#Ye Olde Magick AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miupow · 3 months

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Just Like Magic! | K. TH

“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩.” -Blaise Pascal

❝You're a novice witch in love with her mentor, something frowned upon and taboo, especially when it comes to magick; but you just can't help it, Taehyun is simply too talented and handsome! you're content with admiring from afar... but when you get ahold of an ancient spellbook with a recipe for a curious potion, your curiosity takes over.❞

✦ PAIRING: warlock!kang taehyun x witch!fem!reader ✦ RATING: NSFW, MDNI! ✦ WORDS: 6.8k ✦ WARNINGS: smut, dom!taehyun, sub!reader, fantasy au, dubcon elements, aphrodisiacs, oral sex (f. and m. rec), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, wet dreams, f2?, power imbalance, powerplay, name calling, degradation kink, rough sex ✦ A/N: this is not proofread! inspired by an ask from @napofamoon~~ your brain is so huge and i love it so much, so happy to be mooties w you :3

taglist: @wintertxt , @boba-beom , @wolfytae-exe , @takemehye , @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi , @numxra , @soobinsbuns , @taegimood , @jeniihss , @soobabby , @hhoneylix , @beargyuuzz , @fullbodyblankets , @xenkimmie, @ttaesoob , @shinyngirl , @lxnoluvr , @blxxsss , @ode2soob, @beom-gyubears, @ashiixari, @lurking-coconut , @horanghaelovr , @yyeonzi , @paegesoobin , @nightlyhyuka, @i814hue, @f4iryfever

Taehyun had warned you that this witch was a bit of a hoarder, but nothing could have prepared you for the marvel that was her cottage; from the floor to the ceiling old and rickety bookcases flanked every possible open space, packed to the brim with every book you could have possibly thought of, accompanied by all sorts of trinkets, herbs and crystals-- your eyes scanned over the washed-out spines, fading ink hardly legible on most of them; A Hundred and One Ways To Use Fairy Dust. Potionmaking for the Hearth and Home. The Greater Area Magickal Beast Encyclopedia. Simple Charms For Everyday Life. "Hey, Taehyun, look at this!" you called over your shoulder, already anticipating your mentor's irritated sigh. "There's a book all about magical mushrooms, wouldn't that help us with this stupid assignment we're on--?"

You reach out for the battered green textbook but Taehyun's quick to slap your hand away, brow furrowed over his big brown eyes-- he was cute when he was angry, and you delighted in annoying him to his wit's end. "I said don’t touch anything; Don’t make me look like a fool when we're only here for ingredients. And we're here on the behalf of the Crown, thank you, nothing about this is stupid. You're being childish."

"He's made us travel half across the kingdom for a fancy cologne, essentially. I think it's a little silly." you retort under your breath. Taehyun turns away from you sharply with an angry huff, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from grinning.

"It's a luck spell, not a cologne. Don't you want our Prince to succeed at his first banquet?"

"He just wants it for all of the girls that will be there," you laugh. "You and I both know this has nothing to do with his royal duties and everything to do with his flirting skills."

"And that's none of our business." Taehyun answers curtly, though the tick in his jaw shows you that you've struck a nerve-- your mentor had known the crown prince his entire life, grown up with him, and while he cared about him like a brother the Prince also never failed to irk him (and you) with the most outlandish requests. "We're just doing our jobs. Now stay here and keep your hands to yourself, understand? Don't go anywhere, don't touch anything, and I'll be back shortly. I just need to get these mushrooms from the herbalist."

“Why can’t I go with you?” You pout. “You always make me stay behind.”

“Just do as I say.” Taehyun snips, jaw clenching as he begins to walk away.

"Yes, sir." You reply, rolling your eyes at Taehyun's retreating head.

"Good girl," He replies over his shoulder, curt and clipped. An all-too-familiar heat rushes to your cheeks at his words. You used to hate it when he addressed you like that.

You hardly ever listened to what Taehyun told you anyway, so you were quick to continue browsing through the countless shelves once your mentor was out of sight-- you couldn't pass up an opportunity to surround yourselves with the things you loved most; spellbooks. After spending a childhood surrounded by those who hated the craft, your fearful family forbidding you from ever practicing the natural talents you had been born with… you couldn't get enough of reading anything you possibly could. Besides, Taehyun just adored leaving you behind like some squire, never including you in any of his duties– you had to learn for yourself one way or another.

You tip-toed your way through the winding labyrinth of bookshelves, eager fingers and eager eyes analyzing every tome, scanning any title that piqued your interest. It all seemed to be standard fare, however, things that you had read and studied before, so you left them unbothered on the shelves… except…

You had glanced right over it initially, gold title too weathered and faded to read, but its cracked leather cover kept calling to you as you continued down the shelves, making you turn around and walk back to its spot nestled in-between two much larger tomes. Dust stuck to the pad of your finger when you ran it down the book's spine, marveled at the purple cover-- most of the cottage's windows were covered up by all of the piled-on clutter inside, keeping everything veiled in comfortable shade, but cracks and beams of the bright, warm sunshine seeped through and caught the little book in the most mystifying shimmer. You'd never known leather to shine like that, like little crystals embedded into the fabric. Your curiosity gets the better of you; without much self restraint, you pull the small book down in a cloud of dust, tickling your lungs-- you resist the urge to cough the best you possibly could, lest you alert Taehyun or, Gods forbid, the owner of this cottage. You managed a strangled little wheeze instead.

You turn the book around in your hands, inspecting it's cover from all angles; there's nothing on the back, just smooth, purple-ish leather, and the writing on the spine is illegible, but the title is still bold and striking on the front. In careful, hand-written penmanship the words "Love Magick" were written, nothing else. No author's name, no description-- you should just put the book back and carry on, keep yourself out of trouble, but you just couldn’t help from cracking open the pages.

"What an interesting little spellbook you picked, that one." a withered old voice creeps from over your shoulder. "Wouldn't have been my first choice."

You yelp, fumbling, rushing to shove the book back on the shelf-- the old woman behind you laughs, bright and cheerful, and a spindly wrinkled hand comes to pat you on the shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-- I mean, I wasn't--!"

"Oh, don't apologize now, dearie. Books were made to be read, after all." She snatches the little spellbook out of your hands, catching you off guard, and takes a hold of the small crystal bifocals that hang around her thin swan neck on a beaded chain. You gaze at her quizzically, taking in her odd appearance; several large gold rings adorn her crooked fingers, matching the gaudy bauble earrings hanging from her ears, so large they made her short, thin frame even frailer-- swathed in a shapeless, faded periwinkle dress that had leaves caught in the hem, grey hair frazzled and reaching up towards the sky, she glittered just as brightly as the spellbook did. She moves the little glasses up to perch on her hooked nose, squinting deeply at the cover of the book, and it took a few moments of perplexed investigation before her wrinkled and sun-spotted face lit up in recognition. "Ah, I remember this one! I haven't looked at these pages in quite some time."

You supposed this must be the herbalist, but you distinctly remember Taehyun describing her as much younger than the woman standing before you. "I'm sorry, madam," You apologize again, twisting your hands together nervously. "I wasn't snooping around, I promise--!"

"Don't lie, now." The old woman chuckles, tracing one long and painted red fingernail over the book's cover. "You were snooping. But that's quite alright, a little curiosity is good for the soul."

You blink owlishly.

"You know, this is one of the rarest books on these shelves," she continues, beady eyes looking upwards to regard her enormous collection. "I've been here for a very long time, and I have many, many books, but there is only one of these little books right here."

"Only one?" You ask quietly, giving the spellbook a wide-eyed stare. It twinkled back at you like it was winking. "Why is that?"

"Why, because I wrote it, of course!" She smiles, flipping quickly through the yellowed pages, regarding them like old friends-- you supposed that they were, in a way. "Many, many years ago. It's nothing fancy, darling, just some home recipes. You can take it if you'd like, I'm far too old for this kind of spellwork now. I think you'd have much more use for it anyway.”

"What, really?" Trying not to seem too eager, you take the book back when she hands it to you, run your fingertips across the title. "What do you mean? I couldn't possibly take this, ma'am--"

"I saw the way you were looking at that handsome wizard you came with, you know. You're ever so obvious." the old woman giggles, her deep set eyes twinkling with mirth. "I remember being young and in love… magick could always help with that, you know."

You squeak and flush hot, head whipping around to make sure no one else was near-- if Taehyun heard any part of this conversation, you'd never be able to look him in the eyes again. "No, it isn't like that! He's my mentor, that's all!" And that's all it will ever be, you thought sadly. Nothing more, nothing less.

"If that's what you would like to believe…" The old woman shrugs, a smile still gracing her wrinkled face. "But I insist, take it. It was calling for you, dearie… it told me itself! Now hurry along before we both get in trouble--"

"Grandma!" another unfamiliar voice calls, a pretty young witch twisting her way through the bookcases to approach you and the old woman. Taehyun followed her with a covered basket nestled in his arms; the ingredients that you had come here for, you presumed. You shove the book haphazardly into your satchel, praying neither of them had noticed anything amiss. Taehyun had irritatingly sharp eyes. "Grandma, I thought I told you to stay in the garden!"

"I was just talking to this lovely young lady here," The old woman-- the Madam's grandmother-- replied brightly, briskly hobbling over to the young witch's side. "You know old hags like me never listen."

"You're not a hag, Grandma, don't say that… I'm sorry about her, she's gotten a little wild in her old age." The Madam sighs, intertwining her arm with her grandmother's. The old woman seemed to find this entire ordeal incredibly amusing. "You're both free to leave now, thank you for your patience. I hope those mushrooms serve the Prince well."

"Thank you, Madam," Taehyun bows, always so polite. He turns and begins to walk to the cottage door, motioning with his fingers for you to follow-- you scramble after him like a lost puppy.

"I like him," You hear the old woman say as the two of you depart.

You had walked to the cottage and therefore had to walk back to your shared hut on castle grounds; you had spent the entire time getting there complaining, but now you followed Taehyun quietly and with your head down as you both trekked through the trees. "You're awfully quiet." Taehyun remarks casually, turning his head to regard you with an unreadable expression. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing." You reply, maybe a little too quickly. Taehyun raises an eyebrow. "Just thinking is all."

It felt as though there was a hole burning through your satchel.

You waited until late that night to finally take a proper look at your new spellbook, having shoved it haphazardly under your pillow when you and Taehyun had finally returned home-- only after you had triple-checked that your mentor was sound asleep did you feel comfortable enough to pull it out and read it. Certainly you were making it a much bigger deal than it needed to be, it was just a book after all… but something about it and what lied in it's pages felt forbidden and sacred to you, something that you should keep hidden from Taehyun, his condescending smirk, and his prying eyes.

Maybe he would get the wrong idea, quite like the old woman. You had no intention of using any of these spells on him.

Holding the candle you kept by your bedside for light, you took in the spellbook's cover once again. Its deep purple color was faded and washed out, dusty and dirty and ages old, yet it was even more beautiful in the moonlight. The night sky shone through an open window near your bed, catching the cover like little stars captured and woven into the leather… You could never place it inconspicuously on Taehyun's bookshelf, amongst his boring canvas-wrapped manuals and journals. You could never place it anywhere where he could possibly find it at all; it was far too brilliant, too eye-catching. You would simply have to keep it tucked away in the safety of your bedroom.

You crack open the book, it's spine cracking from disuse. Instead of a proper book, like you had expected, your eyes met the pages of what seemed to be a journal; pages and pages of messy scribbles and notes, crammed on small pieces of twine-bound parchment, recipes and spell incantations and notes about any spellcasting ingredient you could possibly think of. There were even diary entries among the notes, meandering paragraphs about that old woman's personal life many years ago… No organization, no cohesiveness, just pretty cursive words muddled together and jumbled on top of each other in a confusing mess… It was endearing, an insight into her youth, and you adored every page.

And then you saw it. Halfway through the journal, tucked away between two uninteresting diary entries, you discovered a folded up and torn out page. With careful fingers you picked it up and peeled it open, casting the spellbook aside for now-- and to your surprise you were confronted with the recipe for a love potion.

Simple but Powerful Love Potion

Ingredients:

-2 quarts of standard potion base; fresh moonwater charged under the full moon

-a large handful of dried rose petals and a single thorn, ground in a mortar and pestal to the consistency of a fine powder.

-a small spoonful of crushed siren scales

-one large mother of pearl

-2 small sticks of Licorice root

-a few strands of unicorn mane hair

-a single droplet of pure love

Directions:

Over a burner, prepare the moonwater in a small pewter cauldron, keeping it away from sunlight. Bring the base to a boil before adding the licorice root and mother of pearl, and then lower the heat and leave the potion to simmer overnight. The next day, add the crushed rose petals and thorn, unicorn hair, and siren scales. Stir clockwise until the potion turns a bright pink, and then leave to sit for another night. Last, add the droplet of love, give one clockwise stir, and your potion is complete.

P.S. Please use sparingly, a little goes a long way! Perfect for stupid men who won't take a hint.

You stare at the paper in disbelief. Is this what the old woman meant by you making "good use" of her spellbook? Surely not! She was a woman of the craft, she knew as well as you did that any romance between apprentice and mentor was looked down upon, not to mention when it was aided by magickal intervention… The herbalist must have truly been telling the truth when she said her grandmother had started to go mad! You couldn't even fathom the consequences if you were caught doing anything of this sort-- you'd be stripped of your titles, expelled from your studies, exiled even… and Taehyun…

Taehyun would never forgive you. He'd be disgusted by you.

You shove the recipe back into the book and shut it with a dull snap, toss it away from you like it was poised to attack; you hated yourself for entertaining the thought for even a second. Taehyun wasn't just your mentor and your crush, but your friend, and you couldn't possibly do that to him! He trusted you, with his pretty dark eyes and his cocky smirk, and his big, warm, veiny hands with thick calloused fingers that rested on your lower back when you were nervous in public and needed comfort. His thick arms with muscles that bulged out of his tunic sleeves when he rolled them up, his sharp teeth that he liked to bare when he sneered. His gentle, soothing voice and his never ending generosity and politeness that were a pinnacle of him even when he was one of the most stuck up people you could think of. You couldn't ever do anything like that to him, even if you died a little bit inside every day that he never seemed to glance your way.

But… you thought, reaching back over to the discarded spellbook with a shaking hand, it wouldn't hurt to re-read the recipe, just in case.

"Taehyunnie?" You ask sweetly, peeking your head into his study. "Can I ask you something real quick?"

Gathering most of the ingredients had been relatively easy. If anything, you were caught off guard by the ease in which you put together your secret potion, hidden and bubbling away in the safety of your bedroom, a place Taehyun never dared to enter. You snuck to and from Taehyun's packed pantries whenever he was sleeping, prepared everything exactly as the recipe had stated-- you had never made a potion before, but you had a fairly good feeling that you were doing a fine job. Most of the ingredients were common potionmaking faire anyway, things you had observed Taehyun fiddling around with in the past, things you had on hand and the basic knowledge needed to prepare… except for one small detail.

Your potion sat simmering a pretty opaque pink, which meant it was ready for that little "drop of love" the recipe called for, and then it would finally be done… but you could not for the life of you understand what that could even mean. How in the world could you possibly get your hands on a droplet of materialized love? Was that even possible?

Taehyun looked up from the book he was reading with an annoyed sigh, hooded eyes searching the room before landing onto yours with a quirked brow. You never bothered him when he was studying, and you most certainly never called him 'Taehyunnie'. Not unless you were trying to weasel something out of him, at least. "Yes?" He drawled, returning back to his reading as you tiptoed closer, took a curious look over his shoulder; you caught snippets of something about astronomy and equations, the pages mostly filled with numbers and symbols you couldn't even pretend to understand. You wondered if it had anything to do with the Prince again.

"I was doing some reading…" you begin slowly, scattered mind racing to come up with a proper preface for your question. You had practiced what you were going to say at least a dozen times, you were sure of it, but every line had fled your head the moment you called Taehyun's name.

"'Reading?' That's not like you." Taehyun retorted with a snort, turning the page. He didn’t even bother to look up when you huffed in response, but you could see his grin hidden behind the hand he rested on his cheek.

"I read plenty!" you bark, taking the bait, but regain your composure when you catch a glimpse of Taehyun's smirk widening. "It’s for my studies-- I'm to be tested by the Magickal High Court soon, you know."

"I'm well aware. I’m sure you’ll do just fine." Taehyun responds tersely, picking up his quill and scribbling a note down into his journal. He must have felt your eyes glaring daggers at the back of his head, because he waved a dismissive hand at you. "But go on."

"Well… I was reading up on potions and I came across an ingredient I haven't heard about before. I was wondering if… if you knew anything about it."

Taehyun's quill stopped moving. "I see." he says, far too cryptically for your liking. "Well, what is it? It’s getting dark— it’s about time you go to bed.”

“The recipe– I mean, the spellbook I was reading mentioned something about a ‘droplet of love.’” You stumble, fidgeting nervously. “ Do you know what that is?”

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a moment,stares down at his spellbook long enough to make you sweat, before turning to re-dip his quill in his inkpot. “Well, that could mean many things.” he says, uninterested, continuing his notes. You let out a relieved sigh you weren’t aware you were holding.

“What do you mean?” you prod gently.

Taehyun lets out an irritated sigh. “Some spellwork can be left up to interpretation, made unique and personalized for the spellcaster. Often when instructions are not clear, it's because you're supposed to figure it out yourself.”

“Figure it out myself?” You echo, a little outraged. This explanation wasn’t helping you at all.

“When practicing magick that involves complex ideas like emotions and memories, things begin to blur between the literal and the figurative.” Taehyun elaborates. The way he was hunched over his desk made his shoulders look much broader than they were, and it was getting increasingly harder to focus on what he was saying. “More advanced spellwork sometimes requires the spellcaster to work with physical manifestations of these ideas.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You retort combatively, crossing your arms over your chest. Taehyun’s non-answers were only serving to piss you off. “I can’t manifest love.”

“Sure you can.” Taehyun answers vaguely, shaking his head. You wished you could see the look on his face. “A ‘droplet of love" may just refer to some sort of representation, whatever that may mean to you specifically. Though "droplet" tends to refer to some kind of liquid, so you can start there.”

“Liquified love? What would that be, though?”

"Honestly, I'm not exactly sure either. But you're a smart girl, I'm sure you can figure it out." Taehyun once again raises his hand to wave you away. “Go off to bed now, you can spend all of tomorrow thinking about it if you have to; I need to finish this before I go to bed, and you’re keeping me up.”

“But–”

“Go to bed. Don’t misbehave now.” Taehyun looks up from his notes and meets your gaze– the look on his face is as unreadable and stoic as usual, plush lips stretched into a thin line, but the swirling darkness in his eyes makes your head spin; he knows something, you can feel it. A strange familiarity that panics you deeply, pisses you off; why does he love so much to keep you in the dark? Is it because he enjoys leaving you confused and ignorant? Or is it because there’s knowledge he genuinely doesn’t want you to know?

You trudge back to your room dejectedly, peel off your robes and climb into your bed like a defeated soldier– you might have just tipped off to Taehyun that you were up to something, and what did you get out of it? Absolutely nothing. Just some cryptic words.

Going to Taehyun was a bad idea; you wallowed now in your own stupidity.

Droplet of love, you repeat to yourself as you drift off to sleep. Droplet of love…

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Taehyun hisses venomously, eyes narrowed and wild. You’ve never seen him this angry.

“It isn’t what it looks like, I swear!” you cry desperately, try to cover your still brewing potion with your body– Taehyun is too quick, grabs you rough by your nightgown and pulls you up against him. His face is so close to your own you can feel his hot, panting breath fan across your cheeks.

“Isn’t what it looks like?” Taehyun spits. “My stupid little assistant being a little whore, making a love potion behind my back? How stupid do you think I am?!”

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Taehyun doesn’t let you utter a single word. “Were you gonna use it on me, huh? Gonna get me to fuck you? Needed some cock so badly that you were willing to throw everything away for it? Stupid fucking whore. You could have just asked.”

Taehyun lets go of your nightgown and you crumple at his feet on the floor, groveling and sobbing for his mercy. “Please don’t tell anyone, I’m sorry!” you beg, too distraught to catch the last part of Taehyun’s rant. “I won’t ever do it again, I won’t ever go behind you back agan, please!” Big fat tears stream heavy down your hot face, chest caving as you beg for your mentor's forgiveness... yet still your thighs squeeze together at his venomous words and his nasty tone, poor pussy throbbing for attention– Taehyun notices your quivering thighs with a sneer, eyes dark and cold.

“Such a fucking slut… you like this, huh? Me yelling at you?” with his big rough hand he tugs you up to your knees, holds your chin in place as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his trousers. “Want me to put you in your place? Trying to sneak around behind my back, bad little girl… need to remind you of who’s in charge. Let me use that pretty throat and I’ll forgive you.”

Taehyun pulls his cock out, flushed and leaking, flared tip shiny and begging for your tongue— in one violent thrust he sheaths himself in your throat all the way to the hilt. You gag and splutter, tears still streaming down your face, but even with your blurry vision you can see Taehyun’s sick smile as his cockhead kisses the back of your throat. “Good girl,” he hisses, “Take it like the whore you are.”

Using the hand he has tangled in your hair as leverage, Taehyun begins thrusting his hips in earnest, heavy balls slapping against your chin— your whines come out like garbled chokes, pathetic and dizzy on your knees while your mentor uses your throat like nothing more than a toy for his own pleasure. “so fucking good at this, aren’t you?” He sneers, “Such a good little assistant you are.”

You keen around his cock, pussy fluttering around nothing and dripping slick, your poor panties soaked through and ruined completely. You feel so empty it almost hurts, gummy walls aching for the cock fucking your throat open, but you can hardly find it in you to care— you’re distracted by the warlock’s taste, the nasty wet sounds, the way your scalp burns from his grip on your hair. Your hands, previously laying limp at your sides, reach up to claw uselessly at his thighs, which only seems to spur him on, hips slamming hard against your face as he moans deep in his chest.

“No one else fucks this throat like me, huh? Think anyone else can use you like this?” His chest is heaving, cock twitching violently in your mouth— he’s about to cum, and your cunt clenches with excitement. “Should just slut you out right in front of the entire kingdom, even the Prince— fuck! show everyone who you belong to, who your master is!”

You whimper pathetically, one of your hands leaving his thigh to play with your neglected covered clit— Taehyun growls, pulls hard at your hair, snickers darkly when you rush to place your hand back on his thigh. “Don’t you dare touch that cunt, that’s my cunt, you think you deserve it?”

Your pussy is throbbing, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as Taehyun continues fucking your face, “I said, do you think you deserve it? Answer your master.”

You shake your head no, as best you can speared on his dick, sobbing snotty and broken and so desperate for his cum. “That’s what I thought.” Taehyun laughs humorlessly. “Good little witch.”

You can’t focus on anything other than making sure to breathe and hollow your cheeks and stay perfectly still so Taehyun can have his way with you– your jaw aches, but you swirl your tongue around Taehyun‘s shaft the best you could anyway. “Fuck, gonna cum!” He whimpers after a particularly harsh suck, hips stuttering, his big hands moving to cup both of your cheeks. It would be sweet in any other situation, so gentle and loving if he wasn’t bruising your throat with the force of his thrusts. “G-gonna— pretty little throat gonna make me cum, shit! ‘m cumming–!”

You wake up with a gasp, heart pounding in your chest so violently it was painful– it takes you a few moments for you to recognize your own surroundings, realize that you’re tucked safely in your bed and not caught red handed by your mentor; you can hear the soft bubbling of your potion at the foot of your bed, undisturbed and simmering away…

And between your legs was a sticky wet mess, your thin panties soaked through, arousal dribbling down the insides of your thighs— you’re humiliated but so turned on from your dream you could hardly think, fingers trailing down to dip into your panties and run along your slit… and you marvel, intoxicated, at the way thick droplets trickle down your fingertips when you pull them back.

Droplet of love…

Taehyun had fallen asleep at his desk that night, slumped over his scrolls and spellbooks, so you felt it was only right to wake him up with a treat— a steaming hot cup of perfectly brewed tea, complete with a little wooden teaspoon and a saucer full of freshly-baked cookies. Taehyun stared it down like it was staring back at him.

“You never make me tea.” he says flatly, brown eyes flickering between the cup and your face, making no moves to take the teacup from your outstretched hand. His sleepy, raspy voice and disheveled appearance would have made you swoon if you weren’t going half-mad with anxiety.

“Well, you’ve been working so hard! You know, for the Prince and all.” you chirp cheerily, voice only trembling slighrly. “I just wanted to show my appreciation!”

“Right.” he gives you an odd, side-eyed look but does eventually take the cup, takes a good long look into the amber liquid before stirring it slowly with the spoon. You were starting to sweat. “You’ve been acting odd lately. I’m a little concerned.” he says after a few moments of painful silence, making your sweating turn into full on chills. “Is there anything you aren’t telling me, ___?”

“No!” you bleat out immediately and far too quickly, making Taehyun turn his head to regard you quizzically. You didn’t have any time to process the fact that he cared for you at all. “No, nothing at all! Everything’s totally normal!”

Taehyun blinks. You give him a smile, but you’re fairly sure it turned out more like a grimace.

“If you say so…” Taehyun concedes, placing the saucer on his desk. “If you’re certain everything’s in order, would you mind running a little errand for me?”

“Of course!” you agree quickly, a genuine smile creeping onto your face. You thank the Gods above that Taehyun actually took the tea, now all that was left was to wait… and you supposed that playing errand girl was the perfect task for the meantime.

Taehyun picks up a small, parchment-wrapped parcel from among the clutter of his desk and hands it to you. “Would you be a doll and hand this to the Prince for me? And tell him to be sparing with it, for goodness’ sake, it’s not one of his perfumes.”

You take it gently, blushing— the package was much lighter than you expected it to be, and it gives a light rattle when you turn it over in your hands. “What is it?” you ask; you can never stop yourself from being nosy. Taehyun sighs, but there’s a mirthful glimmer in his eye that makes you giggle.

“The luck spell, remember? Now go on, he needs it to take effect by the evening.”

You waltz back into the cottage as the sun was just beginning to creep behind the treetops, having made sure to take your sweet, sweet time delivering the Prince’s package– you even stayed for tea and a chat, just in case; it wasn’t really your fault that the crown royal never knew when to shut up, was it?

“Taehyun?” you call out as you step inside— everything seemed perfectly normal and nothing was out of place, and perfectly still silence met you as you continued through the front room and into your winding, rickety hallway, at the end of which was your mentor’s study. The door was left slightly ajar.

You peeked inside, tentative; back facing you, you could see Taehyun hunched over his work desk, head hung low as he gripped onto the wood with white knuckles. He was panting, shoulders heaving with the force of his breaths, his arms shaking— your heart soared with euphoria. The potion must be working, you thought with zeal.

“Taehyun?” you call again, voice barely above a whisper dripping with faux concern, trembling with excitement, and you gently push the heavy oak door farther open with an ear-ringing creek. Taehyun’s head snaps up at the noise, startling you with his expression— his eyes were wide and wild, face flaming red, and he stares at you in shock and in rapture for a deafening few moments before averting his gaze and tugging hard at the collar of his tunic. He turns back to look at the scrolls on his desk with a cough. You could still see the blush coloring the tips of his ears.

“Taehyun, are you okay?” you ask, this time not having to fake the worry. You take a few tentative steps towards the warlock— he looked almost as if he was in pain, and you anxiously wonder if maybe you should have been more faithful to ‘a little goes a long way.’

“I’m fine.” Taehyun grunts, his usually light voice gruff and strained. The sound of it hit you deep in your tummy. “Just feel a little hot, that's all.”

You take a few steps closer, slowly and cautiously, and reach out your hand to touch his shoulder. “A-are you sure?”

“Don’t come any closer.” Taehyun warns, voice flat but dark, dripping something that makes your thighs clench together.

Your fingertips just barely brushed the top of his shoulder.

As if possessed, Taehyun spins around within an instant and grabs your wrist tightly, staring you down for a long, intense moment with a primal, dangerously dark look— it frightens and excites you, leaving your head spinning.

He uses your wrist to pull you roughly to his chest, faces centimeters apart and bodies flush; within the same breath he cages you against his desk, traps you tight between his muscular arms.

You can feel his breath fan your face as he pants like a dog, lowers his head closer and closer to yours. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me; I just need you…”

His pillowy lips crash onto yours mid-gasp, passionate and dominating— you lean into the kiss immediately, moaning high in your throat when he deepens it, tilting your head back to stake a possessive claim that leaves you dizzy and gasping for air. He moves to run his hand up your thigh and grind his hips against yours, pushing your skirt up your hips. His thick hard cock presses hard up against your dripping slit, soaking your thin cotton panties. When he pulls away, hissing, you can see a damp spot on the crotch of his pants, outlining his straining bulge obscenely.

“Tyun—“ you whimper, but he’s quick to cut you off. He lowers himself down and takes a hold of your thighs, tugs them over his shoulders and dangling in the air; he chuckles out a breath that blows icy cold against your sopping panties.

“Just need a taste of you…”

His nose bumps gently against your throbbing clit and he mouths hot and heavy against your folds through the covering fabric. You keen desperately, nearly shriek when he begins to run the flat of his tongue up your slit and towards your clit. “Lemme taste you…” Taehyun breathes against your cunt, his long finger coming to tug at the hem of your panties.

“Anything you want!” you whine, twisting your own fingers into his thick hair. Taehyun grins wickedly.

“Anything I want?” he coos, poisonously sweet. “What a good little assistant I have.”

With a rough tug he pulls your panties to your knees, leaves your legs tangled in the wet fabric and up in the air. Taehyun devours your cunt like a starved man, his thick lips sucking tight on your clit and his tongue slow and nasty around your entrance. He drinks up your arousal as if it were some type of ambrosia, only going faster and faster with his motions until you cum all over his face with a cry, until you’re tugging hard at his hair and whining for him to stop.

He pulls away from your pussy with a longing glance, his lips and chin dripping your slick, the tip of his nose shiny. “You said whatever I want,” he pants, standing up to begin unbuckling his belt. “Gotta fuck you now, gotta fuck this pretty little pussy…”

Taehyun’s cock springs out of his trousers, slaps against his belly before standing to attention, veins throbbing— he fists his shaft loosely, enough for you to catch a glimpse of pearly white pre-cum leak out the slit of his thick pink head. Your tongue ached for the taste.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, pulling him closer so he can grind his cock between your weeping folds, getting his shaft nice and wet with a sloppy mix of his spit and your arousal. His cockhead pushes at your hole teasingly, and Taehyun lets it slip against your rim and slides up your folds to bump your clit. You whimper and attempt to spread your legs any bit farther, restricted by your panties— Taehyun chuckles before readjusting his cock and sheathing himself entirely in your cunt in one deep stroke. His cockhead kisses your cervix, your walls stretched so suddenly and so painfully good that you cry out in surprise and ecstasy. “You’re so deep!” you gasp, your eyes rolling back into your head when Taehyun starts rolling his hips in a ruthless rhythm.

“Take it like a good girl,” he laughs, repositioning his hands to grab tight at your hips so he could thrust into you in earnest, hips slapping together loud and wet, impossibly fast. “So tight, shit! Feel so fucking good, you’re so wet— perfect cocksleeve, perfect pussy.”

He splits you in two, your gummy walls stretched past your limits, hugging tight on his throbbing cock. Your cervix gets pounded with every hard thrust, his cock so deep you could feel him in your lower belly. “I’ve wanted to fuck you so bad,” Taehyun confesses, pussy drunk. “Wanted you since I first met you— You’re mine now, pretty thing, you hear me? Perfect pussy for me, never letting you go.”

“Yes!” you wail, too fucked out to process any of what he had just said. All you could think about or focus on was how good Taehyun was fucking you, how his heavy tightening balls were slapping against your ass, how that fiery hot knot in your belly grew tighter and tighter. “I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“Fuck yeah, that’s right. All mine, baby.” Taehyun groans deeply, hips stuttering. His hand lets go of your waist to circle your clit with rough, calloused fingertips.

You’re sent barreling towards your climax, that fire in your belly all-consuming as your pussy flutters around Taehyun’s cock. “Feels so good!” you sob, gripping his thick bicep for support. “I’m gonna cum, Taehyunnie, ‘m gonna cum—!”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum too. Beg for my cum, baby; I’m gonna cum inside you, fill you up!” Taehyun’s cock twitched and throbbed inside your cunt, his thrusts wild and desperate. “All mine…”

“Cum inside, please! I need it, I need your cum so bad!” you hiccup, big fat tears rolling down your puffy hot cheeks from overstimulation. “Want your cum in my pussy!”

Taehyun does so with a broken moan, shoving his cock as deep inside of you as he could go, up against your cervix. He paints your walls white, floods your womb with his thick hot seed. You can feel his cock twitch with every spurt— you cum yourself a second time from the sensation, pussy clenching hard around Taehyun's slowly softening cock. He grunts, winces and grits his teeth.

Your chest is heaving as you pant for air and so is Taehyun’s, both of you sweaty and spent and trying to catch your breath. He dips his head to rest his forehead against your own, something so touchingly intimate it makes your heart clench, and you’re just about to close your eyes and bask in your euphoria, you catch Taehyun’s evil sneer.

“Silly girl thought I didn’t know? how stupid do you think I am?”

#txt x reader #taehyun x reader #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun hard hours #taehyun smut #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #nightly.nsfw #nightly.tyunnie

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bluebeerg · 2 days

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Funky floppydisk card game :DD??

really old ask, but hey! yes! it's relevant!

so, uh oops. happy 4/27! i didn't finish my 4/27 thing in time but it's fine, i'll just post it later. however! i do have art of an old tsp inscryption au i never posted. i'm sure i have notes (and, if i recall, a story!) about it around in my head or written somewhere, but here it is!

the magicks scrybe, though named gambhorra'ta, is also a fusion of the essence of divine art - i thought it fitted, given gambhorra'ta is this terrible wizard while the essence of divine art is about, well, art and perfection

the curator was also meant to be the death scrybe but, because i dont have a curator design and never really designed her, she didn't have one made. sad :(

maybe i'll get back to it one of these days, same with psychic parable with how much i adored my narrator design for it, but who knows.. my tsp interest will just have to kick back in hfskj

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luminlunii · 3 months

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I would gladly share this AU! I already have with a few other people, but I don't think I'll ever write it. It's just for funzies while I'm on break from another fanfic. First, what this big AU is about. Long story short, humans found a way to bring 2D animated characters to life, but through very questionable means like science and making deals with a demonic entity in 2023. While, humans got greedy and didn't want to keep their end of the deal. Which was giving the Entity at least one of the 2D animated characters for him to raise as his child. They stopped doing this at the third, Entity punished them for this, by making the cartoons/anime characters sick with this life sentence ink disease and wiping their memories of them for it, leaving their names of course. The government got scared when people and characters started asking why this was happening as they slowly gained their memories back, so they made a medicine specifically for characters to forget who they are, and where they came from until they could figure out what to do, which was almost never. Although, they had the medicine, it wasn't fullproof and good humans talk. So, they kidnapped characters (Those they weren't experimented on to find a cure or corrupted means) and made them into assassins to take out creators of these characters if they could not be bribed to keep quiet, the animators that were involved, or anyone else that wouldn’t stop questioning things. Eventually, they weeded out the humans that would talk, time went on and the future generations didn’t know anything. Or if they do, they don’t quite understand it. The government also erased/destroyed anything resembling a character. Disneylands, Disneyworlds, resorts, anime studios, all left to be abandoned and anyone on the premises would be killed. They did this because that couldn’t have people finding out they practically used dark magick and science involving human sacrifices of sorts to bring characters to life and it backfired. That would be too much of an uproar.

Second, (Sorry this is long! Feel free to skim!) This was encouraged a rebellion organization called T.O.T.O. ran by Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (The mascot before Mickey Mouse.) and Mickey Mouse. They're trying to get the bottom of the truth. Rocky was with Zib the entire time of his memory loss. While both had been recruited for the cause at the very beginnings of rebellion, Oswald was more interested in Rocky. This is because Rocky heard about the rebellions suspicions on the medicine and was like, "Why don't I test it!" on a whim. And sure enough, he saw old memories from his original world. You see, when Rocky saw these things, he didn't keep quiet and was very chaotic about it, which is why Oswald recruited him. To help the organization make noise about the cause. However, it being the first time for the organization to put face out there, they didn't realize the dangers completely. Oswald grew careless and it resulted in the Incident of Nebraska. Where the government got the jump on them on their first rally, hosted by yours truly, Rocky. Half were killed while the others were taken. Rocky was taken. He was experimented on like the rest at first, but after some research on Rocky. The experimentation facilities saw the same things Oswald saw him, but in a bad way. They turned him into an assassin because they figure they could put his chaotic nature to use, just like the first one and the many other in Rocky's situation after him. The first was Husker from Hazbin Hotel. The assassins are scattered all across the globe by multiple countries.

Yes, Oswald is looking for Rocky as is Zib. Zib is mad a Oswald because it appears he's not looking for him. So, Zib is looking for him on his own. However, the truth is. Oswald hired Mordecai to track Rocky down, but doesn't want to get Zib involved to be more careful about what they do.

All of which I just read is absolutely nuts. I had to walk away from my computer several times trying to comprehend this massive wall of text that was thrown at me. I was screaming how batshit insane this concept is. My brain is imploding.

My final response

What the fuck.

#i can't think of a better response than this #i almost didn't want to respond at all #because #let me reiterate #what the fuck #please excuse my foul language but i don't have any more words that fit the way i feel currently #Trek for the Truth

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lizhly-writes · 10 months

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so this was supposed to happen in that miraculous ladybug au i wrote like 3 years ago but i never got to that point. i found this in an old file here you go

Bihyung massages his forehead. "Look. Flu shots are important because they mean you're not going to get the flu. If you get the flu, you're going to be coughing and cold and probably vomiting everywhere. It's going to be terrible. You know that. I know you know that. Neither of us wants to deal with that."

"But I don't waaaant to," Biyoo whines.

The thing about Kim Biyoo is that while she might have, at one point, been fifteen years old and still technically possesses memories from that time, it doesn't change the fact that she's actually a tiny child. Physically and mentally.

Bihyung looks at Biyoo's tiny stubborn face and weighs his options. While he could pick her up and carry her to the pharmacy for her shot, it would not stop her from kicking and biting and otherwise making a fuss. A teenager struggling to keep his hold on a screaming and squirming child is not a good look.

He bets Kim Dokja would be able to do it just fine. Biyoo likes Kim Dokja better, she would definitely hold still for Kim Dokja if he asked her to. Unfortunately, Kim Dokja is not here right now because Kim Dokja is an irresponsible little shit.

"What if I buy you ice cream after?" Bihyung says wearily.

Kim Biyoo brightens. "Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Thanks, dad!"

"Please do not call me that," Bihyung says flatly. He's fifteen years old, he's too young to be a father of any kind. This is Kim Dokja's fault, anyway. Why does Bihyung have to put up with this? If Kim Dokja was going to magick a child into existence, Kim Dokja should be the one taking care of it to begin with.

Maybe this is just life now. Constantly cleaning up after Kim Dokja's messes. That's a terrible life, he wants a refund.

Instead of nodding and/or otherwise conveying she will comply with his wishes, Kim Biyoo looks up at him and... smirks. It's a really, terribly familiar smirk. It fits too well on her tiny, too-familiarly smug face.

Bihyung plants his hand over it and pushes lightly. "You're picking up bad habits from your father, I swear," he grumbles.

"Yes, mom," Kim Biyoo says, her voice muffled but still clear enough to make out her mockingly sweet tone.

Bihyung physically recoils. "That's worse. Do not call me that. At all. Ever."

"Sure. Dad."

"Eurgh. Why does it have to be mom or dad, can't you just call me hyung or ahjussi or something? Do you just want to see me make this face whenever you -- oh that's exactly it, isn't it, you little brat."

#biyoo #bihyung #my writing #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint

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valeffelees · 8 months

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HI HELLOO 📓 !!!!

HELLO HELLO! 🖤🖤

okkk, lemme think... OH, ok. i've got one, and i think i'm just going to have to accept the reality that i have no true "unwritten" AUs 'cause i do have a couple thousand (yes, thousand) words of this fic in a docu somewhere, but i can't even remember what the working title for it is at this point.

i think it might be "There's a Werewolve in London" or something? but really, who knows. LOL and so, yeah, the plot is about werewolves.

i'm gonna hide the rest of this under a cut tho bc turns out i don't know how to be normal about my fic ideas??? and this is just, so fucking long. like, i-would-not-blame-you-if-you-didn't-read-it fucking long.

but hey, at least i had fun! 😂

i dunno if i've already talked about this fic before? i'm nervous i have just on account of how OLD this idea is, it's one of my early early early snowbaz fic ideas bc i went through a phase where i was just, desperate for werewolf!Simon content??? but n e way, the tune of the plot goes: at the beginning of seventh year, Simon goes out on a mission and disappears without a trace, so of course the WoM has to assume the worst bc there's just no way for a magician with that much magic to blink off the map unless he's... well, yeah.

but life goes on. the Insidious Humdrum stops attacking Watford, the holes in the magickal atmosphere stop spreading, so really, what else is there to do?

Baz plays football. he studies in the library. he turns nineteen. he finishes at the top of his graduating class, wins a half-dozen academic awards, and skips the Leaver's Ball. he moves to London by himself and adopts a cat. what he doesn't do is think about Simon Snow, because he's twenty-three, and in university, and life goes on.

and then one day Baz is on his way to class and he sees a familiar mop of bronze curls and okay, fuck, sure life goes on, yadda-yadda, whatever, he knows those curls. he knows those shoulders, those freckles. he knows—

Simon Snow. older and healthier and standing there in the middle of the library, browsing fucking books. after a moment, Simon's nose flares and his head snaps up. "... Baz?"

and Baz thinks that, really, it's a bit cruel of the universe for him to still be in love with Simon Snow, even after all these years. (he thought, at least for a while, that he wasn't anymore, bc it didn't ache so deep when he thought about him) (but that was when Baz thought he was dead and Simon wasn't in front of him with his eyes and his mouth and that little pinch between his eyebrows, alive alive alive.)

Simon asks how Baz found him, and Baz says, "found implies i've been looking for you," and Simon replies, "right," and is clearly just, so fucking uncomfortable, like this boy wants to get the fuck out of there, but Baz knows that if Simon leaves now he'll never see him again, he's so fucking sure of it, so as Simon is bumbling his way through something to the tune of, "haha well funny catching up, see you around, mate—" Baz blurts out, "do you want to get coffee?"

and Simon stops, and stares at him for a minute, and looks down at the takeaway coffee cup Baz is clearly already holding, and then shoves his hands in the pouch of his hoodie and is like, "yeah, okay."

so they go for coffee, right, and Simon of course eats his body weight in pastries (but he's funny about it) (Baz doesn't comment, but he won't touch things with chocolate, with raisins, with nuts or seeds, and he doesn't actually order a coffee, or even a tea) while Baz sits across from him trying to figure out what to say, but Simon has always been the brave one and starts up with some small talk, polite things, like they're old friends or something, asking what Baz is studying, if he still plays the violin, and then strangely, "do you have a cat?" and Baz is like, "... i do. Olivia. she's orange." and Simon just nods, and keeps eating, and Baz realises Simon isn't going to be the one to bring it up so he finally asks, "Snow, where the fuck have you been?"

but Simon like, dodges the fuck out of that question, he doesn't even acknowledge it, he replies with something like, "i like these," about whatever baked good he's shoving in his face.

Baz: "Snow."

Simon: "i love pumpkin, i make a thing sometimes, like a butter. pumpkin, brown sugar, maple syrup. s' good."

Baz: "Snow."

Simon: "this has been nice," and then he's pushing back his chair and brushing the crumps off his lap and shrugging into his coat and he drops two ten-pound notes on the table and then he's turning to leave, he's leaving, so Baz lurches forward and grabs his sleeve and says, "Simon," and Simon stops, and takes a breath, and mumbles, "please don't ask me again. i can't say no to you, Baz. so please, don't. because i'll tell you. and i can't."

and Baz doesn't ask again. but he tells him, "the whole World of Mages thinks you're dead," and Simon replies, "i know," and looks back at him over his shoulder, "do me a favour and keep it that way."

Baz: "then let me see you again. i don't want this to be the last time."

so Simon agrees and they start meeting there, at that coffee shop, every day, the hour between Baz's morning and afternoon classes, and he doesn't ask about it again bc Simon is here, showing up, and that's fine, that's enough, he doesn't need to know, and if Simon is a little different, well, that's fine, too. and they carry on like that for a whole month, or just about, and one day they're wrapping things up and like usual Baz says, "tomorrow?" and Simon's face falls a bit as he replies, "i—can't, tomorrow. or the day after, i'm, well, i have a thing but, Tuesday?" and Baz wants to ask, but he doesn't.

"Tuesday, then."

and so—holy shit, am i still talking? i'm gonna have to add a cut to this at the top, i'm sorry. but n e way, it is by the pure chance power known as 'this is a fanfiction' that that night Baz goes out hunting later than usual. had a friend-date with a girl in one of his classes and had to stay up later than he thought to catch up on studying, so he goes out and instead of going poking through catwalks for rats and shit, he decides to take a drive so he can get his hands on something more substantial and maybe go on a bit of a walk, so now Baz is in an ambiguous Forest location and it is the middle of the night, and the weather fine, and the moon is full, and... it's very quiet.

nature is never this quiet, even around him. and that's when Baz hears it. a low, thick growl that makes every hair on his body stand, and before he can think better of it, fight or flight has him sprinting, and something is giving chase, something fast enough to keep up with a vampire, snapping at his heels, and Baz isn't stupid, but Crowley, that's just his luck, isn't it? the one time he decides to hunt in the forest at night on a full moon, there's a fucking werewolf in London. teeth catch the ankle of his jeans and Baz goes down, and instantly rolls himself onto his back and hikes his legs up to catch the wolf on the chest and hold it back from his throat, his back drags and drags and drags into the ground until he slams into a tree, and there are teeth snapping for his face, and through the dark, its eyes are sharp and bright as moonlight and narrowed to a point and blue blue blue—

and he knows that blue, like he knows the toffee-brown of its fur, the dappled pattern of spots in its coat—

"Simon?"

and it, he, stops. Simon is panting, and staring at him, and still baring those huge (fucking huge) teeth at him, and so Baz says his name again, and he blinks. and blinks again, his eyes blowing in the dark, softening, recognising him, just for a moment. and then he's gone, disappearing into the trees, the sound of his paws pounding the ground echoing in Baz's head long after he's stopped hearing them. or maybe that's his heartbeat.

Baz gets the fuck out of there as fast as he can, but he doesn't sleep that night. he stays awake until dawn, and then he's back in his car, back out at the forest, waiting. the sun comes up, and Baz almost thinks he has it wrong, but then the trees shift and Simon Snow comes stumbling out looking like he's been run over by a fucking train, he's in joggers and a zip-up hoodie, his chest is bare and so are his feet, and he doesn't notice Baz at first but when he does, he stops walking and glances behind him like he's thinking about running back into the trees (LOL), so Baz is like, "come on, Snow, i don't have all morning," and Simon does the world's most awkward monster-walk-of-shame in history, toddles the fuck up to Baz's car and gets into the passenger's seat without a word.

in the car Baz asks Simon if he remembers what happened. Simon says, "a little. m' sorry for, um—" and Baz tells him it's okay, and they don't speak again until they're pulling up outside Simon's flat where Simon opens the door, and gets out, and then stands there for a second before ducking his head back in and asking if Baz wants to come up for breakfast. "i won't be awake very long," Simon says, "but we can eat. and you can stay, if you want."

Baz, of course, does, so he follows Simon up, and this is kind of where the idea starts to fall apart and the details turn to mush, but i know Simon makes breakfast and Baz sits on the kitchen counter and lets him talk about things at his own pace, and that Simon has a roommate, an older werewolf from his pack named Drew who comes in while Simon is in the shower and tries to tear Baz in half, and prolly would've succeeded if Baz wasn't a magician, and the gist of the story from there is mostly about Simon and his pack, who've come to England from Wales to help a local pack whose youngest wolves have been going missing during the full moon, and Simon and Baz running into each other and doing their whole... thing, has really just been a chance encounter in the middle of something much bigger, and of course, now that Baz knows about it, he's hell-bent on helping.

there's also a neat scene (and actually, this is the scene that inspired the entire idea of this fic) where Simon and Baz go to the Bunces at some point and Penny is going on and on about how, "this doesn't make sense, there haven't been werewolf packs in England since the 1750s," and Simon laughs and opens her kitchen window and leans way out and cups his mouth and howls... and a minute later, a dozen voices howl back, and then he rests his elbows on the windowsill and grins over his shoulder at her and Baz and says, "turns out magicians don't know everything."

and yeah, i think i should stop talking now, but that is my werewolf!Simon fic. 😄

#I'M SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG i just really like telling people about my fanfic ideas in like excruciating fucking detail #like i am really just having the time of my life rn #*sighs heavily* i should go back to writing this fic i forgot how much i enjoyed it #(simon fucking loves being a werewolf btw) (like i don't do the whole emo monster thing) (simon likes being a wolf and having a pack sm)#n e way #ask game #imagineacoolusername

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blackberrysummerblog · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday

I’m back on my married-by-the-Crucible AU bullshit (LIES, I never left. Even the clothes-shopping snippet I posted for Six Sentence Sunday is from The WIP That Ate My Life). It’s coming along, though! And I’m going to tag people this time!

This scene is at a garden party reception that Baz’s parents throw to ‘celebrate’ 😒 his marriage to Simon, and for the happy couple to sign the Book. Baz has a brief conversation with his cousin on the patio that overlooks the party below. (Canon divergent details are that Baz was homeschooled after being bitten as a child, and Simon managed to give himself wings and a tail while at Watford, much earlier than happened in canon.) Hope you like it!

‘If it isn’t the old married man!” I’m caught off guard by someone thumping me on the back, which says heaps about my concentration today. It’s been a long time since anyone’s successfully crept up behind me, even with the amount of noise generated by the party.

“Dev.” My smile is genuine; Dev is my cousin and the same age as me, so he and his former schoolmate Niall are the closest I’ve had to real friends. He hugs me warmly, smelling of some expensive tobacco scented cologne—and underneath there’s a hint of good, clean, solid oak. (I always notice, even when I’m not trying.)

“Which one is yours?” Dev asks, waving toward the crowd below. The breeze is picking up a little, enough to carry music from the bottom of the lawn.

“You hadn’t heard I was paired with the Chosen One?” I ask, smirking. Dev went to Watford with Snow, at least for a little while; his parents sent him to boarding school in France to finish his education a few years back. Less plebby, don’t you know.

Dev winks at me. “’Course I have, but it’s been years since I saw Simon Snow. And isn’t he supposed to have wings and a tail still?”

“Temporarily spelled off for the occasion, at his request.” I search the crowd until I spot Snow, mugging for a young woman I dimly recognize as Penelope Bunce. She’s smiling politely as he holds his hands palm-up on either side of his face and hops from foot to foot—magic only knows what he’s miming, but he looks a complete fool. And completely happy, carefree in a way I haven’t seen enough of. “There,” I say, pointing at him. “That numpty over there.”

Dev follows my gesture and gives a low whistle. “He’s filled out nicely,” he comments. “I remember him being something of a ragbag, but he looks—Crowley below, look at you, Baz.” I break away from staring at Snow to glance askance at Dev. “You’re utterly smitten.” He shakes his head wonderingly. “Lovestruck.”

“I’m no such thing.” (I am. It’s a miracle Simon Snow’s name hasn’t tattooed itself across my forehead from the sheer force of my obsession with him.)

A sly grin moves across Dev’s face, one I know better than to trust. “So,” he wheedles, edging in, “How’s the sex?”

“We’re not discussing that,” I say shortly, looking back at Snow. He’s absolutely glowing.

Dev relents. “It’s just that...I’d wondered if the Crucible choosing the perfect partner meant that it was...you know, staggering.”

Certainly a word for it, yes. Still staring at Snow, I give Dev a little shrug. “I should think the Crucible would match people according to whatever characteristics are most important to them.”

“Sex for me, then,” Dev predictably replies. He folds his arms over the railing and bumps my shoulder with a companionable air. “You know, I went to school with Wellbelove, as well. Her father’s a magickal doctor, he could probably have those wings and the rest off in a blink. Make travel a bit easier—Snow was a bloody menace in the school’s minibus on field trips.”

The image of Snow haplessly trying to crowd into a minibus with his schoolmates, annoying everyone in the process, mitigates my urge to push Dev into the hedges beneath us for his suggestion. Poor Simon, scruffy and obtrusive. He’s deserved so much more than he was given.

But he has me now. “I don’t mind the wings. Excuse me,” I say to Dev, turning toward the steps.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” I flash Dev a hurried smile. He’s my cousin, after all. “I just remembered something. Catch up in a bit?”

He nods, so I fling myself down the steps and into the crowd, making my way toward Simon with as few stops for polite greetings as possible. (It takes an age. A literal age). “Snow. I—excuse me, hello, Penelope. Lovely to see you,” I manage, barely remembering my manners as I take hold of Snow’s arm. “It’s the appetizers. There’s a bit of a problem.”

“What!” Simon exclaims, looking horrified, at the same moment that Bunce retorts, “Caterer’s problem though, isn’t it?”

“They need our input. We’ll just be a moment,” I say, trying to convey urgency without physically yanking Snow off his feet. I hardly need to, though, since I’ve said the one thing guaranteed to get him moving—if he knew which direction to head in, he’d be the one dragging me.

He’s prattling on as I hustle him into the mudroom at the side of the house and lock the door. “Baz, what is it? It’s not the stuffed mushrooms, is it? Or the tattie scones? Merlin, did they burn the pastry cups?!”

Rolling my eyes, I push him up against a bank of coat cupboards. He’s delusional if he thinks my parents are serving tattie scones, Crowley. “There’s nothing wrong with any of the food, Snow,” I murmur against his ear, inhaling the rich, fatty scent of browning butter that is just Simon, beneath his soap, beneath even his magic.

He turns his head and laughs when I nuzzle his neck—he always does—then slides his fingers through my hair as I kiss along his jawline. “Baz.” Pushing at my chest, Simon looks up at me with wide eyes. “We don’t have time for this. Don’t the caterers need us?”

Tagging @raenestee @thewholelemon @captain-aralias @ileadacharmedlife @cutestkilla @ionlydrinkhotwater @dazed-squid @artsyunderstudy and anyone else who would like to share!

#snowbaz #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #simon snow #simon snow series #the simon snow trilogy #wip wednesday #wip #crucible au #crucible marriage au

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wylldebee · 3 months

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Ye Olde Magick AU Headcanons

Ye Olde Magick AU: X and X

As always thank @books-n-guns for helping making this AU!

— The Starks and Mormonts of old used to wrestle. Wolf vs Bear! Once the Karstarks were made they also joined in. It was made a tournament back then, but as the magic in their veins waned and the Starks stopped getting their claws they stopped. — The Arryns have this Rite of Passage where they jump off the highest tower of the Eyrie, plummet down as low to the ground as they can, and then swoop upwards. The closer to the ground you are before you do, the most bragging rights you get. Aemma Targaryen still holds the record. Robert used to have such pride in that before the war. — Aemma used to have the most beautiful scaled and feather wings and also back muscles like damn. Absolutely beautiful. Viserys had guards hold down her wings before she was cut into. When the feathers fell off, she would gift them to her friends and family. Her husband Viserys, her daughter Rhaenyra, her good-brother Daemon, and Rhaenys each had one of her feathers with them when they died. — When Jon accidentally sneezed fire and melted a ice zombie instantly, Ygritte knew this was the gods way of telling her this is her future baby daddy. Fangs? Fire? If the kids inherited her hair and archery skills they would be unstoppable. (and yes this is a Ygritte lives!AU

— The real reason why Benjen wasn't in the war was because he would have been a menace. A lethal menace. You think Ned was just beginning to grey in book? If Benjen was in the war Ned would have been instantly grey, this poor man would just be running after his little brother as he kills knight after knight the entire war like Benjen no you can't just try and take on an entire unit on your own ROBERT STOP ENCOURAGING HIM! (Books-n-guns, if you're reading this I totally owe this to you about your Benjen comment XD) — Catelyn has a shiny rock collection. This woman has been in rivers since she was girl and has found the best rocks. She's given Ned some. He cherishes them dearly, and he always has one of them on his person. Uses the flatter ones as a worry stone. He had one of them on his person when he was executed. (no this isn't a Ned Stark lives!AU sorry the plot/lore demands it) — All the Stark-Tully kiddos collect rocks. The shinest of shiny rocks. Best of the best. Robb and Arya give some to Theon and Jon respectively. Sansa gives her very first best shiny rock to Margaery who never leaves without it. — In return Margaery gives Sansa a piece of her tree to take with her if she has to travel. A flower or a leaf or even a piece of its bark. It's warm to Sansa's hand and she swears she can feel Margaery through it. — Arya bit Joffrey when he was being an ass with Mycah. Nobody could deny it with blood on Arya's lips/fangs. So Nymeria stays and Lady was spared. Afterwards, Ned managed to get the wolves out of King's Landing just in time. Sansa has wolf dreams of running with Nymeria, hunting and surviving. — Margaery nearly weeps when she learns about the Starks of old. She loves her Sansa - but are you seriously telling her, her girl could've had pointed ears and wolf eyes and claws? She could have had a Westeros version of a werewolf as a girlfriend?! Fuck it she's joining the Old Gods maybe if she's a good follower they'll have pity on this poor lesbian and give Sansa those features. Please she is begging with her heart and her entire pussy please. — A month after giving birth to her daughter, Aemma strapped Rhaenyra and her little dragon securely to her chest, and took flight. Just like her good-mother did to a baby Daemon on her dragon years ago. People said Rhaenyra was giggling when Aemma landed. "She has her entire life to ride on a dragon, Viserys." The queen was overheard saying to her husband. "Let her first years be flying with me." — As books-n-guns said, the Lannisters were more pack oriented than the Starks. Come Tywin and his Tywin-ness and boy have the Lannisters been screwed-up badly by him. — The Tullys and the Greyjoys absolutely hate each other I'm not kidding. You think Balon has beef with Ned over his defeat over little rebellion? Nah, that only added to the existing beef of Ned being married to fucking Tully. A fucking river nymph. This hate is spread out to the Riverlanders and the people of Iron Isles. — No I'm serious they fucking hate each other. The amount of fist fights and duals and deaths between a Riverlander and someone from the Iron Isles is so damn frequent people just automatically clear the area and wait for one or both to die, and carry on their business. It's another Thursday in Westeros, nothing spectacular to see here.

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unwisemagi · 3 months

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Parent Scrybe Au: Introductions PT 3

Surprise, take another part! I hope Magnificus is likeable here lol.

Magnificus

The scrybe of Magicks was many things. He was a master of the arcane and its varying arts. He was an accomplished painter whose work was held in high regard. He was a teacher to brilliant dull students that never ceased to amaze disappoint him. There was no questioning that Magnificus was quite accomplished. However, despite his many impressive feats, there was one thing he still had yet to master. The art of socializing.

To be fair, this was not really a concern for him. He was, by nature, very reserved and reclusive, a borderline hermit. It didn't affect him much if he missed social cues or was off putting to others. He didn't need others, though he did keep a select few close. Either way, social skills were not a big concern for him . . . until you came to be that is.

You had come into his life by surprise, and slowly but surely won his heart. You were his child, and he would never say otherwise. He would say however, that you deserved a far better parent.

His skills as a caretaker were abysmal, at least he thought so. He could barely take care of himself. His own students had to make sure he was taking care of himself, something he was grateful for but wouldn't admit. Despite that, here you were three months later. You were such a happy thing, always squeaking (yes, you squeak) in excitement when you saw him. You hated when he was upset and would frantically try to get his attention whenever you noticed he wasn't okay. It was adorable. It was wrong. You shouldn't be under the care of someone like him!

And yet . . .

Yet he couldn't bear the thought of giving you up. He couldn't imagine a life where he didn't see you rolling around your little play pin. He couldn't imagine a life without your little excited squeaks. He just couldn't. It was selfish, he told himself. You deserved so much better, yet he denied you this. All because he couldn't bear it. These thoughts hounded him the longer you were under his care. They mocked and haunted him, and it didn't go unnoticed.

His students noticed he was more withdrawn than usual. They noticed how he seemed to be at war with himself. It was concerning since he only got like this if his eye had shown him something. They knew they couldn't approach him, he was a stubborn old fool. He hated being vulnerable or weak. So they made the decision to reach out to someone who could get him to open up.

“Hello Dears”

“You're here!” Lonely Wizard vibrated on the spot and wringed his hands. “You're here! Good good! Good, you're here.” It took him a moment to realize he was being loud and that he had not greeted her. He stutters before bowing quickly. “Sorry sorry. Hello Grimora, You're Here!”

She chuckles at Lonely Wizard. She was fairly used to his energy. “I couldn't ignore you and your friends' concern now, could I? Please, tell me what's wrong.”

“Worried. Very worried. . . I mean, Master is acting strange.” Lonely Wizard replies, doing his best to keep his voice down. He was also making an effort to speak more slowly and clearly. “I think he saw something bad, really bad.”

She hums. She didn't need clarification to know what he meant. Magnificus acted a certain way when he saw something particularly bad. “I see. Well, you don't need to be worried dear. I will talk with him.” She chuckles as he nods excitedly, before exchanging goodbyes with the peculiar obsidian skinned wizard. She heads to the old wizards study and firmly knocks on the door. There is a mumble on the other side, making her frown. “Magnificus dear?” She hears a gasp and some items fall, before the sound of scrambling footsteps approaching. She waits patiently for the door to open, before gasping. He friend was disheveled, more than usual. He looked panicked and even frightened.

“Grimora . . . I wasn't expecting you, sorry.”

“Oh Magnificus.” She mumbles gently. “What happened?”

“I'm fine. I have been very busy with some new discoveries.”

“You were never good at lying to me Dear”

He flinches. He doesn't say anything, resulting in Grimora gently tapping on the door. He sighs and lets her into the study, before closing the door. “I never could lie to you.” He mutters before sitting in his chair. The study was in immaculate shape. There was no dust or grime to be spotted. The only oddity in the room was the small box by his desk.

She sits from across from him with a gentle look. “You know you don't need to hide from me dearest. I have and never will mock you.” She watches him stiffen and glance at the box, before he deflates with a heavy sigh.

“I . . . Grimora” he starts, his tone causing her to worry. “I don't know what I’m doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I'm not fit for this.” He clarifies and forms right fists with his hands. “I don't know what I am doing, or why I'm still doing this! No, that's not true. I know why, it's because I'm a selfish fool.”

Grimora listens to him rant. She reaches over the table and grabs his hands, getting his to look at her. “Magnificus, you are far from selfish. A fool at times, yes but we all are foolish at times.”

He stares at her before sighing and looking away. “No, you don't understand Grimora. You don't know what I've done.”

“Then tell me.”

Magnificus hesitates. Eventually he pulls his hands away from her and carefully picks up the box. He puts it down in front of her, watching as her eyes widen. “Do you see? Do you see now why I am such a fool? Do you see why I am so selfish?”

“Magnificus. . .”

“I am not fit to care for life Grimora! I am not fit to be a parent and yet I still keep them close. How could I-” He is interrupted by a familiar squeak. You had woken up from your nap and quickly noticed your parent was upset. You try to roll close to the sides of the box, trying to get closer. Magnificus couldn't just ignore you, so he picks you up. “Little wizards should still be sleeping.” You don't understand and just squeak at him again.

Grimora smiles at the display. “Well now, aren't you just the most loving parent?”

He looks at her in confusion. “Why would you ever think that? I don't know how to care for a child.”

“You may not know how to, yes.” She agrees. “But anyone could see you love them dearly.”

“Love alone isn't enough” Magnificus mumbles as he makes sure you are comfortable in the crook of his arm. Being such a small little bush, you could hang out on his arm comfortably. You snuggle close to him and yawn, making Grimora chuckle.

“That is true, but love is the first step. The next, is asking for help from those who care about you as much as you do them.” She gives him a sincere smile and gently pats his free hand, before taking it into her own. “My dearest Magnificus, I would be more than happy to aid you. I know you will simply be marvelous.”

With Grimora's help and encouragement, Magnificus introduced you to the other scrybes. Although understandably shocked, the scrybe of Magicks was supported. His insecurities would always be there, but now he wasn't alone. Now he had the full support and help from those he trusted. He would put all he could into raising you, even if it meant having to ask for help. You had not only brought the best in him, but made him want to be better. You were his miracle.

#inscryption #inscryption writing #inscryption au #child reader

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kagedbird · 6 months

Text

TESSDE AU (+ Taliesin) Continuation of this

Allora has spent the last week at home with the boys and Bren, relaxing not too dissimilar from a dysfunctional family. The trio have been taking their time getting to know one another better and Allora has become more comfortable with displays of affection- slowly. She's received a letter from a courier that Lucien will be coming home in the next few days, and another from Inigo that she was free to teleport him to her whenever she needs. Deciding to wait until both were back, she happily runs into Lucien's arms as he entered into Whiterun.

Allora: You're back! *squeezes him tightly, burying herself against him* Welcome home! Lucien: *a little teary eyed at her tight hug and the big warm welcome, chuckling softly* Well hello! This is certainly nice. Allora: I missed you. Lucien: Awh! I missed you too. Hello Kaidan, Taliesin! Kaidan: Welcome back Lucien. Find out anythin' interestin' in yer studies? *claps Lucien on the shoulder* Lucien: *eyes bulging in surprise* Uh... w-well, yes! Many very interesting things! Would you like to hear about them? Taliesin: Perhaps we should have Allora bring home our final guest first? Lucien: Final guest? *releases Allora as she pulls away* Allora: *focuses on Inigo's soul as the magick forms into her palm, whispering* Inigo. *casts the spell a few feet from her, and out apperates Inigo* Inigo: Whoa! You are very lucky my friend, I just finished going to the bathroom- oof! Allora: *flung herself to hold onto Inigo just as tightly, laughing happily* Welcome home! Inigo: Hehe. Thank you, my friend. It is good to be home. Lucien: Inigo! Where were you, old chap? And what on Nirn was that spell?! Inigo: Oh, Lucien! You returned! It is good to see you. We went on a long quest for myself after you had left to your Dwemer ruin; it turns out I also have a big prophecy just like our friend here! Taliesin: Yes, perhaps we can discuss that back at the house? *gently pulls Allora closer to him and guides her back home* Kaidan: *walking after the two* Aye, plenty to talk about. Good t'see you, Inigo. Inigo: Yes! I am glad to see you are all well. What has happened while we were out? Allora: Well... *** Lucien: *frowning in thought as Allora sat between Taliesin and Kaidan, both of them hovering around her quite a lot more than normal* ... Inigo: Julian? Lucien: Hm? Oh, my apologies. Were you saying something? Inigo: You were saying something about your Dwemer ruins, but you went quiet. Lucien: *flustered, coughing into his hand* Ah, sorry, I believe the... long travel is getting to me is all. Allora: Do you need to rest? You can take my room! Lucien: Ah, no no. I wouldn't want to kick you out of your own room! Kaidan: *standing up to gather more alto wine* You wouldn't. She's been sleepin' in the master. Taliesin: More accurate to say you'd be taking the room from Mr. Folsterhan. Inigo: Does this have to do with the kidnappers? Allora: *blushing brightly as she doesn't look the two in the eye* ...Not... exactly... but kind of... Kaidan: *returns with two bottles of alto wine, refilling Allora's glass before his* We're all sleepin' in there together. Lucien: *eyes widen as he stares at Taliesin and Kaidan, realizing they haven't bit off each other's head once since he returned* You're- you're together? Inigo: When did this happen? Congratulations you three! Allora: *swallows down half her glass of wine in one go to try and curb the embarrassment* Oh god...

[Next one here]

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nirikeehan · 1 year

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HI HELLO I COME BEARING ANGST (I think??) How about "dum spiro spero - while I breathe, I hope" for Samson & Barris?

Thank you for the prompt, Sterling!! Time to put two characters who never meet in canon together and see what happens! Results: mixed.

Combo'd with this one from @kiastirling:

More to come from the next chapter of nightmare!au methinks. Samson discusses how to find Thalia with Barris, his lieutenant in this universe.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1178

---

Samson strode through the encampment, slipping into the war tent right at the agreed upon time. Of course, Barris had beaten him there. He sat in contemplative silence before the large wooden table, an heirloom inherited from Skyhold, along with the tattered map of the continent that lay atop it.

“Lieutenant,” Samson grunted by way of greeting, coming up behind him. “What have you got for me?”

“Dum spiro, spero,” Barris said cryptically.

Samson stifled an irked sigh. “How many times must I tell you, I don’t speak…” This applied to a number of languages, so he trailed off, waiting for Barris to supply the correct one.

“Tevene,” Barris replied. “Old Tevene, specifically. ‘While I breathe, I hope.’ I suspect it’s what the Lady Thalia is thinking right now.”

“And I suspect trite phrases are why they must’ve switched to new Tevene,” Samson quipped.

Not even a chuckle from Barris. He wasn’t quite as bad as the Tranquil, or the more feral of their soldiers, but Samson and Barris’s senses of humor had never aligned. Delrin Barris had come to him as a captive templar from Therinfal Redoubt nigh on a year ago, one of the holdovers from Seeker Lucius Corin’s retinue. At first Samson wondered if one with as much self-professed “honor” as Barris could be turned — but as always, the crimson song had proved irresistible. Still, Barris had shown impressive stamina, maintaining reason and intellect even under the effects of the red. That had proven valuable, as the attrition rate among Red Templars was usually astronomical. He’d quickly made lieutenant for that competence alone.

That didn’t mean Samson had to like him.

Barris had come to the Templar Order from noble stock, that was plain. Samson didn’t care much for the details — previous social hierarchies meant little in Corypheus’s new world order — but there were idiosyncrasies one never shook. Barris had the hallmarks of a noble’s upbringing: knowledge of languages and etiquette, and the posh Fereldan inflection Samson recognized from Cullen’s Chantry education. Was that why Barris sometimes set Samson’s teeth on edge? Or was it the lieutenant’s impossibly high cheekbones, and the piercing eyes that had until recently had been such a verdant shade of green? Some men have all the luck.

“I’d like actionable intelligence,” Samson muttered, “not baseless speculation.”

“I wouldn’t call it baseless, General.” Barris turned to him. One eye was shot through with an infernal red. “All the reports say the same thing. She’s looking for Commander Cullen.”

Samson felt a twinge of his former headache prodding at his temple. “Who’s vanished.”

“Yes.”

“For days now.”

“Yes.”

“Dead, do you think?” Samson couldn’t bring himself to believe it, though he wanted to.

“Does it matter?” Barris asked.

“Of course it matters,” Samson snapped. He might not be in this mess if he hadn’t let slip to Thalia at Skyhold that Cullen was still alive. “She’ll never stop looking if she thinks there’s even a chance. She loves the fool.” He tried not to let too much bitterness show.

Barris tilted his head at Samson, expression unreadable. That was another thing Samson didn’t like about him; he kept things too close to the chest. “You never did say. How she freed him and escaped in the first place.”

“When I figure it out, I’ll tell you,” Samson countered. “She’s a magicker. They have their ways, as you well know.”

“Mm.” Barris turned back to the map of Thedas. It was woefully out of date, but the updated one from Corypheus’s seat of power in Minrathous hadn’t arrived yet. “Is it true she escaped from your quarters?”

“I don’t like your tone, Lieutenant,” Samson growled. He leaned over Barris’s chair; the red lyrium crystal in his breastplate gleamed and hummed between them. “And what if she did?”

“Nothing, ser,” Barris was quick to say, though he was not as cowed as Samson had hoped. “Just wondering if it’s personal.”

Samson narrowed his eyes. He owed Barris nothing — his lieutenant was supposed to take orders, not question his motives. But clearly the man was fishing. “What else have you heard?” Samson asked with blunt impatience.

“That you may have… had a dress made,” Barris said carefully, mismatched eyes flickering up to meet Samson’s own. “For her measurements.”

Mareth needs to be flogged, Samson realized. I have been too lenient. Unless it was the bloody tailor who’d gossiped. Maybe he ought to have both their tongues cut out, just in case.

“So?” Samson forced levity into his voice.

“One doesn’t usually go about getting gifts for his prisoners,” Barris said, deadpan.

“Who said it was a gift for her?” Samson retorted.

Barris looked away. Samson got the sense that his subordinate found him repulsive, which gave him a grim satisfaction.

“Corypheus won’t like it,” Barris said softly.

“And how far away is Corypheus right now? A thousand leagues? More?”

Barris shook his head. “Empress Calpernia is closer. She has his ear and his favor.”

“I’ve got his favor too,” Samson insisted. “Who suggested the siege on Skyhold? Who saw the opportunity for victory within our grasp and organized the whole bleeding thing? Me. He owes me.”

“He’s aspiring to godhood. I don’t think he believes he owes anyone anything.”

Samson scowled. “What exactly are you trying to say to me, Lieutenant?”

Barris let out a weary sigh. “When I was young — before my father promised me to the Templars — there was a girl living in our keep. The daughter of one of the kitchen maids. Lia, her name was. I was smitten with her, and I… well, I don’t even really know what she thought of me.”

“You’re telling me about a childhood crush?” Samson asked, incredulous. “Really?”

Barris frowned, studying him with those unsettling eyes. “It’s not about the crush, General. It’s what my father did about it. He found out, put a stop to it. He’d already had plans for me, you see, and didn’t want a youthful indiscretion with a peasant getting in the way.”

Samson waited, eyebrows raised.

“But it wasn’t me he punished,” Barris said with a hint of sorrow. “He sacked Lia’s mother and put them both out of the keep. I didn’t know what happened to either of them, until I found Lia begging on the streets of Denerim the next time we visited.”

Samson suspected this was intended to move him, but he didn’t see how. “Did you say anything to her?”

“No. I was too ashamed.” Barris looked down.

Of course. Samson knew that phenomenon: all the well-to-do aristocrats and merchants, passing by the corner where he sat, huddled against the shakes, their eyes facing straight ahead. Even when he was certain they’d heard him asking to spare a copper.

“Then I guess we’ve both lost something we were fond of, Lieutenant,” Samson sneered. Noble asses, indeed. They’re all alike, deep down. “You forget yourself. I’ve been the beggar in the story, and Corypheus ain’t my father.” And once he had Thalia back, he wouldn’t be letting her go again. Of that much he was certain.

#raleigh samson #delrin barris #nightmare!au #dragon age drunk writing circle #samson is a creepy sad sack once more

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shipwreckinabottle · 1 year

Text

Last Line Tag Game (but more like multiple paragraphs amirite)

(tagged by @tiny-increments (thank you!)

Kind of a late one as I was pretty busy the last two months, but I’m back to writing and have so, so many stories going, so here’s me taking advantage of the tag to share a bit of everything I’m currently working on (and seeing if anyone else is interested :D).)

NSFW warning.

MCU Matt x Jen one-shot.

Summary/premise: Essentially Jen going >

;

“Seriously, Matt? I had dinner plans. Not eating-microwaveable-dinners-in-my-pajamas-while-watching-Friends-reruns sort of plan, but like actual plans. With an actual person. A date plan. Which I have to cancel now. Because some inconsiderate asshole just had to show up at my place half-beaten to death and bleeding my blue Ikea couch purple!”

MCU Steve x Jen time travel AU one-shot.

;

“Bruce?”

Her cousin picks up on the first ring this time, his voice sounding tinnier and squeakier than usual, though Jen suspects its more from the connection of wherever he is, rather whatever shitty reception she usually gets around here.

“Yeah?”

“So… you know that age-old situation where you come across a time machine, but instead of breaking the space-time continuum by killing Hitler or meeting your great-great-grandparents, you decide to use it for selfish reasons instead like trying to see dinosaurs or figuring out if D.B Cooper was a real person and getting onto his plane, but then the plane takes off and his seat is empty and you’re starting to think the whole story’s a crock of shit when a turbulent hits the plane and a flight attendant spills her drink over you and they move you to another seat and you look down and realize you’re in Cooper’s seat seconds before the time machine refires and sends you to another-”

“Jen. Calm down. I have no idea what you’re trying to tell me. Are you in trouble? You-”

“Steve,” she says, a little breathlessly.

“Steve?”

“Yes. Steve”

“Steve… as in Rogers? Captain America, Steve?”

“Yes.”

“What about him?”

“So… about that time machine thing…”

Sandman: Johanna x Morpheus.

;

She focuses her thoughts, she focuses like she’s about to cast a spell, but instead of Latin script or Demon-tongue or Elder languages long lost to sanity and time, she speaks instead of images: or his cock squeezed between her fingers, of heated breaths and nails through flesh, of the way he would whimper, would beg and moan as she fucks him exactly the way she wants. She focuses it all into a sharp, mental ball—full of spikes, defiance, and a good-ol-fuck-you—and wills it right into him.

She sees it as it happens. Like the erosion of a great cliff, the exact moment it falls into the ocean, the immense waves flooding civilizations and creating new landscapes.

There’s a twitch in the corner of his eyes. A hitch in his breath. The action causing a strand of hair to fall out of place—and there it is: a sole piece of imperfection bared to the world, and she stands at the precipice of it all, this foreign landscape, only missing a flag to stake her ownership.

Johanna grins, triumph.

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds

Spock x Chapel. (For those who watch the show, I’m writing a fantasy-AU one-shot revolving around Pollux x Audrey from episode 8 😂)

;

There was a bed; a desk with material for writing; a few books and tomes; and a strange, smokeless torch to read by—the bright, circular lightings found often in this strange kingdom: the Ever-lights he suspected powered by otherworld forces rather the temperance of fire, that could brighten and dim, could adhere to the user’s whims and desires; too precise, too clockwork, too perfect to be of nature or the caprices of magicks.

He was somewhere within the Eastern lands of Elysian, beyond the fields of flower and song, the lands of a thousand vibrant petals; colors said to rival even the beauty of their queen monarch, colors more radiant than the forever dance of the cascading midnight stars, the luminescence of nebulas colliding across space and time.

Not that he would get to judge any of it.

He was buried deep underground, layers of dirt and bones between him and the rumored radiance, with no sunlight nor breeze, no telling between the days nor dusks beyond the glow of the peculiar lightings. Nor even a strict, potbellied jailer to spar with words, to pass time with banter and foolish defiance, lighthearted jabs at peasantry and the lives of their betters; not as insult, but truth.

Pollux would know. He grew up poorer, weaker, and having less in his pockets and stomach than most. Perhaps the catalyst for his hunger, almost juvenile and desperate, always clawing at the tables for scraps, for any semblance of power he could find.

Decades spent honing his craft, uncovering magicks beyond one’s wildest dreams—all the power and knowledge a man would ever need or wield in his lifetime—and yet it was never enough. He was the wizard with powers of the Old, the Imperishable of a Thousand Lives, who tamed the Swamp of infinite deaths; he had everything, feats of legends, accomplishments rivalling Kings and perhaps even Gods, and still, he wanted more, more, and more.

And now, there was nothing left but his own greed and hubris; his tools confiscated, his being trapped behind magick-dampening walls; he was nothing more a man behind iron bars, weak and alone; the helpless wizard in his ivory tower, buried the wrong way up, deep beneath the golden fields of the East, with nothing but his dingy surroundings and the occasional passing rodent for company.

And sometimes, he was reminded as he looked down at his bandaged arm—her.

HotD Aemond Targaryen x older OFC one-shot

premise: look i just wanna see Aemond get fucked up by an older lady, alright?

;

She strode across the room, footsteps nothing more a whisper against the marbled floors, dark robes billowing in her wake like a raven unfurled, an image of dark omens and darker tidings, a glint of steel by her side: a long, serrated blade adorned with bright rubies and the memory of dried blood and the wails of a tortured man inflicted over a thousand flesh-cuts. The blade was clean now, the clear steel reflecting off the evening sunlight, beautiful and deadly, much like his mother’s appointed assassin herself.

Was she the one who poisoned him?

Would her blade still be clean by the end of the night?

Aemond tried to move, but his arms would not comply. They remained where they had fallen, outstretched like a man inviting death into his embrace, though as much he reveled charging into uncertainty, into odds his tacticians scoffed at and bards exaggerated, a brave man welcoming his judgement—he was not.

He didn’t want to die. Not this way. A pathetic death imprisoned in his own body. By poison and not blade, not glorious, bloodied death.

She walked around him, watching, nothing but the dart of her eyes through the slits of her silken shroud.

How easily could she slit his throat right here.

She found the cup, eventually. Picked it up and sniffed it. Then she looked at him—and sighed. A look of disappointment. An almost mirror-image of his own mother’s. Perhaps too familiar, too practiced, like she knew exactly what infuriated him the most.

Pity.

Like he was a child who had hurt himself.

Disappointment.

A good-for-nothing boy who could do no right.

He knew she was doing it on purpose, and yet he couldn’t stop the anger that boiled red-hot within him; rage born of nothing but his own hubris, his own shame. He strained against his paralyzed muscles, but accomplished nothing but a weak whimper and a spittle of drool.

Pathetic.

She walked past him, sitting down behind the bed where he laid, the smell of gardenia and the brush of fabric beyond where his head could turn. Her words flittered by his ear, a low whisper passing through his bones, “Your mother did not pay me to save dying men,” her fingers slid past his jaw as she spoke, gliding past hair only starting to peak. Her skin was warm, her touch gentle, but there was nothing tender in the action, more akin an undertaker prepping a corpse for their final journey.

Then her teeth clicked, “My mistake. A dying boy, really.”

Original story

Original story one-shot where the two protagonists have won the battle (and defeated the baddies, so to speak), but are also bleeding out at the end.

;

It really wasn’t easy thinking straight when you were dying. Harder to think of whichever God to pray to. And there were so many. So, so many.

She interrupted me, of course. “For a man so firmly against the beliefs of a higher power, you’re awfully religious all a sudden.”

I frowned. Or tried to. It seemed even things like that were harder to accomplish when you were bleeding out on the ground, much less trying to alternate between holding a conversation and pray.

“I’ve always been religious,” I argued, what I normally lacked in faith clearly not in sarcasm. “We visited what, twelve temples before the battle?”

“No, my Prince, what are you are—is desperate,” said my loyal Princeguard, a smile baring her blood-red teeth, giving her a frenzied appearance similar to depictions of one of her seventy-three warrior Saints, just missing the improbable third arm and eye. “You don’t believe in any God, any Deity, any Saint, and yet you pray to all of them; you worship at every altar, appease at every temple; you know more words of prayer than most faithful abbots, and for what reason? Not because you believe in any of them, no. But because you think it might help if just one of them happens to be real, happens to be listening.”

“Well, not all of them,” I tried to say dumbly. I might be dying, but I’m not foolish enough to put all my eggs in one basket praying to the Saint of Harvest. I mean, even if he were real, what could he do, offer me some corn while I die?

“Just the ones that count, huh?” she asked.

A keen-minded and highly-trained warrior’s brain was something amazing to behold; astounding in both combat and out. Including being able to lecture me on my apparent lack of faith even while bleeding out from over half a dozen fatal wounds and a longsword (not so long anymore since half of it is-) protruding from her gut. Not to mention she was correct as usual, of course.

Meanwhile, I was so delirious from the loss of blood I thought that piece of pudding wobbling on the floor was a chunk of someone’s heart refusing to stop beating even separated from its body. Not that there was a shortage of dead bodies around us. Nor pudding. Not my fault the assassins attacked during the Autumn feast.

“Look, the sun isn’t a Deity,” I said between coughs, more blood running down my chest like rivulets of wine, the stains surely to invoke the wrath of the royal tailors in the morning; I wonder how precise, how deep their words would cut, with how their scissors did the same. Funny what the mind thought of on the precipice of death. “The sun isn’t going to judge us at the end of the Lonely Path. If the philosophers are right, the sun is just a ball of gas. It doesn’t give a single fuck about us. And if someone is on the Lonely Path, the best way out of it perhaps isn’t finding god, but a goddamn brothel.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But Solia of the Lonely Path is only one of many. What about the other Gods you ‘worship’?”

“That,” I grinned. “Is what we gamblers call hedging.”

She laughed, though it came out a little airy, likely from the blade that had pierced through her lungs. Not the long-slash-short-sword in her gut, no. This was another. Another of many, in fact, she had taken while cutting down men multiple times her number. “Not just a cripple,” she said. “A usurper, a soon-to-be dead man, but a degenerate, too. What fine company I keep.”

I dragged my way across the floor to where she laid. Our shoulders bumped. “Ah, but what better company to have at the end.”

“I can think of better,” she said, in a way that was so serious it might actually be.

also pairings with no plot just vibes that i want to write for

The Recruit: Owen / Max

Rings of Power: Sauron / Galadriel

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