamming the metal cup for steaming milk onto the counter loud enough that another student shuffled right back out the door.

You would have felt bad if you weren't busy stalking toward the bar until it was just the wooden counter separating you from climbing over it, fists ready for swinging.

"Woow," Legolas, –a little dramatically– leaned back and stared at you with curled lips, "this how you treat your best customer?"

"No," you shook your head, "no, this is how we treat dickheads with annoying fucking orders!"

"I'll let you know that while I very much appreciate dick–"

"STOP!"

"As well as head–"

"Someone stop him, please," Tauriel cried out, scaring yet another woman with the alarmed tone of her voice.

"I don't particularly enjoy being called such a mean, mean word when I was simply trying to get a coffee"

Even on tiptoes, it was impossible to reach Legolas, as much as you tried to slap a hand over his mouth that now curved into a satisfied smile over the chaos he had ensured in the mere moments he was in the shop.

"Simply?" Tauriel sneered, still looking truly murderous which you couldn't blame her for.

Legolas order, for the atrocious sugar bomb, that it sounded like, came only close to the worst drink that went over to a customer today.

After mixing a Matcha frappe with raspberry, caramel, cinnamon, and whipped cream not only once but twice for the same dude, her reaction to another monstrosity was well in its right. "Simply?!"

Legolas scoffed, tapping his pink fingernails against the wood, contemplating something over in that thick head of his before running his tongue over his teeth, baring them in a grimace.

"Fine, then I'll take a triple espresso, cold and without ice. That's not too much to ask, right? Don't want ya hitting the walls because you have to do your fucking job!"

He then turned to the first years that had taken over one of the biggest tables right after you'd opened, their wide eyes showing their struggle of 'should we stay and watch? or go? what's going on?' while staying glued on where they had spent the last few hours loudly gossiping, though as Legolas grazed them with their attention, they fell silent.

"So rude, am I right?" he asked.

All five of the girls nodded their heads fast, not blinking once.

Legolas, not caring at all that he was ogled like a piece of meat, propped both arms on the table and rested his head on his folded hands.

"Now, when do you get off again?" He fluttered his lashes, ignoring the snort you let out at his words.

"Well, my shift ends in ten, if that's what you want to know."

"Great!" Legolas tilted his head, watching as you busied yourself wiping a few glasses, "Soo, d'you wanna hit mine and drown ourselves in the pool?"

He leaned forward, grabbing one of the sugar packets you gave out, flicking his finger against the upper half before ripping it open.

He then, like it was totally normal and didn't hurt your teeth by just looking at it, licked his finger and stuck it into the packet to suck his finger clean.

Eyes stuck on his hand, already reaching back into the sugar, you curled your lips, "Sure. The others there as well?"

He grinned a Cheshire grin, releasing the finger with a 'pop'. "Mhmm, Gimli said he's in for a late night over at his friends. Aragorn has some poetry writing to do but he wants to join us later.

You stared at him, waiting.

There was an obvious question left hanging between you, one that bothered you if not answered and here he was, acting like a total dick by avoiding your stare and thanking Tauriel for the to-go cup of pure caffeine.

"Well, I'm going to wait outside–"

"Legolas!" you hissed just as he jumped down the barstool, tipping his rosé sunglasses back onto his nose.

He paused, turning and smiling sugar-sweetly. "Yes? Was there anything else that you want to know?"

Scowling you draw your eyebrows together, munching on the words, pulling them between your teeth. "Ishegoingtobehome?" you rushed out, barely understandable for you and you doubted that anyone around you actually got what you had said, but Legolas' smile softened.

"Maybe," he said, quieter and with a hint of a sigh, "Who knows these days? He was early the last two days, wouldn't count on it though."

You tried your hardest not to let your smile waver.

It threatened to break down at the edges, the tell-tale signs of the wave of insecurity that always pushed onto you at the topic of Thranduil; nipping your cheeks and you crushed them with a hard click of your tongue, pushing them away into the darkest corner of your mind.

Legolas, observant little shit that he was, scrunched his nose and squinted over at you through his glasses.

"Meet you in fifteen?" he asked instead and after you nodded, he waved at Tauriel, "Good coffee! Lacks a bit in friendliness but I think I'll leave a good Yelp review nevertheless!"

The doorbell chimed as he left the café– a bounce in his step and lifting his face toward the sun as soon as he stepped outside.

He was, by all means, the loveliest friend you could've ever wished for.

You spent the last few minutes rushing iced coffee orders, serving them to students all heading out of the uni toward the longed-for weekend, and helping Tauriel clean up for the shift-switch.

The uniform was thrown into your locker, exchanged with a yellow summer dress that flowed right above your knee and would, despite the airy fabric and barely there straps, prove to be far too hot because as soon as you and Tauriel stepped outside, away from the air conditioning, the sultry air enveloped you in a gripping hug.

It was borderline unbearable if not for the sunnies that you quickly pushed on top of your nose and the iced coffee that Tauriel had quickly whipped up for you both while instructing the other shift on what to do.

You said goodbye to Tauriel when she climbed onto her bike and you turned to the car park where you made a beeline toward Legolas.

While you appreciated Thranduils sleek sports car, you absolutely loved the days Legolas pulled up in his Chevy convertible and drove around without the hood.

With the others around, you'd always get a backseat so that Aragorn could sit in the front but now that he wasn't there, you couldn't be bothered to open the door and jumped just right into the seat next to Legolas.

"Hi Asshole," you greeted him and placed your coffee in between your legs to fasten the seatbelt, "you're so lucky Tauriel didn't just kill you for that order."

Legolas scoffed, already fiddling with the console and turning the keys.

He threw one look over his shoulder, made sure that this time there wasn't a bike that he could crash into, and passed you his phone.

"For what?" he asked, "I just wanted to try something new, is that against the rules?"

"No," you entered his code, a combination of your birthdays, "you wanted to be a pain right before shift end and you know we know you don't give a shit about any rules."

"Oh sue me. Next time I want to have some fun I'll post a warning beforehand. What the fuck are you doing?" Legolas turned his head as you tapped onto one of the many playlists he had and a soft guitarre song started playing.

He was met with the largest smirk on your face, eyes gleaming full of mischief.

"Ayo, my my… Las, care to tell me what I'm seing right now?"

Your only goal had been to tease him for the playlist titled 'For Las' but the further you scrolled, squealing and giggling, the more Legolas blushed, blushed!

"Oh my god, please–" he begged and tried to reach over though you giggled and shook your head.

"Legolas, who… who made this for you?" your eyes widened, taking in a lot of songs mouth agape, "This is twelve hours long!"

The blonde, who was now nearly as pink as the glasses on his face, pressed onto the pedals a bit harder, flying around a corner and onto the highway.

"Yes? And? You have playlists that long as well." He was evading the answer, fiddling with the console to overpower you, "I even made you one playlist that long!"

You snorted and turned the music louder on the phone, "Legolas, the playlist you made me was full of kpop and Kesha. This–" you pointed at the phone screen, showing him the cover that was a picture of himself, snapped on some forest ground and his blonde hair in disarray, "–this is not some platonic shit."

"What? D'you really think that?" Now, instead of just looking like he wanted to die out of embarrassment, he pulled a face as if you'd told him you believed the earth was flat; in total incredulity.

"Legolas–" you stared at him, still holding up the phone, "Legolas this is twelve hours full of what.. Hozier, Lord Huron.. there's even some Mitski and Lana Del Rey."

"Yes?" Legolas glanced over to you, his long manicured fingers drumming the steering wheel in that nervous habit of his where he couldn't, for the life of his, be still for just a second and think.

Or maybe stop thinking.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," you said and for his sake, switched to another playlist, one that ended his suffering, "who made this? This says it's by your account but I know.. I know you're not that self-centered."

He gripped the wheel even tighter, white knuckles protruding as he lifted one hand to bite onto his pointer finger.

Not once had you seen him this out of it and it made you wonder how you must've looked before you'd told them all about Thranduil.

Had you been this obvious as well?

Fidgeting whenever his name was dropped or Legolas had asked you if you could set another plate for his father?

Close to fainting just because Thranduil would pick you up?

"Promise me that you won't laugh?" he asked and you knew he was serious.

This was more than jokes, this was top-secret-bedroom-whisper-secret-level, and you reached over to pull his hand away from his mouth, linking your own pinkie with his.

"Promise."

"It's from Aragorn! Aragorn wrote me a letter with the songs listed as well as the Polaroid he made when we were out for a walk at that one party at Bilbo's, y'know? And fuck, do you really think that this is romantic and a hundred percent sure this couldn't be a 'hey buddy, here're some tunes that I found cool and that reminded me of our friendship, have a nice day dude' playlist!?"

Nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, led to the scream you let out as the words burst out of Legolas like a balloon popping under pressure, rushing out all at once and leaving you to bounce around as good as you could in the car.

The car that had no roof and thus drew all kinds of looks from other drivers onto you shrieking.

"Aragorn made this? Are you kidding me?" you yelled, already slapping Legolas' arm that wasn't on the wheel. "No fucking way you looked at the songs 'Francesca' and; Jesus there's even a song literally titled 'I'm in love with you'," you paused, once again boxing his side, "and you thought this was platonic?"

"Maybe?" Legolas shrugged meekly, glancing over to you over his glasses, "I dunno, it's Aragorn. Why would it ever be romantic?"

"Because," you made sure to emphasize your next words carefully, "because you're both idiots and I love you- I love you very much but you both are so very stupid and so very blind."

"You're one to talk," he grumbled and smoothed some flyaway hairs behind his ear so as to not eat them due to the wind. "Were you not the one just asking me if Ada is home or not because you two can't get your shit together?"

It didn't suit you at all that he suddenly turned the conversation around to you, when you were just talking about Aragorn, very potentially not only reciprocating Legolas' feelings but trying to reach out to him as well, to shine the spotlight somewhere where you preferred darkness as long as you weren't sure yourself.

You buried your teeth in your lower lip, pushing it out into a pout, before turning your head away from your best friend.

"Look," he said faintly, resting one hand on your leg, "this isn't easy for me as well. He's my dad and your my best friend in the whole world. But watching you two is so hard and not for the reasons you may think. Of course, I don't get why you would choose him of all people, we could've made fantastic-looking babies as well–"

You involuntarily hiccuped a laugh, rolling your eyes, "Sure, keep telling yourself that lover boy."

Legolas grinned, though returned to a more serious expression as he started tapping away on the wheel again, "But you do like him and I know Ada so I know he likes you two. He's.. well he's an idiot like his son and would rather perish than admit to having feelings like anyone else. That would mean he needs to open up, to let someone into his heart."

Legolas turned the car onto a quieter road, driving past trees that threw their shadows onto your warmed skin and filtered the sun through their thick green foliage.

"I'm willing to do that," you said after a while of thinking. "For him, I mean. I'm ready to work on us, to take on every hurdle together, and to talk. Gods, I really want to talk to him."

You let your head fall back against the headrest, closing your eyes to watch the black and golden points dance over shut lids.

Mentally you were preparing a list of all the things you wanted to tell Thranduil, firstmost your feelings, yes, but you also wanted him to know your favorite color, your first memory of him, how much you loved to dance and that you never threw away movie tickets.

You wanted to ask him on what side of the bed he slept in, which countries he had seen, what his favorite animal was.

"By the way," you blinked open both eyes, meeting Legolas' gaze, "talk to Aragorn, please. The man needs to hear you say that you like him the same way."

Legolas relaxed with a chuckle, "Gimli's going to hate us."

Laughing you could do nothing but agree with him.

The rest of the drive is all the usual, the sincere and deep talks pushed away for jibs and jokes, complaints about work and moans about Professors who think summer break is to prepare with even more coursework.

You didn't mention the playlist, Legolas stayed silent about Thranduil, a mutual agreement.

The sun was impossibly high as Legolas parked his Chevy next to the other (empty) spot, beating down on you in a manner that screams for sunscreen and…

"Pool!" Legolas yelled and jumped out of the car. "Water! Refreshments!"

You both raced over the gravel path, not bothering walking through the house but rather dashing to the gate in a wooden fence, that led directly to the garden.

Even while you were still running, Legolas tore off his tanktop, throwing it away to land somewhere next to the seating area, flinging his shorts onto a lounge chair, and you followed his example.

You kicked your shoes away to run through the soft grass and at the sight of the shimmering pool, wrestled the sundress over your head.

Glad that you had the foresight to wear a bikini instead of normal underwear, you don't think twice before pulling your knees to your chest and crashed into the ice-cold water at the same time Legolas fell into the water face first.

For a bit, you two did nothing but splash around, using feet and hands and every unfair method you could think of trying to get the other to swallow as much water as possible.

Legolas, once again having quite the advantage due to his height and slender figure, got so good at diving under you and pulling you down, that after an hour of coming up sputtering and coughing, you were the one raising the metaphorical white flag.

After a short refreshment break consisting of (unchlorinated) water, Legolas went to grab two inflatable floaties from the pool house, throwing one in your direction before making himself comfortable on the green one.

"This is the life," he sighed, hands crossed behind his head.

You found not one bit of motivation to answer him using anything else but a drawn-out "Mhmm" as you laid down on your stomach, face hidden in the crook of your arm.

"I think, I'll take a nap." Legolas yawned but already sounded very far away for your eyes closed as well, exhaustion of the day and the fight seeping into your bones.

It was the combination of the gentle rocking of the inflatable, the water splashing in the background, muffled by your ear pressed against your arm, the sun drying your wet body with her warm rays that sent you into a blissful rest, floating away in the pool as well as your dreams.

When you awoke, it was to the gentle caressing of water running through your hand as well as someone blocking out the sun.

"Las," you mumbled, "Laaas, go away"

Nothing happened, the shadow casted onto you didn't move an inch.

"'M getting up cranky," you threatened as a last attempt, groaning into your skin as the last bit of sleep slipped away from you. "Now you've done it– I hate you."

"And I probably deserve it." The voice that finally piped up was, to your absolute horror, not your best friend.

Immediately your head shot up, nearly tearing some muscle as you craned it up… and up the body of the man standing in front of the sun.

Golden light fell onto strong shoulders, creating a halo that made it very hard to look at Thranduil without needing to squint your eyes against it.

Seeing your struggle and taking pity, Thranduil crouched down to your height. "May I?"

Incapable of saying anything, you nodded. Your mind was caught on the last threads of sleep, drowsiness tugging on your consciousness that was trying its best to keep up with the current happenings.

Thranduil let out a sigh as he sat down on the edge, not caring the slightest bit that his shorts were getting wet, and kicked his long legs into the water, sending ripples toward where you floated.

He did not attempt to start a conversation, instead, he just leaned back, large hands spread on the stone behind his back, his face angled just the right way for you to know his eyes were not completely shut but focused on you through lowered lashes.

There wasn't a need to mention how gorgeous he looked, bathed in sunlight and the buttons of a moss green linen shirt that much undone, that you could follow the line of his throat down to a small peek of a rosy porcelain chest.

You felt your throat clog up at the sight of him, effortlessly graceful and despite the humid air, not breaking a single sweat.

You quickly lowered your head again, burying your nose in your arm to not get distracted by his pine wood perfume that wafted over to you.

"Can we talk?" Thranduils voice was low, a soft rumble that barely topped the gurgling and splashing of the water.

"Mhm," you cleared your throat, "I don't know, can you? Kinda felt like you lost any ability to, or maybe that was special treatment for me." You let the words wander away and glared at him in a manner that screamed 'Give me a break'.

"Point taken."

"That wasn't nice, Thranduil."

"I know."

"Good. Did Legolas send you?" You moved your head, scanning the pool for any sign of your best friend but except for you and Thranduil and some bees buzzing and butterflies fluttering in the air, there was no one else. "Where is he?"

"Inside. Came in when Aragorn rang the bell and after he nearly killed me with one murderous look, they both disappeared up the stairs."

"Ah," the disappointment seeped into the single expression, weighing down onto your shoulders, "So you came to talk because Las told you."

"No, not at all!" With an alarmed expression on his face, Thranduil leaned forward, resting one hand on his broad thigh instead of the stone. "I understood I needed to talk to you soon. Legolas just kicked my ass one more time. I've thought of nothing but you for the last few days."

The blood immediately rushed to your cheeks at this statement. "You're thinking about me?"

"Constantly. How could I not?"

"I wasn't sure," you admitted quietly, "after you... well, after you drove me home the last time, everything changed somehow."

Saying what you felt had never been easy for you, admitting things meant exposing yourself and that feeling of pure nakedness when the other person saw you, heard what you were revealing like little messages encoded through meter-high walls, it always brought that dizziness with it.

Fears that the other person wouldn't like you if they found out you weren't perfect, that they might realize how your flaws and imperfections didn't fit their expectations.

You'd rather cram the truth behind well-chosen and hopefully satisfying answers that covered up the cracks.

"I was a daft idiot," Thranduil said and, to your surprise, let out a shaky laugh that sounded more fearful than anything else.

You raised a quizzical eyebrow, knowing better than to interrupt a man wanting to explain himself.

Mulling over his words, Thranduil dropped one hand into the water, swirling it back and forth in even rotations of his wrist.

"This–", he lifted it, dripping droplets onto his beige shorts as he pointed to you and then to him, "this caught me unexpectedly. For years I blocked off any attempts of lo– of liking someone. First I blamed it on the need to focus on Legolas, his upbringing and when he was old enough to become completely uninterested in his old Ada and reached the top shelf without me needing to lift him onto my shoulders, then I searched for other reasons. My job doesn't allow much time, they would just want my money, it's just not the right time..."

While he talked, the flow of the water had carried you close enough to him for the pool float to dodge the edge of the pool. You didn't attempt to push yourself back into the water.

Instead, you reached one hand over, holding onto the warm stone next to his thighs.

"This– you, my dear, dropped onto me so out of the blue that I realized I do not have the skills to converse as easily as you may hope."

His jaw muscles protruded as he lowered his head, the tip of his ponytail falling onto his chest.

Taking that bit of courage you found in you, you let the stone go, instead laying one hand gently onto his toned thigh next to his hand.

The muscles flexed as soon as you touched the pleasantly warm skin, moving under your palm in uncontrolled spasms that you ignored for the sake of both your minds right now.

Now that you had some stability, you tried to sit up. Doing your best to hold your balance while the wobbling made it difficult, you drew your legs to your chest and then straddled the pool float, huffing out a breath full of tension.

Thranduil, halfway through your struggle grabbed one corner and prevented you from drifting away.

"There," you said and blew some hair out of your face, "now, this is hard for me too."

As you sat up, you saw Thranduil's gaze snap up to you, or more explicitly; to your whole body.

There was a hitch in his chest, a gulp so loud it would've been embarrassing to draw attention to but while you make a point of focusing on the conversation, you can't help or stop the blush that spread over your whole body, a heat that traveled faster than the sun and that left you stuttering for the right words.

"And well, I– what I meant was that I don't expect a lot, just for you to be there. Don't leave me behind in the unknown. I.. I'm in zero gravity space here, floating around in these endless questions." You gestured a lot with your hands, fiddling with the bow on your bikini top, smearing some water over the heated plastic in front of you, anything to calm your racing mind.

You were, like you said, out of your own depth and that not only came from Thranduil being different than other guys but also because your feelings were so much grander than anything else you've felt before.

Not just lust.

Not just attraction.

Not just admiration.

When Thranduil spoke up again, his voice was firm; calm, quiet, meant for just you, and firm: "I'm here and I'm in, one hundred percent of me."

"Good," you whispered, "Me too."

In that single moment, just thirteen words and a trembling of lips, a wave of relief washed over you, freeing you from the weight of countless sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, worried that all of this would be for nothing.

Thirteen simple words, mere letters strung together in infinite combinations, yet in that particular arrangement, they held the power to soothe your soul like nothing else could.

There was something in your chest that snapped, a tight leash of worries that had been bound around your heart, layering that precious muscle in a protective case so as to not get hurt again.

He visibly relaxed at that, not entirely, but there was a drop in his shoulders, a shift in his thighs; physically opening up to you and not just emotionally.

You decided to do the same and smiled.

"So," you started, "now that's finally out of the way. Was this the reason why you got all sassy and distant?"

He huffed, ever-attentive eyes roaming over the wide slopes and curves of the garden behind you as if there was an easier answer out there that he could offer you.

But you knew, without turning around, there was nothing else except for flowers and trees, maybe some hidden wine bottles that Legolas and you had snuck out and buried as time capsules right next to the patch of vegetables.

"Sassy, you say," he pondered, and you too thought back to the snippy comments that he had thrown Legolas's way when he came down the stairs and found Legolas rummaging through a box of old movies to watch with you; coming on rather defensive over movies you'd watched together, the three of you, two nights ago.

Or the night he knocked on Legolas's door to send you both to bed like you were two children and all you did was stare at each other in disbelief.

He must've come to the same conclusion as you, he pulled a very apologetic face that was downright hurtful to watch. "Oh, yes. I may or may not have been a total ass, haven't I?"

You agreed with a nod. "Total ass, like stage five. Me and Legolas were already thinking you'd robbed a bank or planned to overthrow the government with all the mood switches you'd going on."

There was a playful tone in your voice, despite the underlying accusation though you couldn't be bothered to force him to explain anything if he didn't wanted.

What he just said, the admission of attraction was more than you'd thought you got today, so you decided to let him off easy.

"Darling," he smirked, throwing the teasing right back at you, and you swallow loudly at the nickname, "I'm rich and a lawyer. If I wanted to lead this country I could simply pay for that seat." The way he said that completely self-assured in his abilities... or well... his bank account, made your stomach flip.

It took a total amount of five slow and counted breaths before you went back to thinking straight, or let alone to speaking again.

"I offer you my support in exchange for clearing my college debts. Sounds quite fair to me," you stated.

"I can just pay them off for you," Thranduil offered.

"Sure," you burst out laughing.

"I'm serious," Thranduil insisted but was met with a quick headshake from you. "Okay. But, and don't shoot me this look, the offer stands. You don't have to accept it right away, not in the near future. It's there, okay? Just like I am."

The words lingered between you, folded into your chest directly beneath your heart, which seemed to have no intention of stopping its erratic beating.

You were aware that if Legolas had made the same offer, you would have reacted differently—probably lashed out at him. After all, you weren't a charity case.

You worked not only to finance your university and room but also your free time, just as you had planned long before the Oropherion household showed you how easily some things came with money.

That's exactly what you would have told Legolas, perhaps adorned with a few curses or insincere insults, a bit offended until you both apologized.

Although Thranduil's offer hit the same sore spot and your ego, you couldn't help but ponder how it would feel to be cared for by him.

"I neither accept nor decline, okay?" You nailed him with a glance at the ground, through which he raised his hands in defense with a smirk. "First, I want a pony, one with a beautiful, long, blonde mane, because you never allow us to braid yours." Admittedly, you had never asked, but that didn't matter in this playful banter.

"Just–" Thranduil laughed huskily, "Just take it easy on this old man, alright?" Both of his hands grabbed the pool float with ease, pulling you into the open space his spread legs provided.

Your knees touched his, water sloshing up.

"Huh?" you pretended to look around, already breathless despite not having moved an inch.

"What are you doing?"

"Well–" you said, knee nudging his playful, "I'm looking for the old man. Wouldn't want some creep staring over the hedge."

Thranduil rolled his eyes slightly and raised one of his eyebrows. "I can see," he began, shaking his head with a harsh laugh, "you firecracker are about to drive me out of my mind."

You grinned cheekily at him. Your body unconsciously leaned forward, propped up on your elbows, you looked up at him and pursed your lips. "We never talked about playing fair."

He followed your example, his upper body leaning down until his face was mere inches away from yours.

This must be it, you think, taking him in one last time, rosy plush lips opened slightly, piercing eyes searching your face, blonde hair framing strong cheekbones, and you let your eyes fall close.

There was water rushing, the gentle bobbing on top of it, the wet coolness nipping everywhere except where his knees touched yours.

You leaned forward some more, yearning to finally learn what he tasted like, to memorize the burning touch of his lips on yours.

The inflatable shifted as he let go, opting to instead hold you close by laying his large hands on your neck, nearly spreading his fingers all around and you knew he felt your breath hitch and you suspected he must've felt the nervous flutter of your pulse like a hummingbird as well.

You awaited the kiss with bated breath.

It didn't come.

The subtle shift in weight, as you inched closer to Thranduil, proved to be the catalyst that upset the delicate equilibrium of the pool float.

In an instant, it slipped between your legs, and the last thing you felt was the tight grip of Thranduils hands on your shoulders.

The subsequent splash echoed with a deafening resonance, the world above the water muffled as you found yourself submerged, cut off from the surface.

Thranduil's body followed swiftly, his legs intertwined with yours, forcing him to tip underwater as well.

When you gasped for air, your brain not quite realizing that there was no air, not only did you swallow a mouthful of chlorinated water, the jerk of your knee came also close enough to kick him into the groin.

Thankfully you only got his thigh.

The water embraced you, surrounding you with playful gurgles and chuckles, as if nature itself joined in on the amusement of your unexpected descent.

Thranduil was the first to react.

His hands reached out, a strong arm securing around your middle, pulling you close. With a powerful push of his feet, you both burst through the water's surface.

"Fuck," you sputtered, the sting of chlorine in your eyes forcing you to shut them tightly against the blazing sun. "Fuck, shit, fuck."

Your flailing feet found purpose when Thranduil murmured, "Hold on, I've– I've got you!" Responding instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him.

Just before he hoisted you out of the water and placed you on the sun-soaked stones, you registered the firmness of his chest, the smoothness of his skin, and the subtle flex of every.single.muscle at play.

Coughing loudly and deeply from the shock and the overwhelming intake of water, not intended to be enjoyed in such excessive amounts, you spat some out onto the grass next to you.

"Fuck," you repeated. The stress of the situation crashed onto you, leaving you to cough and sit in the embarrassing position where you could only blink and take in a mushy version of Thranduils handsome face peering up at you.

"Hey, it's alright, you're alright." His voice pulled you back, calming the scratch in your throat.

"What– how?" you wheezed, body curling until you could rest your head on his broad shoulder. It was no comfortable position with him kicking the water to hold himself upright, hands holding onto your thighs and you bend nearly in half, but it helped.

The soothing circles his thumb drew over your skin, the reassuring words he mumbled.

"I'm so embarrassed, oh my god," you whined. "I can't believe this happened."

"Hey–" His large palm cupped your cheek, tipping your head back to lock his eyes onto yours. "Hey look at me." His fingers stroked over your temple, slightly pressing into it. "You could've hit a much worse spot than you did."

You snorted, "Yes, then I would've probably drowned myself."

The same moment you wanted to try again, chasing that adrenaline high, the loud "What the fuck happened?" of Legolas sounded over to you and all you two could do was burst out into laughter.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #king thranduil #thranduil

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple p1 - anthony bridgerton

pt2 pt3 pt4

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn't.

a/n: she's finally here!! the long ass anthony fic that i've been talking about for like three months lmao. as much as i wanted to release this all as one fic it became way too long and oh my god i just wanted to post something for it after writing for months. but here u go the first part of a few i hope you enjoy

wc: 10k

warning(s): reader is a little insensitive, mentions of issues getting pregnant, unwanted advances/gross men, historical inaccuracies

“No.”

“Darling—”

“No!” you protested once more, turning away from the mirror to face her. “Mother, you cannot be serious—”

“My dear, can you at least try to see things my way?” Your mother took a step back from you to admire the fit of your dress before she looked back at you. “Lord Cardew is an excellent match; he has a beautiful estate, incredibly vast wealth — for goodness sake, he is a baron! And he is interested in you.”

“He is a complete lecher,” you snapped. “I’d sooner die than accept even the slightest nicety from him.”

This kind of conversation had been going on between you and your mother ever since your debut the past week — you were no diamond, but you were no disaster either; you were as you’d always been, perfectly content with being perfectly average. But despite your lackluster introduction, you’d somehow managed to earn the attention of Baron Jonathan Cardew. An illustrious man with more wealth than you had ever experienced, your mother nearly fainted when he approached you after your debut and requested a dance. 

It would have been a blessing of the highest order had he been fifteen years younger, capable of basic decency, and you wanted to be married in the first place. 

Unfortunately, none of those were true, and after spending a waltz with him where you were more occupied with denying his advances than truly dancing, you became aware of the reason he flaunted his money so often — it was the only way to cover up how awful he was. But your mother was more taken with him than you were, insisting you follow through on his interest. Therefore, you were stuck in quite the unfavorable situation. 

“That kind of mouth is why you can never keep a suitor,” she berated, turning you around to continue fussing with your hair. “Oh, I know it is disappointing to be unable to marry for love, but this is what you are meant for. You are the crown jewel of our family, my dear — do not throw it away on one of your many whims!”

“This is not a whim, mother!” You pulled away from her once again and stalked across the room in frustration, your arms crossed against your chest as you gazed out the window. “You have known for years that I have never wanted to marry.”

“And you have known for years that it is your duty!” she exclaimed. “Would you so readily allow our name to fall into ruin over something so simple?”

“Marriage is not at all simple!” you retorted, wholly exasperated. “I do not think I am at all unreasonable to reject a union with someone I despise.”

“You are unreasonable,” she insisted. “Your father and I have tried our best to raise you into the finest woman we could. My dear, you are beautiful, kind, creative; you are wonderful in so many ways, and perfectly eligible — if it wasn’t for your ridiculous notions, you would have suitors lining up outside our door!”

“It is not my fault that I am the only one here for you to marry off!” you shouted, aware that you were touching a nerve but too enraged to care. “I do not exist simply for you to dress me up and pass off to a man before society deems me unacceptable. You know who I am, and you should know that you cannot change me. If you wanted a daughter to give you heirs without complaint, you should’ve tried harder to secure your lineage than thrusting the responsibility onto me.”

You saw your mother’s jaw clench, and you felt the slightest pang of guilt. “Do not take that tone with me, young lady. We have tried more times than you know, and your father and I have worked harder than you could ever imagine building this life. The very least you can do is help us keep it.”

“You would rather I be miserable with a horrible man as long as your fortune and good name are ensured,” you accused, and you raised your skirt up as you crossed over to the door. You opened it with one hand and turned to her as you stood in the doorframe. “I will be back in time for Lady Danbury’s ball tonight, and I will participate in the social season to keep up appearances. But I will not seek out suitors, and I will not become any man’s wife — least of all Lord Cardew.”

Before your mother could protest any further, you shut the door behind you. You hurried through the halls of your estate as quickly as you could, armed with the intent of airing your grievances to the only other person in all of England who understood you. 

-

“Lord Cardew?” Eloise scoffed as she set down her book. “I will never understand the men of the ton, going after women that could be their daughters.”

“You as much as I,” you sighed as you settled onto the couch next to her. “I just wish my mother wasn’t so intent on forcing us together. She is so blinded by title that she cannot see how awful he is— how awful we would be together.”

“Daphne had to deal with the same thing during her debut, a man of the same awful sort named Lord Berbrooke.” Eloise grimaced but then looked at you innocently. “She dealt with him with some well-deserved violence. I suggest you try her methods.” 

“Eloise!” you gasped with mock horror at the suggestion. “You cannot say those things to me. You know I will go through with it if given the chance.” 

“As you very well should!” she responded with a laugh. “Have you thought about running away?” You had to stifle your laughter at the question and she rolled her eyes. “It is a serious question! The way you tell it, you would all but be disowned if you go against your mother’s wishes. Disappearing might just be a better plan.”

“I must admit that I have,” you responded, “but I could never follow through with it. As much as she frustrates me at times, I do love my mother. She truly wants what is best for me, it is just that she has no idea what that is.”

“Sometimes I wish I could just escape to the country,” Eloise said, looking at you with a smile. “I would take you with me, and we would not have to deal with society’s demands; no men, no marriages, and everything we’ve ever wanted that has been locked away from us by virtue.”

“That sounds lovely,” you mused, laying your head against the cushions. “Able to simply walk about instead of promenading with a suitor, able to hitch our skirts and run as far and long as we can, able to read every book we can get our hands on, to be more than just another lady — it all sounds so perfect.” You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. “But I thought you wanted to go to university.”

“Oh, you know I do,” she sighed. “If my half-brained brother can attend Oxford then I believe I am fully capable of doing the same. But a miracle would have to occur for them to suddenly allow my enrollment.”

“If there is anyone in England who deserves the privilege, it is you.”

Eloise beamed at you and you offered a smile of your own, though the moment was interrupted by the door being pushed open along with a demanding voice you had grown accustomed to over the years.

“Eloise, have you seen my quill?”

You looked up at the appearance and bit back a smile at the sight of the viscount — you were familiar with Anthony, having been friends with Eloise for so long, but he never seemed to appreciate your presence. His annoyance simply made it all the more fun to tease him. 

“No, Anthony,” Eloise answered, “but have you tried your own desk? It seems far more likely to be there than in the drawing room the day I have a visitor. You are not as sly as you think, brother.”

It was then he seemed to notice you, whether by design or truth. “If it isn’t Miss Worthing,” Anthony said as he breezed across the room, offering nothing more than a passing glance at you. “I must ask, are you ever seen on your own estate, or have you decided to permanently establish yourself here?” 

“It is quite funny that you ask, Anthony,” you started with a smile. “I have started moving more and more of my possessions here with every visit to Eloise — I believe it will only be a month more until I am fully settled at the Bridgerton estate.” 

He hummed, wholly unamused as he rustled through the contents of the drawer across from the two of you. “I think it best for you to remain on your own grounds, lest you never leave again. I also think it best you refer to me as Lord Bridgerton — we are hardly close enough to warrant anything less.” 

“Brother,” Eloise sighed, rolling her eyes in apology as she glanced at you, “must you insult my closest friend? There is no need for formalities in our own time.” 

“It is not an insult, Eloise,” Anthony insisted. “Your closest friend has just debuted — it would do her some good to learn proper manners before the season gets too far along.” 

“Well, Lord Bridgerton,” you made sure to enunciate his title, which only served to earn you another unamused look, “I very much appreciate your concerns, but they are not needed. I do not intend to marry this season.” 

“My advice should not be taken lightly.” Anthony made a triumphant noise as he found what he was looking for, the aforementioned quill, then turned his attention back to you. “I have been the man of the house for longer than you know, Miss Worthing, and I guided my sister through an extremely successful season. I consider myself an expert on such affairs; it would do you well to listen to someone else for once in your life.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Do correct me if I am mistaken, but I believe that the man Daphne chose to marry was the one suitor you were intent on keeping her away from. Wasn’t it once you finally stepped back for a moment, she truly began to flourish as the diamond?” 

“You certainly have an interesting memory, Miss Worthing,” Anthony said, restraint clear in his voice. “I am sure that you attract many suitors acting like this.” 

“I don’t attract many,” you confirmed with a smile, “which is rather fortunate, seeing as I don’t plan to marry.” 

“As you’ve already said,” he noted. “An interesting plan, I admit. I cannot imagine your mother is too happy about it.”

“I cannot imagine why you would care so much about her prospects,” Eloise mused. “I would assume your hands are quite full with our family alone. You air your grievances enough just at the idea of my own debut.”  

“It is because she is a bad influence on you, Eloise. Your debut has already been delayed once, and if you continue to spend time around her it will surely happen again.” Anthony then turned to you and gave you a pointed look. “In fact, I believe it is time for you to go, Miss Worthing, if you wish to make it back to your estate in time for Lady Danbury’s ball.”

“How kind of you to remind me,” you said dryly as you stood up from the couch. Eloise stood as well and the two of you embraced, and she placed her hands on your shoulders when you separated.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asked, and she glanced back at Anthony. “My dearest friend, who is in no way a bad influence?” 

You nodded with a laugh. “Of course. I wager I will need someone to accompany me as I find my true calling as a wallflower.”

“It would do you well to change your attitude,” Anthony interrupted, and you responded by rolling your eyes at Eloise as she stifled her own laugh. “You are hardly two and twenty, Miss Worthing. You should not want to throw away your potential so soon.”

“Once again, I appreciate your concerns, but your worries are unnecessary.” You raised an eyebrow. “If you are so intent on my becoming a true lady, perhaps you should take matters into your own hands and court me.”

“Ah, yes. My younger sister’s closest friend; the most desirable lady of the season.” Anthony gestured towards the door in lieu of explaining his sarcasm further. You just smiled. 

“I will see you tonight, Eloise,” you repeated as you started walking. “I look forward to your latest conversation.”

“I am sure my material is far more interesting than any suitor you may happen across,” Eloise reassured. “Including Lord Cardew.”

“You may be my savior yet,” you grinned. As you reached the door you bowed your head to Eloise, and then turned to Anthony and lifted your skirts up in a slight curtsy. “Lord Bridgerton.”

“Miss Worthing,” he responded in kind, offering the same tight-lipped smile as always. 

As Anthony closed the door behind you, Eloise fell back onto the sofa with an exasperated sigh. “Why do you treat her so, brother? Now that my dear Penelope has truly set off into society to find a match, she is the only one that shares my sentiments about our fates. I understand I might not be able to avoid it, but you should at least allow me this much.” 

“She is nothing but trouble,” Anthony responded as he crossed his arms behind his back. “It is in her best interest to find a husband as soon as possible, and yet she resists it with all her might. I should only imagine the kinds of things she is putting into your mind. Are you aware that she has been spotted in the heart of London attending rallies more boisterous than even you could handle?” 

“Truly?” she asked, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “Oh, I must insist she bring me to her next one!”

“That is not my—” Anthony rubbed his forehead with a sigh. “You are just as impossible as her, are you aware?” 

Eloise grinned. “Now that is a compliment.” 

-

Lady Danbury’s ball was shaping up to be as dreadful as you had imagined. 

Your initial plans of blending in with the wallpaper as you watched from afar and enjoyed the music were foiled almost as soon as you had arrived — you faulted the gems embedded into your dress, insisted upon by your mother — for no sooner had you stepped foot into the main hall did the baron approach you.

“Lady Worthing, Miss Worthing,” he greeted with a slight bow, and he eyed you with a smile. “How wonderful to see the two of you here — especially you, my dear. May I say how ravishing you look in that gown?”

“You may not—” you began to say, but your mother cut you off with a very unladylike jab to your side, though masterfully disguised in her usual fashion.

“Thank you, Lord Cardew,” she said. “I apologize for my daughter; she is simply caught up in all the emotions she has been experiencing since her debut. She means no disrespect.” 

“I understand, my lady. Rest assured, I do not mind.” Lord Cardew extended a hand toward you, and your entire body stiffened. “Might I raise your spirits with a dance?” 

“I apologize, my lord,” you said emphatically. “My dance card is full.” 

Your mother forced out a bright laugh as she grasped your arm; it seemed you were already getting to her. “That certainly is funny, my dear! But of course, your card cannot be full as we have just arrived, and one does not refuse a baron in such a way.”

You opened your mouth to protest once more but she leaned into your side and muttered into your ear. “Just one dance with him. The sooner you do it, the sooner it will be over.”

The thought of your time spent within a yard of the baron being over as soon as possible was certainly an appealing notion, enough so that you plastered on a smile and took Lord Cardew’s hand. 

“I would be… honored to dance with you, my lord.” You had to force the words out, but he seemed none the wiser as his smile widened and he led you onto the floor. 

“I have had my eye on you for quite a long time, my lady,” he said as the two of you took your positions and seamlessly joined in with the flow of the other dancers. “You were a sure sight during your debut — truly, none of the other ladies hold even the slightest candle to you.”

“You flatter me, Lord Cardew.” You grimaced as his hand inched further down your waist and you glanced over at the orchestra, as if hoping the desperation in your eyes alone would be enough for them to cut the waltz short. Unfortunately, your silent plea achieved nothing. 

“I must admit, it is a surprise you have only just now entered society,” he said. You noticed your mother smiling at you in the group of many spectators, and you glared at her as best you could in the time the baron was looking away from you. The second his attention turned to you once more, that practiced smile was back in place. “Whyever did it take so long?” 

“I am afraid it is a private matter, my lord,” you said as politely as you could, but he shook his head. 

“You needn’t hold your tongue around me, dear,” he said as he spun you out and then took you back in, your entire body stiffening as he pulled you far closer than what was appropriate. “You do not extend the notion to any other member of the ton, so I do not see why it should apply to me.” 

“My mother simply decided to give me a few more years of respite,” you lied. “It is only this year that she decided she could not delay my debut any longer, so alas, I am here.” 

“And the season is made that much better by your presence, my lady.” Lord Cardew offered a smile and you were only able to manage one so thin it hardly qualified as a smile. But your invisible pleas must have done something because the waltz began to play to a close, and you had to hold back your breath of relief as you both bowed to each other.  

“Thank you for the dance and your… myriad of compliments, Lord Cardew,” you said as you straightened again. 

“It would do you good to get used to them,” he said with a smile, “for they will extend all throughout this courtship and our betrothal — you may have to work harder for them in marriage.” 

Your world stopped spinning on his axis as your entire body stiffened, frozen to the spot. 

“I am sorry?” you breathed, your eyes surely as wide as dinner plates as you attempted to process his words. 

“Compliments may be genuine, but they are also a ploy,” he said. “Without them, how does a man expect to claim a woman? Of course, after marriage a man does not have to fight for her affections anymore, so they—”

“I am not talking about your… views,” you interrupted sharply. “I was not aware of any engagement.” 

“Miss Worthing,” Lord Cardew sighed, his tone nothing less than patronizing, “it is obvious even to the most oblivious that your family is in need of whatever they can get — after our dance at the debutante ball, your father approached me and all but begged me to take your hand. Of course, I prefer to enjoy the process through a bit of courting, but rest assured, it will end in a proposal.” 

That was the shattering point. You had always known that your future hardly lay in your hands despite all your attempts to move it there, but you’d not expected your father to so easily yield— no, not yield, beg— to a man like the one that stood in front of you. 

You felt the rate of your heart speed up as your breathing fell shallow, and you knew you would not last another second in the middle of it all. 

“Excuse me, my lord.” You extracted your hand from his grasp, thankful for the barrier of your gloves however thin it may have been, and offered what you hoped was a convincing smile over the anxieties running rampant below the surface. “I find myself quite parched after our dance — I shall return soon after fetching a glass of lemonade.” 

Before the baron could protest you turned on your heel and set off towards the refreshment table. You poured the liquid from the pitcher into your glass with shaking hands, eyeing the baron out of your peripherals once you finished. The moment his attention moved away from you, you set your glass down and hurried off, easily dissolving into the crowd from years of practice. You glanced over your shoulder once more to ensure you were not being followed before you ducked around the corner. The second you were out of sight you picked up your skirts and ran, every step away from the main hall reducing the weight on your shoulders.

If this was to be the model for the rest of the season, you were sure that you would not survive it — you would not even survive another second in Lord Cardew’s presence. 

You nodded your thanks to the servants as they opened the outside doors to you, and you sucked in a large breath of fresh air once you reached the gardens. Thankfully, the nobles here numbered few — enough for you to remain proper being there on your own while still allowing yourself time to recover from what your parents wanted to be the start of the rest of your life. 

You leaned against the wall, the night breeze cooling your flushed cheeks. You hadn’t the slightest clue how you were supposed to get out of anything involved Lord Cardew, especially the inevitable proposal — no matter the number of your denials, it was just a nicety; the second he tired of your stubbornness, he would go over your head to your mother or father and trap you in a marriage you would spend the rest of your life resenting.

You cursed underneath your breath as you allowed yourself a moment to look out over the gardens. If only he were not a baron — then he would be any other common suitor, one that would be no closer to royalty than you and therefore requiring no special treatment. 

It was then that your gaze caught hold of a certain viscount, standing around idly amongst the small groups of people with a flute of champagne in his hand. 

It was no surprise to see Anthony away from the party — his infamy did not come from his eagerness to participate in the season — but you did smile a bit at it all. He was doing the exact same thing you were, running away from responsibility; he just had the added benefit of alcohol. Maybe the two of you shared more similarities than you thought. 

Your eyes suddenly widened. 

Perhaps there was a way to get out of your predicament. 

You hitched your skirt up yet again and all but ran over to the viscount, and his eyebrows rose as you approached. 

“Miss Worthing?” he greeted with a hint of confusion, though he didn’t get the chance to continue. 

“Anthony,” you breathed, coming to a stop in front of him as you loosened your grip on your skirt, “I am in dire need of your assistance.”

“Lord—“ he began to correct almost instinctively, but you shook your head.

“I’ve no time for a lecture,” you interrupted. “I need you to court me.”

He looked so utterly dumbfounded that if your social life wasn’t in the hanging you would have laughed. “Excuse me?” 

“I need you to court me,” you repeated. “Right now.” 

Anthony frowned. “My lady, are you feeling alright?”

“No,” you responded curtly, “no, I am not alright, seeing as the one man that my mother seems intent on me marrying is the single most despicable man in all the world. There is no possible way for me to get out of it alone, which is why I need your assistance.” 

He looked completely vexed, so many emotions warring on his face that you could hardly pick out one from the bunch. “I apologize for your predicament, but what could I possibly have to do with this?” 

“My mother is so intent on the union because he is a baron, and she is fully convinced that all of our problems will go away when I become a baroness alongside him. Because a man of such rank is interested in me, she will not be satisfied with anything less. But you—” you gestured towards him with your hand, a smile blooming on your face, “—you are a viscount. You are more, not less, and if I am thought to become a viscountess myself, then both my mother and every other suitor, especially Lord Cardew, will finally leave me be.” 

“Now I am even more convinced you have fallen ill,” Anthony muttered. “May I, if no one else has, inform you of how ill-advised a plan like this is?” He shook his head, that incredulous expression still on his face. “Even if it wasn’t, this is coming out of the blue — I do not want to marry you, my lady.” 

“Nor I you!” you exclaimed. “You’ve as little desire as I to be bound in a marriage; what better option than pretending to have eyes for each other to avoid a true commitment? At the end of the season, we will stage an argument after we’ve realized that we cannot continue into a union with each other, because I find you completely infuriating and you realize that I am simply far too good for you—”

“Excuse me?” 

You ignored him as you continued on your tirade. “You will no longer be courting me then — you will be free to delay your search for yet another season, and I will be free to live the life of a spinster.” 

Anthony frowned once more; you feared if he continued like this in your conversations, his brow would be permanently furrowed. “I was not aware that was a desirable status for a woman like yourself.”

“Well, perhaps not the title, but the life…” You sighed dreamily, allowing yourself to gaze off for a moment before looking back to Anthony. “An unmarried life would allow me the freedom I have always dreamed of. All I require is your fake courtship for one season, just one, and I will be able to find the rest of the way on my own.” 

Anthony was silent for a beat before he sighed. “I sympathize with your plight, Miss Worthing — it is one that Eloise finds herself in as well — but there is little I can do for you. This is not a matter I should be involved in; it is a conversation much better suited for your own family.”

“Do you believe that I have not tried?” you bemoaned, gesturing with exasperated motions. “The life that I want is one that you could have for yourself at any time. If you ever tire of society and decide you no longer want to be the man of the house, you could up and leave and no one would hear from Anthony Bridgerton again. You have seven siblings to leave in your wake, all there to pick up after you should you go. But for me — the sole daughter, the sole child of the Worthing family — I will never be able to have that life. Not without more sacrifice than I alone am able to give.” 

Anthony opened his mouth to respond, but all he did was stare at you with unwavering eyes, the silence in between the two of you weighing heavily in the air.

You screwed your eyes shut as you heard your name called in a familiarly unwanted voice, and with a shaky breath you opened them and looked at Anthony. The saccharine sweet smile you offered him was undercut by the pure desperation in your eyes as you lowered your voice to a whisper. “You’re out of time, my lord.” 

Just as the words left your mouth the man you’d been trying to avoid turned the corner, and you took in and let out a deep breath in preparation as you inched closer to Anthony. 

“Miss Worthing!” the baron exclaimed as he came to a stop in front of you, and you had to hold back a grimace at his bow. 

“Lord Cardew,” you greeted, latching onto Anthony’s arm as quickly as you could. Though Anthony stiffened at your touch, he allowed it. “I admit, I was not expecting you tonight.” 

“You have been a tricky one to find, my lady. You all but disappeared after our dance.” The lord’s smile quickly faded as Anthony cleared his throat next to you, and in a move that surprised you, pulled you closer to him. 

“Have you considered that it was by design?” he asked curtly, and you had to hold back your shock. “Miss Worthing is quite busy at the moment.” 

“Is that so?” Lord Cardew folded his arms behind his back, his expression unreadable. “Bridgerton, surely you are not suggesting—” 

“That he is courting me?” you interrupted with a slight smile. “It is more than a suggestion, my lord — it is the truth. I’m sorry to say that I am quite occupied; for the rest of the season, might I add.” 

The lord carefully controlled his surprise, the emotion only betrayed by the slightest raise of his brow as he looked at Anthony. “This is quite prominent news — such official courting, and so early on in the season? I had not heard even a word of it until just now.”  

“It is the truth, Cardew,” Anthony answered, “I assure you. It is high time I’ve found a wife, and I believe there could be none better than Miss Worthing.” 

“How interesting,” he noted tersely, his eyes set on you as he spoke. “It is a disappointment you lose your eligibility so soon, my lady. Though perhaps there is still time for your head to be turned for a more… suitable match.” 

“You dare to question Miss Worthing’s honor?” Anthony pressed, and he pulled you closer to him ever so slightly. “I will not have a man such as yourself setting his eyes upon my future wife and insulting her so.”

Lord Cardew set his jaw before he bowed his head reluctantly to both you and Anthony. “My sincerest apologies, Bridgerton—” 

“Lord Bridgerton,” Anthony interrupted, and once again you had to bite back your smile at the baron’s visible frustration. 

“...My sincerest apologies, Lord Bridgerton,” he corrected, but Anthony tutted. 

“I believe you owe an apology to the lady as well.” 

“Do not test me,” Lord Cardew snapped. “And do not think I will give up so easily on account of your ridiculous claim.” 

“Watch yourself, Cardew,” Anthony warned. “Should it come down to it, you do not want an enemy in me.” 

Lord Cardew glowered at Anthony for so long the tension could be felt in the air, until he finally released his anger in a huff and stormed off in a way unbecoming of a gentleman. With every step he took away from you, the more the weight on your shoulders dissolved.

“That is the man your mother wants you to marry?” Anthony marveled.

You nodded as you smoothed your dress down and let out a haggard breath. “It is a rather damning fate, is it not?” 

“Indeed,” he murmured, his own gaze fixed in the distance from where Lord Cardew left. “I suppose it is fortunate you have another suitor.” 

“It is,” you agreed. “Though I must admit, I did not expect you to go along with me.”

“It was just as much of a surprise to me,” Anthony admitted, and when you turned to him he still seemed slightly shocked. 

“Then I am all the more thankful for it. You have no idea how much you have just saved me.”

“I cannot believe what you have dragged me into,” Anthony lamented, and as he extracted his arm from your grasp you took a few steps away from him. 

“Do not worry,” you reassured. “I promise, it is nothing but a ruse — just to keep that awful man away from me until he finds a match in a lady that is not me.” 

“And how long will that take?

“I haven’t the slightest,” you offered with a tight smile, “but I pray it will be soon.”  

Anthony let out a loose sigh as he rubbed his forehead. “This is going to be a very long season.” 

“Indeed it will be.” You cleared your throat and took a moment to readjust the neckline of your dress before offering your hand to Anthony. “Now. Shall we indulge the ton with a dance to close out their night and give them something worthwhile to gossip about?” 

“I believe I am the one meant to offer you my hand,” he noted. 

You shrugged. “I suppose I am already preparing for my freedom outside of society.” 

Anthony stared at you for a moment before his lips quirked up. “You certainly waste no time.” 

“One must be efficient if they wish to get anything out of life.” You extended your hand further, your own smile blooming. 

“I agree.” Anthony took your hand and placed it on the crook of his elbow. “Shall we?” 

You nodded. “We shall.” 

— 

Lady Danbury’s ball had been the place of endless gossip after your first dance with Anthony — you now understood how he felt during the social season, for you were now, along with him, the talk of the ton, the center of attention from dozens of miffed mothers. To them, you were the childish, thankless, pathetic excuse for a lady that had taken away their daughter’s chance at viscountess. You had to admit, you did not at all enjoy the spotlight, and on your third dance you’d started to wonder if this truly was the best option — for both your sanity and your feet. 

After all you had committed yourself to in the night before, you had been looking forward to at least sleeping soundly once you retired for the evening. And though you had been granted the relief, it was taken away far too early.

The steps of your lady’s maid alerted you to her presence even before she threw the drapes open, sunlight immediately filtering into your room. 

“Julia,” you groaned as you covered your eyes from the fresh rays with your arm, “you know I adore you, but I do not know how much longer I can handle these early wakings.” 

“My sincerest apologies miss, but your mother insisted upon it.” 

That was the quickest way to get your attention. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and when you looked up, you were, true to Julia’s word, greeted with your mother. 

“What are you doing here so early?” you mumbled, turning onto your side and burying your head in your pillows to avoid the sun. “I don’t have any arrangements planned.”

“The newest edition of Whistledown came this morning,” she explained, walking over to sit down on the side of your bed. “And my dear, you must read it.”

You groaned once more, reluctantly turning over and sitting up as your mother offered you the pamphlet. 

Dearest Reader,

Is there anything as exciting as the beginning of a brand new season? The ton comes to life once more, with frantic mamas and earnest debutantes all finishing last minute preparations in the hopes that they will be crowned the season’s diamond. I certainly know it is a modiste’s favorite time of year. 

You raised an eyebrow at her. “This is truly thrilling news, mother.”

She hit your elbow lightly and pointed towards the end of the edition. “Skip here.”

I had not anticipated delivering this news so early on in the season, nor ever, if I am being truthful, but I do admit it excites me. It appears as though two of the most stubborn heads to set foot in London have found solace in each other, in a move that not even I expected. 

The rumors are indeed true: The Viscount Bridgerton has finally commenced his search for a wife after years of rakedom, and his choice in courtship is none other than Miss Y/N Worthing. Both are known for their outspoken views against marriage, but maybe it is the common dissatisfaction that has brought the pair together. Whatever the reason, they are sure to shake up England together. 

I am ever looking forward to how this courting will end, so fret not; every step of this unusual union will be uncovered. Oh, gentlest reader, I only hope you are just as intrigued as I.  

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown. 

You hummed, unenthused as you handed the leaflet back to her. “I’m in Whistledown.”

“Unbelievable,” your mother said with a shake of her head, and you closed your eyes as you let your head fall back against the pillows. “This is huge, darling!” 

“Really, mother?” you sighed. “You pay no mind to any of my other accomplishments, but getting mentioned by Lady Whistledown is worth your attention. I do not understand it.” 

“It is not Lady Whistledown I am concerned with,” your mother admonished with a glance in your direction, “you know that. It is the fact that you are being courted by Anthony Bridgerton! My darling, you are to be a Bridgerton! Oh, I am so proud of you!” 

How ironic, you thought, that the one thing your mother is proud of you for is something that is not even real. It truly is just your luck. 

“Yes,” you responded idly, “it is quite exciting. But there is no guarantee that I will be a Bridgerton, mother. All the viscount did was request a dance, and all I did was indulge him. It can hardly even be considered courting.” 

She sighed, immensely exasperated. “One does not simply dance with an eligible lady as a bachelor if one does not intend on courtship. Have I not taught you anything?”

“On the contrary, I argue that you have taught me far too much.” You fixed her with a pointed look. “I should think there is no room left for anything of actual importance after all the meaningless dances and instruments you have forced me to learn.”

“I understand you are not a fan of quadrilles, but do not lie to me and say that you do not enjoy the violin.” Her lips quirked up in amusement, and you could see in her eyes she was going back to it. “That was a particularly interesting summer, when you decided to try your hand at as many instruments as you could find.”

You chuckled. “Well, if we couldn’t afford a teacher, I was going to try as many as possible to see what clicked. I just did not anticipate enjoying all of them so much.” 

Your mother smiled at you, and you were reminded of how fond you were of her company when marriage wasn’t on her mind. “You are certainly more gifted than me at the pianoforte — I was a complete wreck. My voice was my saving grace.” 

You laughed again with a knowing nod — your mother accompanied you more times than you could remember with her singing, steadfast through every single instrument you insisted on learning. But your thoughts were interrupted with a yawn, and you covered your mouth with the palm of your hand, giving your mother a soft smile once it passed. 

“As much as I am enjoying these memories, I must admit I am exhausted,” you said as you leaned back against your pillows. “And your early rising for the sake of Whistledown has not helped.”

“Darling,” your mother sighed. “Ladies start their day bright and early — now that you have debuted, you do not get to laze around all morning and read all day. You have duties you must attend to.” 

“I do not have any engagements today!” you protested. “If you so approve of the viscount courting me, I am in need of my rest to deal with him. He is quite a handful.” 

Before your mother could respond, another maid poked her head in through the open door. “Excuse me, misses — forgive me for the interruption, but Miss Worthing has a caller. He is waiting in the drawing room.” 

Your mother’s eyes widened with excitement as she stood up from your bed, satisfaction underneath her smile. “You do have an engagement, my dear, and I cannot wait to see who. Maybe it is the viscount himself!” She squeezed her hands together, her smile growing larger by the second. “Oh, how exciting!” 

Before she exited your room she looked at your lady’s maid. “Julia, will you assist her in getting ready? I do not trust her judgment on such an important matter.” 

“Of course, my lady,” she nodded, and you blew out a loose sigh as your mother closed the door behind her. 

If this truly was Anthony, you needed to ensure any future meetings were set at a much later hour. Elsewise, you would not survive this courtship either. 

—

“So,” Julia couldn’t help the smile on her lips as she laced up your corset, meeting your eyes in the mirror, “you must explain to me how you have gone from an avid hater of marriage to being courted by Anthony Bridgerton, of all men! I believe we have stood in this exact same position before, only with the topic of conversation being his latest outrageous act by word of Miss Eloise rather than his courtship of you.” 

You sighed, shivering slightly as her cold fingers brushed over your shoulder, and shook your head. “I do not even think I can give you an answer to that, Jules. It certainly is… something.”

She chuckled and began to help you into the dress she had selected, the light blue fabric embroidered with white thread designs hanging off of your build in a simple but flattering way. “Whatever the reason may be, I hope you know I am proud of you. I know it is not easy to embark on a journey like this, especially one you have been so firm in denying, but I have the utmost faith that you will succeed. You are doing a great service to your family.”

You opened your mouth to say something but she interrupted you with that slight smile again. “And before you claim the opposite, know that I have always been proud of you, not just in your social season. You have blossomed into a truly wonderful lady, and that will not change whether or not you gain the weight of a ring on your finger.” 

Your lips quirked up into a small smile of your own as Julia laid a locket around your neck, letting your hair go once she clasped the two ends together. “What would I do without you?” 

“Most likely find another much less willing servant to rant to,” she joked. “But you needn’t worry — I am not going anywhere.” 

“And for that, I am eternally thankful,” you said, “though I do not think I am granted the same fate.” 

Julia smiled and smoothed out the sleeves of your dress before she turned you around, that steadfast confidence in her eyes that you knew so well helping to calm your nerves. “You will do just fine, my lady. Anthony Bridgerton is only above you in title and nothing else — I have the utmost faith that you can handle him.”

You had no worries about handling him — your troubles lay more in the fact that your arrangement was nothing more than an illusion. Anthony was not particularly known for his patience, and though you had an agreement, your fears were anchored in the true reliability of your fake beau. It was not at all out of the realm of possibility for the viscount to reach his limit and ruin this entire thing for the both of you. 

Though you often aired your troubles to your lady’s maid, you could not do that now— not when your troubles were of such a sort. So instead you merely took a deep breath as you smoothed out your skirt and adjusted the neckline of your dress.

“Indeed. Now,” you turned to face her with a smile, “shall we?”

-

You trailed through the hallways of your estate with Julia by your side, trying not to show too much of your disdain. Anthony’s courtship of you did not mean you had to act the part of a doting lady, but it did mean your civility was required. 

Of course, a small part of you hoped that it was not Anthony who sat in your drawing room. The amiability required by his courtship was not necessary for a normal suitor — at least if another man was your caller, you needn’t hold your tongue.

Your hopes were dashed the moment you stepped inside the open doors of your drawing room, trying your best to keep a straight face at the sight of the viscount. He did not share your feelings, made obvious by the smile that bloomed on his lips as he stood up from the couch.

“Ah, Miss Worthing!” he greeted. “I was wondering when you would show.”

You responded with a tight smile of your own. “When one shows up unannounced, he should expect delays. In fact, he should consider himself lucky for even earning an audience.”

Your mother laughed uncomfortably as she stood up from her chair, guiding you over to Anthony with an arm on your shoulder. 

“Forgive my daughter, Viscount Bridgerton, please,” she said with the voice of an exasperated mother. “It is still early, and she has not yet broken her fast — she is slightly irritable.”

“It is of no worry, Lady Worthing,” he reassured, and Anthony sat down with you. “I hope I was not an imposition.”

“You—”

“—Are not at all!” Your mother interrupted once again before you could say he most certainly was. She settled in her chair and picked up her embroidery hoop once more, offering a pleasant smile to the two of you. “Please, feel free to converse as if I am not even here.”

You offered her a tight, mocking smile as you turned to Anthony, lowering your voice so as to keep your insults private.

“You are a cruel man,” you muttered, glancing at your mother out of the corner of your eye to ensure she could not hear your true words. “This was not how I hoped our partnership would begin.” 

“However so?” Anthony asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. He was clearly enjoying your pain, of which he was the cause. It was truly irritating. “If I recall correctly, this entire affair was your idea.”

“Showing up as an unannounced caller, and at this hour nonetheless?” You shook your head. “This arrangement is meant to be equally beneficial. I cannot benefit if I am forced to bear constant early wakings.”

“I am an early riser, my lady,” he said, and you could not figure out whether or not his austerity was genuine. “And I have long held the belief that the morning is the best time to achieve anything, when one’s mind is at its most alert.” 

“Your ‘alert mind’ is doing you no good if you are unable to see the effect this has on me,” you said, glaring very pointedly at him as you lowered your voice even more. “This is a fake courtship. None of this is necessary.”

“I see it very clearly. I figured putting up with my own sudden visits could be your payment in return for springing something like this on me at the last possible moment,” Anthony said. ”As you know, I am a man of honor, a gentleman at that— if you want anyone to believe this, you will have to deal with my actions.”

“You could have refused,” you pointed out. 

“I should hope you do not see me as horrid enough to allow that man to actually court you,” Anthony countered with a slight frown. 

“Daphne’s season spells out something entirely different.” 

“You are aware of how much longer this arrangement will seem if you insist on arguing your way through it,” he said dryly.

“It is in my nature,” you responded with a smile. “It is how I’ve managed to avoid suitors thus far.” 

He hummed. “Perhaps I should have been taking tips from you long before this season. No matter how often I expressed my intentions to stay unmarried, countless mothers continued to all but throw their daughters at me. It’s not enjoyable in the slightest.” 

“Imagine how the young ladies feel,” you mused. “Being forced to try their hand at you knowing you fully despise them.” 

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Is that not what any suitor considering you must deal with?” 

Your nose crinkled at the idea. “I… suppose you are indeed correct.” 

“I often am,” he responded, his smugness not lost on you. 

Your gaze flitted away from him for a moment before an idea popped into your head. Thus far, it seemed that this fake courtship between you and Viscount Bridgerton would be a test of who could irritate the other the most without breaking the illusion you were creating. 

Two could certainly play at that game. 

“Why yes, my lord!” you exclaimed, purposefully raising your voice so that your conversation could now be heard. In your peripherals you saw your mother look up from her embroidery hoop as well as Anthony’s sudden frown, and you could hardly hold back your smile. “I would love to visit the marketplace with you. How kind of you to notice that I am in need of a new reticule.” 

Your scheme quickly dawned on him, but beyond the slightest crease of his eyebrows there was no sign of the distaste surely brewing underneath the surface. 

“The marketplace?” You turned as your mother spoke, a satisfied smile on her lips. “That sounds like a lovely idea, Lord Bridgerton. Thank you immensely for your kindness.”

“Of course,” he replied easily, and after he stood up himself he offered a hand to you. You stood up without it, causing only an amused expression to flit across Anthony’s face as he looked over at your mother. “Should you like to accompany us?”

“Oh, no.” She brushed it off with her hand as she beamed at you. “I do not want to intrude on the new lovers. Julia, would you please chaperone them?”

Your lady’s maid nodded with a smile. “Of course, my lady.”

Anthony offered his arm to you, and this time you took it, albeit very begrudgingly. “Do you hear that?” he muttered with obvious amusement, leaning to speak into your ear as the two of you walked out. “We are new lovers.”

“You could at least act as if you are not enjoying this,” you whispered back. 

“Oh, but I am,” he smiled. “And you should be as well! This was your idea, and yet you are already completely miserable. What were you thinking when you proposed this to me?”

You huffed. “I was thinking the man that has avoided marriage for his entire life would not be so insistent on conducting a real courtship.”

Anthony simply chuckled. “Then it appears you still have much to learn about me.” 

-

The fresh air of the London streets helped in clearing your mind as you strolled through the marketplace, despite the fact that you were arm in arm with Anthony Bridgerton. It did bring you some satisfaction to know that you had at least dealt yourself into the fold with this outing, but you had a feeling Anthony could play this game far better than you. 

After all, a man did not become the head of his household and prepare his myriad of siblings for their respective seasons without picking up some skills of his own, even if he has not yet chosen a wife — especially if he was without a wife, it seemed, as Anthony had all the charm and knowledge of how to seduce a lady and yet none of the results. You surmised that was just the way he liked it. 

If anything, this was just as much of a game to him as it was to you. Some way to make himself feel like even more of a gentleman while avoiding the ton and having a bit of fun all the same. 

“My lady, did you hear me?” 

You blinked a few times as you looked to Anthony, shaking your head. “Apologies. My thoughts are much more interesting than you.”

He chuckled. “You wound me so, Miss Worthing. However am I to cope knowing the woman I am courting does not see me the same way?” 

“Do you always act like this?” you questioned. “Because if that is the case, it is certainly no wonder you have not found a wife. You are far too irritating for any lady to possibly stand.” 

“Did you choose me for your task simply to ridicule me?” Anthony asked instead. “Although I admit I enjoy your company, Miss Worthing, I am not sure if I can handle an entire season of insults.”

“You have seven siblings,” you said. “You have handled fifteen years of insults.”  

“Ah, but they are all the more scathing coming from you.” You chuckled a bit at his words, and Anthony continued. “But truly, what was your reason for choosing me over any other man?”

“I chose you because of your title,” you said simply.

“There must be other viscounts or earls for you to rope into this scheme,” Anthony said, “other men that do not annoy you half as much as I.”

You smiled a bit. “Truth be told, you are the only one I am acquainted with that is of higher ranking than the baron. Even if I knew others, the plan only came to mind when I saw you out in the gardens last night, and you are the only one that I could think of that would even entertain my offer.” 

Anthony hummed in acknowledgment. “It is rather fortunate I was there, then— it will be a welcome reprieve for the season, not having to deal with mamas throwing their daughters at me left and right.”

“See?” you said. “It was purposeful on my part. Mutually beneficial, just as I told you.”

He chuckled, and you smiled. The two of you continued to walk idly through the marketplace, his attention lingering on each stall for a few seconds before passing to the next. The silence between the two of you was surprisingly comfortable, especially with the ambiance of the city you so enjoyed, which is why the question that came out surprised you just as much as him. 

“Why did you choose me?” 

Anthony gave you a curious look. “I’m afraid you have to be more specific, my lady.” 

“By agreeing to this ruse, you chose me, just as I chose you,” you said. “Why would you do such a thing when you are not yet officially looking for a wife?”  

“…I suppose your words struck me,” he responded. “Your position is not one of envy— the sole heir to a family in need, put on a pedestal to a horde of suitors that you don’t desire in the slightest. I am in a similar position, having to marry for the good of my family, but you are correct. The level of scrutiny I face is nowhere near the amount you must put up with, and the idea of you marrying…” Anthony grimaced, “that sorry excuse for a man? No one with good conscience could deny you.”

“So you accepted because of sympathy,” you said.

He chuckled. “Perhaps. Would you rather I outright denied you?”

You smiled yourself as you shrugged. “No. I just enjoy questioning everything you do.”

Anthony shook his head, though he was clearly amused. “Perhaps we should continue this courtship for real— you already bother me as much as a true wife.”

And at that, you laughed aloud. “And you irritate me as much as a true husband.” You glanced behind you to see your lady’s maid walking a distance behind you, pretending not to listen but very obviously eavesdropping.

Anthony glanced back as well and looked at you, catching onto it. “Will she be a problem?”

“Julia?” you asked, and when he nodded you laughed again. “Spare no mind — she has been one of my closest confidantes, and I hers, for as long as I can remember. Should she overhear anything, she will not repeat it.”

“You are close with your lady’s maid?” Anthony asked, and you frowned.

“Are you not acquainted with your manservants?”

“No,” he said, “they are simply servants. I’m friendly with them of course, but certainly not close. Not to the level of sharing secrets.”

“I cannot imagine that,” you sighed. “We employed her three years ago, and since then she has become one of my best friends. Julia knows some of my closest secrets— not having such a bond with the person who spends so much time with you is nearly impossible in my eyes.”

Anthony went silent, and when you looked over you saw him staring at you with an odd look in his eyes.

“What?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said, and then he stopped you in front of a market stall that was selling coin purses and reticules. “Should we complete the task we embarked on this journey for?”

You wanted to push him on the subject of his thoughts, but you decided not to as you gave him a smile instead. “So formal, my lord. But I suppose it cannot hurt.”

Anthony picked up a light blue reticule, the white embroidered floral pattern particularly catching your eye. “This one rather suits you, I think. It matches your gown.”

“You’ve got quite an eye!” you exclaimed, taking it from him and holding it up to your dress. You weren’t one to indulge in luxuries such as mindless shopping — you couldn’t quite afford it, to be truthful — but… it did compliment your outfit, and it was a lovely purse.

But you did not even have a chance to deliberate any further, as Anthony was already talking with the merchant. Before you knew it he was thanking her and handing over coin, and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“What?” he said, having the gall to not even look ashamed. “You did say you were in need of a new reticule.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, tell him that you could not afford to waste money on trivial things such as purses out of instinct, but you realized you did not have to. It was the Bridgerton’s coin, and they were far more affluent than your family— with seven children, they had to be. 

And if it was on the Bridgerton’s coin, did it really matter? Would you not be expected to accept gifts from the gentleman courting you? 

“...Thank you,” you finally said, and you beckoned Julia over. 

“What do you think?” you asked as she stopped next to you, holding it up in front of you to model it. “Does the viscount have a better eye for fashion than I thought?”

Julia grinned. “It is as lovely as you, my lady. The color compliments you perfectly.”

“You flatter me so,” you said with a smile. 

“I only tell the truth, Y/N,” she insisted, and you chuckled. “If I may, I’m in need of a few items— do you mind if I wander for a bit?”

“Of course,” you nodded. “Would you like us to wait for you?”

Julia shook her head. “I know the way by heart; I will be fine. Enjoy your time with the viscount.”

She winked at you as she walked past, and you couldn’t stifle your laugh as you rolled your eyes. She would be the death of you, you were certain.

“Shall we, then?” Anthony offered his arm to you, and you nodded as you took it. The two of you began to walk again, the conversation picking up once more.

“Your workers call you by your name?” he asked, and you raised your eyebrows. 

“Not all of us are viscounts of important families, Anthony,” you said. “I do not see the need for someone I regard as closely as a sister to call me by a title I’ve no use for. Many would certainly argue I am in no way a lady.” 

“If your family is viewed in such a way, then why not try to change their opinion? Why not marry a man of higher standing, bring the Worthing name up with you, and prove the ton wrong?”

“I’ve no need for you to impart your wisdom upon me, Lord Bridgerton,” you chuckled. “In terms of high society, yes, my family is wildly poor. But if we were to just exit the ton, live a normal life in middle class sections of the city, or even move to the country where we can have an even simpler existence, then all of our problems would be solved.” You sighed deeply. “But I do not think my parents will ever choose to do so. I’ve no idea why they are so set on us remaining in Mayfair.” 

“You used my title,” Anthony mused, the statement coming out of nowhere after a weighted moment of silence. “Was a walk together all it took for you to find it in yourself a modicum of respect?”

You let out a laugh and looked at him with mirth twinkling in your eyes. “If this walk somehow earned you my respect, then the clarification of it has certainly lost it. Besides; I thought it quite obvious I was merely joking.” 

“The more time I spend with you, the more I think that half the insults towards me in Eloise’s repertoire have in fact come from you.” Anthony gave you a pointed look. “Have you anything at all to say about turning my sister against me?” 

You shrugged. “I cannot be blamed for Eloise’s own creativity. However she chooses to express it is out of my control.” 

Anthony chuckled and glanced away for a moment, before a surprisingly soft gaze found its way to you. 

“You are much more than I expected.” He did not say it with disdain, rather an unexpected lightness. Maybe the viscount was not the way that you expected either, with walls surrounding his emotions impenetrable even by the queen’s army and a mind set only on business matters. Maybe it was possible that Anthony Bridgerton truly had a heart. 

But you could not tell him that you were already beginning to see him in a different light — no, that would mark you as the loser of this game you’d started. You were quite good at irritating others, Anthony included, as you’d realized after years of friendship with Eloise. It could not be too difficult to continue it under the guise of a courtship. 

So instead you shrugged, an amused smile on your lips. “Perhaps there is still much for you to learn of me.” 

And in that moment, looking into Anthony’s eyes, you would’ve given anything to hear his thoughts. But you could not, and so when he smiled back at you, it was merely a smile.

“Perhaps there is," he said.

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator

bridgerton tags: @theonewithallthemilkshakes @milkiane

anthony bridgerton tags: @gwenebear @lurkymurker @likeballet @tommymcartney

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

[eating-plastic]

Written in the Stars: M.Rasmodius x FEM!Reader SMUT

Warnings: nsfw, smut (minors and ageless blogs gtfo) age gap (older man-younger woman, reader is +18 OBVIOUSLY), p in v sex, unprotected sex (remember protection irl y'all), creampie, oral sex (fem receiving because Rasmo eats pussy like a champ and I will not take any criticism), fingering, outdoor sex, reader loses the ol' v card, some swearing, reader having kinda shitty parents, soulmates thingy, slow burn, fluff, probably some grammatical errors

Word Count: 11056 Words

A/N: Oh Rasmo, how I wish I could romance you in the base game. God bless to the Stardew Valley modding community tho for making romancing him possible. Specifically, scenes in this are based on mods by PaintedParrot and WerewolfMaster. May both sides of their pillows always be cold lol. Anyways, this is long, so if you're just here for the smut, you're gonna be scrolling a bit. Either way, enjoy, everyone!

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

'....There is always a conflict when creating life. Just how much free will do you give a living being? This was a question that the old gods wondered about during the creation of humanity.... In the end, the old gods agreed that the life they created would be given free will, but those that were worthy enough to wield their powers would be given gifts. A life that would be manipulated to be filled with joys as they would see fit. Each one of the old gods granted those worthy of their power with many gifts....And the deity of love gifted the followers of the arcane with a soulmate, rewriting the stars so that they would meet the one who would give them eternal happiness on the mortal and astral plain.'

Your opinion on magic was complicated. You were fascinated with the supernatural but knew that it couldn't be real. The life you lived was filled with science and miserable realism. Not to mention those that mock your interests. What a miserable world where you were forced to go to school, in order to get a mundane job, where you would just work to your death. No mythical creatures or spells.

That was until you got a letter in your mailbox.

It was a letter that under normal circumstances would make a person upset. However, you just felt confused reading it. Your grandfather had passed away and he left his farm plot to you. That didn't make any sense. Your parents said both of your grandparents had died before you were born. You never had any photos with them. Come to think of it, you never had any photos taken with any relative that weren't your parents. Not to mention where the farm was. Stardew Valley? You had never heard of a place like that, and your father was a geography teacher. You knew counties and villages that were forgotten to time. Oh yes, your parents had some explaining to do for sure.

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

You confronted your parents the first chance you could. You just wanted answers. Surely this was all just a big misunderstanding. A letter that was meant to go to someone with a similar name to you or something.

But no, your parents had broken. You had a grandfather, specifically it was your paternal grandfather. Your dad felt miserable living in such a small village, feeling alone and bored with farm living. When he became old enough to head to the city, he met your mother and claimed to have gotten a "proper education". Stardew Valley became "dangerous" to him after that, so he left.

Eventually, your mother had guilted him into visiting your grandfather so that you would get to know him. She had never been to Pelican Town, hell she didn't even know that it existed like most people. Upon arriving though, she regretted it. The last time they had taken you to visit your grandfather, you were only four years old.

"Godless, hellish, unexplainable," was how they described Stardew Valley, and yet you didn't believe them. They were the ones always preaching about how this life, bleak and cruel, was enjoyable. How you were always just complaining over nothing. They never cared about how unhappy you were, often dashing your love for the supernatural, raving about the evils of witchcraft.

So you turned your back on them. You didn't know if Stardew Valley would hold the key to your happiness, but you had no doubts in your mind that it would be less bleak than where you were now.

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

As soon as the bus pulled into the small village of Pelican Town, you were stupefied. First of all, you had never seen so much color in your entire life. Secondly, the scenery was absolutely beautiful, with lush trees and rolling green hills. The buildings were cute too, cozy even. And the air was so fresh and clear.

Even when you arrived at your grandfather's old farmhouse you felt taken aback. It was so simple, so cozy, so human.

Yes, you were going to enjoy your new life here. You were sure of it.

Suddenly, you sense something...off. Not bad, just off. You head out of the farmhouse and head to the overgrown fields. There you catch a glimpse of purple. Upon getting closer, you see that it is a girl about your age with violet hair. Was it possible to dye your hair such a bright color?

"Um, excuse me?" you call.

"Hm? Oh, hi!" she greets, a bit startled at your presence. "That's right, someone was moving in. Sorry about this."

"It's fine. Um, what are you doing?" you ask. You had never met someone so cheerful.

"Oh, you know, old, abandoned places always have some sort of spiritual energy to them. I just wanted to see if I could sense it," She stands up from her position on the ground.

"You believe in the paranormal?" you cock your head to the side, amazed.

"Yeah, there's all sorts of supernatural shit here. A lot of people claim that there's not, but don't believe them. They know there's something going on. Why would they be so scared of that old wizard if they didn't?" she rambles. Wait, what the hell was she talking about?

"I-what? Wizard?" you never thought it was possible for someone to say something so outlandish that it actually made your brain malfunction.

"Hm, Yeah! He hangs out in this creepy tower in the Cindersap Forest. I...um," the girl stops, face dropping a bit. Suddenly, she just shakes her head, recovering from whatever had distracted her. "Never mind that! I'm Abigail, by the way!"

"Y/N," you say, simply. Was this girl crazy? There was no way that she was for real, right? Still...it was nice to meet someone as passionate as you about the supernatural. "Hey...you wouldn't happen to know about areas that have spiritual energy to them, would you?"

"Um, of course I do! Are you into the paranormal, too?" Abigail asks eagerly.

"I...I am, actually," wow, it was weird admitting it without being mocked or belittled.

"Sweet! Hey, it's going to be a full moon soon. That's like, the perfect time for spirits to come out. Meet me in the old graveyard if you can. We can try a séance," she rambles.

"Yeah, that does sound fun...I'll be there," you decide.

"Cool! See you then, Y/N!" and with that, she skips out of your field.

Well, this was certainly going to be interesting.

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

Your friendship with Abigail bloomed since that day. It was nice having someone as fascinated with the occult as you. When you weren't farming, you were exploring around with her, looking for some sort of energy in an area. The funny thing was that you could always sense something when she couldn't. At least she didn't think you were crazy though, always eager that you could feel a vibe she couldn't and begging you to describe what you felt.

Now, you two were doing something that could be seen as a bit, um...illegal. Well, where you came from it would be seen as illegal, but apparently in Pelican Town, no one really seemed to care? You decided to not think about it too much.

Abigail wanted to drag you to the rundown Community Center because there were allegedly "forest spirits" that had taken residence inside. Also, she was apparently taking you with her, because she was a bit too scared to enter the building by herself.

Everything about it seemed odd, as you would expect forest spirits to take residence in an abandoned building in a, well, forest. You didn't care though, because it intrigued you. You could sense something within Stardew Valley, and that sparked a desire to know what that sensation was.

Upon entering the decrepit building, you didn't know what you expected to run into. You knew you would find...something. The building radiated a strong aura, even when the both of you were just simply standing outside of it. If you had to predict what you would've run into, you expected it to be maybe a mystical animal sprite.

What you both did run into completely dashes your expectations. What you and Abigail find is...a colony of cutesy...apple looking creatures? Huh, you definitely couldn't have predicted that. While you think they look adorable, Abigail was absolutely frozen beside you, amazed.

"Y/N...do you know what those are?" she whispers to you. You almost don't hear her. You are too distracted by how the little creatures were looking at you. They didn't seem malicious, at least you couldn't feel anything negative about them. Another odd thing, was the fact that they seem to completely disregard Abigail's presence.

"Wha-no. Of course not," you whisper back when your brain finally registers that she asked you a question.

"I can't believe it...I didn't even think they were real," she is still in absolute awe.

"What? What are they?"

"Junimos. They're said to take care of the forests in Stardew Valley. At least that's what stories always said."

Interesting. Once again, you would think that creatures that are meant to take care of forests would be...a bit bigger. Also less cute.

The spirits all whisper to themselves, all while still glancing at you. Finally, one of them jumps up and makes its way over to you, wielding something in its hands.

"Y/N!" Abigail whisper yells to you and tries to pull you away, but you raise your hand for her to wait.

The Junimo stands in front of you and raises its arms, presenting you with what looks like a scroll.

"F...for me?" you ask, confused. The spirit does a little hop, indicating that yes, they wanted you to take it.

So you did. You carefully took it from the creature, giving a little nod and saying "thank you" to them. The spirit gives you a nod back and runs back to their friends. You unravel the scroll and...you have no idea what you're looking at. It just looks like a bunch of scribbles and symbols you can't understand.

"Woah, what is that?" Abigail asks, trying to read it too.

"I-I don't know. Clearly they want me to take it though," you glance up, but all the Junimo have gone back to the tasks they were doing before you two had entered. "Come on, let's get out of here. Maybe I can understand it better in sunlight?"

You highly doubt it, but still. So you both leave, and just as you suspected, the scroll made even less sense.

"Maybe...do you think there could be books at the library that can help us translate this?" you ask.

"I don't think so. I've read every book possible on the languages of different spirits. I don't...," Abigail trails off, suddenly becoming fidgety.

"What? What's wrong?" you quickly become concerned at her change in demeanor.

"There...there might be someone that can help," she mumbles.

"Really? Who?"

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

The large tower that stands in front of you and Abigail gives you both entirely different reactions. While you look at it with fascination, she looks at it with discomfort.

"So this 'Wizard' guy...he might be able to translate this?" you say, still in disbelief that there is an actual wizard in the small town despite running into literal forest spirits and sensing a powerful, magical aura from the tower.

"Stop saying it like that. This dude's the real deal, I swear," she wrings her hands a bit, clearly uneasy.

"Alright then," you begin to walk towards the front door.

"Wh-What are you doing?" she whisper yells at you once more. "Y-You're just gonna ask him? Just like that?"

"I have to translate this. I...I think the Junimo gave it to me for a reason. I have to know," you look at your friend, who is still looking at you incredulously. "You can leave if you get a bad vibe, but I really don't feel anything negative at all."

Abigail opens her mouth to speak, but closes it. She then begins to slowly back away. You sigh and continue to walk towards the door. You knock on it and wait. Suddenly, it slowly swings open, but no one is there. You turn to look at Abigail, but she was long gone.

'Great,' you thought. 'Honestly, what is she so scared of?'

You make your way into the tower, standing in an entryway filled with plants you had never seen before. It's interesting, but you have a scroll to translate, so you continue to walk forward, heading up a small flight of steps.

You then find yourself in a large room, with a bubbling cauldron and a large symbol on the floor in a corner of the room. Standing in front of it, is an older man with purple hair and beard, dressed in black robes and wearing a hat that looks like a mix between a wizard hat and a cowboy hat. His eyes are closed, and yet he senses your presence.

"Ah, yes...come in," he says, before slowly opening his eyes and looking at you. He then stops, his eyes widening as they fall on you, as if he recognizes you. Odd, considering the fact that you had never seen him before. You would've definitely remembered. And yet, you too felt like you had seen him...somewhere.

"I-I'm sorry about bothering you, sir, b-but I think you can help me with something," you ask, sheepish because of his gaze.

"Help...ah, yes, help!," he quickly tries to shake the odd sensation he must've felt, clears his throat, and makes his way over to you. "I am Magnus Rasmodius. Seeker of the arcane truths. Mediary between physical and ethereal. Master of the seven elementals. Keeper of the sacred cha-...erm, you get the point."

He quickly wraps up his ramblings when he sees you give him a funny look. Everyone in Pelican Town fears this guy? He seems like a total dork. Not that you had a problem with that. You honestly found it cute.

"I see...well, I'm-."

"Y/N," he finishes, which causes you to be taken aback. "I know. I had foreseen your arrival. You have come to me to translate something, correct?"

"I...how...?" you shake your head. Damn, Abigail was right, this guy really does seem like the real deal. "Y-Yes, that is why I'm here."

"Naturally. Come, let me show you something," he motions for you to stand closer to the symbol on the floor. He then raises his hand and a look of concentration spreads across his face. "Behold!"

There is a bright flash, and a Junimo appears in the center of the symbol. You jump back, startled, even blinking a couple of times to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

"You've encountered these before, correct?" he looks at your amazed face expectantly and tries to push down the amusement he felt at your childlike wonder at what happened.

"Hm? Oh-yes! I-I have," you nod. "It's a Junimo, right?"

"Correct, mysterious creatures they are. For some reason, they refuse to speak with me. And yet...," he trails off, looking back at the spirit. He raises his hand once more and they disappear in another bright flash. "They gifted you a scroll, yes?"

"Y-Yeah...is that...bad?" you awkwardly ask.

"Not at all. Just interesting...," he continues to stare where the spirit once stood, before once again shaking his head. "May I look at it?"

He holds his hand out, at which you hand him the scroll. He unravels it and takes in the writing.

"Yes, this seems about right. One moment, if you please. I shall return, shortly," and just like that, in a flash, he is gone. You look around the room cautiously, feeling out of place in a stranger's home. Your eyes fall on the cauldron once more and the green smoke being excreted from it. In all your years of chemistry, you don't think you had ever seen something like that.

Suddenly, there is another flash of light, causing you to jump once more. There the wizard stands, making his way to his cauldron.

"I have found it," he says, a bit exhausted. "Forgive me, it took a bit. The language is rather obscure."

"What does it say?" you ask, unable to hide your eagerness.

"'We, the Junimo, are happy to aid you. In return, we ask for gifts of the valley. If you are one with the forest, then you will see the true nature of this scroll,'" he recites. This causes you to cock your head to the side. "It would seem that they have taken a great interest in you...."

"Th-That's not bad, right?"

"Of course not. In fact, it is quite fascinating...," he takes a large ladle that rests within the cauldron and begins to stir. "I had wondered what compelled me to make this...."

He then raises the ladle to his nose and sniffs.

"Ah-hah! Yes, just as I thought," he then turns to you and motions for you to come closer. "Come here!"

You hesitantly move to stand next to him, which causes him to tense up a bit. Still, he clears his throat and collects himself.

"I had wondered what they had meant by "one with the forest". I think this may help. My cauldron bubbles with the essence of the forest," you look at him confused, so he explains it to you. "Baby fern, moss grub, caramel-top toadstool...can you smell it?"

He holds the ladle to your nose, which you inhale.

"It smells earthy," you conclude.

"Precisely. Here, drink it. Let the essence of the forest flow through you."

You look up at the wizard, shocked. Was he serious? He expected you to drink something from a stranger?

"It'll be alright, see," he raises the ladle to his lips and drinks a sip from it. He gives you a reassuring smile, which melts your nerves a bit, although it could've helped that he actually drank whatever was in the cauldron.

So you drink it, putting your trust in him. For some reason, there was a voice in your head that was telling you that he wouldn't let harm befall you.

The taste hits you hard. It's bitter and tastes like what you imagined the ingredients he mentioned would taste like. Still, you force it down, letting out a shaky breath afterwards.

Then the effects of the fluid hits. Your vision begins to go green. Not black, green, which actually freaked you out more due never experiencing it before. Then...you feel a calm rush through your veins. Your breathing becomes normal once more, and then....

You wake up in your home. Wait...what? No, that wasn't a dream, that couldn't have been. Looking out your window told you that it was now late afternoon. Jeez, how long had you been out? How did you even get back here? Did the wizard carry you? You were so confused, but at least you felt well rested.

You leave your bed and head outside to check on your crops, before noticing that you had a letter in your mailbox. You open it, and get some answers from it.

'Dear Y/N, my deepest apologies. I did not expect you to react so severely to the elixir. I hope you can forgive me. I made sure you got home safely and have given you back the scroll so that you may fulfill what the Junimo have asked of you. Please rest up as needed. -M.Rasmodius.'

You didn't know how to respond to the letter. Under normal circumstances you should've been outraged or confused. Instead, you found the letter to be sweet.

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

Truth be told, Rasmodius was happy to get you out of his tower as fast as possible so that he may have a chance to think. There was no way you could've been who he thought you were. That strong pull towards you, the rush of electricity through his veins as his eyes fell upon you, you clearly radiating a connection to the arcane.

No, not after his luck with love. You couldn't have been the one. He didn't believe that he had such. He had accepted that the deity of love never wanted him to have a dearest companion. Especially someone as young and beautiful.

Still..., if you weren't his soulmate...perhaps you could serve well as an apprentice.

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

Abigail hounded you the next day. She was so worried about you which you found humorous. The wizard seemed like he wouldn't even harm a fly. Well, unless he had too, but that's besides the point. What was important was the fact that you could now not only read the language of the Junimo, but just as you expected as you went back to the Community Center, you could understand them as well.

They had asked you for offerings. "Bundles" was the word they used. When a bundle would be completed, they would bless the community with a gift, something to benefit the villagers. If all bundles are fulfilled, the Community Center shall be returned to its former glory.

This was definitely not something you would've been expected to do back in your home city. If you were to explain it to anyone from there, they would think you were utterly mad. And yet, it was just what you desired. A quest to satiate some magical creatures that had put their trust in you? Of course you would do whatever you could to complete it.

Needless to say, Abigail thought you were the coolest friend she ever had, and promised to aid you however she could.

So you got started right away. You began with what you could do first. Completing whatever felt easiest, and working up to the more difficult bundles to be completed. And yet, despite the joy you felt when completing a bundle, the praise of a Junimo when accepting your offering, and the reward for your effort, you still felt like there was more you could do. After all, once the Community Center was completed, what then? You wouldn't allow this to be the end of your mythical adventures. So you decided to visit a certain someone that would make sure those quests never ended. At least, that was what you told yourself when you began to desire seeing Rasmodius again.

So you walked back into the Cindersap Forest and towards his tower. You knock and wait for the door to open on its own once more, before entering.

The wizard was standing right in the same spot he was when you had first met him.

"Ah, Y/N. I foresaw your coming, today. Please join me," he holds his hand out for you to come closer. You do as he tells you, less hesitantly this time. "Forgive me, but I must know. How goes your quest with the Junimo, hm?"

"Oh, it's going great!" you go on to eagerly explain what was asked of you and your progress. Rasmodius smiles at your enthusiasm, his heart even beating a bit faster.

"Excellent. Just as I thought, they had put their faith in you, Y/N. Do not falter."

"I won't," you smile up at him, a bit of pride flowing through you. Suddenly, the wizard clears his throat, composing himself once more.

"You are destined to do great things, Y/N. That is why it is good you came. I have something for you," he begins, causing you to look up at him curiously.

"What is it?" you ask, unable to hide your intrigue.

"A lesson in the pervasive energies of the world," he explains, which causes you to look at him oddly.

"I-I'm sorry, um, what do you mean?"

"Let me explain," he then motions to the stone floor. "Do you see this symbol here?"

"Yes. I was wondering about it," you say, trying to analyze it. Did you see it in a book somewhere?

"I imagined so," he nods. "This is a gate. A portal to another world. A doorway through which an elemental can traverse or a window through which I can peer."

With Rasmodius' explanation, your fascination with the symbol grows. All you can utter is a noise of awe, which once again amuses the wizard.

"Indeed, Now, tell me, have you ever encountered an elemental?" he asks. You think a bit, until your eyes widen a bit at a revelation.

No, you hadn't seen an elemental in person, but you read about them in a book Abigail had given you. You also remembered seeing the symbol in the book as well.

"No, but I've read about them," you explain, which causes the wizard's eyes to widen a bit. "They are creatures made up of the properties of our universe. They can only bond with those who can properly use magic."

"That is correct," he trails off, before shaking his head. "Your intrigue with such beings is fascinating."

"Isn't everyone? Creatures that shouldn't exist, creatures that go against everything we know about science, still occupy the same world we do," you cock your head to the side.

"Yes, but they still don't believe that they are real. Just creatures created for fantasy," he sighs. "That is why your interest in the manner is rather captivating...that is why the spirits must have taken a great interest in you."

You look at the wizard, stupefied. When you decided to visit him today, you didn't really expect this.

"You sense them, correct? Even when those around you cannot?" he asks.

"Yes," you then begin to think. "In fact, ever since I drank that elixir you made, they have only gotten stronger...voices getting louder."

"As mentioned, you are destined to do great things, Y/N. I have no doubts in my mind that your abilities may...attract greater attention," he looks into your eyes, and you can swear you see a bit of longing within them. Perhaps that was just you though, as he quickly blinks it away. "Serve the world and be at peace."

The sound of his front door opening causes you to turn your head. Taking it as your time to leave, you nod back at Rasmodius and bid him farewell. You had your crops to tend to, and Abigail wanted you to go frog hunting with her.

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

It was a warm, sunny day, and when days were warm and sunny, you found yourself hanging outside. Especially since you enjoyed listening to the voices of the forest. You found yourself in the Cindersap Forest once more but you did not intend to visit Rasmodius. You wondered if the spirits around a wizard's home were any different then those that were not. Maybe stronger, maybe louder, maybe....

A force stops you when you come across a clearing. You don't know what it is, but it is a force that wants you to watch something. Something that the wizard was doing.

He was standing in the center of the clearing, his eyes closed and face strained with concentration. It looks like the forest was being illuminated by a blue light. He then raises his hand to the sky, and holds it for a moment, before his eyes flutter open and his body relaxes. You don't even realize that whatever was holding you had let you go.

"It is alright, Y/N. You may approach," he turns his head to you. You leave from your spot at the tree line and move to him.

"What were you doing?" you inquire.

"Just assessing the barrier," he glances back up to the sky. "It should last 6 more seasons."

"Barrier?" you look up but don't see anything odd.

"Let me explain," he looks back at you. "While Stardew Valley may seem tranquil, monsters do lurk in its darker corners, particularly deep in the woods. West of my tower, there are dangerous slimes that attack any human they see."

"Like...more dangerous than the ones in the mines?" you ask. You had started exploring the mines a little while ago, and you had your fair share of encounters with slimes of varying colors.

"Indeed," he affirms. "And as the magic practitioner of Stardew Valley and Pelican Town, it is my responsibility to maintain the magical barrier that prevents the monsters from attacking."

"Wow," you glance upwards once more. "That...sounds like a lot of pressure."

"It is, but it is something I must do. When a witch or wizard chooses their home, they also swear to protect the residents of that home," he explains.

"Is it hard?" you ask, which causes Rasmodius to chuckle. The sound makes your heart skip a bit.

"Not after having a lot of practice," he shakes his head amused. "Although, the barrier I keep isn't too vast. There are many witches and wizards that maintain barriers that dwarf mine considerably. Those do take a considerable amount of mana."

"Well then," you give him a small smile. "Thank you for your protection."

Your words cause him to smile back. No one ever thanked him, and he never expected such, but it still felt nice. Especially since it was coming from you. Suddenly, he pauses before looking at the sun.

"Ah, my apologies, Y/N. I must attend a council meeting."

You open your mouth to ask him what he meant, but he had already disappeared in a flash of light. You sigh, but look towards the sky once more. It was a noble thing, protecting those that seem to fear him. Those that probably never thanked him.

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

Your connection with the spirits of Stardew Valley only grew, especially as you approached the last few bundles for the Junimo. As such, Abigail would tag along with you on your walks into the forest to hear what the voices within would say. You had no problems translating for her, especially since the spirits had taken a liking to her because of her passion.

You also found yourself discussing anything significant in your conversations with Rasmodius, as he had taken great interest in your connection with the forest spirits. You would also visit his tower when you were curious about something you had read in a book on the supernatural.

That was what you were doing now. You had read something that had intrigued you, so you entered the Cindersap Forest on a quest for answers. You knocked on the door to the wizard's tower, but it didn't open on its own like it usually would.

'He must be at a meeting or something,' you think, before turning to walk away. 'Maybe next-'

Slowly, the front door creaks open. You look back at it, confused, but enter. He must've just got back.

You enter the tower and call his name, but get no answer. Odd. He's not in the main room. You even checked his bedroom, but nothing. You think about leaving, until you remember a staircase leading downwards in the entryway.

You walk down the steps, still calling for Rasmodius and getting nothing in return. Upon entering the basement of the tower, you pause, a rush of energy flooding through you. You wonder what he does down here to make you feel such an aura.

You find yourself being pulled to a room full of books. It's cozy, a room you desire for your own farm. Maybe the next time you speak with Robin, you can discuss it with her. Maybe you'd even include the strange shrine as well. The thought makes you chuckle.

Your eyes scan the many books on the shelves until one calls to you. You pull the book from its place and open it carefully, as it looks quite old.

'....The deity of nature gifted her followers a connection to the Earth. Those that could both wield the powers of the arcane and worship her offerings, would have their stars rewritten. Their crops would always grow plentiful. Their animals always healthy. The spirits of the trees would regard them as their own, granting them their trust. And if they satisfied the requests of the spirits, they would be gifted great rewards....'

'Interesting,' you continue to read on. 'A deity of nature...I wonder what other deities there are. What do they gift?'

Suddenly, a bright flash of light appears beside you, causing you to jump. The wizard now stands before you.

"What are you doing? I only allow those I trust down here," he demands, before his eyes cast down to the book in your hands.

"I-I was j-just wondering where you were, a-and I-I just," you trail off, shaking a bit.

"Hm," he moves closer to you and glances at your book. "This book is over a hundred years old. It details both the history of life itself and the history of users of witchcraft...quite an odd book for you to find intriguing."

"I-I don't know...I find it interesting," you defend, a bit confused at his change in demeanor.

"I see...," he thinks, before shaking his head. "Forgive me, it seems I had forgotten whom I have been talking to. You hunger for knowledge, Y/N. You desire to know the explanations to all of the mysteries the arcane holds."

"I do," you agree, which causes him to nod.

"Visitors from the town here are rare, and not one of them has been drawn to my books," the wizard laments. "My teachings would be insufficient if I never let you quench your thirst for knowledge. For that reason, I shall grant you access to my basement. As long as you promise to stay away from the 'Shrine of Illusions' and the warp hall, you may read any of the books in my collection that interest you."

"Really?" your eyes light up and a smile grows on your face.

"Yes," he chuckles out at your reaction. "Just don't open them too far, as it could crack the spines. Some of these books are hundreds of years old."

"I promise, I will be careful," you look down at the book in your hands and back up at him, before throwing your arms around him in an embrace. "Thank you so much, Rasmodius."

Your hug startles him and makes his body heat up. Oh how he desperately wants to throw his arms around you too. Still, he settles with awkwardly patting your back.

"You are dearly welcome...perhaps I may even be able to teach you some light magic as well," he remarks, causing you to pull away.

"I would like that very much."

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

As your knowledge of the arcane grew, so did your abilities that Rasmodius would teach you. You visited him often, whether to read or for a lesson. It was odd, having someone occupy the same space as him after being alone for so long, but the wizard didn't complain. However, he still questioned if you truly were his soulmate. He longed for you, really he did, but you could've very well been another test. If he had loved and lost before, why couldn't you be the same?

So he tried to stay professional, and when that failed he tried to stay cordial. He enjoyed your presence, and if he couldn't have you as a lover, he'd have you as a friend.

Your thoughts on him weren't as complex. You saw him as a wonderful teacher, and as an eccentric friend. You especially would enjoy when he would go on tangents about things he was most passionate about. It reminded you that despite being powerful and almost intimidating, he was still a lovable dork. You had to admit, you were crushing on him a little bit.

You went to visit the wizard on a relatively nice day. Not because you wanted to learn or read anything in particular, but because you wanted to hang out with him if you could.

You arrive and find him outside, muttering something to the plants in his garden.

"Hi, Rasmodius!" you chirp, approaching him.

"Good afternoon, Y/N. I'll be with you shortly," he greets.

"What are you doing?" you cock your head to the side.

"Just a simple protection spell," he explains. "There has been a recent influx of locusts in the forest. I'm just making sure they don't come after my fruit. It's much more efficient than your typical pesticides."

"Really? Wow, you're gonna have to teach me that for my own crops," you remark, causing him to chuckle.

"I don't think you will have to worry, but if it puts your thoughts at ease," with that, he finishes up the spell for the rest of his fruit. Once he finishes, his face drops. "I need to maintain a layer of magical protections on these plants anyway. My ex wife hated them...said they were a sign I was growing soft."

"That's awful," you gasp.

"She still tries to lay the odd hex or two on them when she's out flying at night," he replies, nodding. This only causes a small inferno to spark within you. Not only because it affected your friend, but also because it felt like a slap in the face with your love of farming. What a horrible woman!

"Hmph, well I hope karma bites her back for that," you mutter angrily. Your reaction causes him to mumble something to himself.

"It's one of the reasons Caroline and I....She has a lovely sunroom, you see. Oh well...," though it is soft, you can still hear it. At the mention of Caroline's name, a bit of jealousy sparks within you, even though it seems like whatever he had with her had ended. Rasmodius just shakes his head and clears his throat. "It's difficult. While I love the solitude of the forest, and I enjoy my duties of protecting the Valley...but even a wizard gets disheartened at having his heart broken twice."

Your gaze on him softens, although you do think about how you wouldn't be able to visit Abigail's home now that you were developing a bit of a hate-on for her mom. Upon seeing the sympathetic look in your eyes, the wizard just shakes his head.

"Do not worry about it, Y/N. I will be alright. I'm...," he stops, deciding to change directions with his words. "I'm certainly not in a hurry to give it a third try...but if I do happen to fall in love again someday, it will be with someone who can appreciate a good garden."

"Well, my farm does have an awful lot of plants," you find yourself saying, not realizing you had said it out loud and not in your head until he starts laughing.

"I suppose you are right. But remember, even once you get past the plants, there is the smell of the cauldron," he smiles, before turning to enter his tower. "If you would excuse me, I have business to attend to inside, now that my plants have been adequately protected."

"Y-Yeah, right, um," your face feels hot. "I should probably go too. I'll see you tomorrow, Rasmodius."

"Please, from here on out, call me Magnus. I believe we are past the point of formalities and it's less of a mouthful," he quips.

"Right, well...see you tomorrow, Magnus," you rephrase. He's right, it is a lot easier to say.

"Of course," he muses. "And you as well, Y/N."

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

If you had to describe your relationship with Magnus to someone, you would describe it like the drop of a roller coast. Climbing up that large hill of your friendship, and now at the top. The cart is teetering in-between platonic and romantic. The two of you truly have been growing closer, getting to a point where you felt like you needed to see each other at least once a day.

You had never felt this way towards anyone before, it was such a strong pull you felt towards him that you couldn't explain, so after a long day of tending to your crops and animals, you went to visit his tower. Sure, it was a bit late...okay very late, but you knew he would be happy to see you again.

Nowadays, you would still knock on his front door, but would let yourself in without waiting for it to open by itself. You call for Magnus but receive no answer. Upon entering the main room of the tower, however, you found him muttering to himself while mixing something in his cauldron.

Suddenly, he curses in frustration and begins to pace back and forth in front of it. You make your way towards him, concerned.

"Magnus?"

The wizard jumps at your voice, before relaxing when he realizes it's just you.

"Y/N, I apologize. I didn't hear you enter," he places a hand over his heart and takes a deep breath. "It would seem you caught me in the midst of some rather delicate work."

"Oh, really? What are you doing?" you ask, intrigued.

"I find myself in need of a way to produce artificial energies for my own use," he explains, though it doesn't answer your question that much.

"And what might that be?" you push, causing him to let out a defeated sigh.

"I...um...have not been sleeping lately. I hoped to remedy that with this ritual, but I have only achieved frustration, as you might've noticed," he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out a tired breath.

"That's terrible. Is there no sleeping elixir recipe out there?" you question. You couldn't imagine the last time you got a poor night sleep. Surely it must've been before moving here.

"This was the last one I tried," he mutters, before looking at you. "Tell me, Y/N, what do you do when you cannot sleep?"

"I wish I could tell you, but I really don't remember the last time I couldn't," you reply sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Magnus."

"Hm, just my luck," he shakes his head.

"Have you tried common, non magical ways? Tea? Meditation?" you throw out.

"Believe me, I have tried everything that the mundane do first," he moves past you to pace around his portal, grumbling to himself. "I am doomed to toil until I succeed or fall into my own cauldron."

You just shake your head and follow him, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"Magnus, enough," you say, sternly. "If even magic won't work, then the only thing left to do is just lay down."

"I can assure you I've tried that," he mutters.

"Well then, I guess I'm staying here until you try again," you figure.

He sighs once more, and stares down at you. Unfortunately for him, you weren't showing any signs of backing down, which causes him to relent.

"Oh, very well. I will try again. But just know that I will be back at this as soon as you leave."

"Whelp, I guess that means I'm staying the night, then," you quip, which causes his face to heat up and for him to clear his throat.

"Yes...well," he thinks for a moment, before giving you a tired smile. "It'll be quite difficult for you to keep yourself entertained watching me sleep."

You just shrug, and follow him into his small bedroom. He mutters something to himself, and in a flash of light he is now dressed in...oddly casual pajamas. He then crawls under the covers of his bed, but smirks at the strange look on your face.

"What?"

"Nothing...just surprised that you dress like a normal person for bed," you tease. "I thought you would've worn a night shirt or long underwear."

Magnus laughs and shakes his head.

"Believe me, I find the simplicity of these to be a lot more comfortable. Just promise to not tell anyone in the village about it."

"Ha! They wouldn't believe me even if I got a picture of you," you make your way over to his side of the bed and sit on the edge now that he seems comfortable. His smile begins to fade and he lets out a sigh.

"Y/N," he begins, eyes starting to get heavy and moving to take your hand.

"Yes, Magnus?" you let him hold your hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

"Please...don't let me...dream...," and with that, he nods off. What an odd request. Still, you would do it. You honestly would probably do anything he asked you.

You sit there for a bit, watching his peaceful face as he sleeps. You promised you would stay all night, so why not get comfortable yourself? After all, his bed was big enough for two. You carefully stand up and move to the other side. You then quietly mutter the same spell he did, replacing your previous clothes with your own pajamas.

Now dressed to sleep, you gently climb onto the bed, keeping yourself above the covers fearing that sleeping under them would've been too far. Jeez, his bed was comfy, and as soon as your head rested on the pillows, you fell asleep.

What did he have trouble sleeping for?

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

As morning rolls over Stardew Valley, Magnus stirs and slowly blinks open his eyes. Did he really sleep all night? Not to mention the fact that he didn't dream once. He smiles to himself, realizing that you by his side really did help him. He sits up to stretch but pauses as he feels something, or more accurately someone, moving behind him. He glances over his shoulder, and his eyes widen. He couldn't believe what he was looking at.

There you were sleeping peacefully on the other side of his bed. You look so serene, the glow from the sunlight illuminating your beauty. The scene makes him smile, before averting his eyes and shifting a bit when he sees that your pajamas was a pretty night dress.

You yawn and sit up, stretching yourself. When you open your eyes, you let out a surprised gasp.

"What's wrong?" Magnus turns back to look at you concerned.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sleep here all night-or at all," you quickly try to defend, worried that you have made him uncomfortable.

"Please, do not worry about it. Your presence...,"he thinks for a moment before continuing. "Your presence was greatly appreciated."

"So you slept all night?" you ask, a small grin forming on your face.

"Yes, I did," he nods, and gives you his own smile.

"I really don't get it," you wonder. "Your bed's so comfortable, and you fell asleep rather quick. Why have you been having trouble with it?"

He looks away from you and sighs, already feeling his face heat up with shame.

"Occasionally, I find myself plagued with dark dreams...and I decide to childishly resort to avoiding sleep entirely. I must apologize for the state you found me in, but I must also thank you for choosing to stay by my side," he turns back to you and takes your hands in his. "With you by my side, I slept soundly as I have not for several weeks."

This makes your smile grow, and for your cheeks to warm up.

"Aw...you're welcome," you reply, a bit sheepish now. "You know I'm always happy to help you, Mag."

He lets out a small laugh at that. He normally was not a big fan of nicknames, but with you he would make an exception.

"Yes, well...," he squeezes your hand while he thinks. "If there is anything I can do to repay you, you have but to ask."

"Oh please, I...well," you drawl out, playfully. "If you insist...some breakfast would be nice."

"Of course. What would you like?" he asks, and you tell him what you're craving. "Alright, just a moment."

You expect him to get up and go find what you requested, but instead he holds his hand out flat and says a spell. Suddenly, a tray appears in his hand with what you asked for on it. Your eyes widen in shock.

"Yo-You can just do that? You can just summon food?" you move to touch the tray to see if it is real.

"Yes, but it can take a considerable amount of mana depending on how much food is summoned. So thank you for giving me something relatively simple," you giggle at that, before he offers you the tray. "Go ahead, and eat. Oh, and don't be afraid to ask for more if that is what you desire."

You did eat what Magnus gave you, and it was the best breakfast you had ever eaten.

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

Could you have said that your relationship with Magnus was far from friendship at that point? Yes, you absolutely could. To be fair, it is hard to keep things platonic when you both longed for each other and slept in the same bed. The real question was when things would become official, and you could finally say that you two were a couple.

Fortunately, the time came when you got a letter in your mailbox.

'Greetings YN, many untold wonders are sheltered amongst the trees. Today, in particular, a strange energy stirs in the forest. If you would like to learn more on these unknown secrets, meet me in the hidden woods North of my tower. Sincerely, Magnus.'

It was a rather formal letter, then again Mag did like to be formal when he was teaching you something. You were none the wiser to the letter's true nature, as you were too excited to know what he had found.

So you departed from your farm after taking care of your crops and animals, making your way to where you were asked to meet him.

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

You found Magnus standing in the center of what looked to have been an old shrine, with cracked pillars, pink roses, and the statue of a beautiful woman. It all looks so tranquil, a place where you could just go to be alone and think. As you approach him, he appears to be lost in thought, looking at the statue.

"Boo!" you playfully jump out and startle him out of his thoughts.

"Ah! Oh Y/N, you must grant an old wizard some mercy with tricks like that," he sighs, but a smile forms on his face at your mischievous giggle.

"Sorry, but it was just too easy," you let out in-between your impish fit. "Besides, I gotta keep this old wizard on his toes, don't I?"

His grin only widens at that and he shakes his head.

"It's good that you came," he says, almost absentmindedly.

"Why wouldn't I? You knew what you were doing when you wrote that letter."

"Yes, well," he takes a deep breath before continuing. "I'm afraid I have deceived you with what I wrote. I have brought you here for...a different purpose."

"Oh, um, okay," this confuses but still intrigues you on what he had in store for you. "Why am I here, then?"

"As you know, I have spent much of my life to divination and communication with ill-understood lifeforms," his face falls. "As such I have lost much of what comes naturally in human conversation. It is difficult for me to...oh, how is it said...?"

He trails off a bit, before placing a hand over his heart. He then glances at you and takes a step closer.

"Y/N," he takes your hands into his. "Listen. Open your mind. Open your senses. Can you hear it?"

You strain your ears to see if you can pick up the voices of the forest, but you can't hear anything.

"Hear what?" you ask, not realizing you had taken a step closer to him.

"My heart," he explains. "It pounds in my chest more fiercely than I have ever known it to."

His words make your own heart's pace speed up, and an unfamiliar warmth begins to spread throughout your body.

"The energies of the Earth surge around us. Her energy surges around us. It can be no accident. I have grown tired of lying to myself. I can no longer deny my feelings for you," his words make your eyes widen in surprise. "I truly did not think it possible after my ex wife and-oh never mind them. I care nothing for them now. I only care for you, my dearest Y/N, for you have enchanted me."

As soon as he finishes his confession, your mind replays his words in your head over and over. They make you feel like you're floating, like all of this is just a dream. Eventually, a voice whispers in your ear that you should probably respond to him.

"I feel the same way," you finally get out, although you wish you could've confessed your feelings to him in an equally beautiful way.

"Truly?" he asks, suddenly, which makes you giggle. "Ahem, I mean-that is...of course you do."

He rambles on about how he "never doubted" your feelings for him. You let him babble on though, as it's just another reminder of how he was a dork.

Your lovable dork.

You smile and move to wrap your arms around his neck, which stops him. He beams down at you, bringing one of his hands to your waist, while the other caresses your cheek.

Like two magnets, your bodies lock together and your lips meet his. The feeling causes sparks to fly behind your eyelids, and for electricity to flow through your veins. Then, an image flashes in your mind. A passage from a book.

'....And the deity of love gifted the followers of the arcane with a soulmate, rewriting the stars so that they would meet the one who would give them eternal happiness on the mortal and astral plain.'

When you both finally pull away, you look at him in awe, especially with everything now looking more vibrant.

"...That's what you are. You're my soulmate, aren't you?" you breath, still reeling from the kiss.

"And you, mine," he utters, still caressing your face. "With my heart broken twice, I had assumed the deity of love had not wished for it to be complete. But now I realize she was punishing me for my impatience, for not waiting on you."

You turn your head to look at the statue beside you. The woman's stone face looks upon you and Magnus benevolently.

"And this...this is her shrine, isn't it?" your eyes fall back onto him.

"It was the only way to be sure," he explains.

And with that, your lips found each other once more, as if even that brief moment of them apart was too long. You had never kissed anyone before, but with the knowledge that you know now, you doubt that it would even feel half as good.

Eventually, you two were no longer standing. You were now laying on the soft grass with him hovering over you, his lips now on your neck and his beard was scratching your sensitive skin in the best way possible. Neither of you even realize it, slowly becoming intoxicated on the other. Even as you begin to mewl and writhe underneath Mag from him sucking your soft flesh, you both only become aware of your predicament when he pulls away to look at you.

"Ah, forgive me," Magnus pants but still doesn't move off of you. "I have no idea what's gotten into me."

"Are you gonna stop?" you breath out, unable to hide your disappointment.

"Do you wish for me to continue?" truth be told, he really wants to, feeling a powerful lust flow through him that he had never felt before. Of course, your comfort came first, always.

Fortunately for him, you are being consumed by the same raging desire, and you nod desperately. With that, he takes the straps of the dress you were wearing and slowly pulls them downward, exposing more of your skin for him to worship.

You should've been embarrassed, nervous even considering the fact that this was going to be your first time having sex, but your mind is way too fuzzy to care. Especially as his mouth is back on you, now focusing on your chest and having his teeth graze your flesh.

Slowly, he moves downward as does your dress, until your breasts are exposed to him. He wastes no time moving to one of them, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud there, before locking it in-between his lips. Meanwhile, your other breast is being massaged by one of his rough hands. The feeling causes you to cry out and arch your back upwards. You don't know if it's even possible for your panties to get anymore wet, especially as he switches so that your breasts get equal treatment.

You continue to moan and your fingers thread themselves in-between Mag's violet locks, nails scratching his scalp and causing him to groan. He pulls himself away from you, which pulls a whine from your lips, but you stop when he pulls your dress from your body and tosses it to the side.

It was only now, with you being in only your panties, that you realize the intensity of the situation.

"M-Mag?" you manage to whimper out.

"Yes, my love?" he gazes up at you with his pupils blown wide. The sight is almost enough for you to forget your words.

"I-I'm...this is...,"it takes all your might for your cloudy brain to form what you wanted to say. "T-This is...my...first t-time."

Despite his mind being just as muddy, your words still pierce him.

"Is...is it, really?" he breathes out, to which you nod. "I see...."

He lowers his head to your stomach and places a kiss there.

"Let me take care of you...I will take care of you," he murmurs in-between kisses, getting lower and lower until his fingers find the waistband of your panties.

He looks up at you, his eyes asking you for permission. You let out a soft "please", desperate for him to continue. So he does, not wanting to deny you, and pulls the damp fabric from your body. The sight of your soaked pussy makes him groan and realize just how uncomfortable his robes were.

Magnus mutters a spell to himself, causing his clothing to disappear entirely, and sighs with a bit of relief. You, on the other hand, are now delirious with lust as you gaze upon him. You had never seen this much of him before, not that you were complaining, especially as your eyes fall on his cock. He was long, with the tip bright red and precum dripping down his shaft. You honestly thought that he was going to just fuck you right then and there, which you certainly had no problems with.

He surprises you though, lowering his head to place a kiss to your mound first, then to your wet folds. You shamelessly moan at the feeling of your pussy finally getting some attention. He then begins to drag his tongue through your lower lips, starting at your entrance and ending at your clit, moaning a bit as he laps up your arousal.

Your hands find themselves back in his hair, sobbing loudly with pleasure. This just eggs Mag on as he latches his lips onto your clit, sucking on it harshly to see how you'd react. Just as he thought, your fingers tighten their grasp and your wails increase in volume and pitch.

He then slips one of his fingers inside of you, finding little resistance due to your slick. The feeling of what could be compared to a coil tightening forms within your stomach, your release imminent. All it takes is him pushing in a second finger to drive you over the edge. You cum hard on his hand and mouth, tears of pleasure flowing down your face. If you cumming from his mouth was that intense, you can't even imagine what cumming on his dick's going to be like.

Even as you fall from your high, Mag continues to scissor his fingers inside of you, stretching you out so you can be ready for his length. It is taking him his little self control he has to not fuck you quite yet, but quickly snaps once his brain hyper focuses on how your pussy swallows up his digits, not to mention the feeling.

So he pulls his hand away from your body, and wastes no time lining his cock up with your tight little hole. He looks back up at your blissed out face, though he gives you less time to give him permission. Not that you care, you're craving his dick despite getting your release mere seconds ago.

As soon as he pushes the tip of his length inside of you, he quickly loses himself. That sweet, lovable dork that never liked losing his composure was nowhere to be found. In his place was a man that was rutting into you like his life depended on it.

The pain that you should've been feeling from him repeatedly shoving all of cock in and out of you was severely dulled. It felt like you were being claimed by him, and as such, all you could really focus on was pleasure. Likewise he was feeling like he was being claimed by you, which was why he was fucking you like an animal in heat, on top of the fact that he had denied himself of such pleasure for so long.

That feeling was the two of you officially sealing your bond as soulmates, and nothing from here on out would shatter it. Of course, the two of you would realize that after the heavy cloud of lust left your brains.

At a particularly harsh thrust, you dig your nails into Mag's back and throw one of your legs over his waist, which he wraps an arm around to hold it in place. The new angle causes the tip of his dick to hit areas inside of you that you weren't even sure were real up until that point.

All it takes is three strokes of his cock inside of you for you to cum hard, screaming so loud that you wouldn't be surprised if someone all the way in the village heard you. At the feeling of your velvety walls constricting his length, he let out his own moan as he floods your pussy with his seed.

You both are sweaty and exhausted, with Magnus using all of his strength to keep himself from crushing your limp body. He continues to shallowly thrust into you, not wanting to come down from his high. To be fair, you didn't want to either, as your vision was still white and your legs still felt like jelly.

When the two of you finally do come back down to Earth, you both don't know what to say, still not believing that this was real. All you can pant out is an exhausted "wow", followed by a tired laugh. Mag smirks at your reaction, but quickly loses it.

"What's wrong?" you ask, concerned, worried he was starting to have regrets.

"That...that really was a miserable way to lose your virginity, wasn't it?" he lets go of your leg and moves his hand to your face, brushing some strands that were sticking to your sweaty face.

"I...I don't think so," you move your own hand up to his face to cup his cheek. "I really enjoyed myself. Did...didn't you?"

"O...Of course I did. It's just...," he frowns. "I just feel that your first time should've been passionate and spent on a comfortable bed, and not with me rutting into you like an animal in heat."

"I don't mind," you shrug. "I enjoyed that a lot. Besides, I thought you were really hot."

"Really? Even though I looked completely undignified?"

You giggle and nod.

"Absolutely," you then pull him down into a kiss, which he returns. When you both pull away you glance upwards at the statue. "I think it was what she wanted anyways."

Magnus turns to look up at the statue as well.

"Perhaps you are right," he nods, before smiling down at you. "Still, if I can't worship you on a soft bed during, would you allow me to do so, afterwards?"

"I'd like that, but um, Mag?" you ask.

"Yes my love?"

"Do you think you could warp us to that bed? I don't think I'll be walking for a while," you quip.

"Ah-yes, of course! Um...I am terribly sorry," his apologizes sheepishly.

"As I said, it's fine. I was just warning you," you tease.

He nods, before carefully pulling out and moving off of you. He collects your panties and dress, before pulling you into his lap.

In a flash of light, the two of you were in his bedroom. Magnus sets your clothes at the foot of the bed, before gently laying you down on top of the soft covers. He then lies down next to you, and pulls you close to him. You nuzzle into his chest eagerly, getting comfortable.

"Yeah, this is nice, too," you smile.

He nods at you, and begins to rub your back. Suddenly, he tenses up.

"Uh oh, what now?" you giggle, looking up at him.

"I haven't even told you that I love you, yet. I truly am a horrible soulmate aren't I," he shakes his head.

"I thought that was your big declaration you gave me at the shrine?" you smirk.

"Yes, but it wasn't those three words was it?"

"Mm, no, but it had the same effect," you hum.

"Did it really? I would've rather...," he trails off about what he wished he would've done for the whole thing. Of course, you get tired of his rambling and place a kiss to his lips to shut him up.

"You really are a big dork, you know that Mag?" you quip. "But if it helps you rest up, tell me now."

"As you wish," he nods, before clearing his throat. "I love you, Y/N. And I promise that I will cherish you in this life and the next."

"I love you too, Magnus," you start before getting comfortable once more. "And for as long as I exist, I will stay by your side and love you as fiercely as you'll let me."

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv wizard #sdv wizard x reader #sdv wizard x fem!reader #x reader #rita writes

[underscorewriting]

Hello !

How are you doing?

Could you make a one shot where your the ragnarsons little sister ( your 5 yrs old and ragnar and a witches daughter ) and they don't know you exist but you come with bjorn from a raid and you meet them andyou just capture everyones heart .

And you give hope to the people of kattegat because you are a powefull witch and they think you are a god

Maybe they find out your powers when you save someone from death with your powers?

Thank you!

Oh my god, I love that idea!! Sorry that it took me sooo long to write this, but here it is now!! ^^ I kinda changed it a bit, hopefully you don't mind too much!! :)

The lost daughter

Brother!Ragnarssons x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Sigurd being a dick, Angst?

Words: 2.414 (think this one's my longest story!!)

Emotions were all she ever knew. Bad ones, painful ones. She didn't understand why she felt them so intense, whenever something happened. People usually got hurt very badly if she got upset. A little girl that could kill people in the most torturous way possible, without even having to move a single finger or having the thought in mind.

The town she lived in always said that her "witch" of a mother was the reason behind this cursed child. They tried hurting her but she ran, she ran straight into a group of men. No not just men, women were there too. Women she couldn't help but stare at. None of the people in her town looked like them.

Her town was called Wessex, rumors were that in the earlier years, vikings have already been there, even had a deal with the great king Ecgberht. But that was years ago, way before the little girl was even born.

The man in front of the group smirked slightly before he leaned down to her height. "Now who might you be? You wouldn't know where a witch named Meredith lives, would you?" The man studied her features, each one identical to her mothers, except the ocean blue eyes. A feature left from her father.

Taking a step back she tripped over her own leg only to be caught by the man in front of her. He wore his hair in a braid and his beard was longer than she ever saw anyone wear. His eyes didn't hold any danger in them, maybe curiosity, but nothing she had to be scared of. Calming her nerves slightly she stood up straight again.

"witch?" She tilted her head confused, not understanding what that word really meant, only hearing it when someone insulted her mother. Her eyebrows furrowed in anger. "My momma was no witch! She was a healer and helped lots of people!" Pushing away from him, she heard something snap behind the man.

A man holding his arm, which was twisted in a weird angle. The man was screaming in pain as his legs twisted as well, painfully bringing him to his death. It took the little girl some time to snap out of her emotions and look over to the man, only to gasp at the state of the man.

Covering her eyes quickly with her hands she turned away, a quiet sob escaping her. The other men gasped in fear, she had to be blessed by the gods they thought. "By the gods it is true!" The man with the braid laughed and pulled her into his chest. "You are coming home with us, little one. Bet you want to meet your family!" Peeking through her fingers she nervously chewed her lip. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but her momma once told her a story about a man she could always trust if he ever came to her. A man named Ragnar Lothbrok.

The man, who was carrying her, didn't look exactly how her mother explained, but his icy blue eyes reminded her of him. "Are you Ragnar Lothbrok?" Her voice came out in a whisper as she held onto him. A laugh rumbled in his chest as he put her down on the boat. "I am his son, Björn Ironside. My father and I were often here in Wessex, he met a woman, a healer he used to tease by calling her a witch, they shared a bed and later on rumors spread, that she was with his child. You. I am your brother, we're going to Kattegat, our fathers home. Our home."

Confusion settled in the little girls chest, she didn't fully believe him, but somehow she thought she could trust him. The hope of having a family battling the fear of getting killed or worse.

They traveled for months on no end, the little witch started to enjoy the sea. She learned many things thanks to her brother. The gods became her favorite topic, next to her having four more brothers back at home. Giggling she ran over to Björn. "Brother! When will we arrive?" Excitement settled in her bones as she held onto his hand, looking up to him with wide eyes. Björn couldn't help but smile slightly at how excited she was. "We will arrive soon, look."

When she looked into the distant she saw land becoming bigger, they were close, just about to reach it. She was nervous, he had warned her about how different each brother is, but she was excited. Excited to see a family she longed for. Excited for a land that would also belong to her in some way.

As they arrived she was nervous, people looked at her weirdly, making her scared that she might hurt someone. Björn was walking in the front with her, three men waiting for them in a big hall. The girl had already heard a lot about them and could easily tell who each one of them was. But one wasn't here, she was disappointed.

The men looked at Björn confused. "Welcome home, brother. I see you did not return alone, who is that child?" Ubbe smiled slightly walking up to them. "She's our sister. Father laid with a woman from Wessex, she was a healer I got to know her a bit." The little girl started fidgeting with her hands, trying to release some of her stress. Ubbes eyes found hers, she could only see kindness in them.

A chuckle came from where the other two stood, the blonde man laughing at how ridicules this sounded. "Be serious, brother. You couldn't possibly believe something that stupid." Sigurd was being gruesome, looking at the child in disgust at how her clothes looked. She was no child of Ragnar for him. she didn't look like one either. Sneering he gave her one last glare as he walked away.

Biting her lip she looked to the ground, counting the seconds and minutes so she could calm down. A sigh came from the other three men. Hvitserk slowly made his way towards her kneeling down so he was her height. A smile forming on his face as he studied her eyes, the blue reminding him of his little brother. Even the white in her eyes was a little blue.

„Looks like Ironsides is telling the truth.“. A grin spread on Hvitserk face as he stood up straight. Soon there was a clicking sound to be heard. Ivar came into the great hall, wondering what all the noise is about, having only heard parts of it. „Gods would you just keep it down, Hvitserk.“

Fear settled in her stomach, she was terrified of meeting Ivar ever since Björn told her all the stories about him. When her eyes finally met his she couldn't help but flinch. His eyes matched hers the most. They were almost identical and a giddy smile formed on her face, before she could stop herself. With him it was the clearest that he was her brother. "I heard Sigurd whine about our brother having found some bastard child from father, that couldn't seriously be his..."

Ivar leaned down towards the little girl, tilting his head slightly, inspecting her, before grinning like a lunatic. "But as I see she looks more like a child of Ragnar than he does." Hvitserk laughed and Ubbe couldn't help but grin a little at Ivars statement. All of them were nervous for his reaction, since he was the hardest to please, but somehow her eyes made him realize it the quickest.

The little girl couldn't believe how easy they all accepted her and included her in everything. Everyone except Sigurd. He spread the rumors of her having some powers, but instead of making the people be disgusted of her they started admiring her, bringing her brothers gifts for her. Every person in Kattegat thought she was a god. How couldn't she be? A child of the great Ragnar Lothbrok, it was about time one of them had to become a god.

Even her brothers sometimes believed it, but they also soon learned that her power held a lot of danger. Ivar was the first to notice that her eyes, like his, told in what situation her powers would be. If they were blue in the whites, then it was dangerous for her to interact with a lot of people meaning, keeping her with Ubbe and Hvits would be the wisest decision. Of course they trusted Ivar with her, but most of the times Ivar himself was somewhat worried about upsetting her too much.

On her good days she would walk with her crippled brother through the market, helping him get things and later on hearing about all the adventures he went on. She wouldn't tell but she did like him the best, since he understood her the most. Ubbe was a close second. Björn left for another raid soon after he brought her to the others, which sandend her the most was that he didn't even say goodbye.

She loved her brothers very much, even Sigurd. Ivar was very protective of her when it came to him. He was never allowed too close to her or to be alone with her. It was rare that Ivar cared that much, but he knew how cruel Sigurd could be if he wanted to, and he didn't want her to go through the same things he himself went through.

During a feast late at night she sat with her brothers, giggling and laughing as Hvitserk told her the funniest stories and Torvi braiding her hair, she felt whole. Ivar was sitting in the throne looking over the people, seeing how they looked at his sister in fear, he liked that they feared her even if they thought she was a god, but he also knew how it upset her that they avoided her at all costs when she was close.

Sigurd hated everything about her actually being treated like all of his brothers, like an actual child of Ragnar even though Ragnar himself never even knew her. On this particular night he drank one too many cups of ale and his company wouldn't stop talking about how great her powers are and how she was the hope for the people in Kattegat. The hate he felt for Ivar was nothing compared to the hate he felt for her. It made him see red, he got up and walked straight up to her as she was wandering around the hall, looking at different things.

Ivar was watching her carefully, making sure nothing could happen. Sigurd grabbed her arm forcefully making her stop and turn towards him, a gasps escaped her. Looking up to him she gave him an excited smile. "Brother! Are you enjoying the feast? Ubbe said I may not try the ale yet because-" But he interrupted her by grabbing her face hard and squishing her cheeks together. "I am not your brother! Neither are they!" He pointed to were Ubbe and Hvitserk were laughing together. "Just because Ragnar laid with some bitch in Wessex doesn't make you anything to us! Oh and Ivar? He's playing his own games, he only keeps you around so that you can help him archive the power he wants!" A smirk was on Sigurds face as he watched how tears streamed down her cheeks and how her lip quivered.

Sadly for him he did not notice the blue of her eyes and how she was further away from the others, to calm her powers. One might think that the ax hitting him in the back was her, but people tend to forget how hotheaded Ivar the boneless was, now that he seemed calm compared to his sister. Ivar couldn't help it and threw the ax, hearing his brothers harsh and hurtful words, making him not realize what he was doing as his hand found the weapon.

Ivar didn't mean to kill his brother, panic spread in his chest as he quickly limped over to the two of them. The little girls eyes were wide and still filled with unshed tears as she did her best to keep Sigurd upright. Of course she was upset with him, but he was still her beloved brother, even if he didn't see himself that way.

The hall quieted down quickly. Hvitserk and Ubbe were quick to join their siblings helping the girl to carefully lay down their brother. Both shot daggers with their eyes at Ivar, who was slightly trembling, scared to have actually killed him. Ubbe tried to pull her away from Sigurd, not wanting her to see so much blood at such a young age, not caring about viking tradition at this point. This was her brother dying, she shouldn't see him like that.

But she had other plans. As if it was instinct, she pulled away from Ubbes hold and pulled the ax out of Sigurds abdomen. Her hands covering in blood as she pressed them onto the open wound applying as much pressure as she can before closing her eyes, saying a quiet prayer to the gods. Repeating the prayer over and over again in barely a whisper her eyes shot open, the blue now seeming like it glowed, making the men around her flinch slightly.

They all saw the wound healing. It healed quickly, way quicker than anything else and her eyes soon stopped glowing as the wound was completely gone and Sigurs eyes snapped open. The little girls eyes closed slowly as she released him from her grip and dropped exhausted to the ground, making Hvitserk quickly catched her head, before it hit the floor, picking her fully up. All of them were silent for a moment as they listened to Sigurds heavy breathing.

None of them could believe how blessed they were, having a sister as strong as her. It didn't matter to them if she was a god or a simple witch blessed by them. All that mattered to them was that she was safe and taken care of. She was so young with such great power. A power she needed help with, a power that they all had to tame with her. But it was alright, if that's what it takes for her to feel loved and needed.

The Ragnarssons could not hide the fact that their sister was the reason they all connected fully again. She truly was a blessing from the all father.

-

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! :)

#ivar lothbrok #vikings ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #sister reader #hvitserk x y/n #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk lothbrok #ubbe lothbrok #vikings ubbe #ubbe x you #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe lothbrok x reader #vikings imagine #vikings #vikings fanfiction #imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar fluff #vikings fluff

[darklydeliciousdesires]

La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

Part two is here, besties! :) I hope you all enjoy it, as I am loving writing these two together. You'll notice too that I gave John a few less kids than we see in canon, just to make it a little easier on myself as the writer, lol!

Words - 4,218

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part II - Purgatorio

Countryside living was something John had become accustomed to during his marriage to Esme, his beautiful country pile and vast grounds a much more desirable location than the smoggy suburbs of Small Heath. After her death, he had sold it, returning to the latter until he was married again.  

As predicted, Cosima detested living in a back-to-back. Her continued complaining as well as his desire for what he had come to enjoy was what led him to purchase another countryside property, choosing the small village of Wythall in Bromsgrove, buying a beautiful, spacious cottage for her to spruce up. It was far enough from Birmingham to leave his troubles within the swirling smog and looming viaducts, but near enough that he could be back on Watery Lane for his business endeavours in just over forty minutes by car.  

Married life was not ideal, being a person wed to someone he didn’t like, whose tempestuous nature often put him directly in her firing line. However, he could not discount her qualities. A spoiled princess with expensive tastes (the cottage renovation had cost him a fortune) she might have been, but god, she worked her fingers to the bone. 

“Oliver, Mary, Katie, Freddie, Seamus, come along! We’ll be late, get your skates on!” she called, hurrying back to the kitchen were five sandwiches lay on the chopping board, freshly baked bread with liberal fillings of egg and ham, Cosima cutting them into their required shapes. Squares for Oliver and Seamus, triangles for Katie and oblongs for Mary and Freddie. She knew well the likes and dislikes of her stepchildren.  

Wrapping each in baking parchment, she placed them into individual brown paper bags, an apple and a couple of custard creams put in too, five lunches folded neatly and handed to each child as they filed into the kitchen, smartly dressed in their immaculately pressed uniforms. “Give your father a kiss and let’s get moving, come on. We’ll miss the bell! Blinking hell, Seamus, look at your mouth. Toothpaste all over, come here!” 

His son’s mouth was wiped with her handkerchief, the boy squirming, Cosima bopping his little nose with her finger once done before she herded them through the kitchen. “Quickly, quickly, come on!” 

John couldn’t believe she was the same woman who had originally thrown a puce faced fit upon finding out she was to be stepmother to five children, with how well she’d taken to mothering his brood. For Cosima, she’d eventually seen the little ones as a blessing, something to take her mind off the fact that she detested being married to their father.  

Picking up her wicker basket, she followed them out the door without looking at John once, leaving him to sigh and return to the sitting room, drinking tea while reading the morning paper. With the addition of the wicker basket, this meant she would be stopping at the local village shop on her way back from the school, meaning he had roughly an hour before she would be through the door and ready to scrub the house from top to bottom.  

That was something else he couldn’t fault her for; she kept a beautiful home. John just preferred to be nowhere near her while she was going about it. She’d always find something to pick at him about, and he was tiring of it. He did try, to have something more resembling of an actual marriage rather than a setup of convenience with his beautiful young bride, but she shot him down at every step. Her contempt did nothing but continually fester, it seemed. She still couldn’t forgive him for the demise of her father and brother.  

Keeping an eye on the grandfather clock, he waited until fifty minutes had passed before whistling for Dot and Bo, his two faithful springer spaniel bitches. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re off to get a couple of grouse, maybe a pigeon or pheasant an’ all.”  

The dogs began to circle and yap excitedly as he pulled his shotgun from the cabinet, packing ammunition and draping the gun over his arm, heading into the kitchen and wrapping himself some cheese scones in a clean tea towel, placing those in his bag, too. If there was another thing his wife excelled at, it was all things culinary. He’d come directly in her vexed crosshairs upon eating his first meal prepared by her three months before, stating that he did not “eat wop food” as he’d coined her lasagne, without actually even trying it.  

As soon as he’d put a forkful into his mouth, he’d been a very, very rapid convert. It had been perhaps the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, Cosima standing with her arms folded, smirking at his swift change of heart over her food. He now looked forward to every meal she prepared for him with gusto, although couldn’t bear to sit in her company while eating it. He’d try and make conversation, and she’d sulk and pout. It was irksome to say the least.  

His leaving the house was timed impeccably, seeing Cosima walking back down the lane as he was heading out of the garden and into the few acres of lush, green fields that came with the cottage. She even got the money out of that, too, allowing local people to graze their horses upon it when resting their own pastures. While John and the dogs headed for the woods, Cosima let herself into the cottage, putting her apron on and beginning her housework.  

Once her beautiful home was sparkling – not that she allowed it to be any other way – she took the rugs out to beat the dust from them and then returned to the kitchen, making preparations for the children’s dinner. A local lady from the village was coming by to that evening to keep an eye on them while she and John headed back into Birmingham, the family gathering for Polly’s birthday meal at a restaurant upon Broad Street.  

Although she held her husband in a more or less permanent state of contempt, she did actually like Polly. She found her to be strong, intelligent, and once you got to know her, very loving towards her family. It had taken a while for her to thaw, but now the women did get along well. Certainly, Cosima had much more time for her than she did John or Tommy.  

Stirring the pasta sauce in a large pot upon the cast iron range, an original Victorian fixture of the cottage, Cosima sighed. She should be happy. She had literally everything she’d ever wanted, a beautiful home, huge garden, a couple of lovely dogs, a brood of children – and although not her own, they adored her as much as she did them – as well as a handsome, successful husband; whom she couldn’t stand.  

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. John was a nice man, he had a wicked sense of humour, he was a staunch provider, and he was so handsome she caught herself swooning over him all the time. She could see him trying hard to at least have some semblance of a meaningful connection with her, but she couldn’t help herself in shooting him down each and every time. Why?  

Guilt. 

He and his family were why two fifths of her immediate one no longer breathed, and she was to simply forget that and be content, happy in her new life with John? Her father would turn in his grave to know she had now acquired the surname of Shelby. He would be utterly livid. 

“But he isn’t here.” Her statement fell from her lips along with the little splashes of tears from her pretty eyes, eyes so blue that her beloved father had often joked that she couldn’t be his. “She’s the milkman’s, isn’t she?” he’d say in jest to her mother. Of course, she was his, though. A tear landed in the sauce she stirred, Cosima pulling her handkerchief from her dress sleeve and drying her eyes.  

The sound of barking became audible, the kitchen door opening, Dot and Bo being told to sit. “You got that towel, Cosima? I don’t want their muddy feet ruining your clean floor.” That was another thing about John, he was always appreciative of how immaculately she kept their home. Some men merely waved it away as a woman’s work and had no respect for such, but not him.  

“Hold on.” Moving to the cupboard under the sink, she pulled out one of the more raggedy tea towels she kept for the purpose of paw cleaning, handing it to him. 

He took it, a small frown creasing his handsome features. “You been crying?”  

Immediately, she straightened, sniffing as she held herself with her usual dignity. “Garlic, in the pasta sauce. It made my eyes water.” 

“Ah, right.” Moving back outside, he made sure each paw was clean and dry before letting the dogs in, removing his muddy boots and leaving them at the back door. Making his way in, he sniffed the air, half wishing that they were staying at home to eat whatever it was his wife had crafted, it smelled so good. “Let’s have a little try of that, give us a spoon.” 

“No, it isn’t ready yet,” she bustled, returning to the pot.  

He bit his tongue. “I got two pheasants, a grouse and a couple of pigeons. They’re in the outhouse hanging up. Just let me know when you wanna use ‘em and I’ll go pluck ‘em. I know you don’t like doing that.” 

“Okay. Oh, John? That floorboard by the front door has come up again. Can you go and fix it down? I left nails and a hammer on the phone table.” 

“Yeah, in a bit. Wanna have a tea and warm up a bit first.” 

She sighed, chewing her cheek. “No, now please. Before the kids come home. I don’t want them tripping on it while they’re playing.” 

“They ain’t coming home until gone three. Just give us half an hour, eh?” 

“Bloody get it done now, John! Before you forget!”  

Ahh, it had almost been quite civil for a moment. “Oi, watch your fucking tone, woman. I told you I’d get it done and I will. Fucking bad tempered mare.”  

“Stop calling me a mare!” 

“Well stop behaving like one in season then, and I might, eh?” he shook his head, chewing on his toothpick aggressively. “Always fucking blowing up at me for no fucking reason. Sort yourself out, for fucks sake!” 

“Fine!” she raged, flinging her arms in the air with her usual dramatic flair, “I’ll go and do it!” 

“You do that.” He moved to the kettle, filling it with water, intent on having his tea before he went and helped her with the task. He wouldn’t have forgotten either, but she couldn’t just let him be for five minutes while he had a drink and thawed out from the February chill, oh no. She had to pick at him.  

A few minutes passed, John letting the tea steep in the pot as he snacked on a slice of bread slathered in butter and Cosima’s homemade blackberry jam, the sounds of her swearing in Italian drifting through the house until suddenly, a yelp.  

“What the bloody hell’s she done,” he muttered, placing the bread down and moving to the hallway, finding her kneeling down, holding her thumb in a tight grasp. “You alright?” 

“No, I’m blinking not!” she cried through her tears, “I’ve hit my fucking thumb with the cursed, wretched hammer!” 

“Here, let me see.” Pulling her hand from her grasp, he examined it, the knuckle bright red. “At least you ain’t split the skin. Come on, let’s get it under the cold tap.” 

“No, I’m fine,” she snipped, pulling her hand away and attempting to grasp the hammer again. 

“Leave this, I’ll get it done. Come on.” 

“Fuck off, I’m alright!”  

Again, he bit his tongue. “It’s gonna swell unless you get it under the cold water.” 

“I said I’m fine!” 

Rolling his eyes, he pulled her up, her screaming protests falling on deaf ears as he lifted her with ease into his arms, carrying her through to the kitchen. She struggled, swore at him, batted at him with her hands, John tiring of it. “Oh, stop all this malarkey and just let me help ya!”  

He forced her hand beneath the tap, turning it on, holding it there while she winced and continued to cry. All he was trying to do was help her, and she couldn’t even let him do that. Finally, she relaxed a little, sniffing and wiping her tears, her thumb throbbing angrily. “Have I broken it?”  

“Give it a wiggle.” She did. “Did it feel like someone pushing a hot pin into it?” 

“No. It smarts, but it isn’t as bad as that.”  

“Then nah, ain’t broken, bab.” She went to move her hand, John gently directing it back under the stream of cold water. “Few more minutes, or it’ll blow up like a bloody golf ball.” 

“Then I’d look a right state, all teary with my golf ball thumb.”  

He chuckled, putting an arm around her on instinct. What was even more surprising? She leaned into his hug, allowing herself to be comforted by her husband. It was a first, a little thread of connection woven between the warring spouses, John turning the tap off after a few moments and reaching for the soft, white hand towel. “Come sit down and have a cuppa. I’ll go and finish the floorboard.”  

“No, it’s okay,” she protested, shaking her head. “I should think about getting ready, I have to do my hair and it takes forever.” 

“Sure? I’ll drop a nip of brandy in it for ya?” 

She pulled from him, whatever it was that had opened up closing again rapidly. “No, I’m fine.”  

For the sake of a quiet life, he left it, recognising that there had been a little progress there between them, if only very small. He went and finished fixing the floorboard, done within minutes and returning to drink his tea, his little brood coming crashing through the door half an hour later, the house once again full of noise.  

A few hours later and they were ready to leave, the children happily eating their spaghetti al Forno while Mrs. Baxter sat knitting, keeping a watchful eye upon them. Cosima was quiet all the way to town, John giving up in the end and letting the car be filled with nothing but the sound of their strained silence, glad to see his brothers and other family and friends once they arrived at the restaurant.  

His wife continued to be sullen throughout the meal, only really talking to Polly and Lizzie and even then, the women had to work hard to keep the conversation going with her. In the end, the former took it upon herself to pull the newest Shelby aside a little later that night, steering her over to the long, oak bar after she had returned from the ladies. 

“You’ve a face as long as Livery Street, madam,” Polly observed, passing her a gin cocktail. “What’s the matter? You can’t still hate our John, not after how good he’s been to you regardless of that contempt.” Her words were delivered with care, but they did not lack their usual bite. Polly would be protective of her nephews until she drew her last breath, no matter how much she genuinely did like Cosima.  

The young woman took a sip of her drink, placing the dainty glass down, accepting one of Polly’s clove cigarettes with thanks. They were a rare treat from her usual preferred brand of Park Drive, Cosima loving the warm, spicy scent of the burning clove, yet unable to smoke more than a couple at a time on account of how much they made her cough when she did. “I want to be happy with him, Pol. I honestly do, but I can’t get past it all.” 

She didn’t need to elaborate. “It’s been and gone, love. You feel guilty though, I see that.” This woman, god. She was so remarkably perceptive. “You have to move on with your life. If your brother and mother could, then there’s fuck all stopping you, is there?” 

“But my papa...”  

“Cosima, your father is gone, and you are still here,” Polly cut her up with, reaching to lightly grip her forearm. “We women, we suffer the collateral damage in the wars fought by our men, and your father was not blameless in his part. He was a gangster too, just as my boys are, just as your brother is. You know this world we live in, and living is what you have to do, sweetheart. If you keep on holding that burning contempt for John, I’ll tell you now, you’ll be the one who ends up scalded.”  

Her eyes were fixed upon her, unblinking, drawing on her cigarette before lifting her glass to her mouth. “Let it go. Set yourself free, for god’s sake. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, you hear me?” 

She nodded. “I do. Easier said than done, though, it seems.” 

“Horse shit.” She slapped a gloved hand off the bar, shaking her head as she tutted. “Life is as hard as you make it for yourself, my girl. Stop punishing yourself because you think that’s what your father would do, should he still be alive.”  

Again, Cosima was startled by Polly’s intuitive assessment of the situation, straightening and knocking back the rest of her drink. “Thanks for the chat, Pol. I know you’re right, but...” 

“But you’re a typical hardheaded, fire blooded Italian. Listening to others don’t come easy to you, I know. Just know that if you made it easy on yourself, that man over there? He’d soon treasure you like you were the rarest jewel on earth.”  

Cosima got up, heading past the table and outside, finishing the cigarette and reaching into her little sequined bag to pull out her own gold case, lighting up one of her own. She felt agitated by Polly’s words, pacing up and down as the discomfort of being told what to do rolled through her ceaselessly. She knew why it annoyed her the most, though. Polly was right.  

Still, it was in Cosima’s nature to fight it at any given opportunity.  

“How’s ya thumb feeling now?” 

Turning, she looked into the radiant, cloudy blue eyes of her husband. All she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts for a little while, but no. “Stings a little, but it’s okay.” 

He nodded, taking a pull on his cigar. “And you? Thought we were actually starting to talk to each other kinda civilly earlier, then you went quiet on me.” 

Her stare was through narrowed eyes, the magma in her blood rising in heat. “Always my fault, isn’t it?” 

“That’s not what I said, Cosima.” 

“No, but you meant it, didn’t you?” 

For fucks sake. How much harder was this tempestuous madam going to make his life? “You need to stop putting words in me mouth, love. Getting right tired of it, I am.” 

Her beautiful lips were held in pout a little longer, drawing angrily upon her cigarette, not able to escape the intensity of her husband's stare as finally, she pushed her pride down. “I’m sorry.”  

“Well, look at that. Twice since we were married, you’ve said you were sorry. Some fellas make it to their diamond wedding anniversaries without hearing it once from the missus. Ain’t I lucky, eh?” His attempt of a joke fell flat, her face unmoving. God, she was whittling him down to his last nerve, and rapidly. “Ain't you ever heard of smiling, Cosima?" He charged her with, eyeing her defiantly. 

She pulled the white fox fur warming her pale curves tighter around herself, taking one last drag upon her cigarette before flicking it away. “If you give me something to smile about, I might.” 

Oh, he had his work cut out for him, John scratching his jaw. “I’ll stick my fucking face between your legs for about half an hour, then you’ll be grinning like a loon, you miserable cow.” he muttered, but not nearly quietly enough 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, bab,” he grinned, gritting his teeth behind that forced smile. “Nothing at-fucking-all.” Give her something to smile about? She had a nerve. He’d bought her a beautiful cottage, gave her fifty pounds a week to buy whatever she wanted for herself completely aside from the housekeeping money, and was working his arse off in an effort to be a good husband. He felt like telling Tommy where he could stick his Changretta truce. Nothing, it seemed, would make her warm to him.  

He headed back inside, leaving her standing there alone, lighting herself another cigarette as she pouted, but mainly at herself. She knew it had to stop, she had to cease being – as he had quite rightly coined her – a miserable cow. The guilt of it, though. Oh, the guilt.  

“Oi, love,” an approaching man called to her, flanked by two others, “how much for a bit of how’s your father, eh?” 

“I beg your fucking pardon?” she spat, her mouth dropping open.  

Looking her up and down, he smirked. “You’re a bird standing on a street corner with a low-cut dress on. Ain’t hard to see you’re touting for business, so how much?”  

“Wait there,” she gritted, lifting her chin defiantly. “Let me go and fetch my pimp.”  

Marching back into the restaurant, John thought she was coming to have a go at him all over again, taking in her thunderous expression. “John! There’s a man out there who just accused me of being a fucking prostitute!”  

Arriving with him at the bar, she drew stares from all around, the less coarse clientele tutting and muttering, Tommy touching a hand to her elbow. “Keep your voice down, love.” 

“I will bloody not!” 

John cut in, nodding to his brother. “Take us out to him.” Her heart all but stopped dead at seeing the look in his eyes, the immediate, highly angered state her words had caused to rise within him like a leviathan. He might’ve been annoyed with her, but still, one mention of her being spoken to disrespectfully and he fired into action. Taking her hand, he walked her from the restaurant, Tommy at her other side.  

“This your pimp, is it? Oh, two fellas, eh?” 

“Ar, lad. She must be good!” one of the other jokers with the man who had disrespected her offered, the three laughing.  

“Gonna be laughing on the other side of your face in a minute, mush. Now, which fucking one of you called my wife a whore?”  

“Me,” the central man spoke, stepping forward, “Cos’ she looks like a whore, don’t she?”  

John eyed him with cool defiance, lifting his chin while stepping closer, their noses almost touching. “Wanna know what you look like, mate?” 

“What?” 

“A man with a really fucking nice smile. A Small Heath smile, as I like to call ‘em.” Removing his cap, he swiftly headbutted the man before him, shattering his nose across his face before grabbing him, gripping his throat in a formidably tight grasp. Using the razorblades upon the peak of the trademark flat cap, he slashed open his face at the corners of his mouth, the skin tearing. “You’ll never fucking speak of my bloody wife like that again, you fucking hear me?” 

While he took care of him, Tommy laid punches upon the second and third, one of them breaking free and beginning to beat John across the back with his fists, Cosima setting her bag down in one of the flowerpots that flanked the restaurant entrance, removing a shoe.  

Charging with a wobbly gait, she hitched up her dress and jumped onto the man’s back, beating him in the face and head with the heel of her shoe, until he was bloody, the heel hitting his eyeball as she snarled. “Don’t you dare touch my fucking husband! Don’t you dare!” 

The men got out of there quickly once Cosima had neatly dismounted her target, John calling after them. “Next time, you lose your fucking tongue, ya cunt!” Breathless, he turned to his wife, raising an eyebrow. “Well, at least I managed to put a smile on someone’s face tonight, eh? Nice work with the shoe an’ all, by the way. Didn’t know you cared.” 

He turned to head back inside with Tommy, straightening themselves after the ruck, Cosima reaching for his shoulder, turning him. He was about to speak again, his words of further sarcastic retort blocked by her lips landing upon his, her arms tightening around his neck. 

Her kisses were blooms of roses growing through wildfire, soft yet burning, John clasping her dainty body to his as he felt his insides cinder upon her heat. He’d fantasised for months about how it would feel to kiss those plump, pink lips, desire running rampant through him. Pulling away, her cheeks flushed, pupils inking, John leaning in for more she happily gave.  

When they parted again, she smiled. Finally. All it took was a smidgen of violence.  

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #john shelby smut #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders smut #peaky fucking blinders

[legitimatesatanspawn]

Hello! Could you tell me if Sauron got wrecked by a dog before or after he created werewolves?

Sauron made them first! What follows is a recap about the creation of werewolves, the story of Huan, and why the fight is important.

Sauron bound a "fell spirit" into a wolf body, creating Draugluin. Draugluin isn't the most powerful werewolf though as that is his son Carcharoth who Morgoth handfed people meat to like he was an oversized pet. For the record to people reading this: Morgoth is Sauron's boss, who is essentially LotR's Lucifer.

It's not exactly clear what Draugluin was before getting stuffed into a wolf but it is fair to assume he was originally another fallen and corrupted Maiar. But it's possible thanks to his title as "necromancer" that Sauron shoved a dead evil human soul in there if only to match the linguistic origins of "werewolf" as "man wolf".

Sauron also could turn into a wolf himself - which was part of the Epic Fight with the Dog. The dog being Huan, who protected Luthien and helped her and Beren fight off... a whole lot of enemies overall.

Huan was literally just a dog. A dog the "size of a small horse" that was showered with a nice package of blessings so he was functionally an elf in dog form. Immortal but could be killed. Prophesied to die after speaking three times. Orome really liked that dog. Which is to be expected of the Valar Archangel God of the Hunt. Note: this is specifically hunting Morgoths's monsters, not wild animals. He likes wild animals and dogs and horses.

Why Luthien and Beren had the epic journey adventure is under the cut. As is the summary of the journey, the actual fight, and the aftermath.

Luthien's father got together with a Maiar named Melian, who was basically a one woman force of nature who protected an entire city-state kingdom by making an Unpassable Location. The kingdom Doriath was basically Hidden and Safe and Amazing and probably had a few dumb policies as is wont to happen when you're isolated and cut yourself off from the world's problems.

Beren... somehow finds his way to the forests around Doriath. Sees her. They fall in love (echoing what will later be Aragorn and Arwen and part of why Elrond is sort of Freaking Out because he knows how this story goes and while he doesn't wanna be Thingol... ).

Beren can't get killed off by Thingol's orders because Luthien managed to get him to promise not to, or to imprison him for the Audacity, so Thingol manages to get him to go along with a deal: "come back with one of the Noldor's stolen Silmarils from Morgoth's crown and you may have my daughter's hand in marriage."

This is meant to be a Solo Thing but Beren asks Finrod for advice. Finrod is a bamf and one of the big brothers to Galadriel and kicks all kinds of ass. He remembers all the drama of the Silmarils and was one of the Noldor who opposed the Oath to cross the artic ice for revenge to get them back... look there's a huge mess with the Silmarils and why Oaths are Bad and why no one trusts the Noldor or especially not Feanor or his sons. I don't want to get into it right now, their creation, or why specifically Galadriel's brother getting involved is a big thing. Like I get the reasons because that's Feanor's creation and Morgoth egged him on before swiping them, but god damn. But Finrod wasn't gonna go with them but then he didn't want to get cut off from his friends who did so he went along.

So hearing "I promised to get the Silmarils back" probably wasn't a happy moment for Finrod to hear coming out of Beren's mouth. Thank god no Grinding Ice was involved though because that was a massacre unto itself. It took around 25-30 years to cross that, or like 9 'years' as known by their calendar then. Even for an elf that's a long time.

Finrod gathered up a bunch of people but most of them got killed and captured and the survivors were taken to Sauron's island where he was still breeding Werewolves for some unholy reason. The probable meta reason is to ensure the existence of Wargs later on.

Luthien sensed Problems so she dashed out to find Beren and ran right into two of Feanor's sons and their dog Huan - who was given to one of them by Orome back when Feanor's family weren't being Ultra Stupid about the fancy cursed yet hallowed gems. And for reasons I can't remember clearly on why, they took Luthien prisoner and locked her up in Finrod's fort. Where she got chummy with Huan and Huan helped her escape (and spoke for the First time).

They got there in time to try and avenge Finrod's death. Sauron was like "oooh that Maia's spawnling. I'll be richly rewarded by my master if I bring you to him in chains" and cue the werewolf attack that Huan bamfed his way through kicking their asses. This included the father werewolf by the way, so you know Huan is a beast (affectionate).

And then Huan and Sauron fought! Sauron took the form of a wolf first and lost, but Huan got him in a chokehold with his teeth and just REFUSED to let go! No matter what form Sauron took, no matter what he did or tried to do...

Sauron got his ass kicked by a dog and it was only because of Luthien letting him go (probably laughing the whole time) so she can move on to more important things.

If you're curious about the rest of that story: Beren and Luthien snuck into Morgoth's hellish current capital by disguising themselves as his top vampire messenger/servant and the dead father werewolf. Luthien, when Morgoth tore off the illusion/disguise, continued to be a BAMF and bewitched the whole capital/fortress into falling asleep so they can pry one of the gems from the Iron Crown. Sadly Morgoth started to stir when something hit him by accident so they panicked and ran out with the Silmaril.

(Fair warning: nothing mortal can touch the Silmarils. Nothing EVIL can touch the gems either. This was by holy decree and blessing. So how Thingol expected Beren to take a Simaril back I have no idea.)

But remember when I mentioned Carcharoth, the son of the first werewolf? He woke up first because, as the guard dog who got suspicious as all get out over his "father" having "survived" (word reached him of his death), they had to first cast him to sleep before slipping into the place. Beren tried to use the Silmaril to scare him off by waving it in the air and instead he got his hand bit off for the trouble.

And then Carcharoth went nuts for a whole new reason: agony in the belly. He was put out of his agony sometime later to get the gem, but this is the best part I swear:

When Thingol saw Beren and Luthien rock up seemingly empty-handed... Beren told him to his face "even now I have a Silmaril in my hand".

Rest of the story short, Beren and Luthien got together, the wolf with the Silmaril in his belly showed up (probably was tracking them) and tried to get Thingol only for Beren to get in the way. Huan got the wolf, the wolf got Huan, Huan died with his head in Beren's other hand. Thingol got the gem, Luthien... died at some unclear point in time and convinced the Archangel Valar God of the Dead to change Beren's fate and let them be together in death if not in life. They got reborn as humans and got a happily ever after together - she gave up certain peace for an uncertain life with him..

Meanwhile, skipping over the hot mess that is Turin's life and why Thingol adopted him, Thingol got killed off by Dwarves who found out that not only did he have a Simaril but he put it in a famous Dwarven necklace "gifted" to him by Turin's blood father Hurin over how his son's life went (LONG story short: a terrible combination of Morgoth cursing people, Morgoth's dragon cursing people, Morgoth capturing Hurin and cursing him, and also Arrogance and Pride on Turin's part, and lots of soap opera drama) to create one insanely priceless artifact. This lead to the Sacking of the kingdom and a lot of death and destruction, as is wont to happen when Simarils are involved.

Honestly, Beren and Luthien should've decked Thingol when he first brought up the damn rock.

#the silmarillion #lore dump #silmarils #beren and luthien #sauron vs huan #sauron lost to a dog #this took a while #the legendary grudge match between a fallen angel and dog #it took me two hours to write this #luthien tinuviel #beren #melian #thingol #doriath #morgoth #sauron #huan #mairon #finrod #feanor #turin turambar #curufin #celegorm #draugluin #carcharoth #melkor #thuringwethil #jrr tolkien #tolkien

[echantedtoon]

What If: Douma Edition

DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK IS IN ABSOLUTELY NO WAY CANNON TO DEMON BRIDE AND IS NOT AN ENDING. IT IS A WHAT IF IDEA THAT I THOUGHT WOULD BE FUN TO WRITE. PLEASE KEEP THAT IN MIND GOING FORWARD.

Warnings: Douma IS his own warning. Possibly some innuendos.

The cold silence pursed from a smile once faked and forced but now oh so full of life he never thought he'd ever be able to feel before now. Before he met HER. Sure the navigation was still rocky and if he was being completely honest, there was still a long way for him to go before he does make any one Hundred percent clear sense of it all. 

"Let me get this straight. So you're upset that your fiance wants to call off the engagement but you say that because the engagement was made by her father that she can't call off the arrangements? But she says that because her father died it's not up to him or you anymore and she can break it off if she wants to?....Am I understanding this right?"

Emotions sure were tricky. Previously he could just sit down and listen to hundreds of rambles without being ....Annoyed? Yes. That was the new emotion he was now able to feel. Suddenly faking and mimicking everything became genuinely harder. Sigh. He really needed to schedule in more vacation days with Master Muzan and Kokushibo-...No. No. He'll ask Mistress Rei instead. She'll be more sympathetic to his requests.  Meanwhile he was staring at a young couple in their early twenties sitting in front of him from his compound demanding that he help settle this annoying matter. 

The man nodded firmly before pointing at him. "Yes. You even blessed this engagement yourself two years ago, Lord Douma."

"Oh riiiiight. I remember that." No he didn't. He blessed so many marriages and engagements and divorces that he literally lost count of them all at this point. He waved a hand and forcibly smiled wider. "Such a happy time."

"Not anymore. She wants to leave me to marry another man! Surely you can see that we're meant for one another! You blessed our marriage so surely the gods see that too right!?"

Oh gods it was one of these days. Sigh. The woman had remained mostly silent throughout this entire ten minute rambling and just stared surprised at his chest. Usually he'd be flattered but he was too annoyed with this to care. Instead his hand reached up to shift something further up on his chest. 

"And has your fiance tried talking about this to you already?," he asked tilting his head. Platinum blonde locks of hair shifting with him. "Maybe she didn't even want this. Surely she's given her reasons."

"She has! But they're all nonsense! If she didn't want this marriage then she should've said so at the very beginning!"

The woman finally looked away from the thing on his chest and glared at him. "I DID!! But my father wouldn't listen! I wouldn't be engaged to a man like YOU otherwise!"

All the yelling was starting to not only annoy him but make a fuss of another. He couldn't deal with this anymore. He had an appointment to keep and he wouldn't be late because of a petty lovers' quarrel. So he smiled widely at them.

"I have a perfect solution for the both of you." Both instantly stopped and looked as he pointed at the man. "You're a young healthy man. I'm ordering you to consult my compound's matchmaker to find you a new engagement." The man looked shocked as he then pointed at the woman. "And you go marry whoever you want to. Now that that's settled, this meeting is now over!" He quickly stood up from the large comfortable pillows and plucked up a big bag with him. "Excuse me. I have an appointment to keep somewhere else."

"But-...B-But Founder!," the man called after him but he ignored it in favor of walking over towards the side door leading out of the room and to his private courters.

With his brisk legs it didn't take too long to step outside of the room and close the door behind him. A sigh of relief escaped his cold lungs as soon as he heard the door slide shut behind him. A chuckle to his left gave him another but smaller twinge of annoyance. 

"Not easy to get through today's meetings, Sir?" Kaleidoscope rainbow irises turned to an older woman. Her wrinkled face smiled amused at the younger man. "You've been taking more breaks than usual."

For once in his life he frowned. "Your words wound me. I thought my top helper would know better than to criticize hard work." A hand reached up to pluck a hat from his head. "Cancel anything else for me this week. I'm leaving for the Infinity Castle for a bit."

"Another meeting with Master Muzan? Or .. perhaps something else more familial?" She chuckled waving a hand to the object on his chest making him frown (pout-) more.

"Neither! I'm simply on my way to see my wife!" He finally smiled lighting up more. "My Happy is surely expecting me as we arranged it in advance."

He was so happy to finally get out of there for a while and ask (pester-) Nakime into teleporting him to the Infinity Castle or more Specifically the Dwell. It felt like a breath of fresh air as he stood in front of the familiar giant home one sound of a biwa strum later. He was happy to practically skip up to the door that instantly opened and a servant greeted him. But he paused seeing the object he carried with him... Before turning away to hide a snort. He rose a brow..but didn't bother with him to just skip a long... However he did notice all the amused or awestruck faces he got as he walked along the fancy corridors. 

This had been going on for the entire month. Why wasn't anyone taking him seriously!?

He frowned(pouted-) and continued along with the bag in hand until he came across a familiar corridor and briskly walked faster Until he stopped in front of the door smiling wider then ever. A hand reached up and knocked loudly on the fancy oak wood door loud enough to echo throughout the hall. It did not take too long for him to get an answer.

"Come in," a woman's voice called from within.

He wasted no time sliding the door open fast enough to almost slam it open and practically jump into the room locking onto a woman inside. "Oh my darling, Lotus Bloom!~"

You lazily rose a brow and looked up at the tall demon in the doorway closing the book in your hands. "You're three hours late."

Douma ignored you dropping the bag in his hands and persisted in rushing in, dropping to his knees next to you, and affectionately grabbing your hand in his hands. "My Angel.~ My light.~ My colors.~ My Happy!~ Oh how I missed you so!"

"It's only been a month," you deadpanned. 

He ignored that in favor of pressing his head against yours. "I was so loooonly without you. I wanted my wife so baaaaaad. I missed you so much!" A pucker of his lips followed as he puckered up and leaned in for an obvious kiss but stopped when a hand pressed against his mouth and pushed him back.

"You're over dramatizing things again, Douma. What took you so long? We agreed on a time and you promised to show up then."

He pouted again. "It wasn't my fault! My meetings take up so much time! Oh Y/n! Everyone's been so mean to me all month! They all keep looking at me like something's funny and no one's taking me seriously! I don't know why!" He whined.

You rolled your eyes before holding up a hand. "Maybe THIS is why." Your finger wiggled and was instantly snatched up by a chubby little hand.

Douma blinked before looking down at the platinum blonde haired infant strapped to his chest. His son giggled again and stared at you both with eyes of different shades of blues and purples. ".....Oh. Why would they be amused by this?" He gestured to himself. "I'm a good daddy! I always make sure he's with me."

You finally snorted amused. "Well seeing someone intimidating like you just walking around with a cute chubby baby on your chest would make you look a bit funny."

He pouted harder. "I'm a good dad!" He retorted crossing his arms. "I take care of, Lotus. And spend time with him! I'm good at daddy-ing!"

You again snorted at his choice of words and finding it easy people would be amused by his attitude on top of being a new dad but you both were still getting used to the custody arrangement. Douma can't be here all the time because of his duties and you didn't want to live in his compound, and you weren't going to force Rui to live there with his dislike of Douma already and his old family there. So you two formed an arrangement. You'd both take turns taking on Lotus until he can decide where he'd rather live once he was old enough. Each of you taking him for an entire month until the last day where you switched. It'd been five months now and so far it seemed to work out fairly well for everyone aside from Douma's pouting. You two hadn't made a big deal of telling a lot of people about Lotus yet still getting used to it so it was a bit surprise for a lot of people to find out that Douma was suddenly a father. 

You patted his cheek peeking him back up instantly. "Yes you are. And people finding you cute being a dad isn't a bad thing. It just means they know you're doing the best you can."

He smiled leaning in closer as Lotus cooed mindlessly. "Yes...So where is the young one?"

"He's training with Akaza today. Although I think they'll be back soo-"

You didn't even get to finish talking before the door slid open again and you both looked up. Both of you met the eyes of Akaza and Rui. No doubt Akaza had come to bring Rui home. All four of you stared silently at one another awkwardly before Douma sat back up to wave a hand excitedly at the link haired demon with a big grin. Akaza's eyes bugged out of his skull seeing the cooing baby strapped to the blonde's chest. He stared before looking at you, then at the baby, then at Douma, and then at the baby again.

"Hi, Akaza-dono! Did you finally come to see your best friend's son!? I'm AMAZING at daddy-ing!"

Akaza looked utterly, clearly, absolutely, so matter of factly, terrifyingly so, so, so, so HORRIFIED. "Oh dear gods no. THEY'RE MULTIPLYING!!"

#demon bride lost bits #douma x reader #Douma #kimetsu gakuen #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

[damn-stark]

Chapter 13 The Great War

Chapter 13 of Moonlight

A/N- I hope you guys like

Warning- Swearing, ANGST!, some fluff, blood, death and violence, SPOILERS for future events of HOTD.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- After 1x09, events based off of Fire and Blood

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

Dear Lucerys,

Writing this may be futile—no it is, you’ll never be around to read what I ramble on about, what I can’t even share to my husband, or even Cregan; Not unless I want to risk getting caught and killed. So writing to you about what is developing in my life is my best option, besides I think it helps me mourn you since I cannot actually grieve for you as I’d like to here in King's Landing, in the Lion's den.

So let’s start with happy news, Aerion is 6 months old now, he’s getting even chunkier which is hard because he’s getting heavy to carry. He just loves eating though. Oh! And he’s started to say pa, which isn’t a surprise he’s attached to Aemond by the hip.

And the twins are growing perfectly, I’m almost three months along, and unlike with Aerion, my belly is already starting to swell. Which is normal since there are two. Aemond and I have already chosen names too, if it’s a girl and a boy, Daenys and Baelon! If it’s two boys Baelon, and Laenor, like father. And if it’s two girls which is what I hope, we have chosen Daenys and Daenerys! I think it goes well together.

Now, let’s see, since you’ve been gone, I have now turned to Princess Regent, which came with four knights protecting me and Aerion at all times. Aemond doesn’t want to risk either of us getting hurt. The eyes that were watching me before have since left, but it doesn’t mean I can just flaunt about the castle and do as I please. I have to keep up appearances if I want to continue helping our mother.

But ever since becoming Regent I have gained this power which is unlike any other, it’s not the power a Queen would have, but it’s close I imagine, and I'm not ashamed to say that I like it. I like being in control, having power that I did not possess before. I enjoy sharing my opinions in ongoing battles and war strategies. I enjoy the attention, all of it, every aspect...I never would have gotten this with our mother—at least Aemond keeps saying that to me.

Nevertheless, it’s not something I should get used to, Aegon is still somehow alive, everyday I pray he’ll pass away in his sleep or something, but he doesn’t which is the terrible, horrible bad news. As to the other news, well, it’s interesting, our grandfather Lord Corlys has become mothers hand, Joffrey and Rhaena have been taken to The Vale for protection, Daemon remains at Harrenhal, fighting or what not. And since our grandmother's death it seems the Gods have blessed our mother with Dragonseeds at long last.

From what the sources say there’s five of them, Addam of Hull is one, he bonded with Seasmoke. I had hoped Seasmoke would bond with Aerion, but oh well, it wasn’t meant to be. That’s not the juiciest thing about him though, Addam has a brother Alyn of Hull, who I met last year! He unlike Addam didn’t bond with a dragon, but get this, people are saying they’re the supposed bastards of our father Laenor, but only a fool would believe that. I alone was conceived by a miracle, because mother and him wanted to do their duty as man and wife, otherwise he would not choose another woman to share a bed with. So the Hull brothers' father is a mystery, perhaps it's our grandfather or Ser Vaemond, heh, that would be funny.

Besides Addam nevertheless, there's a bastard called Hugh the Hammer, he claimed Vermithor. A man called Ulf the White bonded with Silverwing. And the brown wild dragon Sheepstealer, is said to have bonded with a young bastard girl named Nettles. She, like Addam, seems interesting to get to know, if only I could.

Now, baby brother, I saved the best for last! You met this man, he was a part of mothers Queensguard, it’s said he’s been dismissed now since he’s claimed a dragon of his own. And that man is my friend, Ser Jason Waters!

I almost gasped at the meeting when I heard the news. When I finally had time alone with Vanessa we couldn’t help but gossip about it and get all excited about it like a pair of young girls. But anyway, he managed to bond with that beautiful but shy grey-white dragon, Grey Ghost. He’s always been such a mystery, so it makes sense why the two of them would bond, Ser Jason is also a mystery, even more so now that his father is of Valyrian blood. I wonder who it is…I want to see him now to ask and talk about his new and greatest soulmate.

Anyway…that’s all for now baby brother…war is raging, Cregan has yet to join any battles, I think some men from

The North, who call themselves the Winter Wolves are the ones fighting, but not Cregan. If only I could write to him…talk to him…I regret the way I left Winterfell. I was scared and angry about what I did. He was my greatest friend, my first love, he didn’t deserve that. So hopefully I’ll get to see him again. At least once.

I’ll write again soon, I miss you. I love you.

Your beloved sister, Y/N.

——

As much as you did enjoy being a part of small council meetings and war meetings now, the one downside was the Lords and Alicent.

There’s always this look they give you, a judgmental and disgusted look. They didn’t dare do it so outwardly, it was discreet so Aemond wouldn’t catch them. They also made snappy little comments, or tried to embarrass you in some discreet ways. And when they talked about your intermediate family like your brothers, mother or grandfather, there’s this resentment you feel and see, like if you’re the one controlling what they do. It’s annoying, but you won’t give them the satisfaction of not attending.

After all this is what you’ve wanted, a power your mother took away from you the day Jacaerys was born. You won’t give up, just like she didn’t.

“It is said that a fortnight ago, Princess Rhaenyra has declared the Hull bastards as Velaryons by Lord Corlys request,” Ser Otto shares, making you blink repeatedly in disbelief, knowing what it could mean.

“Now our sources haven’t told me if he has declared the eldest the new heir,” Ser Otto continues, making you shift in your seat uncomfortably. “But by giving them the Velaryon name we have to expect that’s what they plan now that Prince Aerion is here.”

He said it wouldn’t matter though…then again when he said it the Hull brothers identity wasn’t known.

“We’ll have to wait then,” you interject calmly even if inside that is bothering you. “If Lord Corlys disinherits Ser Laenor’s grandchild then it will be a disrespect to my fathers memory. My grandfather is a proud man so it’s unlikely.”

“But in such desperate times such traits change,” Alicent adds. “Especially when it comes to inheriting his only living sons.”

You look at her and swallow back your snippy comment, and just nod stiffly in comprehension.

It may be a rumor since no one believes your father is the father to Addam or Alyn, but Alicent is right about that. He’d prefer his sons over a great grandchild with parents at opposite sides of the war.

What would your grandmother have to say about all of it?

No one will ever know…

“Until we have more news let’s move on,” Aemond says as he slides his warm hand over yours to interlace his fingers with yours. “What of the preparations for watchtowers past the shore? Now that the Black’s have gained dragonriders it would seem that they plan to attack King’s Landing.”

Ser Otto scoffs and a mischievous smirk grows on his features. “I’m sure that’s what they plan, but it may be delayed. As we know the High council of the Triarchy has accepted our alliance, and we know ninety ships have departed from The Stepstones. They are now moving towards the Gullet.”

“What of it?” Aemond probes. “Have they came across Lord Corlys fleet?”

Ser Otto shakes his head and looks over at Lord Larys.

Before Lord Strong speaks though, he briefly glances at you. ���It seems that as they were en route, they came across a Pentoshi Cog that was carrying Princess Rhaenyra’s youngest sons. Prince Aegon and Prince Viserys…”

What? Why didn’t he tell you before?

“…It’s said that Prince Aegon the Younger managed to escape because of his dragon, but Prince Viserys was left behind. His whereabouts are unknown, but he most likely resides amongst the Triarchy fleet.”

Without hesitation you lean over towards the table and interject. “Then we must go. Take him before my mother makes her move.”

“Now is that spoken by you, his sister, or Princess Regent?” Lord Wylde snaps at you with a hint of smugness. “Perhaps this matters isn’t for the Princess to hear.”

Aemond parts his lips, but you cut in before he can speak. “If we capture Prince Viserys we can take him captive,” you say what’s coming to mind, a deception so you can save your brother but make the Green Council think it’s for their benefit. “The Blacks will respond.”

“With dragonfire,” Lord Otto counters as if you’re dumb. “They’ll outmatch us. Vhagar may count for half of their dragon power, but neither she nor your dragon will be enough if the entire force comes.”

You glance at Aemond, and he meets your gaze but says nothing because he agrees with his grandfather. So it seems you’ll have to step it up.

“Not if we threaten Viserys,” you quickly come up with something, but you don’t share your worry, you try to remain calm. “I know my mother, there’s nothing she wouldn't do for her children,” you say and tilt your head slowly to the side. “And Viserys is Daemon's son, say what you want about him, but he wouldn’t risk his son's life. We take Viserys, send them a raven to tell them to meet without dragons. If they fail then…” you sigh and grow stiff. “We decide what to do then.”

“The princess may be right,” Ser Tyland argues in your defense. “Princess Rhaenyra does have a mothers heart. That alone is a weakness we can manipulate.”

These men really underestimate that don’t they?

You hum in agreement nevertheless and continue smugly now to try and sell your plan. “Now, what is said about the dragon seeds that claimed the dragons?” You look around the decorated table, and they look amongst each other before Lord Larys answers.

“It is said that most of them are bastards.”

You hum and begin to smirk. “Bastards have no honor when the right deal is struck. I’m sure a deal can be made with some of them if not all of them.”

Aemond hums and leans forward. “You are right about that, my Princess.”

You look at him and pass a small smile, Aemond shoots you a smirk and then looks at the council with a smug look that makes Alicent uncomfortable, and lets her know what is on his mind before he can share it.

“Aemond you must think it through,” she argues. “News has probably already reached Rhaenyra, she’ll counter, and we can’t risk you getting hurt with Aegon already abed.”

“My y/n is right,” Aemond says and surprises you, but you don’t show it. “If we take Viserys we’ll have an upperhand. It’s doubtful they’ll surrender, but we will have some control. And she’s right about the bastard nature. They can be swayed.”

The council all share worried and disapproving looks, but no one dares speak against him. Ser Otto shares a suggestion though. “At least write to your brother, Prince Daeron. He can aid you with his dragon.”

That will take forever, and give them an advantage.

“We don’t have to fight back,” you suggest and look to Aemond, and give his hand a gentle squeeze. “We take Viserys and go. If there’s dragonriders out there they won’t follow us to King’s Landing. It may look like we are cowards for fleeing, but we’re playing smarter.”

Aemond passes you an admiring look before addressing his council. “That’s what I’ll do then. Surprise them and only fight back if it’s necessary.”

“Aemond,” Alicent rebuttals. “It’s not wise.”

Said man scoffs. “But it is. I won’t fail, I’ve already made a promise that I won’t.” He lets your hand go to gently caress your small swollen belly, telling you speechlessly that it was you he made that promise to.

The lords don’t see that, but they see how Aemond listens to you over them. They don’t like it, they show their anger in the silence with discreet annoyed glares.

Not like you pay them any mind, you just sit in your success and pride; with your leg over the other and your hand possessively on Aemond’s arm, while you reach for your goblet of water with the other.

“Then you’ll go alone?” Ser Otto asks. “It won’t be wise to take the Princess in her…condition.”

“I’ll go alone, today,” Aemond agrees, causing your smirk to fall to a frown.

However, you don’t disagree with him there, you wait in your annoyance. Once the meeting is dismissed, you let your discontent known to Aemond with your look and your silence.

“What’s wrong?” He asks as trails a bit behind you.

You reach the Godswood and take a moment of silence first in front of the Heart Tree. You pray for your brother's well being, and just like you do every time, you pray for this war to end soon. Aemond respects your moment of prayer, he doesn’t ever complain about your difference in religion even if he finds it odd that you follow the Old Gods, rather than the Faith of the Seven. Albeit right now he is impatient to know what’s bothering you. He had an idea what it is, it’s pretty obvious, but he needs to make sure.

But of course you do take your time just to annoy him. Once you are done though you let out a deep exhale and drop your head, Aemond slowly approaches your side and watches you. Before you can start saying anything though, you put your hand out in front of him.

Aemond doesn’t question you, he just sighs and then lifts his hands to take his eyepatch off and hand it to you. When it’s secured in your hand you finally slowly face him.

“I want to go with you to the Gullet,” you share the truth right away. “Please. Regardless of sides, and who his father is, he’s still my brother.”

Aemond slowly turns and faces you, causing the blue sapphire in his eye to glimmer against the sunlight that peeked out of the clouds. He then sighs and grabs your hand to gently caress it with his thumb.

“Do you really expect me to put you in harm's way? You and the babies?” He asks softly. “The plan is not to attack, but it’s still a battle zone, they’ll have Scorpions. An arrow hits you then what? It’s not only you, it’s the children that grow inside you too.”

You know that. Doesn’t he think you know that? You’re the one growing them after all.

“It’s Aerion too.” He continues. “I would never forgive myself.”

You shake your head and argue. “Aerion would have you. And it’s not like I’m planning to die. Or get hit. In and out. That’s the plan.”

Aemond licks his lips and closes the gap that was left between the two of you. “Please, my love. Listen to me. I love you too much to see you get hurt. I won’t be able to do it without you. You’re my best friend. My wife.”

You lose some of your tension and feel your heart flutter at the way he’s expressing himself.

“And while I’m gone you’ll be here in charge.”

In charge? He won’t be gone long though. Not long enough to control anything.

“No harm will come to your brother,” Aemond says and then cups your cheeks. “I swear.”

You hold his gaze and think of the sweet words he just said that fill your heart with joy, the promise he makes that makes you feel somewhat comforted. You feel yourself losing interest in what you wanted as his words seem to control you.

But it then hits you right as he kisses you; you can’t let him manipulate you into getting what he wants. This was your plan. Viserys is your brother, and the fleet they’ll face is your grandfather's fleet. The dragon he’ll face will probably be Jacaerys.

“No,” you protest and step back, but let him keep his hands on your face. “No. I can’t just let you leave by yourself. It doesn’t matter if Vhagar is the biggest, he’s not invincible. You need me to watch your back.”

Aemond groans and looks away in annoyance.

“Aemond,” you now rebuttal softly. “With Aegon still abed you need someone with you. You don’t want to wait for Daeron, so unless you manage to change Helaena, I’m all you have. Me, your wife. Your best friend.”

Aemond blinks and meets your gaze with an intense glare.

“Its me and you, right? Besides, if I go, if Jacaerys or any other dragon rider is out there fighting back against the Triarchy, they won’t attack me. I’m my mother's only daughter, she won’t let them hurt me, no matter what sides we’re on,” you add confidently but in a sweet voice. “It’s the same with my grandfather. They won’t hurt me. Neither will the Triarchy. I can go in and out, you patrol the skies and if danger comes you attack.” You begin to smile. “Please.”

Aemond drops his gaze and swallows thickly. He continues to debate your proposition, so you continue with one last argument.

“Please, because if you come back like Aegon, knowing I could've prevented it, I would never forgive myself. You’re all I have here, if you’re gone…I might as well be gone too.” You lean towards him and grab his jaw to bat your eyelashes.

Aemond looks you in the eye and stays quiet for a minute longer before he sighs deeply. “Fine. But any sign of attack we’ll return. With or without your brother.”

You flash him a grin and then throw your arms around his neck for an embrace. “Thank you for trusting me, my love.”

Aemond hugs you back and presses a kiss on the side of your head, and then whispers in Valyrian. “<If they harm you in any way, I’ll lay waste to the entire fleet. I don’t give a fuck which side it is. You understand that?>”

You giggle and nod. “<I’m honored by that promise.>”

Aemond hums and you can sense his smirk.

“Now I’m going to go change so we can go,” you add excitedly as you pull back to face him.

Aemond groans. “You look great like that. Let’s just go.”

You scoff. “Aemond you know me better. Besides, I have too many new outfits I want to wear. You’ll love them.”

Aemond’s smile begins to show on his lips as he rolls his eye.

“And! You’ll wear your armor right?” You ask. “You owe me. We can do it now.” You smirk and lean in to whisper against his lips. “I want you inside me. With the armor on.”

Aemond smirks and then steals a kiss before he slides his hands down to take one of yours, and lead you back inside and do what you wanted before leaving.

——

*A FEW MONTHS BACK. WINTERFELL*

“Y/N, come out I am not jesting anymore!” Jacaerys sounds annoyed, but you don’t concern yourself, you continue to sneak through the woods that were at his side, making sure not to get seen by him, or by Cregan who’s following him and amused by the entire situation.

“Y/N!”

You snicker and step over fallen branches as you hurry out of hiding. Before he can hear you or see you, you jump out of the woods and jump on his back.

“Ahaha!” You chuckle and wrap your hands around his neck, and your legs around his waist.

Jacaerys clenches his jaw and glares over at you. “What is your problem?” He sneers.

“Don’t tell me I scared you,” you tease him. “Did Dragonstone make you soft?”

“No,” Jacaerys grumbles and pushes you off him, causing you to let go of him and fall on your ass.

“Ah,” you groan. “That hurt.”

“I just don’t behave like a child,” he counters.

Cregan falls back and offers you his hand, you smile up at him before you take it and let him help you to your feet.

You don’t let your hand linger on his though. You fear that Jacaerys will catch you, so you just wipe the dirt off you and then clasp your hands behind you to walk ahead of Jacaerys and Cregan, and turn around to face them as you walk back. “I don’t behave like a child. I’m just having fun. Should I have a stick up my ass now because I’m married and have a son? That sounds so boring!”

Jacaerys meets your gaze and nods with a tightlipped smile. “Yes, behave like your husband.”

You shoot him a glare and roll your eyes while you turn around and wait for him to catch up. “You need to ease up,” you advise your brother. “In a few years from now you’ll be King,” you tell him full of hope while you hook your arm around his. “You’ll sit on that stiff throne made of hard ass swords, get your ear talked off by your council and have no fun. Enjoy your freedom while you can.”

Jacaerys glances at you and hums. “And what will you be doing?” He asks. “While I rule our country?”

You smile ahead. “I’ll be in Dragonstone, raising my children, sailing, flying on my Astraea, finding routes to take to finally sail across the narrow sea. To sail far where the water ends and the sky touches the water.” You grin at him and share your glee with Cregan.

Jacaerys laughs softly and nods along. “Here I thought you could be my Hand. Guess I’ll have to assign the title to someone else.”

You break away from him and look at him with a serious look. “Don’t mess with me like that, Jace. Really?” You press.

Your brother begins to smirk smugly while he shrugs. “Do you expect me to have another Hightower as Hand?”

You begin to grin at Jacaerys and squeal before you once again take his arm. “I guess I’ll have to postpone my travel plans then. Oh but what would your court say? A women as Hand? Oh the world will crumble,” you feign concern and swoon towards Cregan. “The sky will fall and the kingdoms will break apart.”

Cregan looks down at you as he holds you to keep you from falling. “I won’t have a problem with it,” he assures you. “Just do your job and I’ll follow along.”

You shoot him a smile. “The ever so loyal Stark. Thank you my Lord.” You stand to your given height and look back at your brother, catching his gaze already on Cregan and you.

“Well…” he hesitates and narrows his eyes before looking ahead. “They would’ve had a Queen already, so it won’t be that strange? Right? Besides, it's not the gender that should count, it’s the person by the rulers side. Their mind, their behavior and their fairness. If we continue to judge by gender then we’ll fall sooner or late.”

You slowly smile with pride and nod in agreement. “I agree. See? You’ll make a great King. That proves it.”

——

*NOW. THE GULLET*

The smell of burning wood spread for miles, you were perhaps more than halfway to the Gullet when the scent hit your nose. The sound of battle cries of both of pain and courage was carried out by the ocean breeze. And it all just grows the concern that already altered your beating heart. But you never once think of regret.

The thought of turning back never crosses your mind, your plan was simple, rescue your brother from the clutches of the Triarchy, which is your ally, but well, you already convinced the council into accepting your mission, so they’ll never know your true motives.

Especially not Aemond, he doesn’t ever doubt your loyalty to him. He knows that you aren’t a Green loyalist, but you do follow him, you love him so his trust on you has not faltered. It’s why he lets you approach where the battle is thickest all by yourself. It took a lot of convincing, he wanted to be at your side while you went in search of your brother Viserys, but you told him that if there were other dragonriders they’d attack him and it would just result in a battle neither of you would win. Because regardless of how big Vhagar is, she can’t beat 5 or 6 united dragons, so you told him to wait for you on a small piece of land not far from where the battle is. But! You did say that if you end up needing his help you’d let him know with a secret signal.

Let’s hope it doesn't come to it.

Alas, when you finally begin to see the battling ships, you see the disaster the Triarchy created upon Driftmark, you see your grandfather's fleet fighting back. Your grandfather's fleet outnumbers the Triarchy, but they also fight back fiercely which is admirable all things considered.

It’s also good that they’re fighting back hard because it means they’re all distracted, making it somewhat easier to go fetch Viserys. Where would they keep him though?

Not in the center of it all, that’s too risky. The front of the fleet is scattered, burning and mixed with Velaryon ships, so he wouldn’t be there. Perhaps in the end? It would make for an easy escape.

Yes, that's where you’ll go first.

Wait? Why aren't there dragons fighting back too? Your mother wouldn't have let a fleet come try to rescue Viserys all by themselves, she’d send her dragonriders, right? So where are they?

You squint your eyes and try to look through the thick and dark clouds of smoke that pollute the air, but you don’t hear wings flapping, or—

And then there it is, past the clouds of smoke can be heard a loud furious shriek from a dragon. It’s loud and sharp, booming, but it seems to be only one.

Can it be Jacaerys? He must be fighting too. Hm.

No matter how much you long to see your brother though, you have to take advantage of the fact that there's only one dragon. So without another second to spare, you descend from high in the sky and target the end of the Triarchy, while they fight back against their enemy fleet.

As you get closer the smell of salt and smoke mixes in your nose, causing your stomach to get all queasy. But you try your best to ignore that and keep your mind focused.

Nevertheless, just as you fly down and get closer to the water, suddenly an arrow comes whizzing at you and manages to hit Astraea on the shoulder just a few inches from where your saddle is. Almost as if the arrow was pointed at you and not her directly. What the hell?!

Astraea shrieks out in pain and she wobbles, making you grip onto the saddle's handles before you snap your head to where it came from. That’s when you see that it had come from a Scorpion on the Triarchy ship. People that are meant to be your allies!

What the hell?!

And since you are close to ships, you see a man behind the Scorpion. He looks distressed, so maybe it was an accident. Or not and they tried to kill you!

But you can’t fight back, you have to stay focused. Even if your poor girl is hurt.

“<Astraea,” you address your dragon softly and with concern. “Stay focused. Keep flying. We won’t stay long. Stay focused…>” you trail off however when you spot Vermax in the water slowly sinking further and further. You were so focused on your one mission, you didn’t bother to try and look for the dragon that had shrieked before. You should have though because it was Vermax, Jacaerys dragon. Vermax is the one getting swallowed by the sea as he fights back against it. And if he’s in the water…Jacaerys?!

Without a second thought you change courses and have Astraea make a sharp turn towards Vermax. She flies as quickly as she can with an arrow still embedded in her. She doesn’t cry though, she keeps going and doesn’t get hit this time by your own allies. And when you do get close to Vermax you gasp and feel yourself fill with horror as you see your little brother, Jacaerys in the water, gripping onto a wreckage trying his best to stay afloat while arrows stabbed his body.

“No, no, no,” you mutter and quickly let go of your handles to hastily take off the buckles that keep you restrained to your saddle.

A dragon call breaks in the sky, and when you glance up you spot Vhagar. Aemond must’ve heard Astraea’s cry and came without waiting.

He doesn’t descend though, he sees that you aren’t getting attacked so he stays in the sky, good. Even if he did descend, it wouldn’t matter, you stay focused on Jacaerys, and when you’re released from your restraints you swing your leg over the saddle, and wait. When Astraea is low enough to skim over the water, you slide down using the rope ladders you use to climb to your saddle.

In the distance Myrmen walked to the edge of their ships and pointed their crossbows at Jacaerys, but Astraea knew your intentions, she felt your protectiveness over your brother and snapped her head to the side to bath the men on fire.

When you finally reach where Jacaerys is, you reach the end of the ladders and Astraea keeps herself afloat to let you help your brother. “Jacaerys!” You call out in a quivering voice.

Said man was already looking at you with disbelief and anger. “You…you shouldn’t be here,” you hear your brother tell you.

You shake your head and reach your hand out. “Shut up and take my hand, help me help you up. If I let go of the rope I’ll fall too.”

Jacaerys swallows thickly and hesitates.

“Jacaerys!” You insist louder.

Said man holds your gaze for a second before he reaches out and grabs ahold of your hand. “Good, good,” you assure him while you dig your fingers in his arm and pull up with all your strength. Jacaerys also does as you ask and uses what strength he can muster to pull himself out of the water.

It’s while you’re both attempting to get him out that Astraea rises up just a bit, pulling Jacaerys out and causing him to quickly use his other hand to grip onto the rope ladder.

“Yes, good,” you whisper and don’t let go of him, but drop your eyes on the arrow that stuck out between his ribs and made him bleed. You then search for more and see another arrow embedded just under his rib cage. Gods….

“You’ll be okay,” you comfort him as you see his face full of strain from the pain.

Astraea wastes no time and doesn’t need to be told, she begins to fly towards shore.

“I’ll help you,” you keep telling Jacaerys. “I’ll help you.”

“What are you doing here?” He asks weakly.

You glance down at him and meet his droopy gaze. “I…came to help Viserys,” you let him know since no one can hear you from where you are. “Just don’t tell the Green council, I tricked them,” you laugh nervously.

“No,” Jacaerys argues, “I mean…it’s dangerous for you and the babe.”

He’s injured but he’s still worried about you and your unborn child—children.

“Babies,” you correct him sweetly. “I’m having twins.”

Jacearys musters a weak smile. “Mother will be happy to hear.”

“Will she?” You ask.

Your brother nods. “You’re her golden child after all. She still loves you.”

Tears finally escape out of your eyes and your smile begins to wobble. You don’t say anything though because Astraea then lands on shore, so you quickly dismount her and help Jacaerys down.

The moment he’s laid down on the sand you tear off the bottom half of the red gown you wear under your chest armor to keep warm, exposing the shiny black armor you wear on your legs. You then proceed to pull the arrows off Jacaerys and wrap the red cloth around him tightly to stop the bleeding.

“You're still with me, yes?” You ask your brother since he was too quiet.

“Yes,” he mumbles.

You hum and before you can finish wrapping the cloth Jacaerys grabs your hand and pulls you towards him. “Swear to me…swear you’ll keep helping mother.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and refuse to agree to anything while he lay bleeding out. This is not the end. No. You don’t accept it. You already lost Lucerys, you can’t lose Jacaerys too

“Just hold still,” you argue and move back to keep doing what you were doing.

However, he pulls you back towards him and presses sharply. “Swear to me. Please, sister. She’ll need you, swear to me you’ll help get to her throne.”

Fresh tears cloud your eyes and this time you can’t refuse. You nod softly. “I swear,” you assure your brother as more blood keeps coming out of his wounds. “I’ll keep helping her. We’ll do it together.”

Jacaerys lips tug upwards just slightly, but he doesn’t nod, he changes the subject. “Mother never gave up on you. As everyone else thought you had betrayed her, she and I never did. When she got that secret note from you she smiled for the first time since she lost Lucerys.”

You shake your head. “I never stopped believing in her,” you explain. “She’s my Queen. My mother. You’re my family, I could never betray her or you. I love you.”

Jacaerys scoffs softly but groans in pain too, and the grip he has around your hand tightens. “I love you too, y/n,” his voice quivers.

Tears stream out of your eyes as you know what’s coming, even with all your denial, a part of you prepares for what’s coming.

“Don’t leave me,” Jacaerys pleads as his eyes soften. “I don’t want to be alone.”

You shake your head rapidly and shift to cradle him on your lap. “I’ll stay here,” you assure him in a shaky voice. “I always will, I won’t let go. I just…hope you can forgive me. If I was here in the first place you would be unharmed. You-you—”

Jacaerys shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You learned from your mistakes, all you can do now is just do the best you can from your situation. Hm?”

You nod in agreement. “When did you get so wise, huh?” You laugh softly.

Jacaerys grins softly. “I always have been….” He trials off and then glances at the sky. “I’ll see you again, you know?” He whispers and meets your gaze. “Where the water ends, and the sky touches the water.”

You giggle at his saying he took from you, and assure him with a nod. “We will,” you interject and cup his hand. “We’ll fly on our dragons alongside mother. We’ll talk and laugh with our brothers. We’ll go hunting, and stargaze around the campfire as we tell scary stories, even if Lucerys sucks at telling them. We’ll be together, always and forever.”

Jacaerys parts his lips, but a single breath comes out. His eyes then roll back and his body stiffens, meaning only one thing. Yet you can’t accept it. You don’t want to lose another brother.

“Jacaerys?” You call out hopefully. “Brother?”

Jacaerys doesn’t move, his faint smile stays on his face but he doesn’t respond.

“Jace?” You mewl. “Jacaerys?!” You press your forehead against his and begin to sob. “Please….please…Jace.” You sob louder and softly rock his body as you continue to cradle him, as you protect him in your arms as the battle rages on around you.

Astraea was injured, hurting, but she coos and manages to walk to you to wrap herself around you to comfort you as you grieved your little brother. A brother you couldn’t save. Astraea hears your heartbroken cries, she feels your agony and cries out to the sky. She sings a mournful song that is all too quickly cut off by the sound of flapping wings descending to the ground near you. Thinking it’s Aemond, you lift your head.

However, the dragon you see across the shore isn’t green and enormous, this dragon is a beautiful and pale grey-white dragon. And unmounting him is Ser Jason.

He may be a friend, but you’re still cautious, Astraea still curls herself tighter around you and snaps at him since she doesn’t know him. You proceed to lay Jacaerys down to slowly stand up as you pull your bow out, and point an arrow at him.

Ser Jason sees your defensive stance and comes to stop where Astraea has her head, and slowly raises his hands to show he means no harm. “I came as a friend,” he breaks the tense silence.

You curl your lip to a scowl and glance up at the sky, catching four dragons now, and Vhagar and Aemond not over you. He must’ve gone back to the piece of land.

“A friend?” You ask and sniffle. “If you are. Tell me where Viserys might be. You must know.”

Ser Jason draws out a deep breath and slowly begins to frown. “Viserys is…lost at Sea…”

Your aim falters at the sound.

“The ship carrying him sent demands, but the Queen was told soon after that the ship then went missing,” he adds.

Even more heartbreak shatters your heart, but you make sure not to cry in front of him. You lower your bow and arrow and glance at Jacaerys lifeless body.

“Take him home,” you tell Ser Jason softly. “When he’s on the pyre please put a winter rose to rest on him, so it’s like I can be there with him.” You meet the knight's blue eyes with sadness, and slowly let your face soften. “And,” you add but walk towards him now whilst you take off the ring that held the peach-orange pearl he had given you. “Give this to my mother. Tell her I want it back when I join her side again. Will you?”

Ser Jason meets you halfway and doesn’t hesitate to agree. “Of course, I will.”

The moment you secure the ring on his palm you walk back towards the rope ladder hanging on Astraea. “When I see you again, I want that answer,” you tell him softly. “I mean you have a dragon now.”

Ser Jason scoffs softly but nods. “I will. Be careful, Princess.”

You shoot him a sad smile and finally turn around when you reach the rope ladders, to mount Astraea. When you’re secured on the saddle you first let out a deep exhale, and then wipe your face, unknowingly wiping Jacaerys blood all over, even on your silver-white roots. After that Astraea stomps forward and ascends to the sky where the sound of battle grows quiet, and the sight shrinks.

Soon Vhagar and Aemond come to sight, but you don’t land, you wait for them in the sky, and once they’ve joined your side, Aemond sees the wound on Astraea. He meets your gaze with concern, but you assure him with a soft look before you lead the way home.

Yet, thoughts run in your head while Astraea flies away. Your brother's death head plays on a loop in your mind, his blood stains your hands and his last words echo over and over, making you cry after you promised you wouldn’t show your grief in front of Aemond or any other Green member.

“I’ll see you again, you know?” Jacaerys voice echoes in your mind, a painful reminder of the brother you loved but couldn’t save. A heartbreaking reminder of another brother you loved lost because of the Greens. The last brother that knew you, that you knew, that was like your friend; the other two are young, you don’t share the same bond with them like you do with Jacaerys and Lucerys—no like you did, they’re both gone now.

They’re gone…because of them….

They want you to play? You’ll play their stupid game.

Now in your grief, anger grows fiercely. Your frown grows to a scowl, and your grief stricken look burns away and gets replaced by fiery.

Jacaerys and Lucerys made your heart. Your heart was made of your brothers, the Greens snatched them away and took your heart along with them.

You’ll show them just how mean you can be without a heart to hold you back.

So before you can get further away, you tilt your handles to the side. And of course without hesitation, even wounded, Astraea turns around rapidly and flies back towards the Triarchy fleet.

Aemond doesn’t miss your sudden action and follows you.

When you’re on top of the Triarchy again, the other dragonriders instantly drift all their attention towards you, thinking you came back to fight with your allies. However, you push your handles down, and Astraea shoots down at a quick speed.

The Myrmen look at you two with confusion, not knowing what you intend to do since you’re going at them very fast. So just as Astraea gets close to the ships, you let out a pained and angry cry, and Astraea shoots out fire and shows the Myrmen your intentions by burning them and their ships.

Just before Astraea can hit anything, she swoops up and grabs a Scorpion with her claws and crushes it. The man that was assigned to it gets crushed too without remorse. The other men, the ones fighting, are left not knowing what to do, fight back against you, or run now that it turns to six against all their remaining ships. They had their orders when it came to you, but Vhagar now also circles the area.

As you kept bathing their ships and the men on fire albeit, the choice is clear, escape.

Not like you let them, when you see the Myrmen in the water trying to swim away, you have Astraea fly low and tilt to her side. You unbuckle only a few restraints to be able to stand up as you get out your bow to shoot arrows at the men in the water. Astraea catches some with her jaw and burns them alive. Neither of you let anyone escape.

The other dragonriders don’t fight you, nor do they attempt to fight Aemond and Vhagar since they see them fight this battle with you.

The only reason he did it though was because he followed you, he didn’t question your actions right there and then, and he most definitely didn’t want anyone to harm you either. He saw brave men aim the scorpions at you and he had Vhagar burn or crush them. He didn’t bathe the triarchy with fire in the same way you did though.

You burned them all. Every last Triarchy ship that had remained was nothing but wreckage or ash that sunk in the water. The sailors who tried to flee got met with arrows, just like they did with Jacaerys. When there was nothing left of them on the sea you left back to King’s Landing with Aemond flying at your side probably furious about what you did.

Not like you care. When you arrive outside the Red Keep, you climb down Astraea, but stop inches from where her wound is.

She had taken the arrow off by herself, now all there was is a fresh wound. “<Oh my sweet girl,” you tell Astraea while you caress her. “You’ll be okay. You’ll heal in no time.>”

Astraea cranes her neck, and then leans her head towards you and coos.

“<You did great,>” you tell her as you hug her jaw. When you pull back Aemond’s feet finally hit the ground, so you finish dismounting your dragon.

And the moment your own feet hit the ground Aemond comes storming at you, he grabs your arm and turns you around to make you face him. Yet he doesn’t show much anger. It’s confusion mostly.

“What did you do?” He demands to know.

You don’t hold back, you rebuttal. “They hit Astraea, so I fought back,” you tell only a very small portion of your true reasons. “Look at how close that arrow came to me.”

Aemond sighs deeply before he drifts his eye to the wound on Astraea’s shoulder that was under your saddle.

“I almost died,” you tell him and grab his arms. “Not because of enemy fire but because of our own allies. Of course I had to fight back, I had to teach them their lesson.”

Aemond shakes his head and slowly meets your gaze. “It was an accident. They probably didn’t mean to hit Astraea.”

You scoff. “No. It was no accident,” you snap back venomously. “I was trying to find Viserys in the back of the line, the other dragonriders hadn’t arrived yet, they pointed at me. They tried to kill me. What? is that okay?”

“No!” Aemond quickly rebuttals. “I just cant believe they’d be that—”

“Stupid?” You finish for him. “Yes, well they’re Ser Otto's allies, there’s a reason he’s not Hand anymore.”

Aemond squints, but he doesn’t respond back in his grandfather's defense, there's a faint smirk instead. He doesn’t argue anymore either, his face softens, and he slides his hands down to take yours to turn them and see the blood that stained them.

“Not mine,” you assure him.

Aemond studies the blood before he looks at the blood on your face and wipes it off with his cloak.

“Jacaerys…is dead,” you share in a deadpanned voice so as to not show him your true emotions. To show him you're committed to him and only him. “Viserys was lost at sea too. I’m sorry.”

Aemond holds your gaze for a moment, he tries to search for the grief you must feel, but no matter how hard he stares you hide it well. He doesn’t know whether to be worried about it or proud?

He’ll have to investigate later. Now though he cups your face and shakes his head. “Don’t apologize I would’ve done the same,” he says. “I'm happy you're unharmed.”

You frown deeper and drop your gaze. “You're not angry at me? For what I did?” You ask sweetly.

Aemond tilts your head up and doesn’t hesitate to respond genuinely. “No. Don’t you think I would have stopped you if I was?” He smirks. “You did amazing out there. I couldn't help but sit back and watch you burn it all.” He follows by stealing a kiss from you that you deepen.

A passionate moment passes before you pull back and press your forehead against his.

“<You never fail to impress me, my love,>” he murmurs against your lips in High Valyrian. “<I love you. I never want to be parted from you. We are meant to be together, we were meant to burn together. Forever.>”

You grin softly and caress his cheek. You mirror him with ease. “<Now and forever.>” You then proceed to embrace him, and he hugs you back tightly.

You love him. You do. It’s some sick and twisted curse how much you love this man you’re meant to hate, this man on opposite sides of the war, but…that doesn’t mean you won’t crush his brother Aegon, and the rest of The Greens from the inside.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Alicent and Otto are afraid of how obsessed Aemond is with y/n…should’ve thought of that before they married them.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut

#fanfiction #damn-stark #moonlight #chapter 13 #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x y/n #Cregan stark #cregan stark fanfiction #cregan stark x velaryon!femreader #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x Velaryon!femreader #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x fem!reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #jacaerys velaryon #oc character #alicent hightower #otto hightower

[ghost-n-butteredtoast]

Can you write fem reader x mother Miranda smut

Me: I SURE CAN.

Also me: This might get a bit ... gory.

And though this may not contain as much Mother Miranda as you might have liked, I hope you enjoy it.

So with that... 18+, smut, gore, blood material below.

(Also posted on AO3 - Click here)

Your God Can't Hear You Now

You had prayed to your God until you had fallen asleep, still kneeling at the side of the bed. Your husband's side of the bed, empty. Not that you cared. The nights you slept alone were a blessing. Still, there was much on your mind and a crippling weight on your heart. Feelings that nearly ripped your insides to shreds; the guilt clawing at you constantly.

You did not love your husband. Nor did he love you. You shared gold bands on your ring fingers,  last names, and a bed, but it meant nothing. He lusted after another woman in the village.

...and so did you.

Your husband hated that you refused to worship the Black God, that you did not bow before Mother Miranda and her four lords. He was embarrassed to be seen with you in the village and he despised the looks he received while in church.

"Mother Miranda is a healer, a miracle worker!"

"She is not my God." You whispered.

He shook his head. "You are a disgrace," he said before slamming the door, leaving you to go drown his disappointment in ale at the tavern.

As the clock struck midnight, you woke with a start, its chimes ringing just loud enough to stir you from your position on the floor. Your legs and back ached from kneeling, and you pushed yourself up from the floor and paused. 

A rapping sound?

With an oil lamp in hand, you crept to the front room to look out a window, pulling the curtain aside to see who had come calling at this hour. For a moment, you worried. Had your husband had some sort of accident and someone had been sent to inform you? The moon provided just enough light to allow your eyes to make out the form standing at the front door.

It was a woman. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, your lamp illuminating the stranger's face. Yet it was not a stranger. There, standing before you, was the woman you had secretly pined for. 

Izabela.

Her family had a produce stand at the market. It was there you had first laid eyes on her, selling produce. Cautiously you circled the stand, discreetly watching her as you pretended to shop. Your knees grew weak when she smiled at you, thanking you for your purchase. Every day the stand was open, you went back, not for another parsnip, not for a bundle of carrots; only for her smile, and for that you would pay a hefty sum of lei to see.

"Forgive me for intruding," the woman's voice shook. She looked over her shoulder quickly, then back to you. "May I seek shelter here?" She begged.

From somewhere in the village you both heard a howl. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from exactly. You pulled the woman inside and shut the door quickly, bolting it several times.

"Lycans?" You whispered, moving swiftly to the window to peer into the street.

"I'm not sure." The woman's voice was now calmer. "I saw your light on, it was the only light on in the street. My father's beloved dog bolted from the house and into the night. I gave chase through the streets and lost her near the cemetery." She said, a visible shiver coursing through her. "It was there I heard the first howl, and I turned back."

"You're safe here." You said placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Come away from the door. I'll put the kettle on."

You were able to calm her over a cup of tea. It was now 2:00 am. If your husband was coming home, he would have been here by now. You showed Izabela to the spare room and wished her a good night. Once in your room, you shut and leaned up against the door. You could not believe the woman you had been yearning for was in your home right across the hall. For the past two hours, you had conversed in your small kitchen. The sound of her voice, her smile, her face in the dim light of the oil lamp; everything about her made your heart race and it was only now you felt like you could breathe.

Slowly, you made your way over to your bedside, placing the oil lamp on the table, turning down the wick, and blowing out the flame. As you pushed back the covers you heard the door click. Your mouth went dry when you saw her standing in the doorway. Izabela's long, wavy hair cascaded down her back, the moonlight shining through the window illuminated her white gown.

You swallowed hard. "Is there - there something you need?"

She smiled and came closer to you, gently shaking her head, each step with more and more purpose. "I've seen how you look at me. At the market?"

Your eyes grew wide.

"Always in the market, but never with your husband."

"He-he has other things to tend to-,"

"Such as...church? He is quite devout, isn't he? But I never see you attend." 

You shook your head. "One does not need to set foot in a church to worship." Your hand shot up to the pendant that hung around your neck. Thankfully it was hidden beneath the collar of your gown. "Where one chooses to worship should not matter. God is everywhere."

Izebel tilted her head, considering your words with a low hum. She was so calm and it made your skin prickle. The speed at which her hand grabbed the one upon your chest was shocking. Had you not been backed up against the foot of your bed you surely would have fallen to the ground.

She removed your hand from the pendant around your neck, its gold engravings catching the light of the nearby lantern.

"God," she said almost mechanically. "And this God of yours," she asked, her fingers playing with the pendant, "What does your God think of a woman...a married woman at that... yearning for...the fairer sex?"

Her last words escaped her lips in a near whisper, dangerously close to your own. Air broke free from your lungs in small pants as your eyes began to water, unblinking, from staring into her icy blues.

"I don't-I,-"

Her grip on the pendant tightened and she yanked, the chain snapping and left to dangle in her clutches. You didn't even have a chance to object let alone gasp.

Izabel chucked the necklace across the room and you could hear it slide across the wood floor and disappear into the darkness. "Tonight, there is no God to worship." She said, her hand coming back to your chest as she pressed against you. "Allow me to show you how to properly worship a divine being."

The hand on your chest made haste at unbuttoning your gown. At first, you protested, your mind was scrambling to keep up with the woman before you. Her fingers came back to your shoulders and slid the gown from your body, leaving it to pool around your feet. Izabel's tongue, sweet from the honey she had put in her tea, slipped into your mouth, prodding at the muscle within to respond. You were too stunned to move, eyes locked on her icy blue orbs. It was only when you closed your eyes, that you felt her smile into the kiss, a sinister moan escaping her lips.

She shoved you onto the bed,  knocking the wind out of your lungs and giving you no time to respond to her nails that clawed at your hips as they removed your underwear. And not that you wanted to object; the woman you had secretly craved was now between your legs, nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. 

But this was wrong and it was happening so fast. Your mind was clouded with lust but your gut was cramped with worry and guilt. Your husband could walk in at any moment. You may not love him, and he was indeed having relations with another woman in the village, but he was a man, he was your husband. You must obey him; respect him.

You looked down at the woman who was now on her knees and caressing your calves. She returned your gaze as if she were waiting for you to object. When no objection came, she immediately pulled you to the edge of the bed with a strength you did not expect and went to work pleasuring you.

The gasp that escaped your lips turned to sinful moans that clawed their way up your throat as your hands gripped the sheets. Izabel wasted no time, latching on to your swollen bud, sucking and moaning while she sunk her nails into your hips. They were unusually sharp, and you hissed when they made contact, your hands shooting to hers to pry them from your body.

Her grasp relaxed, and slowly her hands trailed down your body. You panted and whined as she rose above your womb, her fingers finding you and taking the place of her tongue, sliding through your wet folds, her other hand coming to rest beside you on the bed to keep her balance.

"Mmm," she licked her lips, her mouth and chin glistening with your arousal, "are you this wet when you are in the market, watching me, yearning for me?"

Your eyes went wide as her hand stilled and she stared at you, waiting for an answer.

"I, mmmfuh" was all you were able to eke out as she plunged two fingers inside your warmth.

"Perhaps if you attended church, you'd see me more often." Her tone was perplexing; a mixture of arousal and disdain. She looked down at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, her breath steady yet her hand sped up. "Soaking through your dress, staining the pews with your desire...could you imagine?" 

Feeling your velvet walls begin to close in on her wicked fingers, she pulled out. You screwed your eyes shut and nearly screamed at the loss, but it caught in your throat. She cocked her head and watched you with great fascination. Your body was a limp mess on the bed, glistening with perspiration and quivering with the occasional tremble. 

Suddenly, your voice cracked and rasped out a plea. "Please, Izabel. Ple-," you begged as tears of frustration welled in your eyes.

"Begging, are we?" She whispered. Izabel shifted and leaned forward, placing a hand over your frantic heart. "Perhaps you should pray to Mother Miranda for relief."

"Wha-,"

Your eyes opened and locked with hers. Was she serious? Or was this part of her game? 

"You heard me. Pray. Beg." Her fingertips pressed into your chest. She lowered herself back between your legs, her icy blue eyes never leaving yours for a moment. As her lips hovered over your throbbing core, she whispered, her hot breath mixing with your warmth, "Pray, girl."

You racked your brain for a moment, sputtering out a few words as you tried to remember the prayers from all those years ago; the prayer your parents made you memorize in hopes of keeping you safe from the monsters that ruled over the village, from the beasts that lurked in the woods and attacked without warning. The prayer your husband made you recite on your wedding day. Oh how the words on your tongue burned, but so did you with an all-consuming desire for this woman. 

"Great ones, h-hear our voice, together as one in reverence. We call on thee, ahhh-"

Izabel's tongue shot into your dripping core, exiting, flattening, and slowly trailing up to your clit. Her arm was still stretched across your torso, her fingertips continuing to prod at the tender flesh of your chest.

"...within the endless da-ahhrk to-to-to deliver us into fate's hands."

Her free hand found your pulsing clit, and her tongue returned to your opening, darting in for a taste.

At this point, your chest was heaving and you were gasping for air. Finishing this prayer would be a miracle in itself. She was stealing every bit of focus you had to give, and if you didn't come, you might literally crumble. This woman wanted to wreck you, but you were not sure why she chose to be so malicious about it. She had seemed so pure and kind in the marketplace. But now, now it felt like the devil was between your thighs, and if the devil was a woman, you would gladly go through the gates of hell to burn with her for eternity.

Her touch and her tongue were relentless and your mind was melting, forgetting the words as all you could concentrate on was your climax.

Your volume increased and your speech sped up. "As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice and await the light at the end. In life-" you swallowed hard and tore at the sheets below as your orgasm approached, the words were stuck, "I-I-in life!..."

"Finish!" She commanded loudly, barely breaking away from your core.

You came before you could complete the prayer, and as you did, a searing pain joined your ecstasy. The gut-churning sound of tearing flesh and crunching of bone picked up where your last gasp for air had left off as the hand on your chest plunged through your thoracic cavity. Blood filled your mouth as your primitive brain kicked in, your body flooding with a numbing panic in the seconds of consciousness you had remaining.

The taloned hand that literally gripped your heart pulled you into an upright position, just long enough for you to see the woman you had loved from afar, dissipate and morph into the black-winged priestess herself.  She glared at you through her gold mask, her icy blue eyes, the same ones you thought had been Izabel's, burned into yours. You sputtered and choked as blood exploded from between your lips, running down your chin and chest, back into the gaping cavity below. As your body went limp, Miranda chuckled darkly, her hand pulling out of your chest, leaving you to fall back to the mattress. 

She brought the failing organ to her lips, her tongue running over the warm muscle as your blood ran down her arms and into her robe. Turning back to you, she observed the blood seeping into the sheets beneath you.

“Just as I thought,” she snarled, squeezing your heart and letting it fall to the floor with a sickening splat, “an unfit vessel for Eva.”

#fanfics #fanfic request #resident evil 8 #re8 mother miranda #mother miranda #re8 village #re8 fandom #mother miranda x reader

[imyourrjoy]

The power held over me ◇2◇

Summary: Jackson's newest duo has a new life to adjust too but the new pastor seems to lose his temper rather quickly.

Warnings : DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!,abusive parents, toxic religion, toxic people all around, misogyny, hitting, threats, self dought,fear, stop here if it's too much the series will just get darker, underage drinking is normalized, kinda PTSD, talks of beating, fearing having no food, punishment, yelling, I think that's all

Word count : 3.4k

Paring : dark!Joel Miller x pastors daughter!afab!reader

Part 2/????

Part 1

Masterlist

A/n: she's dark, very dark. This is your last waring, btw. I didn't have anyone to proof read but, I'm dyslexic so sorry if something doesn't make sense. Just message me or reach out, and I'll fix it. Let me know. OK, now enjoy and let me just say the next chapter is when it gets juicy 🤭🤭🤭 to be added to taglist, just leave a comment or reach out 💋

Taglist- @paanchusblog

The next morning, you woke up to your Dad barging open your bedroom door.

“Wake up child” he threw a piece of fabric at you “Change into that and give me the pants god will have a lesson to teach you eventually” he slammed the door and left

You sat up and blinked, your head spinning from the sudden onslaught of light from the open door. As you looked down at the fabric that had been thrown towards you, your confusion grew deeper.

"Huh?" you mumbled, reaching down to pick up the mysterious article. It was soft and thin, definitely not something that would keep you warm in the harsh winter.

You looked the fabric over, your eyes slowly widening in realization. This wasn't just any fabric, it was a long skirt. You smiled before laying it on your bed and leaving your room to go pray with your Dad.

You walked into the living room and saw your Dad with his Bible

"Come my child we must do our morning prayers" He motioned you to kneel on the wood floors with him and you complied.

"Dear Lord, on this holy morning I ask you to please help me to guide my daughter in the proper path. She has been led astray by the sinful ways of her mother and the women of this town, and I have to show her the errors of her ways. Please take away her sins, just as you have taken away mine. Lead my daughter back to you through my teaching, so that she may learn to follow your word. For God, hath said unto me, 'You must guide thy daughter back unto the light and shield her from the temptation of thy mother's wicked ways. For the female is weak and susceptible to the evils of the Devil, I ask you to help us to be. aware of your spirit—leading us in the decisions we take, the conversations we have, and the work we do. We want to be more like you, Jesus, as we relate to the people I meet today—friends or strangers. Forgive us for the sinners we have loved, share our bread, and forgive us for my daughter's sins, as well as the sins given to her by her mother. Amen and God bless"

As your Father finished morning prayer, you felt a heavy weight settle in your chest. His words had been filled with the truth that you were a weak woman and your mother was a sinner not to be looked upon as a good person. She was a sinner who taught you things not meant for a lady and taught God in a tainted way.

Your Dad pulled you by the arm making you stand up "It's the lord's Day get ready for church and wash up" He let your arm go and walked to the kitchen you couldn't help but notice the hatred in his eyes as he looked back at you. You felt uneasy and almost scared.

You'd finished after a few minutes but you wanted to stay longer. The bath had a thing that water came out of and was also hot but as Father said things and people don't make you happy only the lord.

You walked out of the bathroom in the same sweater as yesterday and the skirt was flowy and white it reminds you of something your mother used to wear. God bless her. "Dad I'm ready"

you heard him walk somewhere "Great come meet me in the living room I have to put on my boots" He Hollard

You walked into the living room and put on your jacket and shoes along with your Father. Soon you both were making your way to the town church.

"Hey Dad, when are you gonna start doing the mass?" you asked as we continued to walk through the heavy snow.

"After today's service Maria and Tommy told me that the whole part of Christians in their crazy multi-faith church want to quit or retire and become sinners crazy but I will be taking over" He replied somewhat angrily

After the service, my Father left you in the church While he went out to talk to people. We had sat in the front row of the church in front of the preacher's stand. You started to pray.

"Dear lord, please bless the people and Jackson, I repent for the people's sins and ask only that you guide-"

You cut yourself off at the sound of a little girl next to you.

"Are you talking to god?" She asked

you stopped praying and looked at her you were worried she was alone in an empty church."I was but sweetie where are your parents".

She didn't say anything, instead, she took your hand and led you through a door. It was a classroom with lots of kids, different religious items, and an older woman reading to some kids. She leaped over to me and the girl.

"Oh, dear me!" the old lady exclaimed, her hands clasped together in front of her as her eyes widened. "I didn't even notice you were gone! Where on earth have you been?"

"I just went to talk to god," the student responded, smiling up at her teacher with her bright eyes.

"Alone?" the teacher asked, her brows furrowing in concern. "Why didn't you let me know where you were going?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" the student said, her expression turning playful.

"I found her and she led me here" You looked at the teacher.

"Thank you for bringing her back. I'm getting too old to keep up with all these kids" she joked. "Come you're already here help me finish story time will you" She asked you nodded god did say Wisdom belongs to the aged, and understanding to the old.

The older woman began reading aloud to the group, capturing the children's attention with her vibrant voice and expressive tone. She used different voices for the different characters, bringing the story to life in a way that kept the children engaged and hooked on every word. It was so mesmerizing to see the children listening with fascination and admiration as they listened to the story of Jesus' birth.

You noticed how the teacher used her voice, expression, and body language to convey different characters in the story, keeping the children captivated and invested in the story.

You sat next to the children as she read, the little girl from earlier raised her hand. "Can we hear the story of Noah's ark again, Miss Cathy?". The whole class started talking, wanting to hear the story.

"We have a few minutes I don't see why not" Cathy smiled and brought the book out before motioning for you to come up to the front of the room.

"I think it's only fitting that we have our guest read the story," she said, handing you the worn-down book before you could even protest.

Despite your nervousness, you felt a rush of excitement as you settled in at the front of the room. And begin to read.

Sunday school ended only a few moments after you finished the story, the children's imaginations running wild with the account you had shared with them, they all looked so overjoyed, As they filed out of the room, I couldn't help but feel sense of accomplishment, knowing that you had done my part to spread the word of God through the power of storytelling. My Father would be so proud

As the last few children filed out of the room, the little girl from earlier ran up to you, greeting you with a big hug before leaving. you smiled at the sweet gesture, realizing Just then, Miss Cathy approached you, her expression friendly.

"You know they are looking for someone to replace me" Cathy didn't sound bothered or sad it was kind of odd.

you look a bit taken back not sure how to respond.

"Oh don't look like that my child I'm past my prime and maybe that's why the lord brought you here just think about it" Cathy put her hand on my shoulder as she spoke sweetly.

You walked out of the church fully expecting Father to be angry and furious with me but instead, he wasn't he was more focused on yelling at Tommy it seemed.

As you stood silently outside the church, taking in the scene before you

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT RULES!", he yelled, "I AM NOT RISKING MY LIFE FOR A WHOLE BUNCH OF SINNERS!"

You watched with concern as Tommy tried to control the situation, unsure of how to react to Father's outburst.

As you approached, the yelling stopped and Tommy and my Father both turned to look at me. You could already feel your stomach churning at the thought of what was to come. You knew it was going to be bad when you got home, that it could mean being forced to pray for hours, or maybe even a beating or maybe worse. Maybe you even had to worry about going without food. My mind raced as you braced yourself for the worst.

Even though you had done something wrong, your Father yelled at you this time instead of hitting you. As a woman, you couldn't fully understand his complicated emotions, but you were grateful that God had decided he would yell instead of beat you this time. You were sorry that your Father was so upset and wished there was something you could do to make things easier for him.

"This town is full of sinners of the worst kind not to be trusted or even looked at there all destined for hell with three open religions and even their women whores all of them alike to my daughter wondering off after church to be a slut to a man other than god shame on my child shame, This town is full of whores and sinners who are all doomed to hell," he yelled at you.

"You are no better than them, running off after church to be a slut for some man other than God. Shame on you! Shame!" You remained silent, head lowered, as you waited for his yelling spells to end. Your heart raced and your stomach lurched with a sick feeling of anxiety and dread. You knew better than to speak up and had learned to keep quiet throughout the ordeal of his tangents. Shame burned through your cheeks and tears threatened to fall on your face as you prayed for the torment to end.

And unlike other times it was like your prayers were answered when a knock could be heard coming from the front door. “Stay here” Your Father gritted his teeth and walked towards the door.

You stayed on the ground and looked at the door. It was Ellie. She looked like she had run to our house.

She was smiling brightly, a sharp contrast to the somber mood in the room. You felt a spark of hope within you in her presence. Ellie must have run to your house,

Ellie smiled brightly at your Father, excitement in her eyes. She spoke quickly, the words rolling off her tongue in a breathless rush.

"I was wondering if you and y/n could come join us for dinner tonight?" Ellie spoke with a soft, hopeful tone, her bright smile never fading.

Your Father's expression tightened as he took in Ellie's request, a cold glare in his eyes. You held your breath, fearing the worst, but he finally nodded in agreement. "Fine," he said, the harsh tone of his voice contrasting sharply with Ellie's.

Ellie's smile widened as she turned and quickly added, "Great! Be at our place at 6. Don't bring anything. Oh, and Tommy and Maria will be joining us as well." She flashed one last bright smile before turning and running off into the heavy, white snow.

You watched as Ellie departed, her enthusiasm and optimism contagious, despite your Father's cold reception of her invitation.

Your Father slammed the door and his eyes locked with your own, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "I'll move your beating 'till tomorrow," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and disdain. Your heart sank into your stomach, the thought of tomorrow's beating terrifying your mind and body. Yet, a part of you felt relieved that the punishment was being delayed, hoping that perhaps God wanted you to repent differently. You forced down your emotions, knowing better than to speak out. Your thoughts were even worse than before. maybe you weren't sorry enough for god to forgive you of your sins.

When we arrived at Joel and Ellie's cozy home, my Father immediately asked "Is that steak?" You giggled and said you've never had steak before. You asked your Father what it tasted like and he told me he hated vegetables so he always imagined his food was a five-star steak. With that, you hoped it would be good as well.

We knocked on the door and were met with Mr. Miller inviting us to his home. It was even nicer inside. He had a 2nd floor, wood details in a few places, a nice fireplace, and a big box. Why does he have a big box u thought? He must have noticed.

"It's a TV or television. Have you ever seen one sweet?" He was rather kind about it. You smiled "No I haven't what it does". My Father walked up to Tommy leaving you and Joel in the living room. "Well you watch stuff on it, like TV shows or movies, ever seen the movie Curtis and Viper?" You shook your head no, and he gave you a smirk and put his hand on your shoulder "I guess you'll have to stop by and watch it sometime or maybe I'll take you too see it the next time it plays in the town hall?" You felt your cheeks get a little hot. He was so kind, you thought to yourself 'I'll pray for him.'

We walked into the dining room and took our seats. You sat across from Joel and next to Ellie. Your Father sat next to Joel and Maria and Tommy sat at the heads of the table.

"Who's saying grace?" You smiled and asked everyone as they picked up their forks but my Father looked at you in a way of shock. You were rather confused as to why, but a small silence filled the room "How about you sweets" Joel said putting his fork down. You smiled and locked hands with Ellie and Tommy. You closed your eyes and started to say grace " Dear heavenly Father, thank you for the food we are giving thank you for the people sitting with me here today we give thanks for keeping us safe and well, we also give thanks for protecting us from the sinners and the monsters of the world, amen."

When you opened my eyes you looked at Ellie's hand. It had a white rosary wrapped around it, it reminded you of something your mother used to use when she prayed. "Ellie, do you like praying as well?" You asked curiously as you started to cut up the large piece of steak on your plate. "No, why do you ask?" Ellie looked confused. Then your Father interrupted, "Oh wow," he smiled as he ate his steak. "Sorry, it's just been so long since I've had the chance to have such a juicy steak ." You smiled at his happiness.

Joel smiled then turned to me "I got it from your Daddy said he's had it for a while, so I traded him I traded it for the skirt you are wearing" he winked at you and laughed a small bit. Maria frowed and ate her stake giving my Dad an uncertain look. "He said he wanted to start teaching Ellie the praise of the lord and what type of Christian I would be if I didn't share with thy neighbor." You smiled but then it hit you, your thoughts were trapped. He traded your mother's praise rosary, the only thing you had left of here even if she was a sinner and monster. Now you felt like there was a lump in your throat as you ate.

The rest of the conversation was mainly the adults talking about hunting and life in Jackson, you and Joel had made eye contact a few times but you felt like your Father was watching you like a hawk.

"So, y/n, what do you think of Jackson so far?" Joel asked, making the entire table turn towards you. You smile and give a simple reply still in your head over your Dad's actions. "It's very intriguing." Joel smiled. "Oh, just wait till you see what else Jackson has to offer. But before, why don't you have a bit of wine with your stake and tell ya there's nothing like a good wine and stake?" You look shy and unsure of what to do. "Go ahead, we won't judge if it's just a sip," Maria smiled. Joel offered me his glass, and you grabbed it.

"No," your Dad said firmly, he continued more sternly "No, she's too young to have that kind of stuff, she knows the Lord and the Lord's rules. Young is too young and punishments will be used when children disobey thy Father."

You gave Joel back his glass and your Father continued. "Now finish your plate. I'm not raising a spoiled brat." You lowered your head and ate your food, staying quiet for most of the dinner only listening to your ever-raging thoughts.

By the end of dessert, your Father, Maria, Joel, and Tommy went into the living too. To continue talking while Ellie went to bed you had offered to do the dishes.

"Well my goodness pretty lady must be hard working doing those dishes all alone" Joel's voice echoed from the kitchen doorway.

"Oh, it's the least I can do" you smile at him.

"Nonsense let me help '' He got close to you, his chest flesh against yours, the liquor on his lips evident by the smell of his steady breath on your neck. "You're so tense, pretty girl". He put a hand on your waist.

You stayed silent and continued to wash the dishes. Your body felt hot no like it was on fire no one had ever thought to touch you on your waist and his scent even if the alcohol was prevalent was so addictive.

He pulled away as you finished the last dish, pulled down another bottle of alcohol, and grabbed a clean glass.

"Now sweet pea I know what your Daddy says about God and that bullshit is for the weak, and you're gonna learn to enjoy life real soon," Joel said to you. He was affected by the alcohol Joel was so different from the one I had talked to before dinner.

"I know it's gonna take some time to break those damn rules from your head, but it's time you started to drink something heavier than water, you see? Here, have a sip."

You feel conflicted and confused about the stranger's offer. You've been taught to obey the word of god, but the stranger's drink is tempting. You might feel a mix of guilt and excitement, scared and tempted to try the drink and go against what your Father has taught you.

He put his glass close to your lips. You could smell the dark liquid as he started to persuade you even more.

But he quickly backed away when your Father's voice could be heard from the doorway.

"Come y/n time to go home." He looked tired and a little out of it. You smiled at Joel before leaving the kitchen. "Wait" Joel stopped us "Ellie wants to hang out with you tomorrow maybe you could get to know the kids in town" He gave you the same soft voice he gave during dinner once again leaving you confused. "Sure, she can if she does all her chores," your Dad said

as we walked out of the Miller house and into the heavy winter snow, making our way home. As we trekked through the heavy winter snow, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else going on with the day's events. Joel's strange behavior had left you feeling confused and anxious, and your Dad's casual agreement with Ellie's request felt... out of character. Something was up. You felt your mind swirl with possibilities as you trudged on, determined to get home as quickly as possible. You needed to pray and ask the Lord for answers.

#tlou #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal #dark!joel miller #pastors daughter! x joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #dark fic #fan fiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #tlou show #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #ellie williams #ellie the last of us

[pheita]

Flash Fic Friday: A Broken Promise

Finally, I have time to write after weeks of stress. @flashfictionfridayofficial

Since I haven't written in weeks, I tag everyone who tagged me in tag games and consider it done now 😁

@bee-barnes-author @theathenverse @tabswrites @writernopal @druidx @sam-glade @theprissythumbelina

and I know you folks would like it too maybe @eternalwritingstudent @ashen-crest @contes-de-rheio @abalonetea @cljordan-imperium

This might become a new WIP. Don't ask.

The Call

Her parents looked tense and kept glancing nervously at the guest Emersyn was looking at with such fascination. The light from the candles seemed to make his dark brown hair shimmer green, like moss on old fallen trees, and his eyes shone as brightly as stars at night when she looked out of her little window, but her parents didn't seem fascinated. The way they sat together, and her father held her mother's hand, was strange. The last time Emersyn had seen it was when her grandmother was gravely ill and everyone thought she would soon go to Anande. The guest sat peacefully at the table that early evening, enjoying the hospitality that, despite everything, her parents could not refuse. In this corner of the country, people had to look out for each other, they had told her time and again, and that also meant letting strangers in when they asked for a place to stay and a warm meal. But in her ten years in this world, she had never seen her parents react like this to a guest. "What curious mind is hiding in the shadows there?" the stranger spoke just loud enough to be heard with a laugh in his voice and a subtle smile on his face. His face had turned to the corner where Emersyn sat watching everything. Her mother gasped. "Mers, what are you doing down here. Off to bed with you."

Guiltily, Emersyn stepped out of her hiding place into the room that was both kitchen and living room, her eyes to the floor. "Sorry, I just wanted to know who was wandering the countryside in this weather." Now the stranger clearly laughed and held out a delicate hand towards her. A familiar smell of nature surrounded him and she immediately felt safe, contrary to her parents' reaction. The stranger gently pushed her chin up so that she had to look at him. His eyes sparkled even more up close, like the finely polished silver that Mother brought out on holidays, and had a color she couldn't name but inevitably reminded her of the sky just before nightfall. "You ask the right questions, little lady. I have an important assignment that, unfortunately, will not tolerate any delay and will force me to travel in this terrible weather." "Oh…, that's stupid." "It really is." Only now did she notice the insignia of the gods on the stranger's clothing and stuck her head forward a little. "Are you a priest?" "Something like that. I stand between the priests and the gods." "Then you're important." "I am," the stranger laughed again and leaned forward. "It really is." It was only now that she noticed the insignia of the gods on the stranger's clothing and stuck her head forward a little. "Are you a priest?" "Something like that. I stand between the priests and the gods." "Then you're important." "I am," the stranger laughed again and leaned forward. Only lightly did his lips touch her hair, but it was Emersyn as if a strange energy passed through her. "A wise child like you shall be blessed. May you always find the right path that keeps you safe from harm." She didn't know what kind of strange blessing this was supposed to be, but when she looked at her parents, they were confused and surprised. So it had to be something good.

"Hey, Firehair, time for your watch!" Emersyn was rudely awakened from her sleep. Within seconds, she was wide awake and stretching her limbs. Sleeping in the open had become second nature to her. She shook her head to get rid of the dream, no, the memory. It had been a long time ago now, that night, and she was a grown woman and a warrior. In her opinion, the stranger's blessing had brought little luck. Even if she was protected from harm, it did not include the people around her, and soon she was labeled an unlucky child. She didn't want to start about the strange mark that spread across her torso a year later, but she had gotten a strange magic for it. She summoned the small orb of starlight and made her way to the guardhouse. A glance at the sky told her that she had been left the last watch. The moon loomed menacingly over them. Two more days until the full moon and their destination. When she reached her companion, he nodded grimly and disappeared to the tents with his torch. Even here in the small group of adventurers, she was only tolerated because she had this strange magic. She looked up again. "When Anande's Jewel appears for the seventh time a year, in the place where blood was spilled en masse, where the centuries-old promise was broken, the ancient treasure will appear for the stars, and all will be set right as it should have been from time immemorial." Emersyn repeated the words of the legend quietly, as she did every evening when she kept watch. The legend that had brought her here, after years of searching. The word treasure had made everyone greedy and dream of great riches, but something had resonated with her since she had first heard those words. It wasn't a legend or a treasure map to her, but a call, and she didn't know where to go, to what or when, and above all, why?

#writblr #writing #flashficfriday #emersyn #fantasy

[cool-cowboy]

Summary:

In which Leon is the priest of your church, a very kind and noble man, who you, against the church’s (and your shitty husband’s) wishes have grown quite fond of, confession being one of the few times you get to relish the one on one attention. Little do you know, your godly priest has been having some not so godly thoughts about you as well.

I have literally no idea. Leon in a sweet caring kind of way, but kinda out of character, since he's a 1600's priest and speaks hopefully like one. A bit of a historical thing, the idea popped into my head and I did some research, and found out it used to be pretty common for married women to enjoy their confessions, often falling for the men on the other side of the wall.

Tags:

Alternate Universe - Medieval, Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Adultery, Confessional Sex, sex in the confession booth, Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Dirty Talk, Clothed Sex, Priests, Priest Leon S. Kennedy, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Making Out, Semi-Public Sex, Eye Contact, Penis In Vagina Sex, Come Shot, Skirts

Blurb:

“You find me godly?”

“Perfectly… Though you are the cause of many other's sins, so perhaps you are sinful…”

Text:

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. My last confession was Wednesday.” He’s staring at me, in his usual way, open and accepting, ready to hear all about my wrong-doings, one of them a cardinal sin, no less. I’m not sure what it is, why he has such a draw, roping me in and making me forget my teachings over and over, his looks and person much too sinful for such a godly man. “I was rude, I spoke unkind words to Stephan. I refused him… When, um, when he-”

“There is no judgment here, only forgiveness. There’s no need to be nervous.” I nod, not looking at him, embarrassed to be confessing yet another tiff with my husband, sure the father is tired of hearing about my disrespect. He reaches through the little door, something he’s not supposed to do, but often does, getting my attention or soothing me down after a particularly nasty sin is disclosed, something that only causes further sin, the feel of his kind hands always forcing some further than friendly thoughts into my mind, never fessed up in my confessions, which is probably my biggest offense to god to date. He makes me look at him, tilts my head up by my chin, stares at me in his quiet, sweet way, soft eyes always able to draw out my deepest secrets without much prompt. “Tell me.” He always seems more interested to hear about my transgressions toward my husband, for why I don’t know, but it’s better than the harsh judgement of my childhood priest, anyways, so I try not to dwell too much.

“He wanted to… Bed me. I refused… It’s my duty to bear children, but I- He isn’t… I hate him.” The truth, something I’ve been toeing the line of for a while, only confessing the passing sins rather than my most heinous one, but he’s known all along, doesn’t seem surprised at all when I meet his eyes, maybe a little amused, but I don’t believe that, he has no reason to be, only reason to assign me a hefty penance.

“I see… That is… Quite the confession. Don’t look so fearful, miss, you know I’m a believer in earning your keep, and it doesn’t seem Mr. Belman is trying his best to do so.” My throat’s dry, my swallow barely making it down, his eyes on my making me sweat, my skirts making me feel a little faint, claustrophobic in the small booth. “A bad man does not deserve a woman as godly as you, at least I don’t see him as fit.” He’s not meant to give his opinion, only fact, that or prompt me to better help me lay my secrets out to him, but he always tries to make me feel better, in a way, for the wrongs I’ve committed, well aware of my repentance, and my desire to do better.

“You find me godly?” I’m really not, most ladies who attend the mass are a whole lot more godly than me, almost perfect Catholics. He smiles, soft and kind, making me sin all over again, though I’m unsure what I can do to keep from sinning in this way, my thoughts not easily controlled, especially for him, a man no woman has ever had the pleasure of pleasing, a man who’s devoted his whole being to serving the lord, but still manages to be entirely enticing, his unattainableness adding a sinful edge to his allure.

“Perfectly… Though you are the cause of many other's sins, so perhaps you are sinful…” He’s amused, and I’m confused, not an idea what he means by that. I stare at him, not incredibly eager to get on with my confession, more than willing to let him keep talking as long as he likes. “You’re an object of many’s affections, miss, and envy as well…” He’s going against his oath, speaking of other’s sins outside their own confessions, giving me a shred of all that he knows, offering it up with a relaxed expression, watching me, assumedly waiting on me to continue telling him, but I’m not ready yet, need a little longer, a few more moments of his soft stare before I tell him, tear down the image he’s painted of me in his head, desecrate his idea of me.

“Father..? Who do you confess to?” He smiles, only a little, amused for some secret reason, his gaze a little hazy, his hands smoothing down the front of his robe, the sound of him clearing his throat a little loud in the small space.

“Myself, I suppose… Though there’s something I find more suitable to confess to you.” My brows draw down, unsure why he’d have anything to confess to me, if he’s able to repent and move on without any type of formal confession, but I wait patiently, not wanting to sin again by disrespecting the father. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, just stares at me with his head tilted a little to one side, his gaze hazy, his smile barely pulling at one side of his lips, his face close to mine, just on the other side of the little confessional door, his breath warm on my skin. “Forgive me miss, for I have sinned.” He watches me, signing a cross over his chest, a little slow, the anticipation making me feel feverish, wet palms wiped on the front of my skirts while I wait, not bringing my eyes from him, wary to miss a second of his terribly enticing gaze. “I have committed the sin of lust. My craving for you is ungodly, and I have performed self-pleasing adultery to the mere thought of you too many times to count.” I have not a single clue what to say, just stay perfectly still, feeling sick at the pleased feeling burning my skin, flaming and not at all what I should feel in response to his reveal.

“Father, I-”

“I am sorry for this and all my sins.” He doesn’t seem sorry, more confused, staring at me in a way that makes me near fainting, all heat and intensity, trying to unravel his own desires. “You may continue.” I swallow, looking down at my hands, now much too afraid to tell him, to reciprocate his lust, unable to do anything about it, aware I’m bound to Stephan, and he is never to be wed.

“I told a lie.” It isn’t something I usually need to confess, I’m not even sure why I did it, needlessly covering up my actions to keep Stephan as far from figuring out my adulterous thoughts as possible, though he’d never suspect a tryst between the father and I. “I told Stephan I was going to the market on Wednesday, when I came to see you.” I let my eyes come up, flitting from my lap to his hands, clasped over his lap, up to his face, seeming a little pleased, adding to my unease, his feelings now out in the open, glad to be a subject of sin for me as well, I suppose. The others are being noisy, the church overly full today, the last session before Christmas, eager to be forgiven.

“Why did you lie?” I look back down, unwilling to look at him when I tell him, give him the satisfaction of reciprocated lustful feelings and actions.

“I didn’t want him to become suspicious.” He hums, ducking down a little to draw my eyes back up, looking at me pleasedly, not at all bashful in the way he should be, never the one to be shy, always so open, even now, after he’s told me about his self-pleasing to me.

“Suspicious?” He’s enjoying himself, too casual to be questioning me about what has become so glaringly obvious, backing me into a figurative corner and forcing it out of me, something he’s entirely too good at, receiving confession after confession and helping numerous work through their own minds.

“I have committed the sin of lust.” He’s looking at me, not that I can see, my eyes cast down at his hands, listening to the sounds of people mulling about outside, stretching out the quiet between us to steel myself for what I say next. “I’ve been having impure thoughts about you, father. Please forgive me.” He hums, one of his hands lifting up out of my view, this whole thing making me feel sick from guilt, adulterous behavior one of the few things I never thought would be something I’d have to speak to him about.

“Is that all?” I nod, finally looking at him, his eyes always on me, never showing me any less attention, offering up his services in maybe a little less selfless of a way than I used to suspect. “Then I assume it’s time to assign your penance…” He runs his hand down over his lap, his other in the space of the little window, gripped over the little ledge there, crossing over into my space, the hand on his lap drawing back up slowly, his eyes a little cloudy, dazed, almost. “I have to say… The lord will forgive you, no matter the sin, miss, you’re saved.” It seems almost like a suggestion, though maybe I’m just imagining it, hoping for something I really and truly shouldn’t, something the opposite of righteous, one of the most evil and depraved wants possible. “Perhaps… Indulgence is our solution.” He stares at me, unmoving, giving me the choice, offering something so enticing, so terrible in nature I’d be damned to accept, looking at me in such a bold way after uttering something so forward.

“Father… Are you suggesting..?” He’s touching me, running rough fingers over the side of my jaw, our faces close, closer now that he’s leaning toward the little window, all of him seeming larger, more masculine than I would usually find him, his comfort fading into a simmering nervousness as I wait on his reply.

“I’ve satisfied myself in your name countless times, miss, and not once has it settled the need, not even diminished it, only choked it down until I can’t keep it at bay any longer. I am a man of God, but with all my devotion you’re the one and only thing I’ve ever found myself helpless to resist.” My breathing’s gone uneven, his hands on my face and in his lap, stroking softly, both soothing me and indulging in his desire, a soldier of God, succumbing to the same earthly pleasures as me. “Our penance. Finding a way to dispel this need, holding ourselves accountable for time spent lost in the other, returning that time to our father, pleading his forgiveness for our frailties.” He’s leaning close, face nearly passing the frame of the window, eyes cast down at my lips, his parted and slick, all of him so very enticing, especially like this, so far gone he can’t even deny himself this, and neither can I, my lips flush with his the next second, sealing my fate, an adulterer and a sinner, depraved and dirty and lustful, all for him.

The kiss is nothing like what I’ve come to expect, separate from the necessary, rushed kisses of my husband, this kiss searing, sending a wave of heat over me, the passion of it making me faint, all the want I’ve been keeping quiet to myself passing between us, his hand slipping back and into my hair, keeping me close, our indiscretion between only us and God, a sin kept quiet, the act horrible, but so satisfying I have no reason to believe God would be against me indulging.

“Father…” We’re both breathing heavy, lost in the admittance and act of sin, his hair messier than I’ve ever seen it, his lips rosy and shiny with shared saliva. “The others are waiting…” He sighs, drawing me back in by his grip on my hair, speaking in his quiet, comforting way half an inch from my lips.

“And they will.” He gives me no time to offer a response, goes back to pressing warm, careful kisses to my lips, his pace a little faster, his breathing shaky as mine, the booth heating up from labored breaths, muggy and heavy with shared desire. “Lord… You’re… Truly breathtaking… A temptress… My own personal test…” He pulls back, letting go of me, standing himself up, face hidden behind the wood above the window, his waist a little below my eye level, his robes hanging heavy, a reminder of his promise to the lord, now broken. “I’ve failed our father… But I will not fail you… Sink to the floor, miss, show me your devotion to your penance.” I meet his command, slipping off the bench and onto my knees, a little unsure, not quite understanding why I’d be on the floor if he intends to take me. “I’ll tend to you shortly, miss, just- for now… I need a bit of preparation.” He shuffles his robes out of the way, exposing himself to me, his manhood larger than I thought possible, more than twice the size of my husband’s, and I wonder how it’ll fit, if it can. “Take me inside your mouth, miss. Close your perfect lips around me and let me feel what I've long awaited.” He’s holding onto himself, waiting for me to comply while running his hand up and down, his body revealed to me for the first time, unexpectedly muscular, legs and some of his midsection bare for my greedy eyes.

I close my lips over him, only the first inch, unsure what he wants me to do, his hand leaving its place to stroke across my jaw, back into my hair, gripping what slips between his fingers, his hand pulling me in, sliding himself inside my mouth, a small pleasured sound passing his lips sending an odd sensation through me, some sickly hot satisfaction. He’s leaning his free arm on the wood above me, his head downturned, his eyes hidden from my view by the wood of the booth, his mouth gaping in pleasure, his chest heaving beneath his robes, cross around his neck swinging as he moves against me, a reminder of our frailty, our unworthiness of God’s image.

“Ah- You’re… This feeling is… Lord forgive me… For I will sin again…” His teeth are gritted, his hand pulling me in a little closer, my throat tightening around him startling me, his pleasured noise deep and pleasant when I press my hands to his thighs to get a breath, sputtering embarrassingly, his hand smoothing my hair helping me calm back down. “Forgive me… I got carried away…” He’s ducked down to look at me, seeming perturbed, stroking at my hair, his cross drawing my eyes before I look back up at him, slipping my fingers up the underside of his manhood, watching him, his pleasured noise sending a searing shock down to my privates, my mouth closing back around him, moving on my own, humming when he allows it, just keeps his hand on the back of my head, guiding me, his head rested back on his forearm, my eyes on the lower half of his face, the portion I can see, his expression looking pained from the pleasure, teeth ground tight, jaw clenched with stress, my hand running over his exposed stomach making him flinch, his length twitching between my lips. “Wicked girl… You’re-hah- ruining me… Turned me into a damned-!” He pulls me back, my lips leaving him with an obscene amount of saliva, smeared over him and connecting him back to my lips, his hand slipping forward to tilt my head up toward him, his eyes back in my view, looking down at me, his thumb stroking the mess on my lips. "I won’t let this end until I’ve shown you all that a lover can be, miss. Surely this isn’t what you’ve sought after… I can offer you more… you need only relax and let me show you…” He wraps his fingers over my bicep, pulling me gently up until I stand before him, his hand pushing me gently back to seated on the little bench, his fingers finding my upper legs through layers of skirts, running slowly up, giving me an awful sense of yearning, the feeling pleasurably painful, sickening, his cross swinging at eye level while he's doubled over reminding me I should be ashamed to be satisfied in any way from something so heinous.

“Father, what’re you-” He drags me, fingers tight on my legs, pulling me until my hips rest on the six inches of wood separating my space and his, my upper body laid on the bench, propped on my elbows, only a couple inches lower than the window.

“You’ve bewitched me, truly… Made me insatiable… My lust for you is painful, forcing me to succumb to your allure time and time again… Now you’ll see what you’ve done to me, feel the craving- the need I have for you, firsthand…” He sinks to his knees, keeping his eyes on my face, my elbows digging into the wood a little uncomfortable, but the look in his eyes keeps me from breaking my gaze from his, watching him as he pushes up on my skirts, leaving them pooled at my waist, my undergarments unobscured, his hand making its way back down to grip to my ankle, his skin scalding hot against me, lifting until my leg is in line with his lips, his head turned to the side to press his lips to my inner ankle, his gaze on me as he trails his way up, leaving saliva along his path up the inside of my leg, the whole display more pleasurable than probably anything I’ve ever experienced. “I know how to please you… I’ll be sure to satisfy your ungodly desires… Leave you so perfectly complacent you’ll never let anyone else bed you…” He finishes his kissing, pausing with his lips pressed to my lower thigh, easing my foot down on the bench just behind him, my knee bent, his hand moving to my other ankle, easing it up to repeat the process, drawing it out, kissing unbearably slow, looking at me in a lustful, entirely sinful way.

“Father? It’s… There are people outside… Shouldn’t we… Hurry this along?” He smiles, eyes creasing in such a beautiful way, his hand guiding my foot to rest on his other side, his head between them, shoulders just below my knees.

“Impatient woman… Confess it.” He lets his hands slide up the outsides of my legs, fingers pausing on the waist of my undergarments, his eyes peering at me, intense and masculine, commanding in his calm, even-toned way. I’m having trouble keeping my breathing even, the anticipation of his promise hanging heavy, blanketing the cramped space, the people milling about outside the booth making me wary to be caught.

“I have committed the sin of impatience. I don’t want to wait, forgive me.” He smiles, pulling down, exposing me to him, pulling my legs back one after the other to rid me of the pesky clothing, his eyes cast down once he’s finished, his expression clouded and lustful, his chest heaving, eyes a little low as he takes me in, bare before him, willing and ready to commit a cardinal sin for him.

“You’re forgiven… Now I must confess…” He leans forward, hands sliding up the back of my thighs before gripping to my skin, both of us clammed up from the suffocating heat of the space, his warm breath against me making me shiver. “I have committed the sin of envy… Stephan is the luckiest man in history… To have a woman as phenomenal as you… I’m truly envious, in utter disbelief he has not a clue how incredibly beautiful you look when you enjoy yourself…” He presses a finger against me, startling me, all of this foreign, his thumb trailing up wetness that usually comes much later, once Stephan is nearly done, his slippery finger pressing a couple inches above my entrance making me flinch, the feeling shocking, pleasant in a tight, unexpected fashion. “Ah… Perfection… I wasn’t sure… But that monk really did figure out the secrets of women…” I have no idea what he’s speaking about, all I know is this pleasure is foreign, tight and nearly too much, his thumb rubbing softly up and down as he watches me, seeming pleased to confirm I can feel in this way. “I was told a woman can achieve the same type of euphoria as men… I hope I’m well-equipped enough to give you at least one climax… I’ll try my best, miss, in God’s name.” I’m trembling, the feeling building into something far more than what it began, a sickening tension, my muscles wound tight, teeth gnashed and head leaned back onto the wall, his thumb pulling away releasing the tension building, his look amused.

“What’s… Why..?” He laughs, fanning hot air against me, his lips pressing to the place his thumb just left, his smile widening when I gasp and squirm, bag hands on my thighs holding me still as he uses his tongue, letting out a soft pleasured noise at the flavor, or the action, I’m not entirely sure.

“Forgive me… I couldn’t go without a taste… My god… You’re the most divine thing I’ve ever laid eyes on… the most raw and formidable temptation I’ve ever had the pleasure of letting ruin me…” He’s rubbing me again, pressure more firm than before, sure of himself, the satisfying tension coming back quicker than before, my eyes on him, the sight of him with my wetness smeared over his skin drawing a pleasured noise from deep in my chest, my breathing more frantic than I can ever remember, my legs trembling lightly from his ministrations, his gaze holding mine, his skin a rosy pink, lips flushed red. “You are my ultimate desire… An itch that has been gnawing, working away at me… Tearing me away from the lord… luring me into a pleasant trap…” I’m barely registering his low words, drawled with his cheek pressed to my skin, the tight pleasure clouding my mind, blanketing me in the feeling. “You’re nearly there… So beautiful… Keep your eyes on me… Face what you’ve done… Given into lust… Taken me down your depraved path as well… Don’t fret, your sins are forgiven… So get on with it, show me how blasphemous you are… deriving pleasure from being bedded, let this be for your pleasure and that alone… There, that’s it, you’re doing so well, trembling so beautifully, making those sweet sounds for me…” The feeling peaks, my body convulsing, drawing in on itself, the pleasure hot and tight, all of me clenched tight, his fingers pausing, my eyes barely open to heed his order, looking into his eyes, his expression pleased and lax. “I could never receive enough of this… Watching you come undone before me, my actions giving you this much pleasure…” I feel droopy when I come down, slumped on the bench, legs lax and open around his head, his expression entirely pleased, glad. “Let me inside.” He pulls me, and I let him, stood up in front of him after a few seconds, waiting on him to sink inside, my skirts and his robes making it seem nearly impossible, but he doesn’t make any move to bury himself inside, only meets my lips in a searing kiss, his body flush against mine, pressing me into the wall of the booth, my body feeling overly hot, both of us sweating, his face shiny with perspiration and my mess he’s neglected to wipe away.

“Father… Please… I’ve already confessed my impatience.” He laughs, low and sinful, the softened pleasure coming back, my body ready for him, likely more ready than ever before. He pulls up on my skirts, though they’re getting in the way, bunched up to my waist when he gives me a look, pressing my hand overtop my lower abdomen to hold them up, his hand gripping his manhood, pressing toward my entrance, rubbing lightly at that pleasurable spot, my low pleased noise muffled in the chest of his robe, his cross pressed cold to my overheating cheek.

“I wouldn’t like to hurt you… express any discomfort, miss, I’ll move slowly…” He pushes, pressing slowly inside, the feeling a little like the sting of antiseptic, his length and girth well over what I’m used to, but not painful, the wetness he caused allowing him to slip inside without incident, pressing tight inside, the full feeling filling some carnal, animalistic desire. “I’ll spill it outside… I won’t desecrate you too harshly…” He pulls back, pressing back inside equally slow, his hand sliding down to clasp around the inner side of my knee, drawing it up to parallel with my hip, his eyes on mine as he moves, slow, passionate and careful in a perfectly unexplainable way, the pleasing feeling of his eyes on mine prompting me to let my head lean back onto the wood, gazing up at him in a way that is surely embarrassingly wanton, but he doesn’t mind, just tucks his chin, gazing down at the place we’re connected, brows drawing together as a low rumble rips through his chest. “Is this… Are you in-hah- pain?” I shake my head, holding up my skirts a little higher, my other hand trapped between my chest and his stomach, gripped tight to his robes. “Confess… Bare your sins to the-ah lord-!” He speeds up his movement, the sound of skin hitting skin tearing pleased noises out of the both of us, his grip going a little tighter on my knee, his eyes holding mine captive, staring at me in an obscene fashion, pained and pleasured and anguished and adoring all at once.

“I-ah- I’m committing the-hah- the sin of-! Adultery-! I-hnn- I couldn’t resist the- the father… Please-ah- please forgive-! Me-!” Speaking isn’t all that easy, his manhood hitting the deepest parts of me, only a little painful, mostly pleasing, his thumb moving back to that spot making me keen, my face pressed to his chest until it passes, his movement gaining a steady, quick rhythm, his thumb moving in time with his hips, his breathing labored and shaky.

“Forgive us-Nnh- for we have sinned… Miss-ah-! I will now-hah- close the-Hnn-!” He ducks his head down, face pressed to the crook of my neck, his body shaking against me, mine against him, all of us ruined, torn apart from the need burning inside, a desire satiated only by action. “God the- the father of mercies-hah- Through-Nnh-! The death and resurrection of his son-ah- son-! As recon-hah-ciled by the-hnn- the uh-Nnh-!” He’s losing himself, and his teachings, mind too full of lust to recall his closing prayer, his hips pressing to mine in an almost animalistic fashion, rutting with the force of a needy dog, his head pulled back to look at me, his expression sinfully beautiful, all of him wet with sweat, red, his eyes low, held open by his need to see himself ruin me, make me into something just as terribly and fully depraved as him. “You really are-hah- the perfect temptation-nnh- In a world full of sinners we’re-ngh- only two of millions… If this costs me my spot in heaven so- so be it, this is my own-Nnh-! personal heaven, buried inside and gazing into your eyes-!…” He’s panting, and so am I, both of us near the inevitable high, shaking and releasing low noises into the space between us, our gazes locked, the eye contact offering a passion and sickening tension, spurring me closer, his thumb moving with harsh pressure, sending me near insanity, his quick thrusts driving me up the wall, his low words rushed and raspy, groaned out and whiny, nearly sounding pleading, his expression gone fearful, distraught at his own pleasure. “The world to- himself and sent the- the-nnh-!” He leans his head back, eyes closing and a loud groan ripping out of him, the sight drawing a decidedly needy noise out of me, my eyes trailing down to his cross, just in front of my face, bouncing agonist his chest, condemning me, my transgression seen and judged by God. “Damnit-! Sent to us- for the-ah- forgiveness ‘f sins-! Through the minis-ah- may god give-nnh-! May god give us pardon- yes-ah- and peace-nnh- I-ah-ab-oh- absolve-!” He slows down, both of us coming down from the near climax, his eyes coming back to me, forehead pressed to mine, his hips working in more of and arc like motion, the feeling of him dragging inside tearing an overly wanton sound from me, his eyes watching me as he draws this out, keeps us both teetering, giving himself a moment to finish his broken prayer. “I absolve you of your-ah- sins, and myself of- of mine…” He takes a few more seconds, pressing inside slowly, keeping his eyes on mine, bright blue shadowed by his hair, messy and sweaty, before he speeds back up, sinking inside over and over again at a pace that seems inhuman, his body impossibly tight to mine, the feeling of nearness coming back, my release denied now back to ruin me, leave evidence of my sin. “In the-ah- name of the- the father-! And of-hah- the-nnh- son and the-! The-ah- holy-hnn-! Spirit!” I’m squeezing him, my body almost uncontrollable when I clench and shake from pleasure, head tilted back and my eyes on his as he pulls out, leaving me empty, his seed spilled over the front of my thigh, trails dripping and soaking my skin, his release enticingly sensual to watch, a raw kind of experience, my mind hazy and full of him, watching him until he’s done, my leg returned to standing, his hands gently smoothing my skirt over both our messes. “Amen.”

“Amen.”

#religous themes #catholic #confession #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #church sex #preist leon s kennedy