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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had the worst Monday that could have ever existed. Onto Tuesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"I trust this should be amenable to your work," Mr. Laufeyson holds open the door along the east wall of his study. One you've never opened before though you're familiar with the space within. The library also opens into the hallway and keeps you busier than many of the other rooms. "When you should require it. I expect much of your work will keep you afoot."

You peer past him, his tall figure like a second shadow. You clutch your kit tight and nod. You didn't exactly bring the tools for this new role.

"I should have a blank ledger somewhere, oh and a pen of course," he advises, "given our new... arrangement, I would require a contact point."

You nod and tear your attention from the full shelves and luxurious velvet chaise. You won't get to enjoy those but they give the space a much more welcome feel than the rest of the house. You face Mr. Laufeyson as he keeps the door propped open with his foot. He slides out his phone as if it's a task.

"Never to worry, I wouldn't bother you much so long as you do your work adequately," he assures, "but in case of... emergency."

"Oh, erm," you sputter and reach into your hoodie pocket, revealing the tiny flip phone.

"Hm, vintage," he muses, "as you would."

He holds his phone, gesturing to it with his other hand. You teethe your lip before you recall the digits of your number. Your plan doesn't include a lot of talk minutes but he doesn't promise much of that. He keys them into his screen.

"You'll have mine," he taps his thumb and your phone chimes. "In case."

"Thanks, uh, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Mmmm," he hums again. "Suppose you would need some sort of proper device, a computer of sorts." He clucks and checks his watch, dropping his arm with a huff, "I've an important event shortly, I'll try to venture by the electronics shop before I return.”

You nod and fold your phone, slipping it away as you peek back into the library. He inhales deeply, "suppose you should begin. The list is on the writing desk.”

You accept the command easily. You’re even thankful for it. It gives you a proper reason to find distance. You go to the desk and look over the typed list. You don’t sit, hesitating as you wonder if it would seem lazy, maybe even presumptuous.

“Let me fetch that ledger,” he says before letting the door drift closed.

You run your finger over the top line. ‘Create a schedule’. Hmmm. You look over the bullets that fill the paper. You can only assume he refers to all of that. It’s straightforward, you can handle a schedule. It’s everything that comes after that gives you doubt.

“And you’ll have to review what my wife, ex that is, left in shambles,” Mr. Laufeyson interrupts as he pushes through again. “Her little folder is here. She was always fond of order, even though she left me in much less. This is what’s left of her handiwork,” he approaches coolly and sets down a plain fawn coloured ledger, a fountain pen, and a white folder with golden flowers on it.

“Thanks,” you eke out as his hands linger on the edges.

You sense his gaze, discerning and weighty. He leans forward slightly and you nearly take a step across as he points to the list. You follow the line of his arm and his extended finger.

“Another point to add, ‘acquire work attire’,” he instructs and turns his hand over, flippant flicking his finger in a gesture to your plain hoodie and worn gray denim. “I trust my pay should afford that necessity easily, however should you require a write-off, I suppose it could be argued as a professional expense.”

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you frown in embarrassment, “I didn’t…” You look down at yourself, wanting to hide behind your arms.

“You wouldn’t think of it, just a maid,” he dismisses, “very well, I think you have more than enough to begin. I should be some hours.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree. He is correct, there is more than enough to keep you busy.

“I will review the schedule upon my return,” he affirms. “Should you require refreshment, you recall where to go.”

You nod and cautiously reach for the ledger, sliding it closer as he backs up. You slowly sit, hovering before you let yourself rest. He lingers by the door as you roll the pen aside and put the ledger and folder parallel. You open the former and line up the list inside the cover, resuming your perusal of the bullet points.

The door closes and you keep your attention to the paper. You don’t dare a glance up until you hear his muffled footfalls cross his study. You feel as if he’s waiting for you to make a mistake. You think you might be too.

🧹

A clunk sharply pierces the tenuous peace of the empty house. You hadn’t heard the door or his approach, not even right next door, not until the hefty thunk. You listen but keep your nose down.

You’re just about done with the schedule. Two cleans throughout the week to spread the duties evenly. The main floor on Mondays, and the upper on Thursday. You’ll be able to fit in an unexpected tidying between your other to-dos.

You flutter through the pretty white and gold folder. The embossed suede speaks of a sophisticated owner. You wonder why she would ever abandon it, though you assume, a separation may not inspire sentiment.

You turn over another note. This one about the gazebo. A blurb on a repair. You’ll have too go out and check to see if it was actually done, there’s no confirmation of the job. You stop to admire her loopy writing, as elegant as the folder.

The door opens without pretense. You sit up and wiggle the pen between your index and thumb. Mr. Laufeyson as a flat white box in his hand, along with a smaller one on top. He does not near you, instead place his lot on the square table by the window.

“Here,” he orders shortly.

You rise and leave the pen in the centre of the ledger. You cross to him as he moves the smaller box aside and unfolds the two smaller flaps from the large one. You can’t help but watch curiously.

“This should suffice,” he shimmies out the cardboard insert, revealing a sleek silver laptop, “hmm?”

He shifts it towards you and lets you look it over. You put your hands behind you to keep from touching. You lean in just a little.

“It looks nice, Mr. Laufeyson. Thank you.”

“For your work, of course. These days, it is a requirement. And this,” he takes the smaller box and offers it up, “a proper work phone. It is more professional. Any calls on my behalf, you will make on this. That relic you have won’t do much.”

“Uh, yes, Mr. Laufeyson, that’s really thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful? Practical. Company property, of course,” he insists, “another point to add. Set these up. They should be functioning by the end of the day. You’ll need them to keep up with the rest of your tasks.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. I will put it on the list.”

“Mm,” he circles around you, striding to the writing desk before you can react. You follow at a few paces, not wanting to crowd him. He takes the pen and uncaps it. He adds the bullet himself. “There you are.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson,” you recite again.

He snaps the lid on the pen and his lips twitch, not quite curving, “I’ll review,” he snatches up the open ledger, your schedule open to see. You almost rush forward. You meant to rewrite it before you handed it over. It has scribbles all over it. You won’t argue.

“Go on,” he steps around the desk, waving to the side dismissively.

You return to the table and gather the laptop and phone, along with the stray box. You bring them back to the writing desk and stay standing as you free the laptop from the insert. You let your eyes edge along the top of your vision as Mr. Laufeyson sits on the chaise and browses the ledger.

You refocus and investigate the cord buried in the box as a collection of booklets fall out. You sort through them and find the one in English. You start on the front page, reading over the different buttons and features. The diagram is especially helpful. You’ve never had a computer before, not that it belongs to you.

You squint as you read the precautions. Your mind flits back and forth between your current task and everything beyond. You would go to the library sometimes and spend an hour on the PC, and in school you did all your work in the resource room. This is much fancier than any of the boxy computers you’d used before.

It says you should plug it in and charge to full before booting. You unravel the cord and search for an outlet against the wall. There’s one not far. You hook up the cord to the port on the side of the slender laptop then trail it to the wall. The little light on the side glows yellow.

Then you take the little box. A phone. The flip phone was second-hand but this is shiny and new. You’re like a kid at Christmas, not that you got much for the holiday, even when you were younger.

You slide out the small device. Your hand is unused to it. It’s not clunky like your phone. It feels easy to drop even if it’s bigger than the flip. You peel off the plastic film around the border and across the screen.

You take out the booklet and read it as closely as the first. Same thing; charge before use. You don’t want to mess up any of this. You plug it in above the computer and place it on the closed lid. You carefully sit in the chair, careful not to jostle the cords.

You peek up and find Mr. Laufeyson looking at you over the top of the ledger. His green eyes gleam and flick back down to the page. You hope he doesn’t see how clueless you are. This stuff that’s all so normal to everyone else is new to you. A job alone is a novelty still.

“You may ask it,” he says abruptly.

You wince and shrug. You don’t know what he means. His brows tweak in amusement.

“You’ve not asked about time off. I am unaware of your previous commitment, what days you had to yourself.”

You didn’t think of it but he does seem to think of everything. You twiddle your fingers on the desk. You would work as much as you need to. You still haven’t seen the final hospital bill.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I worked three shifts per week, but I was on probation,” you explain carefully, “I can work more than that.”

“How much is more?” He wonders, his thumb tapping the corner of the ledger.

You blink. You don’t know what’s appropriate. You don’t want to say too little and come off lazy, or say too much and seem ignorant.

“Six?” You utter, “six days, Mr. Laufeyson?”

His thumb stills, “per week?”

You nod. His eyes narrow and his lips thin in consideration.

“Should do,” he accepts and his eyes fall back to the page.

You think you got the right answer. You look down at the bullet points. It seems like a lot written out but surely it can’t be. Besides, the more you think about it, the more exciting it is. This house is so beautiful and this list means you get to explore it.

You don’t sink too deep into the moment of optimism. Mr. Laufeyson stands, still intent on the ledger. He paces blindly around the library, a click of his tongue as he reviews your handwriting.

“There will be some nights,” he intones, “other occasions where I require you in the evening.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you accept as you flutter the pages of the laptop instruction booklet.

“Mm,” he hums flatly, “I do think the cook liked you, didn’t she? Suppose we might retain that service for the time being.”

You nod and make a note in the corner of the list; simply, Corissa. He shuts the ledger and grips it tight. He walks around the table then turns back, coming back to you. He lays down the book on the desk.

“I won’t know until the day in question. You understand, this would be on-call. I’ve a busy life and so will you,” he girds, leaning on the book as he bends over the desk. “You will be doing more than watching little birds flapping around the garden.”

You nearly recoil as he plucks the memory out so precisely. That was careless of you. You should’ve kept your head down and just got to work. It’s a warning you’ll remember.

“I won’t, Mr. Laufeyson, I understand,” you assure.

“Not to say that you can’t,” he stands and pushes the bottom of his jacket back, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, “but only when there are no other pressing matters.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He sighs and tilts his head back, “you must resist distractions. You are prone to it. I’ve noticed.”

You chew your lip and accept the remonstrance. You’ll take it instead as advice. He is right, you do find yourself bewitched by this place at times.

“Like that man,” he says staunchly, “don’t think I forgot. I will warn you, he is my brother… regrettably. He is well above the staff and he knows it.”

You take the hint. It’s improper of you to stare. Even if he had touched you. Or maybe, you misinterpreted an accident.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Hear me when I tell you, he is not interested in the likes of you,” he sniffs, “with any luck, he won’t be much around for you to believe anything of the like.”

You nod and pick up the pen, nervously rolling it between your fingers. His reproach scalds your cheek. To think he assumes you would ever think of something like that. That you might encourage a stranger in that way.

He watches you for a moment before he spins away. He checks the time on his wrist as you reach for the ledger.

“Very well, I must be at my own work,” he declares, “as I trust you will be diligent in your own.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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jackles010378 · 4 months

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A Prank Gone Wrong...........

(Dean Winchester X you)

Dean decides to play a prank on you based on a fear you have, but it goes horribly wrong.........................

Dean was always one for a good prank. He would prank Sammy when they were younger. He had a mischievous glint in his eye and a knack for knowing exactly what buttons to push to get a reaction. And when it came to his girlfriend, Y/N, he had discovered a secret fear that he just couldn't resist exploiting.

Y/N had faced down all manner of monsters and demons with bravery and skill, but there was one thing that sent shivers down her spine and made her scream like a banshee - spiders. Dean couldn't understand it, how someone so fierce and fearless could be brought to their knees by a tiny arachnid. But he was determined to have his fun, just this once.

It was a quiet evening at the bunker when Dean devised his plan. The two hunters had successfully banished a particularly nasty spirit, and Dean saw the opportunity to finally play his prank. After every monster Y/N had fought off, he always plagued her about being scared of spiders. He figured it was time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Just before Y/N went to have her much-needed shower, Dean carefully placed a realistic-looking fake spider on the bathroom floor. He couldn't help but grin, imagining her reaction when she discovered it. Little did he know, this prank was about to take a serious turn.

Y/N entered the bathroom, exhausted and longing for the soothing feel of hot water on her tired muscles. As she turned on the faucet, she failed to notice the fake spider lurking just below. With a deep breath, she stepped forward, inadvertently planting her foot directly on top of the prop.

What happened next was something neither of them could have anticipated. The prop spider, designed to merely startle and maybe evoke a scream, had sharp edges that dug into Y/N's foot as she unknowingly stepped on it. The pain was sudden and intense, causing her to stumble and lose her balance.

Y/N let out a cry of pain as she crashed into the bathroom counter, hitting her head hard against the edge. In a daze, she collapsed to the floor, clutching her injured foot and struggling to stay conscious. Dean heard her screams and chuckled to himself, waiting for her to come storming down the hallway to shout at him, but she never came. Dean waited a few seconds more and grew worried. Running down the hall to the bathroom Y/N was using he was shocked at the sight before him.

"Y/N! Are you okay?" Dean frantically asked, kneeling down beside her.

She winced, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to respond. "No, Dean, it really hurts. What the hell was that?!"

Dean's face turned pale as he realized the prank had gone terribly wrong. He cursed himself for not considering the consequences of his actions. "I'm so sorry, Y/N, I didn't think this through. Let me help you."

He gently lifted Y/N into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom, ignoring the fake spider that lay forgotten on the floor. He laid her down on the bed and hurriedly fetched the first aid kit, doing his best to tend to her injuries.

As the pain slowly subsided and the shock began to wear off, Y/N looked up at Dean with a mix of pain and forgiveness. "I... I know you didn't mean for this to happen. But please, no more pranks involving spiders."

Dean nodded solemnly, guilt weighing heavily on him. He knew he had crossed a line, and he vowed to make it up to her. From that day on, Dean became Y/N's fierce protector, ensuring that no harm would ever come to her again, even unintentionally.

As days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, Y/N's foot healed, but their bond grew stronger. They faced countless monsters together, each time with Dean by her side, ready to slay any spider or otherwise that threatened her peace of mind.

And as for pranks? Well, let's just say that Dean learned his lesson. The only scare he ever gave Y/N after that was the occasional jump scare during a horror movie night, where she could always find solace in his arms.

I could imagine Dean doing something like this 😂 but then taking care of you straight after 🥰

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #jackles #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #deanwinchtser #soldier boy #jensen ackles gifs #beau arlen #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x female!reader

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resowrites · 11 months

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Holy Grail - drabble.

Summary: Henry develops a fixation for a certain part of his pregnant wife’s body…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, sexy talk, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 635

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Holy Grail - drabble.

"Whoa--"

"Henry, get out, I'm trying to get dry!" He quickly turned around as she grabbed the towel from the bed and clutched it to her chest.

"I'm sorry! I came in here to fetch Kal so I could give him his tea!" But the pooch was still fast asleep at the foot of their bed.

"Well you better get out of here before he wakes up, you know how protective of me he is at the moment."

"I know, the soppy git…"

"He's soppy?! You almost had a panic attack yesterday when you thought I ate shrimp! And he picked up following me into every room from you!"

"Yeah well at least I don't guard you when you're in the shower--"

"Well thank God for Kal, otherwise you'd be leering at me through the glass!"

"At least then I'd get a look at them! Come on, drop that towel, and lemme see if I can't tune in for the news and weather--"

"Out, now! I wanna get dry in peace."

"Then here, let me help…" Henry took a few steps forward only for her to dart under the bed so she could fetch something. "What the hell is the broom doing under there?!"

"I had to bring it up last night to squish a spider on the ceiling and now I'm going to use it to get rid of another pest."

"My lady may call me whatever she wishes. For she is beautiful, rich, and got huge… tracts of land!"

"That's it! I'm not enduring Monty Python quotes. You're banned from my presence the rest of the evening. Be gone!" She tried to jab with the broom only for him to dart out of the way.

"Aww come on, when was the last time we got to knock boots?"

"Last bloody night!"

"Then you should be warmed up by now!"

"God give me strength… anyway I thought you just wanted to cop a feel?"

"Well I'll take whatever I can get--"

"Yeah well by the time I'm finished with this broom, you'll be able to sweep the floor!"

"Charming, all I wanted was to enjoy the beauty of my pregnant wife! Honestly, it looks like you're holding up two ten-gallon hats--"

"God you belong on a bloody list… can't you go one night without being a pervert?"

"No, but I'll tell you what, you flash me lefty and I'll give you a hundred quid."

"A hundred quid?"

"Yeah, would you prefer cash or bank transfer?"

"Is that all you think I'm worth?!"

"Well, it's not like you're giving me a handful!"

"And how much would you pay for that? I was thinking of redoing the kitchen…"

"What? Why? I did a good job of the tiling!"

"Henry, two fell off just this morning!"

"Then let little Henry have a dance in your ballroom and I'll fix it for free!"

"Will you also disappear back downstairs?"

"God, you always want to get rid of me!"

"Yeah, cos you get on my sodding tits!"

"I bloody wish!" She looked up at the ceiling and prayed for guidance.

"Henry, give me one good reason why I should have sex with you tonight."

"I can do better than that, I can regale you with song."

"What?!" Henry cleared his throat.

"Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate!" She perched on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands.

"I can't actually believe I'm having your child…"

"I can, especially after last night. Now get thee to bed, and let's go for round two--"

"Really? You're reciting Shakespeare now?"

"Well I thought that might do the trick--"

"Fat chance."

"Why not? I can leave the money on the bedside table--" she chucked a pillow at him.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @geralts-yenn @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

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drabblesandimagines · 4 months

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Request for Joshua getting married?

I got a bit carried away from a drabble with this one. Anon, please lemme know what you think! x

-- Joshua Rosfield x female reader, fluff, tiny smidge of suggestive spice at the very end

It was foolish to think the two of you would’ve ever got away with a quiet affair, not when the Bearer of the Burning Quill was around. When Joshua had announced his intention to marry you, Cyril had appeared laden with parchment denoting the wedding rites of the Phoenix over years upon years.

The Undying had been so loyal to Phoenix that he had found them quite impossible to refuse, especially when some had expressed their joy at the prospect of being allowed to see such a ceremony, unsure if it would be held in their lifetime.

“A small, short ceremony at Phoenix Gate,” Joshua had proposed as a compromise. “Then whatever else you want, wherever you want, my love.”

How could you refuse?

The gown is prepared for you, a vibrant red, off the shoulder sleeves, gold threads embroidered throughout in the pattern of feathers by hands far more skilled than your own – the same hands that now help you dress, murmuring words of how much it is an honour to prepare the Phoenix’s bride. The finishing touch is to be a circlet of pure gold, studded with rubies, fetched from the vault below the sanctum.

“Every partner of the Phoenix has worn this as long as the records have been kept,” Cyril had said in his usual soft manner as he placed it upon your crown, before stepping back with a bow. “Long may the tradition continue after today.”

You barely have time to look at yourself in the mirror when you are ushered out of your chambers and towards a waiting carriage.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Clive offers you his hand as you emerge from the sanctum at dusk. As the First Shield, sworn to protect the Phoenix, it is only right he is charged with escorting the bride to him. “I will go as far to say that you will render my brother speechless and I know we would both admit that will be quite the feat.”

You smile, thankful to have him there. “Thank you.”

You accept his hand, squeezing it a little too firmly as you step up into the carriage, wary of the adoring eyes of the acolytes on you, those not granted an invitation but wishing to catch a glimpse all the same. You let go of Clive’s hand as you situate yourself on the bench within and he soon joins you, sitting opposite. A lantern burns brightly from the ceiling and the windows are shuttered – not that it matters as the sun continues to set.

“Are you going to be okay?” You ask as the carriage sets off on its journey. He looks perplexed at your question, so you continue. “With the ceremony being at Phoenix Gate, I mean.”

“Indeed - I made my peace there a few years ago. It will be nice to make a happier memory there of gaining a sister, though.”

“Mm.” You smile at his sentiments. “I am afraid I am a little nervous.”

“Allow me to assure you that Joshua will be even more so.”

The ruined stone walls of Phoenix Gate have been ladened with candles – the flickering flames greeting you as Clive once again offers his hand to escort you down from the carriage. The ceremony itself is going to take place within the chamber – right in front of the door Joshua was due to enter all those years ago.

A single Undying acolyte waits by the entrance, head bowed low, heavy brown cloak in hand. They hand it to Clive, wordlessly, before retreating into the chamber, not once raising their eyes from the ground.

The First Shield shakes out the cloak from its folds and pauses. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He drapes it over your shoulders, fastening the clasp underneath your chin before gently pulling the hood down low over your face. He guides your arm through his and steps forward, kicking at the door once with his foot before they are opened before you.

It is hard to see beneath the hood, but from the shadows on the floor you know the chamber is littered with even more candles. Dozens of Undying are lined up along the sides and the whole room is silent, besides the occasional spit of flame and scuff of yours and Clive’s footsteps on the stone.

He leads you up to the makeshift altar and you so desperately wish to lift your head, to see Joshua’s eyes but the scorn of Master Cyril prevents you from doing so. If you can just be patient for a few more moments, you can stare into his eyes as long as you like.

“We are here this night,” Cyril’s voice booms around the chambers – much louder than you’ve ever heard him speak before, “to witness the union of the Phoenix and his beloved. First Shield, do you confirm the one you have escorted here is the one the Phoenix wishes to wed?”

“I do confirm.” Clive’s hand then takes your own and he holds it out in offering. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you feel Joshua lace his fingers with your own – though it had only been a day, you had missed his touch something awful in the lead-up.

“Phoenix, do you confirm this is the one you wish to bind your heart with?”

Joshua’s other hand grips your chin, tilting your head up so you can finally meet his eyes. Tears brim his own as he smiles – not being able to see you has been akin to torture. He is dressed more or less the same as usual, though his somewhat frayed red cowl has been replaced with a new one, embroidered with the same gold thread pattern as on your gown.

His hand moves from your chin to grip the hood of the cloak – a flame dancing between his fingers as he does so. In a blink of an eye, the cloak disintegrates in a flash of fire, revealing your gown to an audible gasp from the acolytes watching. Joshua’s face slackens, rendered speechless as Clive foretold, wide-eyes… Cyril gently nudges his foot with his own, a reminder he does need to answer.

“I… I do… I do confirm.” He’s almost breathless, before the boyish grin creeps back into place. “Absolutely, completely confirm.”

“And, my lady,” Cyril turns to you, your fingers still entwined with Joshua’s, “do you confirm that the Phoenix is the one you wish to bind your heart with?”

“I do confirm.”

“Then may the binding of your hearts here on this night shield the firebird’s flame forevermore.”

Joshua wastes not a second before he has wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you forward into a deep kiss – as if he needs you to breathe. For once, you are unaware of the eyes of the Undying upon you, feeling that you and your husband are the only ones in the chamber before the silence is broken by applause over your shoulder – Clive trying to bring a little joviality into the crowd. Slowly, the acolytes join in and Joshua pulls back from the kiss to murmur in your ear.

“Thank you, sweet one.”

He tucks his arm through yours and leads the two of you back through the chamber, the Undying bowing their heads as you pass, back to the carriage you and Clive left only minutes ago – Joshua had promised the ceremony would be short, after all.

Aided by Joshua’s hand, you climb back up into the carriage and he follows to nestle in at your side, shutting the door before peppering your face and neck with kisses.

“Joshua,” you giggle, the carriage once again lurching forward. You were heading back to the sanctum where more Undying will be waiting to see the Phoenix and his wife and at this rate you’re going to be as red as your gown by the time you arrive.

“I can’t help it,” he withdraws. “It’s this dress – you look… I mean…”

You laugh again, cupping his face with your palm. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He moves your hand from his face, kissing your knuckles. “So much.”

You stare into each other’s eyes, soaking in your first private moment with your husband - the word makes your stomach flip – before he lets go of your hand and plucks at the fabric of your skirt.

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking?”

He bites his lip before he responds, the boyish grin returning. “I am wondering if, when we enter our bedchambers, this gown will burn as quickly as the cloak did.”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #joshua rosfield x you #joshua rosfield x reader #reader requests

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g1rld1ary · 3 months

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sharing's caring ; anthony lockwood x fem!reader

➻ my first x reader fic so please be forgiving !! (also my first fic on tumblr ♡)

➻ word count: 789

➻ synopsis: lockwood meets the reader in arif's and they bond over their love of scones

➻ warnings: none!! tooth-rotting fluff <3

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Lockwood stood in line at Arif’s, tapping his foot absentmindedly. He wasn’t in any particular rush, but he had woken up starving, craving a scone from that particular cornerstore. He had been buying breakfast there more and more frequently over the past few months due to his growing obsession with not only their doughnuts, but each pastry he’d tried so far.

The bakery wasn’t often crowded, but that morning the pastry case was half empty already when Lockwood arrived at a quarter past eight. He sighed and hoped to himself that his very favourite product — a plain scone with strawberry jam, hadn’t been sold out already. He didn’t have time to wait for their next batch as George needed him in the archives and he couldn’t afford to be late; he was still grovelling over the last case he’d rushed them into without proper research.

He had moved up to second in line and was eyeing off his scone with hungry eyes when one of the cashiers suddenly took it away from the glass case, preparing to put it in a brown paper bag for you. Lockwood frowned and let out an “Oh, damn,” but started to consider his other options. You turned at the sound, brow furrowed slightly. You gasped when you realised what you’d done.

“Oh, I’m sorry! We can split the pastry if you like?” You had a sparkle in your eye, an indication of your willingness to share, and Lockwood found it rather charming.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You ordered it, the pastry’s yours,” He protested, not wanting to make a pretty girl unhappy. He even pulled out his signature megawatt smile, which almost always got him his way. It didn’t sway you.

“Come on, I don’t need a whole one and I can tell it’ll make you happy,” You laughed, quickly turning back to drop the change into the cashiers hand before you backed out.

“At least let me buy you a tea to make up for it?”

You giggled again, nodding and telling him how you liked it. You left Lockwood in line to go fetch a plastic knife and he ordered the drinks, noticing the baristas had already started on them. Because of their head start, the beverages were ready much faster than anticipated, and Lockwood made his way over to you, as you leant against a table next to the large front window.

The two teenagers stood for a second, watching your hands tear the dough apart into a carefully divided half (you snuck him the bigger side when he wasn’t looking).

“I’m Lockwood, by the way. Anthony Lockwood.” He broke the silence.

“Oh, I know,” He raised an eyebrow, “I, uh, I’ve seen you in the papers — your agency I mean. I’m y/n.”

You smiled as you handed Lockwood his half, providing him with a little tub of jam.

“Thank you again, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Lockwood, it’s really not a big deal. Besides, you bought me a tea so we’re even,” You grinned, taking a triumphant bite of the scone. Lockwood laughed and followed suit, taking a slightly smaller bite of his half.

Lockwood quickly realised he was going to be late if he didn’t leave soon, and hurried to think of a way to extend this acquaintance past one shared scone.

“Maybe I could get the scone next time?” He tried to look confident and you smiled, raising an eyebrow to tease him.

“Next time?” His easy expression faltered as he became self conscious.

“Um, only if you want to, of course, I just—”

“Relax, Lockwood. It’s a date.” You both beamed and averted eye contact, slightly embarrassed. Lockwood stumbled over a sentence, something you could tell he wasn’t used to, telling you something along the lines of it being very nice to meet you and that he was looking forward to another breakfast but he had research to attend to. He rushed out of Arif’s with a furious red blush settled across his cheeks. You watched him go with a dreamy smile falling on your lips, giggling softly as he ran. You glanced down to pick up your tea when you noticed a business card sitting next to the unfinished scone, the phone number circled with a little pen smiley face next to it. You shook your head with a grin, sliding it into your pocket.

When Lucy and George both commented on his unusually flustered disposition, Lockwood could only utter a small “Shut up,” as he delved into the pile of papers already collected for him.

➻ as i said this is my first x reader fic I've ever written + the first fic i've put on tumblr so any feedback would be so appreciated !!

lots of love xoxo

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #lockwood and co fanfiction #fluff #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #love #meet cute #netflix #save lockwood and co

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 3 months

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It was only supposed to be a one-night stand (part 5)

Tw: sexual content, self harm, yandere stuff

Pleaz vote in da poll belowes

Thanx enjoyy

Part 6

Your touch snapped Montgomery out of his trance-like state. He looks nervous.

"H-have you found something you liked?" He stammered, his hands going to his pockets where his ratty wallet rested.

You shook your head and told him you wanted to go somewhere else. He was surprised and confused, asking what was wrong.

You said that you wanted to go to a nearby park instead, forget the car, the two of you could get there on foot.

He stared at you dumbfounded, but his attention was taken by someone squealing in joy because their partner gave them an exquisite box of chocolates and a new bag. They're filming their reactions with their phone. You can see his self-esteem plummeting down to hell.

You had to drag him by the sleeve, he stumbled a bit before finding his footing.

His fingers are intertwined with yours as you cross the busy street, your eyes are looking forward with the main motive of getting to the other side before the lights turn red.

Whereas Montgomery has his eyes darting everywhere, he looks overwhelmed and overstimulated having to brush shoulders with all walks of life. He must be used to using his car to get to anywhere in this city.

You brought him to the nearest unoccupied bench. Pulling him down to sit with you.

The park isn't as crowded, it's still lively; with joggers, parents pushing their children on the swing, boys and girls throwing things for their dogs to fetch and the occasional cyclist whizzing past the both of you.

It brought such a visible change to Montgomery, he's a lot more relaxed and relieved. He enjoyed the sunrays hitting his face, unlike the cold, artificial lights illuminating the shopping centre. The air is fresh and not stale and perfumed, he is much more in his element.

You sat with him in silence. He does not say a word and neither did you.

But you had to tell him what you had to say. You assured him that although it is common to see other men spoiling their partners in a much more extravagant way, and how the people here carry themselves high, it doesn't mean you don't appreciate him. Montgomery is enough as he is, he's doing so well and you're grateful to have him around.

He kept his lips sealed. His shaggy hair covers his eyes, not revealing anything to you as he looks forward.

You felt a little hungry. So you stood up to try and find something to eat.

But Montgomery grabbed you by the wrist and forcefully pulled you into his lap. You felt the air knock itself out of you as he squeezed your smaller frame with his strong arms. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and sobbed. Sniffles reached your ears and soon you felt wetness on your shoulder.

"I'm not from here. I don't fit in." He whimpered. "I didn't want to disappoint you."

He hiccuped. "You mean so much to me... I just didn't want to disappoint you..." He repeated. "I was trying to be the best man for you, but I-I couldn't do that if everyone around me was so much better. I was trying to be like them, I was trying to fit in, I was-"

You stopped him from spiralling out of control. You told him that he's fine the way he is and you see him as a wonderful boyfriend. He doesn't need to be like the richer population he sees in malls, he is more than good enough for you.

He held you tighter, you had to pat his back to signal that he was hurting you.

"I love you. I love you so much. I don't know what I would do if I lose you." He mumbled. You're clawing at his arms, desperately trying to get him to loosen his death grip. "You're my everything..."

A sudden whack to his head brought him back to his senses, as you managed to fling your shoe against his head. He released you and you stumbled out of his lap, gasping for air. He looked horrified, Montgomery shot up from his seat and apologized non-stop as he tried to gently hold you and help find your balance.

Once everything was settled, you continued sitting on the bench with Montgomery by your side. Staring at nothing in particular as you enjoy the peace and silence between you and him. His larger hand encased yours, thumb asserting mild pressure to your palm and knuckles to massage them.

You stood up and pulled your hand out of his. Montgomery had a panicked look on his face as he tried to grab it again.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked.

You shook your head and said you wanted to get something to eat. He released the tension in his shoulders and stood up as well. Montgomery intertwined his fingers with yours and stood closer to you. He brushed stray strands of hair away from your face before kissing your forehead.

"There is a hotdog stand nearby. But... You don't like hotdogs, do you?"

You shrugged and said that you're flexible. Whether you like hotdogs or not, it is the closest and cheapest option. Given that you already blasted numerous holes into his wallet, might as well go for it.

His eyes lit up as he began to lead the way, preferring to wrap his arm around your waist instead.

A couple weeks gone by since that talk and Montgomery is glowing with glee and excitement. He became more talkative and comfortable enough to let his real accent reemerge, taking on a drawl and calling hotdogs, 'Hotdawgs'.

Winter is in a spitting distance away, he's using the money he saved for the trip preparation after you chastised him not to buy you too many gifts, especially the roses. It's not like you could eat them anyway, even if you did, they tasted horrible. Montgomery still bought you a bouquet once a week, now just a bit cheaper. He feels horrible for not being able to spoil you, however, you had to remind him that he should be saving up.

You helped him budget, and taught him how to cook something simple; scrambled and sunny-side-up eggs, he now knows how to cook rice using a pot. It was hard, he was struggling to get a grasp of how the electric induction stove worked. But he got there eventually and would make egg-fried rice in bulk.

You don't know how he does it. But he eats the same thing three times a day, seven times a week. He never gets bored of it and he never got a clogged artery, Montgomery used so much oil that he had to replace a bottle fortnightly. His wallet is quadrupling in size, though.

You tried your best to cook when he's not looking. Because he gets extremely guilty seeing you 'toil away' in the kitchen, he would end up ordering takeout for you and him. You would scold him for wasting money when groceries are already bought and food is already cooked, he would whine about how he doesn't want to see the love of his life sacrificing time and energy in the kitchen when you could be relaxing from your stressful job instead.

He doesn't get the concept of cooking as a hobby, or that cooking isn't torturous to some. So, when you're cooking, the door to the kitchen is shut and locked. The walls are quite thick, so Montgomery wouldn't hear you pick up a frying pan.

A habit that is notoriously hard for him to kick is: buying you takeout for lunch. He still visits your workplace to bring you lunch, definitely not his oil-drenched egg fried rice, something nicer and pricier. So, being the good Samaritan you are, you only accept the dish that hurts his pockets the least, reject all others no matter how tantalizing.

You would take a couple of bites before declaring that you're full, leaving Montgomery to become your personal garbage disposal. You definitely snuck back to your cubical to eat your own packed lunch or takeaway.

He certainly gets creative with his pet names. And they're all very... southern.

"Mornin', gorgeous." Paired with a brief kiss on the lips would be a standard greeting from him. Montgomery tends to call you "Sweetheart" in front of others, "darlin'" or "Sugar" when you are alone with him in the day, but "honey" or "precious" at night. You asked him what's with the different names for their respective environments. He was confused, not understanding what you meant. Looks like he's just doing this out of instinct.

You appreciate that he fixes things around the house. You get to save hundreds of dollars in maintenance and you get to have it done immediately. Montgomery never complained, quite the contrary, he seemed to enjoy doing menial tasks like these around the house.

He's much more assertive than before in the bedroom, but he's a good man, knowing when to back off instantly. Montgomery would try to arouse you by roaming his hands under your clothes, kissing you from your jaw down to the base of your neck. If you reciprocate, he will proceed with the lovemaking.

If you stay still, he would become insecure and ask if he did anything wrong or if he smells. Just tell him that you're not in the mood, he will sulk for a bit, thinking that there's something wrong with him. He thinks that you're just being nice by making up some valid-sounding excuse.

He will leave you alone until you initiate some affection. He wouldn't go on unless you're 100% on board, which means you have to play along in some way, even if that means just leaning a bit more into him.

If you harshly shove him away and leave the scene, he will beat himself up all day and splurge on a gift for you. Montgomery would get on his knees and beg for forgiveness for whatever transgressions he committed against you. He doesn't take well to rejection, drinking himself to death while sobbing and yearning for your love. He doesn't understand what he did wrong, Montgomery doesn't get why you're so cruel to him, but he thinks that he deserved it somehow.

But that doesn't mean he can accept that you're barring him from loving you up, so he would try everything in the book to get you to be kind to him again. Even if it means slicing his wrist open right before your eyes.

So you quickly learn to reject him gently. You wouldn't want a boozy, crying, puking and bleeding Montgomery on your couch.

All in all, life with your fling-turned-serious boyfriend isn't too bad. Sure, he isn't the most confident, or the richest, or the most charming, or the smartest, or the most emotionally stable... but he still is at least decent.

However, a pit of dread is growing in your stomach. For some reason, you felt uneasy with the fact that you're going to meet the family of the man that's currently eating you out or sucking you off.

You wrap your legs around his head as he feverishly jerks himself off, tongue lapping at your sex. Meanwhile, you're lying on your back and staring at the ceiling, pondering about what his parents are like. What his siblings are like.

You don't know why, but you just don't feel great about the decision to come with him.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc Montgomery #tw smut #tw self destruction

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

Y/n: i'm glad that the strong boys are dining with us tonight

Literally every single soul at the dinner table: 😳💀😠🙊👀

Aemond, panics: i have an announcement- we're pregnant

Y/n: we are?

I found the perfect prompt for another drunk drabble haha

Aemond x tipsy!wife | just go with it Y/N

"Y/N, slow down on the wine." Aemond placed a hand atop yours as you reached for you goblet.

"Aemond..." You whined, drawing the looks of Otto and Helaena who sat nearest you. Otto raised a bushy eyebrow.

"She needs more wine, if anything." Aegon tipped the pitcher, refilling your cup to the brim. You beamed at him.

Shooing away Aemond's hand you brought the full goblet to your lips, observing the rest of the gathering over the brim. Rhaenyra and her family sat at the far end of the table with Alicent and her family at the other.

You couldn't make out who was who amongst Aemond's nephews, their dark hair and pale faces were sort of blurred, even when you squinted at them.

You took another sip of wine.

"She really is a woman after my own heart." Aegon watched you fondly. "Too bad she's wed to the dullest of us."

Aemond shifted beside you as though he meant to rise but you beat him to it. You pressed your palms against the table, rising unsteadily from your seat, pointing an accusing finger at where you thought Aegon's face was. "Aemond is the best of you. Especially you." Your words were biting, though a bit slurred. "Especially you, Aegnut." You hiccupped squeakily.

Alicent motioned to Aemond to help you resume your seat and you felt a gentle pressure on your shoulders as Aemond coaxed you back down. Your finger remained pointing at Aegon as you sank into your chair, Helaena helpfully took your hand and interlaced her fingers with your own atop the dining table.

"She really can't hold her liquor, can she?" Otto intoned. Alicent shushed him quietly.

Aemond's long fingers tapped the wood on which they lay, his attention evidently elsewhere. You snuck a glance, the room spinning unpleasantly as you turned your head to him. His lilac eye was fixated toward the other end of the long table. His lush lips were pursed with displeasure. His lovely, curved lips. The very ones you craved at all times be upon your person.

You had leaned forward, pressing a sloppy kiss to Aemond's mouth. Your husband supported you by the waist before you fell fully into his chest. He kissed you back but pulled away a moment later, grimacing. "You really are a lightweight." There was a look of amusement on his angular face. "I thought Helaena was bad."

"Alcohol doesn't like me very much, nor I it." Helaena agreed from her seat beside you. You made the mistake of looking at her, turning too quickly and almost toppling off your seat. Again, Aemond's grip on your waist saved you.

"Fetch some water." Alicent clapped, the sound oddly loud in your ears, and a servant delivered you a fresh glass of cool water. "Aemond, look after your wife, not your nephews." She whispered sharply to her son. Aemond's hand on you tightened momentarily.

"I am very glad everyone was able to make it today!" You said cheerily, restraining Aemond's wrist as he tried to lift the cup of water to your lips. "Maybe the Strong boys will compete in the tournament on the morrow too?" You giggled, unaware of the sudden shift in atmosphere. "Since you are too proud to compete Aemond, and Aegon far too unskilled, someone has to."

Silence fell. No one laughed or engaged in the conversation you'd just broached which was rather rude, you deemed. You pouted, trying unsuccessfully to see the faces staring at you from the far end of the room.

Even King Viserys seemed suddenly upset. He moved as though to stand.

"I would like to make a toast!" Aemond stood fluidly, his arm outstretched with goblet in-hand. "An announcement, as it were. Y/N is with child!"

"I am?"

His foot connected with your shin under the table.

"Ouch!"

"Here, here!" Aegon jumped in, raising his own cup. "To furthering the Targaryen line!" He banged his hand on the table causing both you and Helaena to wince.

Otto and Alicent were quick to pick up on Aemond's cue, rising from their own chairs and toasting. Rhaenyra was next and suddenly the tension in the dining hall evaporated as quickly as it had come. Viserys, though still distant, nodded and drank to you and your child's health.

Throughout all of this merriment you sat stupefied in your seat, trying to remember exactly when you had discovered your pregnancy. Your brow was furrowed in contemplation, you didn't notice when Aemond resumed his place and pulled your chair closer with a mild noise of wood scraping stone. His large hand found the curve of your waist again and you felt his warm body pressing against your side.

He kissed the side of your head, whispering into your ear. "Do not speak of the Velaryon boys as Strongs in the presence of Viserys. I don't care how drunk you are, you put yourself in unnecessary danger."

"But that's what you call them." You had the good sense to whisper back. "That's what they are, Aemond." Your brain cogs turned for a long moment. "Also, I'm pretty sure I am not with child."

"From tonight you are." Aemond nuzzled his nose against your hair, his lips tickling your ear. "We will just have to double down on making that a reality." He guided the water glass to your parted lips. "For now, focus on drinking more water. A lot more water."

"But I'm not-"

Your next words were completely forgotten as Aemond nipped at your ear, kissing the sensitive skin behind it. Still confused, but content and warm, you obediently drank the water he proffered.

Only later when you had sobered, around the aching headache, did you realize the peril you had been in and how Aemond's quick intervention had saved you from the King's wrath.

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aquidragon · 2 years

Text

Lunchbreak [Leon Kennedy x Reader]

Rating: E (for everyone)

CW(s): None

Word Count: 1092

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Your knuckles rapped against the amber wooden door, and your shoulder leaned onto the solid surface as you tried peering in the office window. The lights were dark, the only light came through the blinds of the window on the left wall. You purse your lips, stepping away from the door, the brown paper that contained your husband’s lunch was tight in your right hand.

Normally, Leon was pretty punctual about remembering to bring his lunch to work. In fact, he looked forward to eating food that you had prepared for him the night before, since he never knew when the next time he’d be able to enjoy home-cooked food, due to potential calls to missions.

You stood awkwardly in front of his office, looking around the hallway, trying to spot his familiar, feathery blonde hair. The occurrences when you’d drop into his work were rare, but you had taken the day off and your husband forgot his lunch. Usually, you’d just drop into his private office, but he wasn’t there.

Your foot tapped anxiously, trying to decide on what your next course of action, the weight of last night’s leftovers felt heavy in their Thermos. You were torn between two options; go home or let Leon starve for the rest of his long shift.

Loud footsteps sounded down the hallway, catching your attention. A lone woman, holding a thick packet of papers, her DSO tag clipped at the hem of her navy blazer. Your head explored your options one last time before you walk over to her, stamping out your anxiety as you did so.

“Hey, I’m looking for Leon Kennedy.” The words came out more like a question, as you gave her a friendly smile, flashing her your visitor badge.

The female agent, with graying brunette hair, looked at your badge closely. “Oh, Kennedy is in a meeting. He will be stuck in it for at least another hour.”

Your face dropped into shock, eyes bulging out of your skull. “At least?” You squeaked. You couldn’t stay at the DSO building for more than an hour, since you too, were on your lunch break.

“Unfortunately, it’s an important meeting.” The brunette’s voice was authoritative, and snarky, which began to frustrate you.

You felt your teeth gnash against each other, as you struggled to gather your senses. “I just need to give him his lunch.”

Her eyebrows rose up on her forehead, in a doubtful expression. “His lunch?” She parroted, mockingly.

“Yes,” you sneered, “his lunch. Can you take me to him?”

The woman sniffed, before finally nodding her head. “Fine, follow me.” She turned on her heels, before clicking back down the hallway.

You almost sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing as you trailed behind her. She led you to two large, double doors, with large paper taped onto the windows.

“DO NOT DISTURB MEETING IN PROCESS”

“Stay here. I’ll fetch him for you.” She glared once at you, before slipping inside of the two doors, closing them before you could look inside.

Your mouth fell agape as the door slammed in your face, without another word. You stood for a couple of seconds, before the woman came back out, looking quite aggravated. “You can come in.” Her voice was dull, “-he said he wants to see you.”

You couldn’t hide your snide smile as you walked past her, into the large conference room. It was illuminated by pure sunlight, through the wall of massive windows that lined the walls. Leon rose to his feet as he spotted you, lips curling in a thrilled grin. The three other men in the room exchanged glances.

He walked over to you, and cobalt eyes brightened. “What are you doing here?” He whispered, sounding surprised.

“You forgot your lunch.” You couldn’t help but mirror his expression.

Your husband glanced down at your hands spotting the paper bag that you held tightly in your hand. “Oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t have to bring it; sweetheart.”

Your cheeks flushed as you felt the eyes of the other people in the room on you, low whispers of gossip passed between them. The woman agent’s eyes were wide, and her mouth dropped open.

“I didn’t want you to starve.” you grinned at him sheepishly. “What kind of wife would I be?” You winked at her, making the woman instantly turn away.

Leon seemed to catch onto your snarky attitude, pressing a peck to your temple. “Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy.” He glanced back at the other people sitting at the roundtable, one woman and two men.

Poor gal.

“We’ll reconvene in fifteen, I need my lunch.” He nodded at you, hand wrapping around your bicep, giving it a loving squeeze. “Come back with fresh minds and ideas.”

With that, he guided you out of the conference room, walking down to his office with you. His name, spelled with golden brass, was across the top of the door. You smiled it as he fished for the keys, hanging beside his holstered gun. The door clicked, and he gestured for you to step inside.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, Leon pressed an affectionate kiss to your mouth. You giggled into the kiss, as you sat on top of his oak desk. “Sorry that I interrupted your meeting, I just intended to drop it off.”

Leon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “They weren’t coming up with anything interesting.” He grumbled, flopping into his leather office chair, taking his lunch from you. “You saved my life in more ways than one.”

You chuckled, looking down at him as he started to take the contents of the bag out, his stomach audibly rumbling. “Just a cup of black coffee for breakfast today?” You joked, ruffling his blonde locks.

“Close,” he smirked at you. “A cup of black coffee and an untoasted bagel.”

You huffed, crossing your arms, dramatically. “You need to eat better!”

“I’d rather spend my morning snuggling with my wife, than making breakfast,” Leon whined, looking up at you from your position on top of the desk. “I’m not cooking at five in the morning.” He added, taking a bite of leftover pasta.

You snorted, unable to hide the smile on your face. “No wonder you’re always hungry, Leon.”

He looked up at you again, in the middle of a bite. “More hungry for your delightful cooking.”

You rolled your eyes again, playfully. “My husband is such a flirt.”

Leon grinned widely at you. “I love you, and your cooking.’

You pressed a gentle kiss to his headache. “-and I love you.”

---

#resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #domestic fluff #leon s kennedy has a terrible diet #someone get this man real food #he lives off of coffee

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idontknowreallywhy · 5 days

Text

Resurface 20 - Reason

What went before.

So many good fics posted today you really don’t need any more but this has been on my mind most of the afternoon so I’m posting to stop myself tinkering further otherwise I have zero self-control and it’ll become even more of a monster. Ignore it until tomorrow and read the other stuff first.

This section didn’t go the way I thought at all. I had a very definite plan but… in the end, it felt trite and certain characters weren’t yet in the place they could either adequately deliver or receive the lesson that is needed. It’s not the right time.

So… instead we have Scott making some questionable decisions and Virgil… well… um... you know… *gestures helplessly*

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

“Hi short stuff… I missed you.”

Virgil’s eyes widened momentarily then narrowed before he turned away and started pointedly at the ceiling.

“Stop it.” The whisper was quiet but the command was clear.

“Stop what?” Scott hissed back.

“Stop pretending.”

“I… I’m not!”

The hurt indignation nudged both the pitch and the volume of his denial up a notch too far and Alan was suddenly bolt upright. Scott didn’t miss his youngest brother’s hand curling protectively over Virgil’s. Where Scott’s should have been.

“Alan, please would you fetch Grandma?”

Virgil tensed and shuffled closer to Alan, whose gaze darted between the two of them like a puppy not knowing which whistling owner’s heel to run to.

“But… Scott, she said… I mean… um…”

“Damnit, Alan I’m not going to hurt him!” Scott’s voice cracked painfully and he gritted his teeth to steady his jaw.

“If you’re not here to do your job and give him his life back I don’t want to talk to you.” The voice from the bed was deadly calm.

“Alan, Grandma. Now.”

Alan prised his hand from Virgil’s grip and hastened to the door with many a panicky backward glance.

Scott collected himself and walked slowly and around the foot of the bed towards Alan’s vacated seat, focusing hard on maintaining a relaxed, unthreatening posture. Which clearly didn’t work at all because he was surprised by the snarl from the bed

“Get away from him. You’ve done enough.”

Scott couldn’t restrain the double take. Nor could he ignore the sinking feeling as he noticed how, despite having shuffled into a seated position, Virgil’s hand remain curled on the sheet as if Alan still held it. And… there was the cat-like movement of his brother’s head as he leaned into a ghostly hand for comfort.

Scott retreated hurriedly until his back hit the wall, sending a throb of pain through his left shoulder. What was he doing? This was precisely what the psychiatrist, via Grandma, had warned him about. But he just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He couldn’t just stay away.

Which was why he was edging forward again, but on the other side to where… the other one… appeared to be. He knew he mustn’t pose a threat to… it. Him. Ugh. He bent to pick up the sketchbook and placed it carefully on the bedside cabinet.

Alright, so for the moment he had to pretend be Dad. Ironically not a new role for this life-long Jeff Tracy understudy. Only… this time he needed to handle things better than his father had. Taking a breath he tried to ignore the feeling he could combust under his brother’s glare and to work out how best to defuse the situation.

The height difference wasn’t going to help, so he crouched again, wincing at the strain on soles of his feet and looked up into the brown eyes with as much love as he could convey.

“I’m sorry, Virgil.”

“Hmmm.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or scare you.”

“It’s not about me!”

“Or Scott. Or any of you.”

Virgil’s hand curled tighter over the sheet.

“I’m sorry I left. I didn’t mean to.”

Virgil glared at him and Scott fought the urge to gulp and look away. In the end Virgil broke eye contact first with a sigh and redirected the laser gaze to the ceiling again.

“This is pointless. I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

“What don’t I get? I want to get it.” The eye roll encompassed Virgil’s entire face. “I really want to understand. What I did. Please tell me what you are thinking… I promise I didn’t mean to leave you all… I didn’t know…”

“For goodness sakes Dad get your head out of your ass! This isn’t about your accident.”

Scott mentally scrambled to regain control of his jaw.

“Then… what?”

Virgil emitted the kind of frustrated yell usually reserved for when he found celery crunch bar wrappers in Two’s air intake for the third day running. Only worse. Much worse.

“It’s what you left behind.”

Dad would probably have some kind of a clue what this was about… so Scott tried to pretend he did too, forcibly restrained the bewildered look trying to make its way on to his face and inclined his head encouragingly the same way he did to ranting Board members… the same way he remembered his father doing those times when younger Scott got himself all worked up over a problem.

“Go on. Please.”

Virgil seemed distracted by whatever… whoever… he saw on his left… Scott recognised the eyebrow-based form of argument usually directed at himself when they were in public. Then he shushed the interloper impatiently and turned back.

“It’s Scott… you shouldn’t have… it’s too much! It’s not right! He…”

Suddenly something snapped inside. Scott found he couldn’t sit there and calmly listen to Virgil tell his father why it was a mistake to have left them in his care, that he wasn’t coping. That he wasn’t enough.

He had to fix this.

He grabbed his brother’s right hand in both of his and struggled to his feet.

“Virgil? Virg, buddy it’s me. I’m Scott. Please… I… I need you to see me. Please look at me. Really look. It’s me.”

His little brother stared at him, his eyes full of pain and confusion. His expression softened for a moment and Scott’s breath caught as he hardly dared hope. But then he looked to his left and up, tilting his head slightly as if listening to someone Scott couldn’t see or hear. Someone the same height as him who inspired that look of devotion Scott had never even realised was there until it was gone. The ‘other’ Scotty - the one Virgil seemed to be putting his trust in right now.

Real life Scott did not trust him one bit and his racing heart was pumping blood so cold a tiny part of his mind was distracted by wondering if his organs could get frostbite.

“Prove it.”

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #earth&sky #earth and sky #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #resurface fic #thunderangst #Tw: psychosis #Tw: mental health

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churchobones · 2 months

Text

DWC DAY 1: CASUALTY/FLIRT

|| NEXT>>

It was as Thil’s frosted glass emptied that he flirted with a ghost. “Well, ain’t you a shiny lookin’ coin! Last I saw you, you were an ad for dead! What happened?! ” "Like I said, I slipped the noose," Bruce mused as he ran a hand along his well-trimmed beard. Clearly, Kallarel wasn't the only one who took pride in her appearance; vanity ran deep in the glossy hair and nourished lips-- which turned up at the corners, despite his poorly feigned reluctance. "But if you're really curious...It weren't long after you got me in that I found 'im. Zelion Mournvalor. Does the name ring a bell?"

He was a slight thing; the enigmatic nature of elf age aside, he might have looked like a teenager who never had a growth spurt, stunted at five and a half feet tall. His features were pale and pretty, almost cherubic were it not for the deathly glow off his blue eyes. Shoulder length, jet black hair was neatly tied back in a tail, lest it get in his way.

It was as though he stepped out of the painting in that dilapidated estate; a cross between a proud father and a stern child.

“Mister Hawkins,” his voice was soft to match his size as he called the dog by the name the witch used. “So nice you could make it.”

"Picture this: Two men meet in an extravagant ballroom, with shiny floors and every footfall echoing off the thirty foot ceiling. Him: black void crystals swirling around his head and flanked by twelve guards. Me: well, I've always been a lone wolf, haven't I? Truth is, I wasn’t afraid to die. Never have been."

"Please, call me Bruce," he replied with a geniality befitting his working class accent. "I'm afraid Miss Mournin’vale didn't tell me your name," he went on, only for a haunting echo to finish the thought.

The stench of bloodstained stone walls and stale fear filled his nose once more. There's a lot of things Miss Mournin’vale didn't tell you, isn't there?

Bruce loosened his cuffs.

"But the nose don't lie. I could smell it on him the moment our eyes met: fear. Him an' all his men. They knew they were up against a thing of legends and nightmares.

“Bruce.” It slipped awkwardly off the elf’s tongue; a word too stupid and thick for his delicate vernacular, but he was paid the courtesy all the same. The little lord spread his hands in a gesture of momentary peace. “Zelion Mournvalor. Charmed, I’m sure.”

The Lord’s soldiers nickered and rumbled like stallions, the rattle of metal on metal as loud as their jangling nerves. The ballroom cleared, they formed a quivering line behind Zelion. The lord’s knights had grown fat and complacent, casualties waiting to happen.

"Let's talk," Bruce called across the room.

“But... it weren’t fear which plunged my heart like a knife. It was that this-- this pretty, petty asshole should know so much more about Kallarel than I ever would. And that I should be reduced to grovelin’ at his feet for answers.”

“Certainly… Bruce. And what is it you would care to talk about?”

He took a few steps forward.

“How Miss Mourningvale enabled the downfall of my family estate?” Zelion tipped his head towards his right shoulder. “How she stole and bastardized my family name?” And then to his left before straightening with a raising of his chin. “How she murdered my mother and father?”

"She did you a favor. They looked like a roight coupla pricks."

"S'alrigh," Bruce went on, stopping a conversational distance from the elf. "I come from pricks too. You knew her growin' up then? Did ya call 'er auntie Kallarel?"

Zelion’s chin tilted at the implication, upwards and defiant as this woeful creature dared to suggest a commonality between them. “No, though I suppose I might have called her girl in passing, once or twice… but father didn’t make a habit of introducing us to his whores.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s all she is to you, why all the trouble? Why send assassins?”

“Assassins? Oh, no my hounds weren’t sent to kill, but to fetch. Well, her. Failing to kill you was an oversight already paid for.”

"You haven't paid for it yet," Bruce replied with some amusement. “I'm gonna break your pre'y lil nose for calling my girlfriend a whore."

Zelion batted his eyes. “Oh?”

“I know there's things Kallarel will never tell me. You showed me that when you opened the way to that damnable basement in her old shop.”

"Is that where she got a taste for huntin' men for sport?" the Gilnean guessed, unbuttoning his black embroidered vest.. "Your asshole dad?"

“Of course not,” the dainty elf answered, taking a keen interest in the infection bubbling around Bruce’s clumsily placed crystal as he continued to disrobe. In turn, Zelion removed his chain of state, taking time to ensure it was properly folded at each connecting point before dropping it into his coat pocket for safe keeping. “But even a filthy satyr in a dead slut’s skin needs to feed.”

@daily-writing-challenge

#dwc2024

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bumblesimagines · 1 year

Text

The Sun and Moon

Part 13/END

Request: Yes or No

God it feels good to properly end a series

~~~

The Granville house had been quiet for days. All their typical parties had been abruptly canceled and their friends had received no further word from them. The couple did not speak a word to each other nor to their servants, keeping to themselves instead. Dolly spent her days shuffling in and out of the guest room where the youngest Granville resided, labored breathing and occasional twitching being the only thing telling them he still had life in him. Five days, Theodore had counted, since the young man had fallen unconscious and remained in his sickly comatose state. The servants had quickly gotten used to the silence, working around the couple and continuing their work. The doctor visited once every day, taking the man's vitals and reporting the same thing to Henry.

"His health has not improved, but it has not declined either. We'll see what we can do when he awakens."

On the third day of no improvement, Lucy had lashed out and sent a flurry of insults toward the doctor, screaming as her husband dragged her out of the room. Since then, the doctor avoided giving any sort of report to them with her in the room. The only other visitors they got were servants sent from the Sharmas and Bridgertons. Flowers, letters, small gifts. Dolly made sure to replace the flowers once they began to wilt, replacing them with the ones Violet Bridgerton sent. Carnations, peonies, orchids. She made sure to add a card for Lucy each time, words from one mother to another. Lady Danbury had extended her help, offering to pay the doctor for his work. Or rather lack of.

The Bridgerton residence felt no different than the Granvilles. Quiet, solemn. Benedict kept to his studio and when he got home, he asked his mother for news before locking himself in his room to write letters or sketch. Anthony had been no different. He remained in his office most days, drowning himself in bourbon and endless work, just as he did prior to getting closer to (Y/N). Hyacinth and Gregory asked for news at least thrice a day, having the same reaction when their mother told them the same thing.

On the sixth day, when the sun began to peek through the curtains, (Y/N) flinched and opened his eyes, squinting up at the unfamiliar ceiling. He could hear birds softly chirping outside and as he heaved himself up into a sitting position, he spotted his furry friend at the foot of the bed, peacefully napping. Something wet slipped from his head, falling on his lap with a squelch. A wet rag. Furrowing his brows, (Y/N) set the rag aside and leaned back into the pillow.

"Poppy, darling, you can't be on the bed." He turned his head as Dolly entered the room with a vase of flowers in hand. She looked up when she noticed movement, gasping and dropping the vase, the shattering sound echoing through the room and awakening Poppy as well as alerting the rest of the house.

"Christ, Dolly, do you wish to give me a heart atta-" Stopping himself, Theodore stared at the young man as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's too early for this." (Y/N) muttered, voice barely audible and throat dry.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucys' voice rang through the hallway and she stepped into the room, eyes falling on the broken vase before she looked up at her servants, brows furrowing and head turning in the direction of her son.

"Dearest.." She breathed, taking slow steps, almost as if she were afraid if she moved suddenly it'd shatter the moment. Lucy reached forward and hesitantly touched his face, gasping softly as the tears freely fell from her cheeks. Sniffling, she waved to the servants. "Someone fetch Henry!" She ordered, climbing further onto the bed and cradling her son in her arms, frail body shaking from the sobs.

"I-I'll inform Mr. Granville a-and get the doctor." Theodore stuttered, stumbling over the wet flowers scattered across the floor as he exited the room.

"What's going on?" (Y/N) questioned, arms weakly wrapping around his mother.

"You've been asleep for five days," Dolly explained quietly, blinking a few times before she crouched down, frantically picking up the flowers on the ground and setting them on a drawer before stepping closer to the bed, releasing a breath of relief. She lifted a hand and fanned herself before letting out a soft, relieved chuckle. "I'll get some soup for you, (Y/N). You must be famished." With that, the maid left the room as the other servants began peeking into the room, collectively gasping and muttering amongst themselves.

"What is Dolly talking about?" (Y/N) looked at his mother when she pulled back. Lucy wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffled, affectionately stroking the side of his face.

"Lord Bridgerton went to see you at the estate. He claims that when he got there, you could barely walk. You collapsed in his arms. He tended to you until a doctor arrived the next day and you were brought back." Lucy explained, gently taking his hand and setting it on her lap, rubbing her thumb back and forth. (Y/N)s' lips parted, eyes shifting onto the flowers on the nightstand, the many letters beside it stamped with the Bridgerton symbol.

"He-"

"He left as soon as you were brought here. He hasn't returned." (Y/N)s shoulders slumped at his mother's words. Had he flaked cause things had gotten hard? Cause he couldn't handle it? Henry entered the room, disrupting (Y/N)s' thoughts.

"Father..." (Y/N) breathed. The first time Henry had looked had him since the wedding. Henry glanced at his wife, stepping over the glass and wet floor before he took a seat on the bed.

"Theodore... he- he said..." Henry swallowed, raising a hand to his face and releasing a shaky breath. A parent's worst nightmare; facing the possibility of losing their child without warning. Lucy reached over to rub her husband's back soothingly, sighing as all the tension from the past few days left her body.

"I'm okay." (Y/N) assured softly. "I'm okay."

"And we are so glad," Henry whispered, sniffling softly.

(Y/N) spent most of the day, resting. He kept himself entertained by reading the many letters, all from different friends. Kate, Benedict, Violet, and even Edwina. Not a single one from Anthony. He could hardly recall anything from the day he fell unconscious. The whole day had felt like a blur and the only thing he could remember distinctly had been Anthony calling out to him. Had Anthony truly taken care of him? Why had he left as soon as he could?

"The doctor says you'll be feeling better with some medicine," Dolly revealed as she got a spoonful of the liquid the doctor had given them. "Says it could be as early as tomorrow." She smiled, placing a hand under the spoon to avoid making a mess before bringing it to his lips. (Y/N) wrapped his lips around the spoon, swallowing the medicine and cringing, the bitter taste making the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall. Dolly offered him a glass of water which he gladly took, hoping it'd wash away the horrible taste.

"Your parents have refused to see any visitors for you until you feel better," Dolly stated, setting the spoon down on the table and taking a seat on the bed. "But, I did hear from one of the maids that Lord Bridgerton plans on visiting as soon as possible."

"Now? After all this time?"

"I know, but... The day you collapsed, he came here. He wanted to speak with you and your parents. I wasn't present, at that moment, but Theodore told me he gave a rather heartfelt speech and claimed he wished..." Dolly trailed off, a small smile toying at her lips.

"He wished what? Dolly, come on!" (Y/N) gently took her arm, shaking it lightly. Dolly laughed and shifted to face him, leaning in playfully.

"He wished to propose. Said that no matter what your parents thought, he was set on doing it. If you accepted, he'd said a small private ceremony could be held." Dolly giggled and scooted closer, taking his hands into hers and giving them a squeeze. "I believe him, (Y/N). Theodore may be hesitant, especially because of this sudden illness, but I truly believe he cares for you."

"What if he gets bored, Dolly? What if in a few months he realizes he wants a bride and a child? These types of relationships rarely last long. The thrill of secrecy and meeting under the cover of night... It can grow tiring and boring. What if he realizes the only thing he felt for him was just... a rush, or lust even? I cannot deal with another heartbreak, Dolly." (Y/N) shook his head, feeling his eyes begin to water. "I- I cannot."

"My darling, you've let the doubts plague your mind. Miss Edwina would not have called off a wedding hosted by Her Majesty if she did not believe Anthony loved you. I know you're afraid... Heartbreak is terrifying. But how will you know if you don't take risks? Take it from someone who did not take a chance on the one she loved... and now spends most days wondering what could've been." Dolly squeezed his hands once more.

(Y/N) wiped away the tear trailing down his cheek with his shoulder and sniffled. Dolly was right, that he knew. He couldn't let fear guide him forever. He had to trust himself and his heart. He had to trust Anthony and his words. He had seen something in Anthony had Somerset House, something that had pulled him toward the Bridgerton.

(Y/N) looked forward and bit back the smile toying on his lips, clearing his throat softly. “Is the painting to your liking, My Lord?” (Y/N) asked, seeing him turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye. (Y/N) kept his gaze on the painting and smiled fondly at the memories it came with. The painting was of Primrose Hill at sunset; when the sun would cast lovely shades of soft pink and warm orange against the shimmering water.

“It is quite lovely, Mr. Granville. I don’t believe we’ve ever been acquainted, have we?”

“We have not, I’m afraid. Lovely to meet you, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Please, call me Anthony, I insist.” (Y/N) turned to look at him and felt his skin lightly flush. As handsome as the ladies made him out to be, but he had a past of being arrogant and belittling.

“It’s impressive how much talent you posses at the mere age of..”

“Five and twenty, My Lord.”

(Y/N) had been so unprepared for what would happen over the course of a couple of months. But the more (Y/N) thought about his time spent with the Bridgerton, the more he realized that he wouldn't change a thing if he could go back. Even if it meant having to go through heartache once more because of Anthony. Even if it meant disobeying his father again and being the source of his disappointment.

"I suppose... We'll see how he truly feels." (Y/N) smiled at Dolly. She smiled widely and brought him in for a hug, sighing softly as she rubbed his back. She pulled back, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

"The Featheringtons are hosting a ball-"

"The Featheringtons?"

"Yes, I know, shocking. But, I heard they've invited everyone, including the Bridgertons and Sharmas. While the chances of Lord Bridgerton attending are low, if he does, you'll be able to speak with him." Dolly told him, running her hands down his arms. "If you're feeling well, perhaps we can convince your parents to allow you to go."

"It'll be a battle, for sure." (Y/N) laughed softly, smiling as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"Thank you. For everything you've done for me, Dolly." (Y/N) whispered. "You do not get nearly as much credit as you deserve."

"Being part of this family is enough for me." Dolly smiled, pulling back and cupping his cheek. Her eyes watered and she chuckled softly. "You are the child I never got to have." She added, voice cracking toward the never of her sentence. A life filled serving the Granville family and she spent half of it raising a child. Dolly was a mother just as much as Lucy. They all knew that.

Sighing breathily, Dolly stood up and collected the dirty dishes on the nightstand, giving him one last smile before she left the room, greeting Lucy and Henry quietly as she walked past them. The two entered the bedroom and Henry lit the candle on the nightstand as Lucy took a seat on the bed.

"It's shameful for me to say that I did not realize certain things until I stood in this room and wondered if I'd ever see your eyes again." Lucy began, cupping her hands on her lap and staring forward. (Y/N) leaned back into the pillows, glancing between his parents silently. Lucy inhaled and turned toward her son.

"I failed you... As a mother, I failed you in every aspect. I was so caught up in wanting to be like the other mothers of the ton that I realized... I wasn't necessarily ready for a child. I felt as if I needed to prove I was as much a woman as the rest of them by having a child and in the end, I barely know you. I don't remember your first steps or your first words. I don't remember which lessons you excelled at as a child or which ones you had difficulties with. I- I... I have... no excuses. I made a choice when I approached Henry about having a child. I made a choice when I didn't play with you or when I didn't bring you around to the houses of my friends so you could play with their kids. I'd be lying if I said I had a role in the man you are today. And I am so sorry that I didn't try harder. That I didn't put you first above all else. I failed you, I admit that to you. And I hope that you forgive me, even if I don't deserve it. I was selfish and you deserved better." Lucy pressed her lips together and wiped her runny nose, the tears slipping from her cheeks and onto her nightgown.

"I forgive you." (Y/N) murmured, feeling his own warm tears coat his cheeks in wetness. It'd taken twenty-five years for him to receive an apology for his treatment, for his childhood, for the gaping hole in his heart wishing to be filled. While part of him wanted to hold onto the anger and bitterness, the relief of finally being seen and acknowledged washed those feelings away. Lucy gently took his hand into her own and held it, sniffling softly.

"I love you, dearest." She smiled and stood, releasing his hand. Lucy gently patted her husband's arm and made her way out of the room, leaving father and son alone. Henry remained standing beside the nightstand, fiddling with his fingers and avoiding his sons' gaze. He sighed softly, running his finger over his wedding ring.

"I owe you an apology as well. I wasn't the father you needed, I realized this much earlier than Lucy and attempted to make up for it by trying to protect you. I ran from you and from my responsibilities when you were born. I traveled to distract myself from my duties as a father and then... When I saw you were just a little kid... Just a little being in need of me and your mother, I... I tried to do better. I taught you what I could and tried to shield you from society but..." Henry swallowed and shook his head, lifting his gaze to look at his son.

"I also failed you and when I realized it, I grew angry at myself. I was never disappointed in you. You're young and you'll make mistakes. I was afraid of what that could mean and forgot that I was once in your shoes trying to make sense of myself and trying to figure out what love was. I should've done better. I should've listened to you more. For that, I am so sorry."

"All I ever wanted was for you and Mother to love me... And I know you do, but it feels good to finally get an apology after years of wondering if I was just asking for too much."

"You were never asking for too much, (Y/N). You were a child who needed his parents. We love you, no matter what you choose to do."

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

(Y/N) felt guilty admitting he hadn't been expecting much from the Featheringtons. Sure, he knew Lady Featherington wouldn't have wanted anything less than perfection, but considering the turbulent year they'd had combined with the new Lord Featherington, he figured they would've waited for next year to host a ball. Though, he supposed, the Featheringtons were always full of surprises. The room had been lightly decorated but the food and refreshment tables were worth salivating over. Of course, the most eye-catching thing they had must've been the stand where the musicians played. (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder if they were dizzy, especially considering the fact it actively rotated.

"Ah, it is a pleasure to see you are alright, Mr. Granville. It is quite kind of you to join us after spending so long bedridden. I do hope you're feeling better." What she truly meant was; I hope you didn't come while still ill. No matter how hard she tried, Lady Featherington had always been easier to read than most. Nonetheless, (Y/N) smiled.

"Thank you for your concern, Lady Featherington. I'm feeling quite alright." He assured and she relaxed, nodding and addressing his mother. Lucy glanced back at him as she left his side to chat with their hostess. It was a mystery how women could so easily pretend to enjoy each other's company.

Looking away from the two women, he spotted Kate and Edwina standing side by side, having what appeared to be a pleasant conversation. (Y/N) hummed and smiled. They'd finally put the betrayal behind them, it seemed. (Y/N) began making his way toward them and chuckled when Kate's face lit up at the sight of him. She looked stunning in her orange bejeweled dress and perfectly done hair.

"Oh, how good it is to see you. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to catch you before I left."

"You're still leaving for India?"

"I'm afraid so." Kate nodded with an apologetic frown. "But, fret not. I promise I'll continue writing to you." Kate's frown turned into a playful smile and she glanced at Edwina, looping her arm around hers. Edwina smiled in return and glanced toward the dancefloor, getting a sudden twinkle in her eye.

"How about a dance, Kate?" She questioned, wasting no time pulling her onto the dancefloor alongside the unsuspecting couples. (Y/N) chuckled as he watched them, almost missing the person staring at him from across the room. Anthony Bridgerton. Anthonys' gaze softened significantly and he leaned over to whisper something to his mother before slowly making his way around the room. (Y/N) turned his attention back onto the sisters, watching Anthony from the corner of his eye until the Bridgerton stood right beside him. The two remained silent, even after the dance ended and another began.

"It's good to see you on your feet."

"It's good to be on my feet." (Y/N) smiled, turning his head to look at him. Anthonys' shoulders deflated as he exhaled softly, eyes scanning his face, almost as if making sure (Y/N) looked okay.

"I can't imagine the fright you must've had. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"There's no need." Anthony dismissed quickly, shaking his head. "I assure you... There's no need to apologize. I am simply glad to know you are well."

"You've always been such a good friend to me, Anthony. Even going as far to play doctor for a day." (Y/N) teased lightly, chuckling when a grin broke out on Anthonys' face.

"Yes, well... I must admit I think I did a pretty decent job at it."

"Ah, did you now?" (Y/N) raised his brows and shifted his body toward him, crossing his arms. Anthony laughed softly and nodded, cocking his head.

"Don't believe me?" He raised his hand and held up two fingers. "How many?"

"Two." (Y/N) answered, only for Anthony to turn his hand and lift another finger in the process so there were three fingers instead. (Y/N) rolled his eyes and smiled widely, looking back toward the dancefloor as couples began to get into position.

"Mr. Granville, would you like to dance?" Anthony asked and (Y/N) blinked, turning his head to look back at him. He furrowed his brows, glancing toward the other guests around them.

"What are you talking about?"

"Right here, right now. Would you do me the honor?" (Y/N)s' lips parted as he stared at Anthony. Not a shred of doubt on his face. He swallowed. Could they really get in trouble for merely dancing?

"You can say no if you-"

"I'll dance." (Y/N) breathed and nodded. Anthony smiled once more and offered him his hand, pulling him onto the dancefloor when he took it. He could feel the gazes of everyone in the room shift onto them, whispering and murmuring erupting from the guests. The music began playing and (Y/N) took Anthonys' other hand, following along with the dance, even as the other couples glanced back toward them and stopped dancing.

"Just keep your eyes on me," Anthony whispered, and (Y/N) nodded. But eventually, they weren't alone. (Y/N) glanced over his shoulder at Edwina and Kate as they danced once more, the two sending them a supportive smile. (Y/N) released a breath and looked back at Anthony, feeling less anxious and more confident.

"Why is no one else dancing?" (Y/N) swore his heart skipped a beat as Her Majesty's voice echoed through the room. She didn't care, (Y/N) realized. She didn't care that two men were dancing together in public, in her presence. And when he looked in her direction, he only saw a genuine, pleased smile on her face. The very thing he needed to fully relax and enjoy himself, letting himself be immersed in the dance with Anthony. Taking his hand once more, the two stared into each other's eyes as the music came to a stop and the dance ended. They stepped apart and (Y/N) released his hand as Lady Featherington hurried into the room claiming she had a surprise for everyone waiting outside. (Y/N) turned his head when the Queen stopped beside them, her knowing smile telling them everything they needed to know. She continued on her way, her ladies-in-waiting quickly following after her. Once she had exited, so did the rest of the quests.

"I'll see you outside." (Y/N) said and turned, joining the crowd as they stepped outside into the garden. He slipped through the crowd and ignored the pointed stares and whispers. He didn't care about the rumors, not anymore. The Queen herself knew and she did not give a damn. So why should he? The people of the ton had and always would be cowards who hid behind their riches and looked down upon others. But (Y/N) had found something genuine and with the Queen's approval at that.

Chuckling to himself, he found a more secluded spot, away from the others where he could watch whatever surprise Lady Featherington had in store for them. Fireworks, most likely. Or perhaps some singers. (Y/N) inhaled the fresh night air and looked up at the sky. Peace, at last.

"You must really love to play cat and mouse, Mr. Granville."

"It's my favorite game." (Y/N) responded and turned to face Anthony, watching him approach. Anthony smirked and nodded, drawing closer until they were face to face.

"I was told what you planned to do once you reached my grandfathers' estate." (Y/N) revealed softly and Anthonys' face fell. "I'll admit, I had my doubts but... If it's true.."

"Yes, everything was true. I love you, and it has taken me far too long to tell you. I've loved you since the day you walked into my life and smiled at me. I love everything about you. I love your passion, your talent, and your kindness. You are everything I want in a person, in a lover, in a spouse. While we wouldn't be married in the eyes of the church and on paper, we would be married to our family and friends. The people who truly matter. You do not have to say yes-" (Y/N) leaned in as the fireworks were lit and set off into the sky, illuminating the two as the guests cheered and watched the fireworks in awe.

Pulling back and chuckling softly at the lovestruck look on his face, (Y/N) smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. "You may be an insufferable bastard sometimes... But my answer will always be yes." He cooed and Anthony smiled widely, leaning into his palm and placing a delicate kiss on his wrist. (Y/N) felt his heart warm and he turned his head to look up at the fireworks, resting his head against Anthonys' chest when he pulled him closer.

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

(Y/N) shivered, feeling fingers dancing up his spine. He buried his face further into the pillow, hearing Anthony snicker. The bed shifted as Anthony scooted closer to him, pressing soft kisses along his shoulders and up his neck until he reached his ear. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile.

"You must get up, (Y/N). Everyone's waiting for us. Besides, don't you want to see your surprise?" He cooed into his ear, gently nipping his earlobe. (Y/N) squeaked and released a muffled laugh, raising a hand up to his ear and rolling over onto his back, face scrunching up when the sun hit his eyes. Anthony smiled and leaned down, greeting his husband with a kiss. (Y/N) melted, hands gently cupping Anthonys' face.

"Good morning, my love," Anthony murmured, swooping down to pepper airy kisses to his neck.

"I thought you said we had to go?" (Y/N) laughed softly and pushed him back by his shoulders, lifting his brows up at him. Anthony shrugged innocently and grinned.

"Yes, but I'm sure they can wait a little while longer."

"Mhm, come on." (Y/N) shook his head, lightly pecking the tip of Anthonys' nose and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He heard Anthony groan softly and glanced back at him, snorting when Anthony dramatically collapsed back onto the bed, sprawled out and with a pout on his face. (Y/N) collected his clothes from the floor and set them in a pile for the maids to take before he searched for a new set of clothes, getting dressed whilst Anthony watched him.

"Weren't you making a big fuss about my surprise?" (Y/N) questioned, getting some of Anthonys' clothes out and setting them on the bed for him. Anthony sighed heavily and dragged himself out of bed, picking up his shirt and leaning over to give him another kiss before he got dressed as well.

"Give me a hint."

"No."

"Please?" (Y/N) pouted, arms wrapping around Anthonys' waist but the Viscount shook his head, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him toward the door. (Y/N) huffed softly and leaned his head back onto Anthonys' shoulder. The two walked down the halls of Aubrey Hall; the very place they'd had their loving ceremony. Anthony had kept (Y/N) occupied for days, refusing to leave the bed unless absolutely necessary. A new yet welcomed side to Anthony.

Heading down the stairs, (Y/N) nodded to one of the servants as they opened the doors for the couple. (Y/N) cringed and shut his eyes when the sun greeted them, taking a moment to adjust to the brightness before he peered down at the people below. The Bridgertons and Granvilles awaited them, along with three new figures. (Y/N) furrowed his brows and squinted at the familiar purple dress, only to gasp and smile widely, detaching himself from Anthony and practically flying down the stairs.

"Kate!"

"(Y/N)!" Kate squealed, releasing a surprised laugh when she was picked up, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as he spun her in a circle. (Y/N) gently set her back down and pulled back, looking back toward the amused Anthony.

"Was this your surprise?"

"I rallied the Sharmas after hearing how much the two of you missed each other," Anthony responded cooly, looking rather proud of himself as he placed his hands on his hips and grinned at them. Kate rolled her eyes and scoffed lightly, leaning in slightly.

"He hardly did anything." She whispered, leaning back and crossing her arms.

"I believe that." (Y/N) laughed and turned to look at Lady Sharma and Edwina, greeting the two of them with smiles. Anthony slithered his arms around (Y/N)s' waist and pulled him back against his chest, looking back at his siblings as they raced to grab their favorite mallets. Edwina and Kate laughed, looping their arms together and retrieving their own mallets as the parents took their seats a safe distance away. Anthony pressed a kiss to his cheek and reached for the black mallet, only for (Y/N) to scoop it up, leaving him with the baby blue one. Anthony squinted at (Y/N) and shook his head, taking the last mallet and facing his family.

Daphne smiled wickedly, swinging her mallet over her shoulder and placing her hand on her hip. "Who's ready to lose again?" A chorus of protests erupted from the crowd and (Y/N) chuckled, turning his head to look at Anthony.

"Hey, Anthony?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #bridgerton x male reader #bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #Anthony bridgerton x male reader #kate sharma #Violet Bridgerton #Daphne Bridgerton #edwina sharma #lucy granville #henry granville #the sun and moon

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volturissideslut · 2 years

Note

Hi darling

Can I request the poly!volturi kings x reader that does figureskating? And maybe she falls?

Thank you darling 💖

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝕻𝖔𝖑𝖞)

In hindsight it was probably a really bad idea

okay scratch that, definitely a really terrible idea

trying to do a backflip

on ice

with knives on your feet

so it was no wonder you were sitting in the middle of the ice rink, all alone with no guard or mate around, nursing a swollen ankle that you could no longer stand on, let alone skate

your mates had agreed to meet you after you would be done around 3 pm ish so they could take you out for a walk in the new autumn cold and maybe get a coffee/tea/hot chocolate from a nearby Caffè if you wanted

Good thing they like to come early to watch you at the end

it's was now 2:35 pm and you were holding back sobbs from how bad your foot hurt when they walked through the door and their conversation immidiately came to an end

surging forward with the vampy speed (they slipped on the ice and stumbled a lot) they reached you faster than yiu would imagine and each with different looks on their face

Caius was more concerned that anything. He was out of touch with humanity and humans in general and his first instinct was to turn you to get rid of whatever pain yiu were feeling right now and keep you safe in the long run. Either that of get on the phone and scream at poor Carlisle like an angry Karen defending her kid until he got here right now to make the pain dissappear completely.

ohh he so wanted you to never skate again but he knew he couldn't take it off of you- it was your form of expression, your art just like his paintings and surprisingly he would make sure his brothers remembered that. Even though yiu could get hurt again he wouldnt take it from you (he would however be much happier if you picked up a different form of expression such as music or writing poetry where you could stay safe and not be trotting about with blades on your feet but hay ho who's he to judge?)

Aro would be the one to resentfully zoom off to get whatever it was you needed. Bandages? An ice pack? A medical kit? Comfort food? he's not really sure but he's ordering everyone around to get it and set up your room in the most comfortable and convenient way for you possible. This happens FAST too because he really doesn't want to leave your side

Would attempt to have every pair of ice skates you own just magically dissappear into some void somewhere but Caius stops him as has a lengthy conversation with him about how he has art, Aro has performance, Marcus has music/literature, and you have skating and ha cannot under any circumstances forcible remove skating from your life no matter how badly all three of them want to. Your happiness comes first. Aro will, however, make sure there is always a guard present when you skate or even leave the castle now because your safety is of the upmost importance to him. untill you are completely healed be aware you are on house arrest and yiu should be suprised of you can even leave your bedroom.

Marcus would be the one to carry you back to your room at volterra Castle with your head tucked into his neck and his hands holding yiu as gently as possible on your legs and back. Aro and a team of doctors are waiting impatiently for you and as soon as you arrive you are given 10/10 treatment

he personally cannot bring himself to leave your bedside or you in general even for courts, trials and important meetings. To all three of them you are top priority and they make this abundantly clear but still Marcus is always there, watching. Not in a creepy way though, he's just there, chilling and ready to fetch you a glass of water if you need one. He no longer trusts guards to do anything no matter how simple, even the elite guard are not allowed near you at the minute which kinda annoys the other two but they deal with it because this is just how he's showing his concerns. Wouldn't even imagine forcing you to stop figure skating once your healed but would insist he tag along for at least the first 20 sessions. It kin of becomes a date where you teach him to skate (he's a little wobble but he's alright)

Overall, good luck getting any time to yourself because it's not gonna happen

#twilight renascence #twilight saga #twilight #volturi #volturi kings #aro volturi #marcus volturi #caius volturi #x reader #poly #hc #headcannons

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keicordelle · 2 months

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The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Mixed Race Housing

Living in the Scion's dorms was... hard. Keshet had never felt his otherness quite as much as when he moved in with his comrades. They were all understanding, and they certainly did their best, but Keshet could never quite shake the knowledge that he was different. Both in terms of upbringing, and of anatomy.

Most people, when they bunked with roommates or in communal lodging, had to worry about things like their housemates snoring or eating their food. Keshet... well, the accommodations to his living space were a little bit more drastic than those of your average hyur.

The low ceilings he had learned to live with, for the most part. He still sometimes smacked his head when entering a doorway, but most buildings across Eorzea were not built for someone of his height, and he'd grown more or less accustomed to ducking. He shared plenty of long-suffering looks with the Boulder brothers, but ultimately, there was relatively little he could do to keep from whacking his head besides just remembering to stoop. Though the brain cells he lost every time he forgot made it harder and harder with each passing day, or so he liked to claim.

And he did like being able to help out the others. Sometimes, when Tataru was baking, he'd sit in the kitchen with her and fetch whatever she needed from the upper cupboards, because the only person who struggled more with the geography of the Rising Stones was her. She'd feed him all the best of her creations in exchange, and he always got first dibs at mealtime - though by then he was often so stuffed full of stolen mouthfuls that he could barely eat the meal he'd helped prepare.

The biggest issue, though, came when it was time to bed down. The snoring he could live with - he was used to sleeping in a camp full of people, with only thin fabric walls to divide them (if that). And he’d grown sufficiently used to sleeping indoors that the inability to see the sky didn't bother him as much as it used to, though he still preferred to sleep outside whenever he could get away with it. The problem was that he slept with a bunch of people from frigid Sharlayan, and that meant he froze his damned tail off every time he lay down to sleep.

Back on the Steppe, he was used to dozing in the blazing sun, sprawled out on a hot rock and basking in the heat, just like a real lizard. Trying to sleep here, with only the blankets of his self-made nest to warm him, was like trying to sleep half-submerged in a river: not bloody comfortable. But it was a shared space and he was keenly aware that he was the odd man out in that regard, so he kept his complaints to himself and tried to soak up as much sun as he could during the day.

He should have known his friends better than that.

"What's this?" The glowing red lamp towering beside his nest of blankets commanded Keshet's attention as soon as he stepped foot into the dorm, scattering all thoughts of the day's training exercises to the wind. Tataru beamed at him from across the room, hands on her hips and that cunning glint in her eyes that always made him just a little bit nervous. It seemed that this time, though, it had been turned in his favor.

Thancred bumped him jovially with his shoulder, urging him forwards. "You don't think we didn't notice how uncomfortable you are sleeping here, did you? Friends pay attention to that sort of thing."

The heat that radiated from the lamp became obvious as Keshet stepped towards it, nervousness turning to incredulity as he drew near. "Is this..."

"A heat lamp," Urianger supplied for him, scratching bashfully at his head. "We thought it might provide thee some comfort."

"He means that we asked around in the Firmament to find out what the dragons use to keep warm, and Marcelloix suggested this," Alisaie said. "A lizard's a lizard, no matter its scales, right?"

Keshet was too distracted by the warmth that radiated from the lamp to offer more than a half-hearted, "Right," in response. Nhaama, it was so warm. The heat soaked into his scales and eased the tension in his muscles. Gods, he just wanted to... well, that was the point, wasn't it?

He curled up in front of it, uncaring for the half-hidden smirks of his audience as he curled his tail over his thigh and turned his face towards the glow. Less than a minute later, the quiet sound of snoring drifted from the contented Au Ra. Tataru grinned, waving the others away. "Looks like it was worth the effort."

(By the time she returned to head to bed herself, she found G'raha and Y'shtola curled up in front of the heater as well, the three of them cuddled into a comfortable pile before it. Maybe they'd have to get a few more heaters to go around.)

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

FIRST | PREV | NEXT

#ffxiv #wol #au ra #au ra xaela #scions of the seventh dawn #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #keshet dotharl #daily inconveniences #~k

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bagog · 6 months

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N7 Month, 2023 - Day 5: Elcor

It's just gonna be a go-nowhere fluff about a human and an elcor going on a first date.

“Hi, my name’s Ennis, you must be Havelez?”

“Delighted: that’s me. It is good to finally meet you, Ennis.” With that, the Elcor bent his forelimbs just slightly, dipping his back and revealing a bouquet of flowers tucked into a belt around his hulking torso. “Expectantly: for you.”

Ennis smiled as he took the bunch, he had to stand on his toes to reach them, even as his date stooped a little lower for him.

“They’re beautiful! What are these, tazarasi orchids?”

“Impressed: that’s right. Warmly: I read it’s an Earth custom to bring flowers to a first date. Tazarasi’s grow along the highways in my home province.”

“Well, sounds like we both did a little research on each other then,” Ennis laughed. He smelled the flowers, orange and turquoise petals that looked like they could have been made out of tin or some thin metal. The scent was rich but delicate. He imagined he wasn’t smelling half of what his date could smell in the flowers, but he was proud to feel included.

“Shy Admittance: you are the first human I’ve gone out with. I wanted to make sure things were perfect.”

“You’re the first elcor I’ve dated, too, so we’ll just both take it slow, huh?”

“Pleased: Then, shall we eat?” Havelez nodded towards the door of the restaurant, a Ukrainian soup, sausage, and sandwich place that Ennis had no idea was on the Citade, much less in his Ward. He smiled and Havelez led the way, giving his name to the host at the door.

In a few minutes, they were ‘seated’ (elcor, apparently, do not sit to eat. But one of the accessible tables worked to seat the mixed company) and Ennis had helped his date to order something vegetarian and as spicy as could be found. Once the menus were taken, they sat in comfortable silence with one another.

“So what do you do?” Ennis asked, smoothing his napkin over his lap.

“Proudly: I’m a Bellenzi, a poet, or a story-teller.”

“Really!? That’s incredible, I haven’t written a poem since I was yay tall! Tell me about that?”

Havelez straightened a little bit, and Ennis got the idea he was preening a bit.

“Breathlessly: It’s my calling. Ever since I was a calf, I have dreamed of telling stories, of making other people laugh, cry, and thurzol. I started bellenzing when I was very small: barely 35. Fondly: my family was very kind to endure my early attempts at poetry.”

“That’s fascinating! And is there… I mean, do you have much work on the Citadel?”

Havelez rumbled and his face squished up briefly in a display of what Ennis thought must be laughter.

“Conspiratorily: I moved here after receiving an arts grant from my province. You see, I have been studying how to translate elcor poetry to other species. Happily: While that is my main passion on the Citadel, I’ve also found work here and there.”

Ennis’ eyes sparkled for a moment, and beneath the table, he slid his foot forward until he knew it must almost be touching Havelez’ forelimb. He wasn’t sure if ‘footsy’ was a game the elcor played.

“Can you recite some poetry for me?” He asked, teasing.

“Slyly: Oh, I’m sure it would only bore you. Definitively: Poetry’s a second-date activity.”

“No, really,” Ennis chuckled. “Something you’ve written. Just a piece of it.”

Their food arrived as Ennis was asking, and in the bustle, he half expected Havelez to bow out of his request. But once the waiter had departed, the elcor placed one ‘hand’ on the table and seemed to adopt a rigid pose.

“Hopeful, Bitter: If you asked of me a star, I would fetch for you the sun. Expressive, Dissembling: For you desire the beauty of the night we met. Tranquil, Appeased: But when I first met you, you were the sun, that moment was my daylight. Brash, Sincere: A ring I give you set with the sun can only be a pin-pricked star compared to you.”

“I think that’s lovely,” Ennis could barely contain his smile.

“Sincerely: I had excellent inspiration.”

Ennis blushed. They talked about him, next, and it was fun to recount what to him were boring stories anyone who grew up in North America could relate to. Havelez of course hadn’t grown up anywhere near North America, though, and explaining his way through their mutual cultural misunderstanding turned in to talking until the restaurant was set to close.

The two finally stood together at a travel terminal outside the restaurant.

“So,” Ennis said finally. “If poetry is supposed to be the second date, but we got it out of the way on the first date, what can I expect from date 2? I have a feeling I haven’t learned all there is to learn about you after a few hours.”

“Pleased: I could talk to you for hours. I could talk about poetry for hours. I can hardly wait.” He bent his forelimbs just barely—though to an elcor it would have been a tremendously meaningful little bend—and Ennis leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“I had a wonderful night, Havelez.”

“Sincerely: So did I, Ennis.”

#n7 month #n7month #n7 month day 5 #elcor #mass effect #fanfic #blind date

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moonwaterart · 1 year

Text

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Finally finished with the last ficlet, which admittedly is longer then the others, but here's one for The Lamb/Lambert. Enjoy :)

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The One Who Helped Him

Such a daunting task for one lamb to run a cult. A cult once created for the god of death only to turn into one of worship for the one who saved each follower that came to his fold. With the Old Faith diminished, a new one was brought forth, one that took some followers to get used to, but most seemed to adapt nicely to it.

Everyone had a job to perform. Each follower a role to play, save for one.

They never seemed to have much to do save for watching their leader run off into the unknown only to come back later, sometimes with a few bumps and bruises, other times bleeding and seemingly at deaths door. Those days they would rush to his side and help him get to the medical bay, there they would dress his wounds and listen to his mutterings as he passed out. The crown on head head would always detach itself from its perch and look at the follower, seemingly unblinking, yet watching. It freaked them out at first, but after time and time again of coming back to the flock hurt and needing to rest it became almost routine to handle it with care and place it nearby for when Lambert would wake up.

The followers within the sanctum of where it all began could say that they were something of a doctor or nurse for the sect, yet they would always shake their head.

“I’m just glad to help where I can.” They would always reply. That seemed to satisfy the curiosity of others for a time.

After getting back from their most recent venture and being put on bed rest, their follower noticed how much more… chaotic the sect was. Sure, sometimes Lambert would pass out on his journeys only to be dumped back at the steps of the temple. He would always brush off the question as to why with ‘I was just tired’, but their follower could tell he was lying through his teeth. They were sure a few other followers caught onto that too.

Mutterings filled the camp about unfulfilled requests and worry started to form in the pit of their stomach. The lamb did so much for them, someone should pay it forward before something were to happen.

Rolling up their sleeves, they got to work. Their first stop was where the beds were situated. A few had collapsed due to heavy rainfall from the night prior, but they’d watch them be built a few times, so it would be an easy task. The next thing on the list was feeding the sect. Given their leader would usually cook when he could, most preferred to fast until he was in charge of cooking. That was no good especially after two days of him being gone and most likely needing to recover for the rest of the week after his newest batch of injuries.

They counted out the bowls, flipped the recipe book open and got to work collecting the ingredients needed for cooking. It took them roughly an hour or so, but soon, hot bowls of fresh and hearty soup was dished out and the meal bell was rung. They made sure everyone had their fill before having their own bowl of what remained. Once dishes were cleaned and stored once more, they went to their next set of tasks.

Going from one follower to another, asking for their requests and doing their best to fulfill them in their leaders place, it took almost all day, but once they were complete, they flopped down on the ground with a sigh of relief… that was until something nudged their foot and they looked up to see a deer follower staring down at them.

“O-oh. Good evening, Keim. What can I help you with?”

“You’ve been busy today.” They stated.

“W-well, yes, someone should be helping our wonderful leader out while he rests.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me with something?”

They sat up. “Well no, but-”

“Excellent, I need you to fetch me some mushrooms from Anura.” They interrupted. “Usually I would ask our leader to… but since you’re substituting for him, it should be nothing you cannot handle.”

A chill ran down their spine. They hadn’t really been out of the sanctum since they were rescued from being sacrificed in The Silk Cradle. Even then, they weren’t a fighter, they could never-

“I-I’ll do my best, Keim.” The deer smiled brightly.

“Perfect! Thank you very much!”

“Oooh… I should have said no…” Armed with nothing save for a dagger, the follower had ventured through the gateway towards the mushroom filled biome that once housed the godly bishop of famine. Since she was vanquished, the biome became more hostile and bloodthirsty. Residents turned against one another, the frogs and bugs tearing into whomever dared cross into their line of sight, it was hell to hear about from those brought into the fold.

Keim needed ten mushrooms, yet they were only able to collect four so far. Night had fallen and the forest was dark, which made advancing even more difficult. How their leader proceeded onward through here when the mushrooms seemed to be alive with those sacrificed in the name of Heket was beyond their understanding.

A crunching of leaves behind them caused them to still for a second, only to dart forward in fear, whatever was behind them giving chase. Tears picked at the corners of their eyes as they did their best to weave through the forest, but a root out of place and hidden by a pile of leaves caused them to trip. Their dagger skidded off into the darkness as they rolled to a stop. With a groan, they tried getting up, only to be kicked back onto their back.

“Who told you you could stand, heretic?” Came a gravely voice above them, cracking open their eyes, the follower saw hooded figures, followers of Heket. Starved followers of Heket. “You aren’t welcome here, lamb follower…”

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll go-”

“Leave? No no. You came to our glorious leader’s domain… Her physical body is gone, but she looks down upon us and smiles as she’s gifted us a glorious meal.”

Their eyes widened. “No… no no no, I’m not a meal. I won’t let you eat me!”

Dagger raised, a twisted smile formed on the starved ones face. “Heket, our glorious leader. Goddess of famine, we thank thee for this tasty morsel. May they fill our bellies and-” They didn’t get to finish their prayer as they were blasted off the follower with a ball of divine energy. Lambert’s follower coward as the sounds of fighting happened around them, but just as it started, it fell silent. When they sat up and opened their eyes, they saw the lamb, bandaged still with new wounds causing blood to soak into their dressings, but upright and panting, an axe in their outstretched hand as charred remains surrounded them. A wondrous sight to behold if it wasn’t for the circumstances.

The axe reformed into the crown that sat atop his head and he turned, hobbling over to them and outstretching his hand to them. “You’re either crazy, brave, or stupid to venture out here alone. What are you doing out here, my lost sheep?”

They took his hand and were pulled to their feet. “G-great Leader, I-... I was just trying to help you a-and complete some requests for some of the others back at the temple and-” He pulled them into a hug.

“What you did was almost get yourself killed.” He replied. “I do appreciate the help, I do… but you mean quite a lot to me and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

His words caused his follower to blush. “I…I mean that much to you.”

“You have no clue how much you mean to me… but please… leave the journeying into hostile biomes to me… okay?”

Their follower returned their hug, burying their face into the soft wool of Lambert. “I…I promise… as long as you take the time to get better.”

“Deal.”

#cotl x reader #cotl follower #cotl #cotl the lamb #cotl lamb #lambert #cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb x reader #baps writes sometimes

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